On a bustling Wednesday morning in central London, the air outside Westminster Magistrates' Court was thick with chants, banners, and a sea of flags—Irish tricolours, Palestinian standards, and placards calling for freedom. The cause? The court appearance of Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, better known to fans as Mo Chara, a member of the Belfast rap trio Kneecap. The 27-year-old musician was facing charges of allegedly displaying a Hezbollah flag during a November 2024 performance at the O2 Forum in Kentish Town, an act prosecutors claim amounts to supporting a proscribed terrorist organisation under the UK’s Terrorism Act 2000, as reported by BBC and UPI.
The case has quickly become a lightning rod for debates over free expression, political protest, and the boundaries of anti-terror legislation. As Mo Chara arrived at the courthouse on August 20, 2025, he was greeted by hundreds of supporters waving flags and holding banners, their numbers swelling the pavements of Marylebone Road. Demonstrations were not limited to London; solidarity rallies also sprang up in Dublin, reflecting the cross-border resonance of the case.
According to Huck magazine, the atmosphere outside the court was electric and defiant. Protesters’ voices echoed through the city, chanting for Palestine and Ireland. The crowd was diverse, united by a shared sense of injustice and a belief that Mo Chara’s prosecution was about more than just one flag at one gig. Performances from artists like Maverick Sabre, Biig Piig, Jelani Blackman, and Nadine Shah turned the demonstration into a rallying point for wider political grievances, with placards reading "Free Mo Chara" and "Hands Off Mo Chara" visible among the throng.
Inside the courthouse, the legal battle was less raucous but no less charged. Mo Chara’s defense team argued that the charge had been filed one day outside the statutory six-month time limit for such offences, and therefore should be dismissed outright. For three hours, lawyers debated the technicalities, with Chief Magistrate Paul Goldspring presiding. Goldspring acknowledged the public’s desire for a "speedy resolution," stating he was "conscious and anxious" of the many awaiting a decision, but ultimately decided to reserve judgement. The verdict on whether the court has jurisdiction—and whether the case will proceed to trial—was postponed until September 26, 2025, as reported by UPI and Huck.
Mo Chara, who has not yet entered a plea, remains on unconditional bail. Sitting in court beside an Irish language interpreter, he listened as arguments swirled about the timing and substance of the charge. Outside, he addressed his supporters after the hearing, stating, “The real story is about Palestine and [this] is a distraction from the real story. We know unfortunately that this story will end up in the media today, while Israel commits genocide at the same time.” According to UPI, he further described the case as “political.”
The Metropolitan Police, anticipating the scale and fervor of the demonstrations, imposed conditions limiting where protests could take place, citing the need to "prevent serious disruption." Despite these restrictions, the atmosphere remained peaceful, albeit tense, with protesters determined to make their voices heard. The police presence was visible, and at least one man was arrested outside the court on suspicion of supporting the Palestine Action group, itself recently proscribed by MPs in July. A Metropolitan Police spokesperson confirmed, "A man remains in police custody after being arrested on suspicion of supporting a proscribed terrorist group, Palestine Action, in Marylebone Road, NW1, this morning."
The case against Mo Chara comes amid what many activists and observers see as a broader crackdown on Palestinian solidarity and activism in the UK. Just last week, a man in Glasgow was detained for wearing a t-shirt that authorities claimed resembled the logo of Palestine Action. Since the group’s proscription, more than 700 people have been arrested, according to Huck. Palestine Action has denounced the arrests as “political policing” and “a carnival of distraction.”
Kneecap, the group to which Mo Chara belongs, is no stranger to controversy. On July 24, 2025, the Hungarian government banned the trio, accusing them of "anti-Semitism and glorifying terrorism" due to their vocal support for Palestine and criticism of Israel. Such accusations have only amplified their profile, turning their legal troubles into a touchstone for debates about art, activism, and the limits of dissent.
For supporters, the stakes of the Mo Chara case are clear. Many see the prosecution as an attempt to stifle political expression and criminalize solidarity with Palestine. The choice of symbols—flags, banners, and even t-shirts—has become a battleground, with each side interpreting their meaning through sharply different lenses. To some, flying a Hezbollah flag is an act of support for a proscribed group; to others, it is a gesture of resistance against what they see as oppression, both at home and abroad.
Yet the legal questions remain complex. The Terrorism Act 2000 gives authorities broad powers to prosecute those deemed to be supporting banned organisations. Defense lawyers argue that the law’s reach is too wide, potentially ensnaring artists and activists for acts of protest or performance. The technicalities of timing—whether the charge was filed within the six-month limit—may yet determine the outcome, but the underlying tensions are unlikely to dissipate regardless of the verdict.
Judge Goldspring’s decision to reserve judgement until September 26 ensures that the case will remain in the public eye for at least another month. In the meantime, Mo Chara’s supporters vow to keep up the pressure, both on the streets and in the media. For them, the case is about more than one rapper or one flag; it is about the right to protest, the boundaries of free speech, and the ongoing struggle over the politics of solidarity.
As dusk settled over Westminster, the crowds slowly dispersed, but their chants lingered in the summer air. The legal process may be grinding on, but for many, the real trial is being fought far beyond the courtroom walls—on the streets, in the press, and in the hearts of those who believe that music and protest are inseparable. The next chapter, it seems, is yet to be written.
