How Black British rappers are being censored by the police

UK drill rapper, Chinx (OS), has to tread on eggshells when making music. He’s currently four years into an eight-year sentence for possession of a firearm with intent to harm. Since he was released on licence in October, he must inform probation within 24 hours of releasing any new track, providing the lyrics. If he fails to comply – or if his lyrics are perceived as encouraging violence or criminal activity – he could be sent back to jail. “It’s part of my life now, part of my music,” he tells Dazed. “I’m kind of on a leash. I have to be delicate, on my toes. I can’t be completely free to say what I want to say.”

He’s just one of the many who are monitored by Project Alpha – a British Metropolitan Police Service intelligence gathering initiative set up in June 2019. The unit, comprising more than 30 staff, trawls social media looking for drill music videos and other content. These materials are then added to a database that can be used in criminal trials against defendants. The Metropolitan Police defends Project Alpha, stating its role in combating serious violence. However, concerns persist about privacy, especially concerning children, and the risk of disproportionate targeting of young Black individuals, heightening apprehensions about racial profiling and the criminalisation of youth.

For Chinx (OS), his first run-in with the controversial scheme happened with his debut single “Secrets Not Safe”. Within the first three days of release, his Instagram account was deactivated and the music video was removed from the platform. The following day the video, which had already racked up thousands of views, was deleted too. 

His experience isn’t an isolated case. Researchers from the University of Manchester’s Prosecuting Rap project found over 70 cases in the past three years alone, involving more than 240 defendants, where police and prosecutors present rap as evidence before juries. Instances of prosecutors using rap lyrics as evidence is rapidly rising too: by contrast, previous research spanning between 2005 and 2020 uncovered 67 cases. The predominant demographic among the defendants comprises young Black men and teenagers, with rap often used as evidence of ‘bad character’ and a predisposition to engage in violence. The evidence ranged from music videos to fragments of lyrics found in notepads.

These cases commonly intertwine with the contentious ‘joint enterprise’ law, allowing multiple defendants to face a single charge, irrespective of the significant differences in their involvement in a specific crime. Human rights campaigners at Liberty have criticised this doctrine as “a deeply unjust practice that unfairly ensnares countless individuals in the criminal justice system”.

It’s an issue that has stirred outrage across various sectors and now a new campaign, Art Not Evidence, is actively advocating against this practice. Comprising a diverse group of members – including youth workers, lawyers, academics, musicians, journalists, and music industry professionals – the campaign seeks to prevent potential miscarriages of justice by urging the exclusion of this unreliable and often racialised form of evidence from UK courts.

Art Not Evidence, which has been publicly backed by MPs Nadia Whittome and Kim Johnson as well as Shami Chakrabarti and Annie Mac, aligns with the ethos of the Art on Trial: Protect Black Art campaign in the US (just last month a judge ruled that lyrics written by US rapper Young Thug could be used as evidence in his ongoing trial). Co-founder of the Art Not Evidence campaign, Elli Brazzill, highlights that there’s been a “very clear rise in cases” over the past few years, and many have likely gone uncounted. 

From a legal perspective, the campaign aims to reform laws that will restrict the use of creative expression being used as evidence in criminal trials – starting with the presumption of admissibility. In other words, the assumption that rap lyrics and art are not evidence unless it can be proved that they’re relevant and connected to the case – while also taking into account the nuances and conventions surrounding the genre.

“It’s about whether the evidence is unduly prejudicial,” Abeena Owusu-Bempah, an Associate Professor of Law at LSE and key figure in the Art Not Evidence campaign, tells Dazed. “Our legislation is about setting a threshold for admission of evidence. It’s not a complete ban; we’re ensuring that art is only used as evidence if it’s relevant and reliable. We’re not saying that [lyrics] are never relevant and should never be admitted [to a trial] – but we’re concerned by the patterns and trends we’re seeing.”

“A lot of violence is done to the music so that it can be transformed into evidence. Music is not just lyrics – you need to listen to the whole thing, take into mind the broader context” – Lambros Fatsis, senior lecturer in Criminology at City, University of London

Reform is evidently needed. Keir Monteith, a lawyer leading the campaign, adds that in current cases where lyrics are used as evidence, “the prosecution would argue the material they put forward about rap music is either evidence of ‘bad character’, or – on rare occasions – a direct admission of the crime. That’s the law, but it’s being misused in relation to art. It’s not reprehensible behaviour – it’s the opposite. It’s creative: an artistic representation.” As it stands, the law, Monteith adds, is based on the “absurd notion that people would willingly and publicly confess to a crime” through their music. It even goes as far as considering individuals participating in a music video or possessing related material as admissible evidence against them.

To illustrate this point, he draws attention to a murder case in Preston from 2017, where rap was presented as evidence despite lacking any connection to the crime. “The judge essentially told the jury that participation in a rap video – or, even worse, possession of the rap video – is something that could be used to conclude they’re in a gang,” Monteith explains. “Last time I looked at that video, it was on 97,000 views. So, on the judge’s direction, 97,000 people possess that video – I find it utterly ridiculous to suggest that possession of the video could be used as evidence of being in a gang.” And even when artists intentionally censor their lyrics, this act can also be used against them, Owusu-Bempah explains. “They have to censor words, and when they do, the act of censorship itself can also be used as evidence,” she explains, noting that police may speculate about the reasons for censorship, turning the act of censorship against the artists.

Another key point the campaign is key to address is the issue of experts in court. Currently, many of the experts explaining rap lyrics to the jury are former police officers who lack the nuanced and contextual knowledge of drill music – which is a “big part of the explanation as to why and how the music is presented in court,” Owusu-Bempah adds. Many of these police officers fill their colleague’s self-certification forms – something Lambros Fatsis, a senior lecturer in Criminology at City, University of London, notes he has witnessed personally. “Nobody should be allowed to certify themselves [as an expert], that’s something that external people should do,” he argues. “These ‘experts’, who are influential in the jury reaching a decision, often take lyrics out of their context.”

“The whole artistic context and conventions of the genre are stripped away – plucked out in order for them to be considered as evidence,” he continues. “This means, essentially, a lot of violence is done to the music so that it can be transformed into evidence. Music is not just lyrics – you need to listen to the whole thing, take into mind the broader context.” 

The Art Not Evidence campaign proposes legislation that will mandate judges to consider the opinion of a suitably qualified independent expert. “Those who know the music and genre – it can be artists, musicians, scholars,” Owusu-Bempah suggests. “The target for this campaign is rap, but it’s also about creative expression in general. So who is the expert will depend on who has studied it, who is immersed in the culture to have a rounded, nuanced perspective of it.” 

At its core, the Art Not Evidence campaign is calling for reform in British courts. But on a broader scale, it’s also defending art as art, freedom of expression and autonomy. Currently, the justice system disproportionately targets music and creative expressions from people of colour. “There’s mass confusion about the idea that Black people can create music that is complex, layered and not just first-person narrative,” Adele Oliver, author of Deeping It: Colonialism, Culture and Criminalisation of UK Drill, says.

“In the 1600s, slaves had their instruments destroyed because music was seen as a call to arms,” she continues. “This has carried on through a lineage of a myriad of different styles to lead us to a place now: there’s a fear of music coming from young Black people – and not just from them, but from their experience and their expression.”