Bombs, Bars, and Beliefs: Kneecap, Draiman, and the Clash of Music and Morality

16 July 2025 rocknews

David Draiman v Kneecap social media war

In July 2025, a single photo set the music world ablaze. David Draiman, frontman of heavy metal giants Disturbed, stood beside Israeli artillery shells, penning “F*** Hamas” with a grin. Taken in 2024 amid escalating Middle East tensions, the image resurfaced when Irish rap trio Kneecap, riding high from a provocative Glastonbury set, posted it on X with a blistering caption: “Smiling and signing bombs dropped to murder kids and other people’s families just makes you a straight up c**t. Simple as. Free Palestine.”

Draiman’s retort was fierce: “Here’s the thing, and I’ll speak to you in small words, so you understand. That shell was meant for HAMAS… You shoot at Jews? Expect Jews to shoot back”. The feud exploded, pulling in Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello, who hailed Kneecap as “the Rage Against the Machine of now,” and Sharon Osbourne, who demanded Kneecap’s U.S. visas be revoked.

This clash wasn’t just a spat—it was a microcosm of 2025’s fractured world, where music, once a unifier, has become a battleground for morality, identity, and authenticity. Artists like Kneecap and Draiman are now lightning rods, their words amplifying divides or rallying causes. Are they risking their careers for conviction, or chasing clout in a polarised market? This feature dives into their feud, its roots in protest music’s legacy, and its resonance in a volatile cultural landscape.

The Feud: Personal Convictions, Public Provocations

David Draiman: Heritage and Defiance

David Draiman, born in Brooklyn in 1973 to Jewish parents, carries his identity in his music and public persona. Raised in Orthodox Jewish schools, he spent a year in Israel at 18 and nearly pursued rabbinic ordination before forming Disturbed in 1996. Known for anthems like “Down with the Sickness” and a haunting 2015 cover of “The Sound of Silence,” Draiman’s work channels personal and collective trauma. His grandmother, a Yemenite Jew, immigrated to Palestine in the early 1900s, and his brother lives in Israel, grounding his vocal support for the nation. In March 2025, he dedicated “Hold On to Memories” to Yarden Bibas.

Draiman’s 2024 act of signing IDF shells with “F*** Hamas” followed Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack, which killed 1,300 Israelis, mostly civilians, and took 200 hostages. To him, the gesture was a defiant stand against terrorism, not an endorsement of indiscriminate violence. “That shell was meant for HAMAS… All innocent lives lost are due to Hamas using their own people as cannon fodder,” he wrote on X. Yet when the photo resurfaced in 2025, it sparked outrage. At Black Sabbath’s farewell concert on July 5, 2025, Draiman faced boos while performing “Sweet Leaf” with Tom Morello’s All-Stars, which he dismissed as the work of “a few Jew hating morons”.

Kneecap: Rebellion and Solidarity

Kneecap—Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap, and DJ Próvaí—emerged from Belfast’s working-class streets, blending Gaelic rap with Irish republicanism. Since their 2017 debut “C.E.A.R.T.A.,” they’ve tackled language rights, police brutality, and British colonialism, earning a cult following with their 2024 album Fine Art and a semi-autobiographical film that grossed £5M at the UK box office. Their Glastonbury 2025 set, drawing 40,000 fans, opened with a video mocking media scrutiny and included chants of “Free Mo Chara” after his 2024 Terrorism Act charge for allegedly waving a Hezbollah flag at a Dublin gig.

Their pro-Palestine stance is woven into their ethos. They’ve flown Palestinian flags at concerts, boycotted Israel under the BDS movement, and raised £20,000 for a gym in Bethlehem’s Aida Refugee Camp. At Coachella 2025, they projected “Israel is committing genocide” on stage, prompting Sharon Osbourne to demand their U.S. visas be revoked—a call Draiman echoed on X. Kneecap’s response to Draiman was unapologetic: “We don’t care what religion anyone is… Smiling and signing bombs… makes you a straight up c**t”. To them, Draiman’s photo symbolized complicity in Gaza’s devastation, where tens of thousands have died and 1.9 million are displaced. “

The Morello Factor and Escalation

The feud escalated when Tom Morello, Rage Against the Machine’s guitarist, praised Kneecap on The Strombo Show (July 1, 2025). Calling them “the Rage Against the Machine of now,” Morello dismissed claims of their terrorism ties, stating, “What is terroristic is… 20,000 dead Palestinian children”. Draiman, who performed with Morello at the Black Sabbath show, called the endorsement “shameful” on X, writing, “Guess my family doesn’t count”. Kneecap fired back, accusing Draiman of hypocrisy for supporting “state violence” while preaching peace.

The feud’s ripple effects were seismic. A reported a 20% spike in X engagement for both artists, with #KneecapVsDraiman trending globally. Sharon Osbourne’s visa demand, backed by pro-Israel groups, intensified scrutiny on Kneecap, while Draiman faced criticism for his 2024 comments praising Elon Musk’s X as a “free speech” platform, seen by some as aligning with right-wing figures. The clash became a case study in how music amplifies personal and political divides in 2025’s volatile climate.

Bob Vylan: Glastonbury’s Parallel Firestorm

Kneecap weren’t alone in stirring 2025’s festival controversies. UK grime-punk duo Bob Vylan sparked outrage at Glastonbury, leading 200,000 festivalgoers in chants of “Death to the IDF” during their June 2025 set. Their performance, featuring a banner reading “Palestine Lives,” triggered a Metropolitan Police investigation for “incitement” and cancellations at Manchester’s O2 Apollo and France’s Hellfest. Despite the backlash, their album Humble As the Sun saw a 35% streaming spike, re-entering the UK charts at #12. Massive Attack invited Bob Vylan to open their Bristol show, and Amyl and the Sniffers tweeted, “Bob Vylan’s got balls. Respect.”

“We’re not here to be polite,” Bobby Vylan told The Guardian. “We’re here to wake people up.” Their set, blending punk fury with pro-Palestine rhetoric, echoed Kneecap’s defiance. The cancellations cost them £50,000 in bookings, but their following grew by 15,000 in a week. Bob Vylan’s surge showed that controversy can amplify reach, even amid legal and financial risks.

The Legacy of Protest Music: From Dylan to Public Enemy

Music has long been a megaphone for dissent, shaping culture and history. Bob Dylan’s 1963 “Masters of War” eviscerated warmongers, its raw fury earning him a 2016 Nobel Prize. When he went electric in 1965, fans booed, but his defiance cemented his legend, with songs like “Hurricane” (1975) helping free boxer Rubin Carter after death threats and legal battles. Pussy Riot’s 2012 anti-Putin performance in a Moscow cathedral led to two-year prison sentences, yet their global impact as feminist icons endures, sparking Amnesty International campaigns. Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” (1992) channeled anti-police brutality rage, with Zack de la Rocha’s venue boycotts reflecting their ethos. Their 2000 Democratic National Convention protest concert ended in arrests but amplified their message. Public Enemy’s 1989 “Fight the Power,” tied to Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing, became a civil rights anthem, blending hip-hop with Black activism to redefine protest’s sound.

These artists faced backlash but gained immortality. Dylan’s truths became cultural scripture; Pussy Riot inspired global feminist movements; Rage and Public Enemy shaped generations of activists. Their success hinged on authenticity—art aligned with lived values. Dylan’s shift to electric alienated folk purists but expanded his reach; Pussy Riot’s prison stint galvanized international support; Rage’s arrests became badges of honor; Public Enemy’s collaboration with Lee embedded their music in Black Power’s legacy. In 2025, Kneecap and Bob Vylan echo this tradition, but their explicit rhetoric—tied to the volatile Israel-Palestine conflict—risks alienating audiences where nuance once prevailed. Their predecessors balanced provocation with universal themes; today’s artists face a hyper-polarised world where social media amplifies every word.

Faux Activism: When Controversy Becomes Currency

Not all activism is pure. Taylor Swift’s selective engagement—vocal on women’s rights, silent on Palestine—has drawn scrutiny, recieving posts, “She picks safe causes for PR. Where’s her spine?”. Kanye West’s 2022 antisemitic remarks, followed by Vultures’ commercial success, suggest controversy as a deliberate strategy. Green Day’s 2024 lyric tweak—“I’m not a part of a MAGA agenda”—drew cheers but also accusations of pandering to liberal audiences. The action has prompted fan criticism “Artists jump on causes for clout, then dodge accountability.”

The industry fuels this dynamic. The BDS movement’s pressure on festivals to shun pro-Israel artists, paired with sponsors’ fears of “unstable” events, creates a high-stakes environment. Kneecap’s Coachella stunt doubled their X followers; Bob Vylan’s Glastonbury chants grew their fanbase despite losses. Fans now enforce authenticity via X, scouring posts for contradictions. When Roger Waters, a vocal BDS advocate, was accused of antisemitism in 2023, X users debated his motives: “Is he fighting for Palestine or just his ego?” Authenticity is now a fan-enforced standard, with social media as the courtroom.

Heads or Tails: The Coin Toss of Speaking Out

When an artist takes a stand in 2025, it’s a flip of a coin—heads, they soar to iconic status; tails, they crash into obscurity. Kneecap’s fiery X post and Draiman’s defiant reply are bets in this high-stakes game. A single statement, amplified by social media’s global reach, can redefine a career overnight. What seems insignificant one day—a photo, a tweet, a stage banner—can ignite a firestorm the next, as fans, critics, and algorithms decide the outcome.

Kneecap’s pro-Palestine stance, rooted in their Irish republican ethos, has galvanized fans but drawn bans and visa threats. Their 2024 Hezbollah flag incident, dismissed as a stunt by some, exploded into a Terrorism Act charge, yet their Glastonbury set drew 40,000 supporters. Draiman’s shell-signing photo, a fleeting 2024 moment, resurfaced to spark boos at Black Sabbath’s farewell show and fuel debates. Both artists gambled, knowing their words could make or break them.

History shows the coin’s unpredictability. Sinead O’Connor’s 1992 SNL protest—tearing up the Pope’s photo—tanked her career for years, only for her to be vindicated decades later. Kanye West’s 2022 antisemitic posts cost him partnerships but boosted Vultures to 50M streams. Morgan Wallen’s 2021 racial slur scandal led to radio bans, yet his album sales surged 20%. In 2025, social medias real-time amplification heightens the stakes. A post from @KNEECAPCEOL or @davidmdraiman can trend globally in hours, with #KneecapVsDraiman amassing 500K mentions in a week. Algorithms favor virality, and fans wield power to crown or cancel.

In a polarised world, the coin toss is unforgiving. Kneecap and Draiman, like their predecessors, risk it all—fame or infamy, conviction or clout. The outcome depends on the audience, the moment, and the platform’s relentless spotlight.