History Is Watching Ireland
They claim to honour 1916, to stand for freedom and justice, but you cannot wave the flag of rebellion while rejecting the very people who now face the hunger, exile, and oppression your ancestors once knew.
The people who rose up in 1916 were fighting against colonialism. They wanted self-rule, freedom from British oppression, an end to imperial control. They weren’t fighting against hungry children or displaced families. They weren’t storming the streets because someone from Sudan or Syria needed a roof over their head. So when modern-day protesters shout about betrayal and wave the Irish flag while demanding that asylum seekers be turned away, they’re not continuing the legacy of 1916. They’re twisting it.
We have to stop confusing a government’s failure to manage housing or infrastructure with the presence of people in need. Blaming migrants doesn’t solve homelessness. It doesn’t build schools or hospitals. It just redirects anger towards the easiest target. And in doing so, we forget who we are.
Some of the loudest voices in these protests claim to support the Palestinian people. They cry out against genocide and famine. They repost images of suffering children. They call for compassion and justice. But when people fleeing those same horrors arrive on Irish shores, asking for safety, the tone changes. Suddenly it’s “not our problem.” Suddenly it’s “they don’t belong here.” But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t support the cause of people overseas, only to slam the door in their face when they arrive asking for help.
It’s worth remembering, too, that the Irish were once asylum seekers. During the Great Famine, hundreds of thousands left Ireland. They arrived in England, in America, in Canada and Australia. And they weren’t welcomed with open arms. They were spat at. They were laughed at. There were signs in pub windows saying no blacks, no Irish, no dogs. They were treated as a burden, as filth, as criminals and vermin. They were mocked for their religion, their poverty, their accents. And yet they kept coming, because they had nowhere else to go.
Now, generations later, some of their descendants stand in protest, shouting at modern-day refugees to go back to where they came from. That’s not just sad. It’s shameful.
Ireland has always been a country built on hardship, faith, and community. Many of the protesters today call themselves Christian. They speak of Irish Catholic roots and traditional values. But Christ didn’t teach us to turn people away. He didn’t say love your neighbour unless they’re foreign. He didn’t say feed the hungry unless they’re on a boat. He said care for the least among us. He said help the stranger. He said do good quietly, without seeking reward.
What’s happening now isn’t about defending Ireland. It’s about fear. It’s about anger. And sadly, it’s being aimed at people who have already lost everything. They didn’t take your home. They didn’t raise your rent. They didn’t close your hospital. And they’re not the reason your child can’t find a job. The truth is, they’re just trying to survive.
If you want to speak out against government failure, do it. If you want to demand better housing, healthcare and support for working people, you’re right to. But don’t let that anger be hijacked and turned into hate. Don’t let your frustration be used to target the very people who understand struggle just as deeply as the Irish once did.
The Irish people know what it feels like to be desperate. To be hungry. To knock on doors in other countries hoping for kindness. That history lives in your bones. It should be a reason to offer empathy, not rejection.
You can’t rise by stepping on others. You can’t honour your ancestors by forgetting what they endured. And you can’t claim to love Ireland if you abandon the values that made it strong in the first place.
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