Why opposing immigration is not about 'whiteness'



If the Ku Klux Klan’s continued existence in the United States is unsettling, its emergence in Ireland is almost surreal. Yet here we are in a time when reality is much stranger than fiction.

Frank L. Silva, a former KKK member, has been actively collaborating with anti-establishment groups in Ireland, sparking media outrage and widespread head-scratching. Silva’s history shows how the Klan has evolved from its post-Civil War roots to modern offshoots. The dark irony here is impossible to overlook.

Irish immigrants were depicted in political cartoons as brutish, animalistic figures, often described as 'negroes turned inside out.'

You see, the Klan’s ties to Irish identity and the very concept of “whiteness” go way back.

The fighting Irish

The 19th century saw waves of Irish immigrants fleeing the Great Famine only to find themselves vilified upon arrival in America. The Ku Klux Klan, with its roots deeply entwined with anti-Catholic sentiment, exploited this wave of Irish immigration to fuel fear and division. Irish Catholics were portrayed as a threat to Protestant values and, by extension, to the American people.

If there’s one thing the Irish love — beside drinking, dancing, cursing, joking, and singing — it’s a good fight. Recognizing the threat, they met it head-on, fists raised.

One striking example of Irish defiance was the Notre Dame student uprising of 1924. When a Klan rally was held near their campus, Irish Catholic students stood their ground, showing strength in the face of real danger.

"But weren’t the Irish 'white'?" some of today's crusading anti-racists may ask. "Wasn’t the Klan all about preserving and promoting “white supremacy”?

This is where a little history lesson is in order.

White privilege?

In 19th-century America, Irish immigrants were not considered “white” in the same sense as Anglo-Saxon Protestants. They were perceived as racially inferior due to a mix of religious, cultural, and economic biases.

Arriving destitute and in droves, Irish immigrants were seen as competition for low-wage jobs in rapidly urbanizing cities. Their willingness to work for less fueled native workers' resentment and economic anxiety — sound familiar?

Religious tension deepened these divisions. In a country founded on Protestant ideals, Irish Catholics were viewed as agents of the Vatican, a foreign power. This suspicion, stoked by groups such as the Know-Nothing Party, painted Irish Catholics as potential saboteurs of American democracy — loyal not to the United States but to Rome. The notion that the Irish could undermine governance gained traction in certain circles, giving weight to the Klan’s anti-Irish campaigns.

The animosity, while harsh, had roots in primal instincts — tribalism. A group of newcomers with strange accents and unfamiliar customs seemed wholly different. From an evolutionary standpoint, the suspicion made complete sense. Welcoming a complete stranger into your home with open arms is, at best, unwise. At worst, it can be disastrous.

However, the backlash against the Irish was extreme and largely detached from reality. Cultural narratives and pseudoscientific theories added fuel to the fire. Irish immigrants were depicted in political cartoons as brutish, animalistic figures, often described as “negroes turned inside out.”

This comparison underscored their perceived moral and intellectual inferiority, supporting the belief that they threatened societal stability. Books like "Comparative Physiognomy" perpetuated these stereotypes, further entrenching the racialization of the Irish and positioning them below the dominant white Protestant identity.

Franklin’s foresight

Earlier this year, the brilliant Steve Sailer revisited Benjamin Franklin’s essay “Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind,” a polemic opposing the influx of German immigrants into Pennsylvania. Franklin worried that these newcomers would resist assimilation into English-speaking society, potentially reshaping the colony with their own customs and language rather than blending in and strengthening a unified culture. Less melting pot, more splintered silos.

Franklin’s fear was entirely reasonable. Shared skin color was no assurance of shared values or a cohesive society. The threat, as he saw it, was not merely foreign influence but the fracturing of what he considered the cultural fabric of early America.

This notion holds a striking parallel to modern debates. The idea that “white privilege” is a uniform experience ignores the varied and often tumultuous paths of European-descended populations. The Irish’s suffering during the Great Famine, the persecution of Eastern European Jews, or the challenges faced by Southern and Eastern European immigrants all challenge the monolithic narrative of privilege.

The only thread connecting these people was their shared hope for a better life. That’s it. They faced prejudice, economic struggle, and cultural exclusion. “Whiteness” has never been, and will never be, a simple, unified identity. True racism lies in denying this reality.

Franklin’s fears resonate in today’s world. The genuine celebration of diversity — a blend of backgrounds and traditions — has been warped by ideologies that prioritize superficial traits over shared cultural values.

Not that long ago, before the hyper-progressive mind virus took hold, we sought to respect differences while finding stable common ground.

Now, it’s about men in skirts, pronouns, and 700 different genders.

Degeneracy has taken the place of diversity.

EU-inspired erosion

The assumption that shared skin color equates to cultural uniformity is as flawed now as it was in Franklin’s era. This brings us to the larger consequence of global immigration and cultural dilution.

Once unique, robust cultures such as those in Germany and Ireland are now grappling with the consequences of globalization’s unchecked march. Mass immigration, driven by open-border policies and economic interests, has accelerated cultural erosion at an alarming rate.

The very essence of these nations’ identities is being submerged under the weight of Brussels-bred conformity. Franklin’s warning about cultural displacement, voiced over two centuries ago, feels prophetic today. The results of unfettered globalization can be seen in the loss of distinct identities and the rise of tensions that hark back to the very divisions that defined the Irish struggle in America.

The question is, how much will be lost before nations recognize the cost?

The re-election of Donald Trump offers the United States a glimmer of hope. But in Europe, hope is in short supply. In fact, one could argue it vanished years ago.

We’re on the verge of Orwell’s Thought Police becoming a reality in Ireland



As Donald Trump prepares to re-enter the White House in January, the push to police "truth" is gaining momentum.

Literally. With real cops.

Police1, a powerful arm of “public safety policy management” behemoth Lexipol, is reshaping law enforcement across the United States — though certainly not for the better.

Barring decisive pushback, the madness spreading across the UK and Ireland will soon find its way into the United States.

You see, Police1 is busy preparing officers to confront what it labels the “misinformation” crisis of the digital age. If they're not already prepared, the author of a recent article on the Police1 website, Joseph J. Lestrange, insists they should be.

But Lestrange isn’t your average op-ed writer. As a former high-ranking official in the Biden administration, he sees misinformation and disinformation not as minor nuisances but as direct threats — ones that erode public trust, fuel hostility toward officers, and undermine police operations. With AI-powered tools like deepfakes and manipulated audio, he warns, these threats have reached unprecedented sophistication, opening the door to ever more calculated assaults on public perception. At the same time, these threats open the door to another possible assault — specifically, law enforcement overreach.

As the fight against misinformation intensifies, “Big Brother” risks morphing into an even more pervasive “Bigger Brother,” blurring the line between protection and control. More of the latter. Much less of the former.

Lestrange suggests that police agencies adopt “Misinformation/Disinformation Units” to identify, fact-check, and counter false narratives. This move would position law enforcement as responders and architects of public perception, armed with the power to collaborate with tech giants and preemptively flag “harmful” content. Lestrange frames the unholy alliance to protect officers and rebuild community trust.

But these units, if created, would cast a dark shadow and raise serious concerns about transparency, civil liberties, and unchecked power. If Edward Snowden taught us anything — now over a decade ago — it's that government tools meant for “protection” can easily slip into surveillance and control tools, threatening the very freedoms they claim to defend.

Not surprisingly, Lestrange’s promises of “impartial policing” ring hollow. These units risk becoming tools for selective narrative control — amplifying certain voices and silencing others. The report’s concerns about eroding public trust underscore how fragile this balance is; if law enforcement assumes the role of “truth arbiter,” any misstep or bias will swiftly deepen public distrust. Let me be clear here. This isn’t an attack on officers. Most boys (and girls) in blue are decent, honorable people. The real issue lies with the powerful few who officers must answer to. Those behind the curtain pull the strings not to protect us but to manipulate and control us.

The implications are potentially dire with Police1 and Lexipol driving this model nationwide. By framing narrative control as essential to policing, Lexipol pushes departments to blur the line between traditional duties and digital influence. This shift should raise alarms: It marks a slippery slope into content moderation — a realm typically reserved for independent platforms, not government agencies. We’re on the verge of Orwell’s Thought Police becoming a reality.

Some essential questions must be asked. Who will hold these “misinformation” units accountable? What will prevent personal or political biases from determining what gets flagged as “harmful”? Without strict transparency and oversight, these units risk becoming unchecked gatekeepers of information, placing the public’s right to knowledge — and the integrity of law enforcement — in jeopardy.

The threat is not hypothetical; it is already a reality in the U.K., where similar units have been established, wielding considerable influence over what is deemed "truth." In my own country, Ireland, people are already being arrested for “misgendering” others. Referring to a biological man who believes he's a woman isn’t just expected — it’s now mandatory. Calling him what he truly is can land you in prison for years. In other words, speaking the truth is now a punishable offense.

This raises crucial concerns about who holds the power to decide what constitutes "mis" or "dis" information. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the public witnessed how accurate yet dissenting narratives were swiftly demonized, labeled misinformation, and suppressed. Such tactics delegitimized valid perspectives, leading to a chilling effect on open dialogue. In the U.S., if Lexipol’s framework for misinformation units is adopted without strict oversight, the implications could be similarly far-reaching, threatening the plurality of voices that is fundamental to democracy.

And as public safety agencies venture into content moderation, the question of who defines "truth" will become increasingly critical — and potentially contentious — highlighting the need for clear, accountable practices to safeguard public trust and democratic integrity. Barring decisive pushback, the madness spreading across the U.K. and Ireland will soon find its way into the United States.

As Trump’s team readies to take charge, his allies like Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy must push back against a state apparatus eager to police thought — a system the current administration eagerly embraces.

The Great Replacement is real — and happening to Ireland



The Great Replacement theory is often dismissed as a tinfoil-hat-wearing fever dream, a fringe notion that only the most paranoid could entertain.

Yet in Ireland, it is playing out in real time, driven by policies that explicitly aim to replace the native population with an influx of foreign-born residents.

As an Irishman, I write this with a mixture of anger and absolute sadness. A truly wonderful country full of truly wonderful people is being destroyed, and the elites are enjoying every second of it.

Far from being a wild conspiracy, this demographic transformation is a stated goal of the Ireland 2040 plan, which seeks to integrate massive numbers of migrants into a small island nation, eroding its traditional identity and social fabric. The elites are giving the Irish a glimpse of their future, and it’s nothing short of grim.

Critics, begone!

Irish-born Canadian Stefan Molyneux — long ago unpersoned by the mainstream media for "white supremacy" and other offenses — tried to raise the alarm some five years ago, only to have YouTube promptly ban his video. It still survives in places online, allowing you to take in his calm, careful argument against the initiative ... if you dare.

The rationale provided for the 2040 plan is riddled with fallacies. The supposed inevitability of a growing, diversifying population is nothing more than propaganda. Population growth is portrayed as an unstoppable force, akin to natural phenomena like aging or the changing of the seasons.

In reality, this is a man-made phenomenon, a social construct pretending to be something organic. The Irish government’s claim that by 2040, the island will be home to millions more people, is treated as a foregone conclusion.

But this outcome is far from inevitable. It is the direct consequence of policies that prioritize open borders and mass migration over the preservation of cultural identity and social cohesion. Yes, demographic decline is a concern. But who we're letting in is a far bigger concern. The government seems fixated on issues of quantity; elected leaders should instead be obsessing over the quality of people entering the land they are paid to protect.

Selling a fantasy

The economic argument for mass immigration falls flat under scrutiny. Politicians sell the public on the fantasy that immigrants from the third world will seamlessly integrate, fill labor gaps, and support an aging population. However, this narrative ignores stark differences in academic qualifications, cultural practices, overall work ethic, and the fact that many struggle to speak basic English.

Believing that large numbers of people from regions with vastly different cultural and economic backgrounds will immediately become tax-paying, productive members of society is not only unrealistic but delusional. Moreover, it’s dangerous. It creates a permanent underclass, with associated increases in crime and social unrest.

It’s not about xenophobia or prejudice; it’s about recognizing that nature, evolution, and/or divine design have shaped different groups for different environments, much like how wolves and dogs have adapted to their specific habitats. An Aboriginal would struggle to adapt to life in a modern Western city just as much as an urbanite would fail to thrive in the harsh Australian outback.

Just like the Biden administration, the Irish government uses deceptive language to mask its eagerness to embrace diversity at all costs. When officials speak of social cohesion and sustainability (a term that means everything and absolutely nothing), what they're really endorsing is a future where traditional Irish communities are replaced by multicultural enclaves.

This transformation is being portrayed as something beyond the control of the people, an unavoidable reality of globalization. But history shows that immigration patterns can and have been controlled. Ireland existed for thousands of years without being swamped by third world migration. What has changed is not the inevitability of population growth but the willingness of the government to undermine its own culture in the name of diversity.

Dublin or Durban?

As Molyneux shows, the parallels with Africa serve to illustrate a number of important points. Moving people from the third world to first-world countries is not a solution; it is a transfer of problems from one region to another. The carbon footprint of a Somali arriving in Dublin skyrockets compared to what it would be if they stayed in their native village. The notion that immigration somehow benefits the environment is a clever bait-and-switch. It is a pernicious plan that sacrifices cultural preservation and social stability at the altar of radical egalitarianism.

The Ireland 2040 document is filled with vague bureaucratic platitudes about sustainable growth, environmental management, and community development. Yet, nowhere in its many pages is there a real plan to preserve what makes Ireland unique. Instead, the plan involves diluting the native population and creating a new society in which diversity is celebrated as an end in itself, regardless of the consequences. The influx of foreigners is not just a policy choice; it is a cultural bulldozer, demolishing centuries of history in a matter of decades.

Today, Ireland looks a lot like Africa. Literally. The streets of Dublin resemble the streets of Durban. The people are not being asked whether they want this; they are being told it is happening, whether they like it or not.

The dismissal of concerns about the loss of social cohesion as mere racism reveals the extent to which the discourse has been manipulated. True racism lies in the refusal to acknowledge the legitimate fears of those who see their communities transformed before their eyes. It lies in the sneering disregard for the cultural heritage of a people who fought for their independence, only to find it threatened again, this time not by foreign armies but by native-born lawmakers.

Godless globalism

Ireland does not need to become a multicultural experiment at the behest of an administrative aristocracy more interested in global accolades than in the welfare of its own citizens.

As an Irishman, I write this with a mixture of anger and absolute sadness. A truly wonderful country full of truly wonderful people is being destroyed, and the elites are enjoying every second of it. They’re dismantling what it means to be Irish, all for the approval of the beasts in Brussels, most of whom will will never set foot in the communities they’ve helped destroy.

This is not progress; it’s a betrayal. The Irish spirit — once fierce, unbreakable — is being suffocated under the weight of policies designed to strip it bare. We are not just losing our identity; we are having it stolen from us, and those responsible are laughing as they do it. All the while, the Irish citizens — good, decent people like my mother and father — are left to watch in heartbreak as the country they cherished morphs into something truly horrific.

Why the Irish can't stand Bono



U2 is on a winning streak.

Last spring, the Irish rockers wrapped up a wildly popular, 40-night residency at the Sphere in Las Vegas; the $244.5 million in ticket sales made it the fourth-highest-grossing residency of all time. And fans who missed out on seeing the band live are flocking to the new "immersive concert film" recreating the spectacle.

As my father, a dyed-in-the-wool working-class Irishman, once said, 'Sure, this is a fella who wears sunglasses indoors.' Indoors!

After almost half a century, the quartet from Dublin is bigger than ever, at least in America.

Back home in Ireland, the vast majority couldn't give a toss. Why? In one word: Bono.

Let me explain.

You see, Ireland is a place where humility isn’t just admired — it’s expected. Praise makes us squirm, and there’s almost a national dyslexia when it comes to compliments. We show love by jabbing each other with witty (and not-so-witty) remarks. That’s our thing. Compliments are like kryptonite, and boasting is met with severe backlash.

For years, Bono — whose real name is Paul David Hewson — has been seen as someone who believes he’s better than everyone else. As my father, a dyed-in-the-wool working-class Irishman, once said, “Sure, this is a fella who wears sunglasses indoors.” Indoors! Ireland is a place where you’re more likely to encounter an extraterrestrial than a ray of sunshine.

Sanctimonious songsmith

Bono’s involvement in politics and humanitarian work is, without question, admirable. From championing debt relief for developing nations to raising awareness about the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa, he’s done more good than most rock stars ever dream of.

But when you’re at a U2 concert and Bono starts lecturing the masses, it comes off as pretentious and preachy. I’ve been to a number of the band's shows, and countless times, Bono has interrupted the flow of the music to deliver impassioned speeches about love, togetherness, and the world’s woes.

Now, I get it — these are important topics. But there’s a time and a place for everything.

Picture a typical U2 show in the late 2000s. It's an hour or so in, and the band has yet to play classics like “With or Without You” or “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” The anticipation is electric as Bono launches into a long monologue about his close friend Desmond Tutu.

Yes, Tutu was a great man, a giant in the fight against apartheid. But most people there had no idea who he was. Moreover, they hadn’t come for a talk on social justice. They’d shelled out a hefty sum to see a rock show, not to hear about the miracles performed by the late, great bishop and theologian. But that's exactly what they got.

That’s Bono, though — a man with a cause, always. In America, people might admire that, but in Ireland, we just roll our eyes and snicker.

Separating Hewson from the herd

It’s crucial to separate Bono from U2, just like it's crucial to separate Xi Jinping from the people of China. U2, at its core, is a great band — no question about it. U2 has given us some great albums, from the raw power of "The Joshua Tree" to the experimental genius of "Achtung Baby."

The band’s other members seem like genuinely decent guys. I’ve exchanged a few words with the Edge and Larry Mullen in the past, and both came across as down-to-earth, humble, the kind of blokes you’d grab numerous pints of Guinness with.

But Bono, despite what seem like good intentions, has become a kind of lightning rod for criticism in Ireland. It’s not that he’s a bad guy — by most accounts, he’s actually all right. But the damage is done. The impression has already been set in stone.

Having notions

In Ireland, once we’ve made up our minds, it’s almost impossible to shift the consensus. Along with being practically allergic to praise, we’re a stubborn people. Even when presented with solid evidence, we dig in our heels and stick to our convictions. This is not logical, I know. But it’s the way things are.

So while Bono’s sermons about world peace and love may inspire in other parts of the globe, back home in Ireland, they’ve only served to reinforce a long-standing perception — specifically that the 64-year-old takes himself way too seriously.

Recently, a phenomenal Irish musician by the name of Dermot Kennedy sat down for an interview with comedian Theo Von. At one point, their conversation hit on something deeply Irish: the idea of "having notions."

In Ireland, to "have notions" is to think too highly of yourself — to be full of conceit or arrogance or, as we say, to have a big head (ceann mór,pronounced like "kyan more"). It’s a concept that’s ingrained in our culture, where humility is paramount and anyone who deviates from it becomes an immediate target for criticism and relentless ridicule. And Bono, fairly or unfairly, fits the bill.

Et tu, Conor?

Another man who perfectly embodies the "notions" label is Conor McGregor, someone I’ve discussed in detail before. His recent announcement that he will run for president of Ireland in 2025 should be viewed for exactly what it is — a shameless publicity stunt. McGregor argues that he’s the “only logical choice,” but most people with a functioning brain, something the Dubliner appears to lack, would disagree.

The Irish presidency is a largely ceremonial role, much like the British monarchy. The president has no real legislative power — it's an ornamental position meant to represent the nation, not shape its policies. McGregor’s entry into this race won’t change that.

Even for a symbolic position, McGregor's qualifications fall short. His UFC career is spiraling, and this presidential bid reeks of desperation to stay in the spotlight. He’s not a politician; he’s not a statesman — he’s an opportunist. His history of violent outbursts and incoherent public rants, including assaults on fellow Irish citizens, hardly makes him a fitting figure to represent Ireland on the world stage.

Ireland faces real, pressing issues: housing shortages, a crumbling health care system, rising violent crime, and economic uncertainty. None of these are problems McGregor is remotely qualified to address. His bluster and bravado may have won him fights in the octagon, but they won't fix the country's mounting crises.

In fact, his bid risks turning the presidency into a sideshow, distracting from the serious work needed to solve Ireland's problems. But he doesn’t seem to care. This is the danger of being consumed by "notions" — it can drive the rational to irrationality, the once-discerning into dangerously delusional territory.

Both Bono and McGregor have developed larger-than-life personas that have ultimately distanced them from a nation that values humility above all else. They once, many moons ago, recognized the importance of staying in their respective lanes. Those days, however, appear to be long gone.

'I am the only logical choice': Conor McGregor signals he will run for president of Ireland in 2025



Former two-division UFC champion Conor McGregor stated he would give the people of Ireland the answers they seek if elected president.

In posts to his X account, McGregor said that if he were president of Ireland, he would be reining in the poor management by the country's government.

"As President I hold the power to summon the Dáil as well as dissolve it," McGregor began.

'The people of Ireland deserve the answers they seek.'

The Dáil Éireann is the Irish parliament.

McGregor then referred to parliamentarians as "thieves" of the working class who are disrupting the family unit and destroying small businesses.

"These charlatans in their positions of power would be summoned to answer to the people of Ireland and I would have it done by day end. Or I would be left with no choice but to dissolve the Dáil entirely," he continued. "The people of Ireland deserve the answers they seek. Point blank. This would be my power as President. I know very well. Ireland needs an active President employed wholly by the people of Ireland. It is me. I am the only logical choice."

The Irishman then cryptically wrote, "2025 is upcoming."

— (@)

The presidency of Ireland is largely a ceremonial position and is not the chief executive office of the state, unlike other countries. That position is the taoiseach, or prime minister.

However, according to Ireland's website, the ceremonial roles could be incredibly consequential depending on who holds the position. The presidential powers include appointing the prime minister, members of government, and judges. As well, the president can dissolve or summon the parliament, as McGregor claimed.

The president also acts as supreme commander of the Defence Forces.

The position is elected by the people and holds a term of seven years, with a maximum of two terms. The current president is Michael D. Higgins, who has been in office since November 2011. His second term will end in 2025.

McGregor also referred to a run for president when responding to an X post about a bicycle lockup that allegedly cost €335,000 in public funds, or about $372,000 USD.

"I've seen nicer bus stops! 1. Who charged this extortionate price. 2. Which wally in position approved it?" McGregor furiously asked.

"With me as president this type of carry on that we've seen countless times, some more serious than others, would be tore apart on the spot! A greedy and corrupted bunch of chancers is all!"

The fighter has not been shy about giving political opinions in the last few years, sharing images about mass immigration and stating that those entering the country need to be of proper skill and character.

— (@)

The 36-year-old has been teasing a UFC comeback for months, with a fight scheduled in the summer of 2024 against Michael Chandler delayed due to injury. A new fight date has not been set.


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The death of Ireland



Close your eyes and picture Ireland. You’re probably imagining lush green fields, charming villages, and thatched cottages. Now, open your eyes and acknowledge reality.

Nearly one in five people living in Ireland wasn’t born there. In Galway, a city that’s a stone’s throw from where I grew up, Muhammad recently surpassed Michael and Martin as the most popular name for newborn boys. That’s right — Muhammad, a name synonymous with Islamic tradition. This is not the Ireland you know or thought you knew. It’s a country in the midst of a radical transformation.

Cases like Mohamed Mohamud Mohamed, a passport-destroying migrant who was refused asylum in multiple EU countries before coming to Ireland and sexually assaulting a woman in a Dublin toilet, only affirm totally reasonable concerns people have about mass immigration into Europe being 70% male.

Ireland is going to hell in a handbasket, and its elected leaders are complicit in its descent.

Collision of civilizations

What's happening in Ireland has become a sobering reminder of the effects of out-of-control immigration and incompetent leadership. A country that was once cohesive and orderly now struggles with overwhelmed services, strained resources, and rising tensions.

This is more than a clash of values; it’s a collision of civilizations. The issue isn’t merely the number of people entering the country; it’s the kind of people.

Immigration, when properly managed, can strengthen a nation. More doctors, dentists, and engineers would be welcome. But instead, Ireland has opened its doors to an influx of dole-drawing delinquents and rapists. Communities are being decimated, Irish women are being violated, and cultural traditions are being eroded.

Documenting the decay

The Ireland of today is unrecognizable to the Ireland of 20 years ago. To understand why, it helps to get the thoughts of someone who has studied the issue in great detail. Enter Ciarán O’Regan, an essayist intimately familiar with the decay.

Over the past few years, along with my family and childhood friends back home, O’Regan has kept me informed about the chaos consuming the country. However, unlike my family and close friends, O'Regan documents this chaos with remarkable insight and eloquence. A man so Irish he bleeds Guinness, O’Regan cares passionately about the direction in which the country is headed.

He tells Align, in no uncertain terms, that “on paper, Ireland is one of the wealthiest countries in the EU. And if you were to talk to highly educated and well-paid bourgeois with sheltered lives in leafy suburbia, things can be pretty damn good — especially if they only consume media within the establishment narrative.”

On the other hand, says O'Regan:

Ask people who have had mass immigration rammed down their throats, and things are not so good. Cases like Mohamed Mohamud Mohamed, a passport-destroying migrant who was refused asylum in multiple EU countries before coming to Ireland and sexually assaulting a woman in a Dublin toilet, only affirm totally reasonable concerns people have about mass immigration into Europe being 70% male.

An unholy alliance

O'Regan paints a damning picture of an unlikely union between the Lifestyle Left and the de-nationalized globalist right. A Catholic writer from Cork who’d rather be discussing Tolkien or Nietzsche than the downfall of this once-great nation, he argues that this unholy alliance is at the heart of the country's unraveling.

O'Regan suggests that the globalist right seeks to flood the labor market with cheap, imported workers. The goal is to undercut the indigenous working class, making life easier for the sheltered elites and big capital. This strategy is driven not by any concern for the nation but by a desire to maximize profits and maintain the status quo.

But this "penetrative assault on national interest" requires a moral veneer, and that’s where the Lifestyle Left comes in. These hyper-moralists are less interested in traditional class politics and more focused on advancing what he terms "gay race communism" — a radical ideology that insists "all white people are racist" and "transwomen are women," while dismissing dissent as far-right extremism.

This intimate association between transnational capital and virtue signaling has even earned a nickname: "Globohomo," a blend of the terms "global" (or "globalist") and "homosexual." And if this starting point holds any truth, O'Regan provocatively suggests, then reckless immigration policies might not just be about economic exploitation. Instead, it could be a deliberate strategy to import a very specific type of voting bloc — one that helps the Globohomo regime quash any indigenous political dissent.

Waiting for rock bottom

When it comes to addressing the crisis in Ireland, O'Regan is torn between cautious hope and the nagging fear that this hope might be nothing more than a delusion.

O'Regan at first viewed the coalition’s March 2024 referendum defeat as a hopeful sign — suggesting Ireland might be joining its European neighbors in a "common sense populist revolt." This landslide defeat of what he dismisses as regime nonsense seemed to suggest that Irish voters were waking up to the grim realities around them.

The referendum itself, in line with the aforementioned "Globohomo" agenda, sought to expand the definition of family to include "nontraditional" relationships outside of marriage — a move that could be viewed as a concerted effort to dismantle traditional social structures.

Since then, however, O'Regan's optimism has waned. He fears that Ireland has not yet decayed enough to jolt the necessary number of voters — and crucially, potential counter-elites — out of their "tranquilizing apathy." He likens the situation to that of an addict needing to hit rock bottom before being driven to make life-changing changes.

A telling example of this political lethargy is the June re-election of Abul Kalam Azad Talukder, a Muslim Fianna Fáil councillor in Limerick who last November openly called for anti-immigration rioters in Dublin to be "shot in the head."

Blaming the 'far right'

O'Regan draws a parallel to France, the "jihad capital of Europe," where despite nearly 100 Islamist attacks and 350 deaths, Marine Le Pen’s party — openly critical of Islamism — managed only 38% of the vote in recent elections. Such events suggest that even in the face of escalating violence, a significant portion of the electorate remains indifferent or unwilling to support meaningful change.

This indifference is further highlighted by the Irish establishment’s efforts to redirect public concern away from a suspected Islamist stabbing of a Catholic Irish army chaplain and back toward the ever-elusive "far right" specter — a term so nebulous that Justice Minister Helen McEntee herself admits there’s no clear definition for it.

Given this bleak outlook, O'Regan advocates for a broader approach, one that includes meaningful communitarian endeavors designed to enrich and strengthen the social fabric of Irish life.

As Ireland crumbles, O'Regan’s message is clear: The struggle is far from over. The people of this island must look beyond traditional politics to find the strength to endure, overcome, and, if possible, save what remains.

4 tweets from Conor McGregor about Ireland’s immigrant crisis that will ring true for Americans



According to his X presence, UFC legend Conor McGregor is just as much of a fighter outside the Octagon as he is inside it.

The professional mixed martial artist has become quite the spokesperson for the political injustices going on in his home country of Ireland, where there’s been an immigrant crisis much like the one ravaging the United States.

Dave Rubin analyzes four tweets the fighter has recently blasted out in response to the Irish government — “33rd Dáil Éireann” — allowing the country to cave under the weight of immigrant crime.

This Pushed Conor McGregor Over the Edge & This Is Who He Blameswww.youtube.com

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These tweets come in response to an asylum-seeker named Adel Kerai, who “sexually assaulted a young woman in Dublin City” just days after his arrival. Kerai also had four previous convictions from the U.K.

Sounds like many stories we’ve heard from the U.S.

In another tweet, McGregor pointed out more immigrant crime — in this case, a foreigner taking pictures of children in a supermarket.

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“How many of the people that will do that sort of thing or rape these women or anything else are dancing around burning American flags in D.C.?” Dave asks, referencing the recent pro-Hamas rally on Capitol Hill.

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“That is where we are all at,” agrees Dave.

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