Kneecap with Palestine: Solidarity in difference and art as resistance

In Ireland, ‘kneecapping’ refers to the Irish republican paramilitary practice of shooting someone in the knee as a form of vigilante justice. Kneecapping wasn’t just for ‘political’ crimes like informing or fraternising with British soldiers; throughout the Troubles in Northern Ireland (1960–1998), the Irish Republican Army (IRA) used kneecapping to police antisocial behaviour. But now, the word has been ironically reclaimed by the Northern Irish Irish-language rap group Kneecap. Kneecap comprises MCs Móglaí Bap and Mo Chara, from West Belfast, and DJ Próvaí, who grew up in Derry. The group raps predominantly in Irish; a deliberate political act in a region where the language was historically suppressed. The Kneecap logo is a balaclava; an image associated with republican paramilitaries during the Troubles, and DJ Próvaí will rarely be seen in public without wearing his Irish tricolour balaclava. Yet, despite being heavily associated with Irish republicanism, the group are more satirical than sectarian. The name is intentionally ironic; the group raps about things that would get them kneecapped by the IRA. Fusing irony and provocation, Kneecap defy authority.

Kneecap have consistently expressed solidarity with Palestine since their formation in 2017; frequently displaying Palestinian flags at gigs and leading their crowds in chants of ‘free, free Palestine’. But it was their performance at the US festival, Coachella, in April 2025, that brought widespread international attention and condemnation to the group and their unapologetic solidarity with Palestine. Kneecap displayed the messages ‘Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian people’ and ‘It is being enabled by the US government who arm and fund Israel despite their war crimes’. Another read: ‘F**k Israel. Free Palestine’. Shortly after their Coachella appearance, amidst mass international scrutiny of the group, Mo Chara was charged with a UK terror offence for allegedly displaying a Hezbollah flag at a November 2024 gig in London. Mo Chara denies the charges, saying the flag was thrown on the stage, and Kneecap have pushed back hard against the charge. Framing the scrutiny and threats they have received in the UK and the US as a distraction from the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, and reiterating their support for Palestine. They released the following defiant statement on social media in May 2025:

14,000 babies are about to die of starvation in Gaza, with food sent by the world sitting on the other side of a wall, and once again the British establishment is focused on us.

We deny this ‘offence’ and will vehemently defend ourselves.

This is political policing.

This is a carnival of distraction.

We are not the story. Genocide is.

As they profit from genocide, they use an ‘anti-terror law’ against us for displaying a flag thrown on stage.

A charge not serious enough to even warrant their crown court, instead a court that doesn’t have a jury. What’s the objective?

To restrict our ability to travel.

To prevent us speaking to young people across the world.

To silence voices of compassion.

To prosecute artists who dare speak out.

Instead of defending innocent people, or the principles of international law they claim to uphold, the powerful in Britain have abetted slaughter and famine in Gaza, just as they did in Ireland for centuries. Then, like now, they claim justification.

The IDF units they arm and fly spy plane missions for are the real terrorists, the whole world can see it.

We stand proudly with the people.

You stand complicit with the war criminals.

We are on the right side of history.

You are not.

We will fight you in your court.

We will win.

Free Palestine.

Kneecap’s defiant punk-energy and progressive stance on socio-political issues have won them plenty of support (and criticism) among young adults in Northern Ireland, Ireland and the UK, but their message and music resonate beyond these Isles. They use their platform to challenge censorship and amplify political dissent. Their lyrics and public personas are steeped in working-class roots (see O’Toole, 2022). They provide satirical, uncensored and unrestrained commentary on disenfranchisement and their experiences as young men from Northern Ireland. Kneecap have captured the zeitgeist and become a symbol of resistance with a subversive stance toward traditional power structures.

Kneecap embody what Vieta and Heras (2022) term ‘solidarity in difference’. They are oppositional. They are anti-establishment, anti-colonial, anti-domination and anti-capitalist. But they are not only antagonistic. They are not interested in reigniting a Catholic-Protestant conflict in Northern Ireland. In 2024, after winning a discrimination case against the British government, they donated their award equally between two youth organisations that work with Protestant and Catholic communities in Northern Ireland ‘to create a better future for our young people’ (Snapes, 2024). As noted by DJ Próvaí in an interview, ‘we advocate for the working classes in Ireland and England to come together. Our message is about unity and not division’ (Kloss, 2025). Their self-titled semi-biographical film, Kneecap written and directed by Rich Peppiatt, critiques both old-school republicanism and sectarian paramilitarism, portraying them as outdated and harmful, and rather than demonising unionists, the film targets state institutions, racist paramilitaries and imperialist structures. They subvert the socio-political status quo to ‘create spaces and practices of self-provision, self-determination, and counterpower from below’ (Vieta and Heras, 2022: 277). This is a political solidarity (Scholz, 2015) where ‘different people may unite to fight against the same or related injustices and oppressions to bring about social change’ (Vieta and Heras, 2022: 278).

Kneecap seek out controversy. Their lyrics and actions are deliberate and provocative. But their support for Palestine is rooted in their lived, embodied anti-colonial politics. They consistently draw parallels between Ireland’s colonial past under British rule and Palestine’s ongoing struggle against Israeli occupation. They use their platform and art to mobilise resistance, particularly by fostering emotional engagement and political awareness. As Burø (2021: 692–963) wrote for his self-reflexive Acting Up essay ‘art is political not only for its subject matter but also for its affects – when art broadens your affective capabilities, when you experience a broadening of your world, when it makes you know things emotionally and bodily, rather than cognitively, when art sensitises you to parts of reality that you did not understand previously, when you experience and understand that things could be otherwise’. Kneecap evoke emotion. Through their art, they mobilise their audience around issues of injustice, and currently, this is centred around the genocide in Gaza.

What they bring with them on stage is high-octane and visceral. Feelings of disenfranchisement, of being ignored, resonate with their fans. And their fanbase is growing. They have sold out past and upcoming performances in Ireland, across the UK and Europe and in the US and Canada, despite having their artist visa revoked in the US, being banned from entering Canada and Hungary, and having performances cancelled by event organisers in Germany. Through their art, they underscore the importance of identity and self-determination and ‘bring diverse people together’ (Scholz, 2015: 732; Vieta and Heras, 2022). They are outspoken in their solidarity with the marginalised and oppressed, not just on colonial domination in Ireland and Palestine. They have spoken about their shared solidarity with the Māori in Aotearoa (New Zealand), the Basque of Northern Spain, Aboriginal people in Australia, and the vast number of indigenous groups across the Americas. Their political solidarity, a solidarity in difference, is a moral relation among humans (Scholz, 2015). Not divided by religion (e.g. Catholics vs Protestants, Islamophobia, Antisemitism) or nationhood (e.g. Ireland vs England), but united in their moral outrage. This is played out against the setting of colonialism, neocolonialism and various forms of authoritarianism, domination and extractivist capitalism. They challenge traditional power structures, they challenge silence and censorship, and in doing this, they mobilise solidarity. ‘I think that’s why Kneecap connects with people. Many who listen to our music don’t speak Irish, but our energy and ethos resonate with them’ (Kloss, 2025).

Kneecap’s emotional resonance in their support for Palestine and the genocide in Gaza is deeply rooted in their sense of injustice experienced as Irish republicans growing up in Northern Ireland. They are purposefully polarising and polemic, but they embody art as activism, art as resistance. They are more than a rap group. They are a subversive socio-political protest movement that revives the spirit of Irish resistance, reshaped through the art of hip-hop.

Resistance and solidarity come in many different forms. Music as resistance on the ground in Gaza helps young Palestinians endure the genocide. Music teacher Ahmed Muin has turned the relentless hum of Israeli drones that haunt the skies into a song of resistance with his students – turning the sound of war into music (Al Jazeera, 2025). There is solidarity in difference, with dockworkers across Europe and the Mediterranean uniting to curtail arms traffic to Israel. Dockworkers are mobilising in solidarity with the Global Sumud Flotilla, warning that if contact with the flotilla is lost, they will move to block all shipments to Israel across European ports (Sapio, 2025). Through their actions, through their defiance, Kneecap and the many who stand in solidarity with Palestine, help us mobilise in ways where speeches fall short, where politicians have failed, where student encampments are shut down. They are filling the moral void.

As critical organisation scholars, what does art as resistance, art as solidarity tell us about the silences, erasures, and moral voids in critical organisation studies? Against the backdrop of institutional failure, how can we develop our solidarity in difference to mobilise our community, our students, our colleagues?