Atheist IrelandTen years ago this week, French magazine Charlie Hebdo interviewed Michael Nugent about religion in Ireland. 


Reading it back now is like opening a time capsule from a country on the cusp of a major change. In the decade since then, Ireland has liberalised dramatically as a society, but more slowly as a State.

We have made great progress on social issues. The constitutional bans on blasphemy, abortion, and same-sex marriage have been removed by referendum, and the laws have been changed to reflect that. Church-led restrictions on contraception and prejudice against same-sex relationships were already crumbling, and both are now widely accepted as ordinary parts of life.

But two institutional issues remain unresolved. The Catholic Church still runs 90% of our primary schools, with exemptions in our equality laws that allow them to discriminate on the ground of religion. There has been no real progress towards providing an objective, critical, and pluralistic education, and Atheist Ireland is preparing a court challenge on this issue.

Also, the president, judges, and members of the Council of State (including the Taoiseach) must swear a religious oath, meaning conscientious atheists cannot hold these offices. This breaches the human right to freedom of religion and belief. It would simply not be tolerated if religious office-holders had to swear there is no God.

Here’s what Michael told Charlie Hebdo in June 2016, along with updates on what has changed since. Forgive the clumsiness of some of the phrases: it’s Michael’s English translated to French for the magazine, then translated back to English for this article.

CH 2016: Is the Catholic Church still as influential in Ireland?

MN 2016: Ireland is a country of Catholic tradition in which the Church has long controlled the population. Today, mentalities have changed, and the Church no longer has the same influence. However, the laws put in place at that time are still there and it retains practical power. It still governs 90% of schools and teaching colleges, we have an offence against blasphemy written into the Constitution, and our president, our judges and the prime minister take an oath on the Bible.”

Today: This trend continues. We’re definitely no longer a Catholic country. We’re now a pluralist country that is gradually removing the legacy of Catholic laws. But some of those legacy laws remain significant. Atheist Ireland continues to campaign for an ethical, secular State that gives no privilege to either religion or atheism.

Progress on blasphemy, abortion, marriage equality, and condoms

CH 2016: The Irish government adopted a law against blasphemy in 2009?

MN 2016: A new government was elected after the adoption of this law and, until now, it has not been applied. But it is still on the books. That raises two questions. The first concerns self-censorship, which affects the media. Although no one has yet been prosecuted for blasphemy, they refuse to publish material that could put them in conflict with the law. Often, before a radio or TV programme, I am asked to watch what I am going to say.

The other problem comes from the fact that this law, passed in a modern, liberal Western democracy, is being used as an example by Muslim countries within the United Nations, which use it to support the argument for a ban on any criticism of Islam. When Pakistan cites you as an example of best practice on blasphemy laws, you know you are doing something wrong.”

Today: This is one of the biggest advances we have made. After a decade of campaigning by Atheist Ireland at home and at the UN, a referendum in 2018 removed the ban on blasphemy from the Constitution. The law against blasphemy was subsequently removed. There are still dangers of so-called ‘hate speech’ laws becoming blasphemy laws by the back door.

The WRC recently ruled against a man who was banned from a yoga class for criticising Christmas. That was not a blasphemy case, but it shows the continuing risk that criticism of religious ideas can be treated in the same way. Atheist Ireland continues to campaign for laws that protect people from harm and not ideas from criticism.

CH 2016: Abortion is a sensitive issue?

MN 2016: Abortion is still unconstitutional, except in very specific cases, especially when the mother’s life is in danger. Not her health, but her life. A few years ago, a young woman died in hospital because a hospital refused her an abortion on the pretext that her life was not at stake. Women have to travel abroad for abortions, mostly in England or the Netherlands. This adds to their stress, and also forbids this operation to the poorest and to those who are too fragile, as well as to refugees, who fear that once they have left Ireland, they will not be able to return. It is estimated that about ten women leave the country every day for an abortion.”

Today: After thirty-five years of campaigning by many groups, a referendum in 2018 finally removed the ban on abortion from the Constitution. The law was subsequently changed to allow abortion in defined circumstances. The procedure is provided free of charge if you have a PPS number. Some outstanding issues include a mandatory 3-day waiting period, criminalisation of healthcare providers, and the need to expand access in cases of fatal foetal anomalies.

CH 2016: And homosexuality?

MN 2016: Homosexuality was illegal in Ireland until the 1990s. In 1982, a gay man was beaten to death in a Dublin park by a group of teenagers who were ‘gay-bashing’. Arrested and brought to justice, they were given a suspended sentence and celebrated this by a march back to the park. However, last year (2015), Ireland became the first country in the world to legalise marriage for all by referendum. The population no longer accepts that someone should suffer discrimination because of their sexual orientation, even though the Church continues to do so.”

Today: This is another area of major progress. In 2016, we had just passed the referendum that removed the ban on same-sex marriage. Ten years on, same-sex relationships are accepted as a normal part of adult life. Irish equality law explicitly outlaws discrimination in the workplace, housing, and access to services based on sexual orientation. There are still legal and bureaucratic problems with some issues, like reciprocal IVF and adoption rights.

CH 2016: What about the use of condoms, which the Church opposed?

MN 2016: People simply ignore the Church’s positions on this question, but that was not the case for past situations. In the 1970s, for example, the IRA use condoms to protect the mechanisms of their bombs, but some refused to use condoms for moral reasons. At the beginning of the 1990s, the Virgin Megastore in Dublin was condemned by the courts for selling condoms, and at the time you could get them only by medical prescription, and if you were married.”

Today: Thankfully, we’ve moved beyond this silliness. Condoms are now accepted as a normal part of adult life. Also, women and girls aged between 17 and 35 can get free contraception including doctor consultations. It is extraordinary to think that, in our lifetime, church and State combined to restrict access to contraceptives as strongly and effectively as they did.

Limited progress on secular education and none on religious oaths

CH 2016: What is the situation in schools?

MN 2016: When you want to enrol a child in school, the only option you have is usually the Catholic school around the corner. If there are too many applications, priority will be given to baptised children. Then, religion will interfere in all school subjects, even if you decide to exempt your child from religious education classes. In science, they will be told that God created the trees and animals; in music, they will sing hymns; and during art classes, they will draw portraits of Jesus. The government claims to be remedying this situation by creating non-denominational schools, but we are talking about only a handful of institutions among about 3,400 denominational schools.”

Today: There has been some fine-tuning of the way schools can legally discriminate on the ground of religion, but no substantive change. State-funded primary schools can no longer prioritise children of Catholic parents, but second level schools still can. Religion still permeates the entire school curriculum, and it is often impossible for parents to exercise their constitutional right for their child to not attend religious instruction. Typically, such children are left sitting in the religion class anyway, instead of being given an alternative subject.

Also, the government has dropped even its nominal claim to want non-denominational schools. It is now only considering denominational, interdenominational, and multi-denominational schools. All of these are variations of a religious ethos. Atheism is not a denomination. Atheist Ireland continues to campaign for an objective, critical, and pluralistic education system that treats everyone equally.

CH 2016: You also talk about officials having to swear a religious oath?

MN: The president, judges and members of the Council of State (including prime minister, presidents of the Dáil and Senate, and attorney general) must swear an oath on the Bible. It is in the Constitution. It begins, in the preamble, with recognition of the authority of the Holy Trinity, and then states that ‘the State acknowledges that the homage of public worship is due to Almighty God.’ That is not merely to say that Catholics have the right to pray to their God, but that the God must be worshipped. God’s rights are therefore written into the Constitution, as if the Creator needed the protection of the Irish Parliament.”

Today: There has been no change in any of this. These religious oaths remain a breach of the human right to freedom of conscience and belief. In 2021, five Irish citizens took a European Court challenge to these religious oaths. They lost, not because of the substance of the arguments, but because they could not show that they were directly affected by the law because they were not taking up any of the offices.

Barry Ward TD currently has a private members bill seeking to remove the religious oath for judges, but it is unlikely to succeed. Atheist Ireland continues to campaign for one oath for all high offices, that reveals nothing of the religious or nonreligious beliefs of the office-holder, and to remove other constitutional articles that privilege religion.

Conclusion

CH 2016: How does society react to all this?

MN 2016: Most people have come out of that era of bigotry, when the Church controlled people’s thoughts and, very particularly, the youngest, who do not live like that at all anymore. A study carried out in 2012 showed that 75% of Irish Catholics do not believe in transubstantiation, that 50% doubt the existence of hell, 15% don’t think that Jesus is the son of God, and 8% of Catholics say they do not believe in God. Before, Ireland was a Catholic country for a Catholic population; today, it is still a country of Catholic laws, but for people who no longer are.”

Today: Ireland is an increasingly pluralist and secular society. In the most recent census, in 2022, one in five Irish people either said they have no religion (14%) or declined to answer (7%). That’s double the number from a decade ago, when the 2016 census showed one in ten people not identifying with any religion. Also, people aged 25 to 29 now have the highest no religion figure (26%) and are most likely to become parents in the next 5 to 10 years.

There has also been a culture shift in Irish marriages. A third of Irish marriages are now secular, only three in ten are Christian, and a quarter are some variation of spiritualist. A decade ago in 2016, those figures were just over half Christian, about a third secular, and about one in ten other religious including spiritualist. Back at the start of the century, 85% of marriages were Christian, the vast majority Catholic.

This is yet more evidence that Ireland is no longer a Catholic country in any meaningful social sense. We are now a pluralist country, gradually removing Catholic laws, but still living with many Catholic-influenced structures. Atheist Ireland will continue to play our part in reinforcing this trend, and bringing closer an ethical, secular State that does not privilege either religion or atheism.

⏩ Follow Atheist Ireland on Twitter @atheistie

An Increasingly Secular Ireland 🪶 Ten Years On From Interview In Charlie Hebdo

Friendly Atheist Justin Park's "Cross on the Moon Coalition" says the lunar surface needs to be sanctified. It doesn't.

Are you worried about the threat of Christian Nationalism? Do you support separation of church and state? Well, you need to think much, much bigger. Because a pro-Trump Catholic has made it his mission to put a giant cross… on the moon.

The “Cross on the Moon Coalition,” led by Iowan Justin Park, aims to plant the religious symbol on the lunar surface by the end of the decade. As if there wasn’t enough junk in space already. The goal? To “consecrate the heavens and remind humanity that God is the King of the universe.”

According to Talking Points Memo, this isn’t just a random whim from a random guy. He’s been working on this for a while, even creating animations showing what this would look like.

Park explained in an interview with the Davenport, Iowa-based Catholic Messenger that this was part of a plan to get in front of the future. “It’s kind of a culmination of the skills that God’s given me, and the vision,” Park said. 

A Pro-Trump Activist Is Raising Money To Install A Giant Christian Cross On The Moon

Right Wing Watch 👀Written by Peter Montgomery.


Self-proclaimed Christian nationalist podcaster Joshua Haymes interviewed far-right Christian nationalist Florida gubernatorial candidate James Fishback last week. The two agreed that the U.S. was founded “by Christians and for Christians,” and Fishback said that he would have a duty to promote Christianity as governor.

Fishback said he would make classes on the Bible mandatory in Florida schools, though he did not embrace Haymes’ call for the government to suppress “demonic false religions,” saying he believes it is more effective to evangelize Christianity rather than censor its competitors. He called for a moratorium on immigration to keep “foreign ideas” out of the country.

Haymes staked out his Christian nationalist position early in the interview:

I believe that our nation was founded by Christians and for Christians, and I believe that our civil magistrates have a responsibility, a duty before God, to promote true religion, which is to say Christian religion, and to demote, and even in some cases suppress, demonic false religions.

Fishback responded:


We are called to fully obey our Lord and Savior. Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, the life. Not one way of many, not one truth of many . . . 

Continue @ RWW

Joshua Haymes And James Fishback Talk Christian Nationalism And Abolishing Abortion

Lynx By Ten To The Power Of Two Thousand And Forty Four

 

Pastords @ 54

 




A Morning Thought @ 3217

Pádraig Drummond  
There is something rotten in the soul of a society when it looks at an empty pub and worries more about the taps than the man who owns them.


For four years, The Waterside has sat idle, and now the familiar chorus begins again: "Someone should get Conor McGregor to reopen it." As though the greatest crisis facing this community is the absence of overpriced pints and celebrity selfies.

Have we learned nothing? This is a man whom an Irish High Court jury found liable for raping Nikita Hand, awarding her substantial damages after hearing weeks of evidence. During that trial, the court heard harrowing medical evidence, including that Ms Hand required the surgical removal of a tampon lodged inside her body following the assault. The jury listened. They weighed the evidence. They reached their conclusion.

Yet somehow, for some people, the only lingering question is whether he'll pull a decent pint. That should shame us.

Communities are defined not by who has the deepest pockets, but by who we choose to welcome through the front door. Every invitation extended to McGregor sends another message to survivors of sexual violence: that wealth, celebrity and notoriety can outweigh accountability. That if you're famous enough, eventually people stop talking about what you've done and start talking about your business ventures instead.

We should be asking ourselves a different question. What message does it send to every woman in this town if the answer to an abandoned building is to roll out the red carpet for a man found liable for rape?

Across Ireland, women's refuges, rape crisis centres and frontline support organisations spend every day helping survivors rebuild lives shattered by violence. Their staff and volunteers carry burdens most of us cannot imagine. They believe victims when others do not. They offer shelter, counselling, legal support and dignity.

Those are the people deserving of our admiration.

Those are the people we should be backing.

Not a man whose public persona has become a grotesque monument to aggression, domination and the kind of performative masculinity that mistakes intimidation for strength.

Strength is not shouting louder than everyone else.

Strength is not throwing punches at an elderly man sitting on a bar stool.

Strength is not building an identity around fear, excess and the cult of the untouchable alpha male.

Real strength is found in the women who walk into a refuge with nothing but the clothes on their backs. It is found in survivors who tell their stories despite knowing they will be attacked, doubted and ridiculed. It is found in the workers who answer crisis calls at three o'clock in the morning because someone, somewhere, has nowhere else to turn.

That is courage.

The mythology surrounding McGregor has always depended on confusing violence with virtue. Too many have mistaken swagger for leadership, notoriety for achievement, and spectacle for substance. But communities should aspire to something better than celebrity worship.

An empty pub is an inconvenience.

A culture that excuses violence against women is a catastrophe.

If The Waterside is destined to stand empty for another four years, then so be it. Empty buildings can be restored. Broken trust is far harder to rebuild. A community that welcomes a man found liable by an Irish High Court jury for raping Nikita Hand tells every survivor that commerce matters more than conscience, that celebrity outweighs accountability, and that enough money can buy a second chance before justice has even had time to settle.


We should be better than that. Let The Waterside wait. Let someone with integrity breathe life back into its walls. Our community deserves more than another shrine to ego, and every woman who has ever feared, endured or survived violence deserves to know that when we are forced to choose between profit and principle, we will choose principle every single time.

Pádraig Drummond is an anti-racism activist.

Not Every Empty Building Deserves Its Owner Back

Geordie Morrow 🖌 with a painting from his collection of art work. 


⏩Geordie Morrow
is a Belfast artist.

Home Thoughts From Abroad

Kate Rice ✍ I have been to the north of Ireland many times in my life, mostly when I was too young to remember anything other than souvenir shops and shamrock green trinkets packed into my bag. 

Every time I have visited, it has been with a guiding hand on my shoulder to remind me which areas are “ours”, and which areas are “theirs.”

At the age of 25 (now 26), I decided to make the big and terrifying leap into the North on my own, into the fray of those yellow taped areas. When making my bookings, I felt something of a brave explorer hurtling inevitably towards an unsatisfying ending - Alexander Supertramp excitedly spotting that abandoned bus on the Sushana River. The city centre ignited little sense of adventure within me on arrival. High street shops and people rushing to and from work to lunch and back again is ten a penny in England. Was this the great big bad my dad had warned me about? Teenagers mooching around outside McDonalds, blocking the doors? I could find that anywhere. Ten years ago, I would have been that.

I confess, I got cocky. I had peaked Everest, I had looked into the belly of my father’s imagined great beast and seen only metropolitan life and a Glider system my own city would envy. We crossed the Westlink, and a man speaking loudly into his phone stopped my partner (in his Norway shirt) and asked if they were playing England. On confirmation, the man shook his hand and told him he hoped they’d win. Friendly, but the first hint I’d had since arriving that there had ever been a time of historical significance here at all.

The memorials came quickly then. Walls and electrical boxes painted and trussed up and faded and painted again - faces that had been gone from this world since before I was born. Signs written as Gaeilge, tricolours in windows. Surely this must be the beast, then? The refusal to let their dead fade out of memory, rampant and rainbow splattered support for political struggles all across the world? But still, no. The big bad shadow of West Belfast had been made clear to me from childhood, and yet I hadn’t seen it.

We stopped for a moment outside Divis Tower. If you’ve read my previous works, you might know that I have a historical interest and fascination with Brendan Hughes - when I first started looking into Irish history for myself without parental blinkers on, each “side” was an amalgamation of clay and belief and gun. Brendan Hughes was the first person to take shape, my first real awakening that it had been a conflict of people and not just ideals. It was sobering to see the Tower he spent his final years in, which feels silly to say, but I have charged myself to be truthful with my travel diary.

We then briefly slipped into the D Company memorial, which was beautifully kept. There were flower arrangements on the stone plinth, and a tricolour flying overhead beside a Palestine flag. There is an unexplainable peace that comes over most people when they enter a memorial space, and I am no exception. However, I’ve never experienced such a peace-less peace. Constantly asking myself if I should feel guilty for it, if I should be holding up a sign that says “please be patient, still learning.” That feeling still hasn’t quite gone away.

I’m an emotional person by nature, and the countless amounts of mural art in West Belfast took my breath away at each and every turn. The Peace Wall, the famous mural of Bobby Sands MP. Such a famous face, painted with great care on the side of a building in a thoroughly working class community felt almost comical in a way. I think I had expected fanfare, or to find these murals on the sides of palaces and great big museums. Thinking on it, the people depicted in this art may prefer it the way it is.

One day I got the notion to walk to Felons by myself. In my studies, it had been mentioned a couple of times for the pieces of history inside and the pictures on the walls. My attempt to visit on an earlier day with a local friend had ended in a swift rejection at the door - apparently, he was barred. We’d ended up in PD on that day. As I walked, navigating the physical boundaries of the road, a voice called out from a bus stop. It was an old man named Charlie, remarking on the brilliance of the weather. When I asked him for directions to the Felons, he didn't just give me a route; he gave me an itinerary. He told me to stop at the Rock Bar first, assuring me of the friendliness inside, all while making sure to mention - several times - that he wasn't much of a drinker himself. He was a tea man. He gave me a piece of survival advice for the local pubs, wrapped in dry wit: "Don't buy anyone a drink, or you'll find yourself the friend of every man in the bar."

He laughed about how he couldn't spell or pronounce the name of the street he lived on. Then, with the same casual cadence, he pointed across the road. He spoke of the 1970s. He described the gunmen who used to crouch in the upper levels of the buildings opposite us, and the ambient, suffocating fear of knowing you could be shot at any moment just for existing on the pavement. He recounted the slurs flung at him by British soldiers and Loyalist faithfuls. The casual nature of his delivery was gutting, in a way. This was just the backdrop of his youth.

Hearing him mention the army, a lump formed in my throat. I decided to take another terrifying leap into the truth. I told Charlie that my dad had been one of those British soldiers. I told him I was here to learn on my own, bracing myself for the shift in his eyes, waiting for him to shrink away or tell me, rightfully, to fuck off.

Yet, the legacy of that conflict hadn't hardened him to the stranger standing in front of him. He looked at me, the child of a regiment that had policed and belittled him, and he chose to be kind. He looked at the door my dad had always held closed, and he opened it wider for me. He assured me that everyone would be kind, and friendly. They’d respect my presence as long as I respected theirs.

Before we parted, this man, who had survived the worst of the city's history looked at me, an English outsider, and made a promise. He told me he would sit at that bus stop until midnight if he had to, just to wait and see me walk back down the street safe and happy before he went home. I had spent my life being warned about the dangers hidden in these streets, inheriting a fear of a beast that didn't exist. But standing there, I realized the only thing waiting for me in the shadow of the Westlink was an old man offering to guard the safety of a soldier’s child over an imaginary cup of tea.

Kate Rice is a peace baby.

Belfast 🪶 The Tale Of The Pope In The Pub Garden 🪶 Act Ⅰ

Lynx By Ten To The Power Of Two Thousand And Forty Three

 

A Morning Thought @ 3216

Frankie McKillen Imagine two men sitting in separate prison cells. 

Both swore the same oath. Both accepted the same risks. Both know that cooperation could dramatically improve their circumstances. One talks. The other remains silent. Why? That question has fascinated me for years. Not because some people become informers. There is nothing particularly mysterious about that. Human beings have always sought to avoid suffering when they can. The real mystery to me at least, is why so many people refuse. Take examples from two very different organisations. 

In the American Mafia, Sammy Gravano Sammy Gravano became one of the most famous informers in Mafia history. Faced with life imprisonment, he chose cooperation. He later justified his decision by claiming that John Gotti had betrayed him and was prepared to sacrifice him to save himself. Yet in the same world there were men such as Sonny Franzese, who spent decades in prison and never became a government witness. Whatever else can be said about him, he repeatedly chose silence over self-interest. 

The same contrast can be found within Irish republicanism. 

Republicans such as Raymond Gilmour and Christopher Black informed. Thousands of others did not. Men such as Brendan Hughes served long years in prison without abandoning the principle that informing was unacceptable. The same pressures. The same dangers. The same possibility of freedom. Entirely different decisions. 

The Mafia provides another interesting contrast. Gregory Scarpa Jr. cooperated with the FBI while imprisoned alongside convicted terrorists, including Ramzi Yousef. Rather than informing on the Mafia, he passed intelligence about terrorist activities and alleged plots he learned about in prison. Scarpa has maintained that he drew a clear distinction between betraying his own organisation and providing information he believed could save innocent lives. 

Gregory Scarpa Sr spent decades secretly informing for the FBI while remaining one of the Colombo family's most feared captains. His case illustrates the other end of the spectrum from his son: where Gregory Scarpa Jr. drew a line at informing on the Mafia, Scarpa Sr. crossed it repeatedly. 

Most discussions focus on the people who talk. The reasons people inform are generally easy enough to identify - Fear. Greed. Revenge. Disillusionment. Exhaustion. The desire to return to family. The desire to avoid prison. The instinct for self-preservation. None of these require much explanation. Human beings are wired to survive. Given a choice between freedom and confinement, comfort and hardship, most people will naturally gravitate towards whatever benefits them. That is not a mystery.

Why do people refuse opportunities that appear entirely rational? History is filled with examples. Men facing life sentences. Men facing the prospect of dying in prison. Men offered reduced sentences. Men offered witness protection. Men offered money. Men offered freedom. Yet they refused. Why does honour or their political belief matter more to some people than freedom? Why would a person willingly accept years, perhaps decades, of imprisonment rather than break an oath? 

For some people, an oath eventually ceases to be something they have taken and becomes something they are. Breaking an oath is no longer merely changing a position. It becomes an attack on their own sense of self. To inform would not simply betray others; it would betray the person they believe themselves to be. 

For some the answer appears to be belief. They continue to believe in the cause, organisation or values they embraced when they first joined. For others it is loyalty. The oath remains binding regardless of changing circumstances. For others it is identity. They simply cannot imagine themselves becoming an informer. To do so would fundamentally alter how they see themselves. 

For others it may be something more difficult to define - A personal code. A sense of dignity. A refusal to betray comrades. A conviction that some lines, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. 

History provides countless examples of people who shared similar beliefs and values but arrived at opposite conclusions. Some remained silent. Others talked. Even informers themselves rarely explain their decisions purely in terms of self-interest. Many insist they were betrayed first. Sammy Gravano's explanation is a good example. His account was not that he suddenly became disloyal. Rather, he argued that loyalty had already been broken by others. Whether one believes him is beside the point.

The important thing is that few informers view themselves as villains. Most have explanations. Most have grievances. Most tell stories in which cooperation became justified, necessary or unavoidable. 

Yet many others have experienced the same grievances without informing. John Gotti believed he had been betrayed by bosses and still remained silent. Many republicans believed they had been betrayed by leaders and still remained silent. 

The same experience often produces entirely different responses. Which brings me back to my original puzzle. Two people can swear the same oath. Fight for the same cause. Belong to the same organisation. Endure the same prison. Face the same incentives. One talks. The other remains silent.

No political theory adequately explains it. No criminal code adequately explains it. No psychological theory completely explains it. 

The answer appears to lie somewhere deeper within the individual. Some people eventually decide that freedom is worth more than loyalty. Others decide that loyalty is worth more than freedom. Some place self-preservation first. Others place honour, belief or identity above self-preservation. What separates them remains unclear. 

The real mystery is not Sammy Gravano. History contains countless examples of people choosing their own interests. The real mystery is Sonny Franzese. The real mystery is Brendan Hughes. The real mystery is the thousands of unnamed prisoners, republicans, gangsters, soldiers, spies and revolutionaries who could have improved their own circumstances by cooperating but refused. 

Perhaps the answer lies in the words that Bobby Sands often quoted from John 15:13: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." 

Whether expressed through faith, loyalty, honour or conviction, perhaps that is what separates those who refuse from those who cannot. What gives some people the strength to place loyalty, honour or belief above even their own survival? After centuries of prisons, wars, revolutions and criminal conspiracies, I am still struggling to answer that question.

🕮 Frankie McKillen is a Belfast Rockabilly

The Real Mystery Is Not Why Some Men Talk

Heartlands Tribune ☭ Written by Paul Knaggs.

It Took Geneva To Remind Westminster That Women Have Rights

Women’s rights in Britain are not owned. They are held on licence, revocable whenever a man claims the female identity. July 2026 was the month the licence nearly got called in.

On 14 July, in an office in Geneva, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on violence against women and girls sat down and drafted a press release about the United Kingdom.

Not about Afghanistan, where girls are barred from school. Not about Iran, where women are beaten for their hair. About Britain, the country that gave the world the suffragettes, the Equal Pay Act and the Sex Discrimination Act.

Reem Alsalem’s statement urged British politicians to uphold a ruling of their own Supreme Court, and observed that the backlash against it showed “how fragile the protection of women’s rights remains”. She closed by calling on the Government and the devolved administrations to state clearly that the law is clear and must be complied with.

The law is clear and must be complied with. A UN official had to say that sentence to the British Parliament. Every word of this article exists to explain why she had to, and to name the people responsible.

Continue @ Heartlands.

The UN Had To Tell Britain, Women Have Rights