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.