Ben Devon

Last night was a tale of two Belfasts. One city. Two very different concerts. One in West Belfast and the other in East Belfast. One full of resentment, toxicity and sectarianism; the other full of dignity, respect and positivity. The loyalist performers at Titanic Slipways inspired hope. Kneecap, however, have built their success on the industry of division in Northern Ireland. I went to their concert in Falls Park last night to experience it for myself. I stood there, surrounded by 10,000 of Kneecap’s “Fenian Family,” as they call them, and took it all in. There wasn’t much to write home about. The music was repetitive and dreary. Every song was the same baseline drone fixed with a chant-like chorus and a million words too muffled to make out. The most responsive parts, where the crowd really got going, were politically related chants and lyrics and messages. I left believing that without division, controversy and antagonism, Kneecap would have absolutely nothing to offer. If you were to strip away the public relations projects, the polished propaganda, the extreme political messaging and, of course, the generous treatment they receive from sections of the liberal and Irish establishment, they would be nothing more than three mediocre rappers with an attitude, bouncing around a stage talking about getting high on drugs. Yet, they have evidently carved out a career for themselves cashing in on the very divisions that continue to scar our society. My overriding response to it all, as one of the “Brits” they were singing about “getting out”, wasn’t one of anger or personal offence, but mostly of pity. Pity for three West Belfast lads who, in my view, have become deeply radicalised by a narrow political worldview heavily influenced by Republican extremists. Pity for the thousands of event goers who seemed to revel in hostility toward their British neighbours. Pity, too, for the children wearing balaclavas, waving Palestinian flags and chanting “F*** the Brits• without the faintest idea that one of those Brits was standing just a few feet away from them. There was an odd contradiction to the whole experience. Many were enjoying themselves, yet the atmosphere was saturated by political slogans and messaging that cast one section of society as an enemy. Sinn Féin councillor Ciaran Beattie spoke to the crowd as Kneecap took the stage. He said that the “most important” contribution to the Irish language revival had come from IRA prisoners, who he paid tribute to for “taking a stand against British rule in Ireland.” He then referred to the Belfast City Council’s dual-signage policy when he pronounced that, “every bilingual sign” was “an act of decolonisation,” describing it as a form of “resistance.” The contrast with the atmosphere across the city could not have been greater. On the same evening, at Titanic Slipways, thousands gathered to celebrate music, heritage and community pride in a way that sought to build people up. Unionists stepped outside their comfort zone, engaged positively, and showcased their proud culture to all those who would listen. In Falls Park, division and hostility was actually the main attraction. Controversy was the brand, antagonism was the marketing strategy and division was the business model. Northern Ireland deserves better than that. Young people deserve better than being taught that identity is forged through resentment, that political opponents are enemies, or that the conflicts of the past should be romanticised for another generation. I left Falls Park convinced that Kneecap’s greatest success is not their music, but their ability to repackage political division into a cash cow. Their performances may make the self-styled socialists plenty of money, but it also reinforces and exploits the very divisions that so many people in this country have spent decades trying to overcome.