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Irish Times
25-05-2025
- General
- Irish Times
Why are people in their late 20s and 30s so disillusioned with religion?
At first glance, there is little comfort for committed Catholics in a recent poll carried out by Amárach Research and commissioned by the Iona Institute, of which I am a patron. Rates of Mass going have plummeted. Only 16 per cent defined themselves as regular Mass goers. At least people are more benign towards Christianity than they are to institutional Catholicism. While only 27 per cent have a favourable attitude to the Catholic Church , half the respondents have a favourable view of Christianit y. (Slightly fewer people, 45 per cent, agree that Catholic teachings are still of benefit to society.) For comparison, a La Croix poll on the institutional Catholic Church in France found 33 per cent positive, 26 per cent negative, and 40 per cent neutral views. However, the Irish poll also suggests that 25 per cent of the population would be happy if the the church vanished from society. If it did disappear completely, the quarter of a million callers to St Vincent de Paul (SVP) in 2023 might miss the influence of the church. Our society might miss the €14.6 million SVP spent on housing and child and family services alone, out of a total expenditure of €101.2 million. The developing world might miss the €30.9 million donated by the Irish public to Trócaire, mostly through campaigns organised through churches and schools. READ MORE Others might miss priests like Fr John Joe Duffy of Creeslough, whose humanity at a time of tragedy acted as an anchor . Or perhaps the generous spirit of Fr Paul Murphy, forgiving the teenage attacker who stabbed him. . When it comes to attitudes to priests and nuns, roughly a third are positive, while the same number are negative or neutral. Every act of child abuse is a violation and a tragedy. The crime of sexual abuse wreaks havoc for survivors and their families, and ripples out to affect the trust people have in all priests and nuns, no matter how blameless. Although the estimates of the prevalence of child sexual abuse have improved since these questions were first asked in 2011, the survey still shows that people overestimate by a factor of about four to one. The average estimate is that 18 per cent of clergy are abusers, with an astonishing 8 per cent believing that it is 50 per cent. [ Priest numbers in Dublin to fall 70 per cent in 20 years, report predicts Opens in new window ] All statistics need to be treated with caution due to the danger of under-reporting, but the John Jay College study for the US Conference of Catholic Bishops found that approximately 4 per cent of priests active between 1950 and 2002 had been accused of sexual abuse of minors. Similar prevalence rates were found in a commissioned German study which found that 4.4 per cent of Catholic clergy were accused of abusing minors, with a higher proportion among diocesan priests (5.1 per cent). An independent commission in France estimated the proportion of abusers was about 2.5–2.8 per cent of clergy. Given the impact of the scandals, it is interesting that when it comes to religion and spirituality, the most disenchanted cohort is not the 18- to 24-year-olds but the 25- to 34-year-olds. People in their 30s were small children in 1994, when the Fianna Fáil/Labour coalition government fell following a row over then attorney general Harry Whelehan's alleged role in the delayed extradition of Fr Brendan Smyth, a notorious paedophile. The three-part series, States of Fear, was broadcast in 1999, documenting the awful lives endured by children in church and State-run institutions. Cardinal Secrets, which was about the Dublin Diocese, appeared in 2002, while the Murphy and Ryan reports were published in 2009. It's not that these scandals have not impacted 18- to 24-year-olds. In the youngest cohort, only 19 per cent have a favourable or very favourable attitude to the church. However, while 43 per cent of 18- to 24-year-olds have a positive or very positive impression of Christianity (as opposed to institutional Catholicism) only 29 per cent of 25- to 34-year-olds do. The scandals seem to have soured the slightly older cohort not just on Catholicism, but on religion and spirituality in general. Seventeen per cent of 18- to 24-year-olds say they are religious compared with just 5 per cent of 25- to 34-year-olds. Only 31 per cent of the younger group consider themselves to be neither religious nor spiritual, in contrast to 42 per cent of 25- to 34-year-olds. In addition, 18- to 24-year-olds are more likely to read spiritual or religious books, follow individuals on social media who discuss spirituality and religion, and take courses with religious or spiritual content than the older cohort. It does not mean that watching spiritual content online transfers easily to membership of a community, but it does indicate a search for meaning. The fear among believers of engaging with young people is one of the many ugly consequences of the scandals, while the weakening and ageing of local church communities do not help either. Yet suppose Catholics really believe that they offer something both transcendent and practical that enhances joy. In that case, there is a timely opportunity to reach out to these young people who are showing more openness to religion and spirituality.
Irish Times
19-05-2025
- Politics
- Irish Times
Marriage equality 10 years on: A boy sees us hold hands and says ‘I f***ing hate gay people'
This week marks the decade anniversary of the marriage equality referendum, a movement and a moment that changed Irish society, did a tremendous amount to dismantle a good deal of homophobia in Ireland, and gave us a victory that inspired the world. It reflected a shift that had already occurred. The result of that referendum is occasionally framed by those outside the LGBTQ+ community as something of a conclusion, a declaration that Ireland was now tolerant, and that the work was done – case closed. That's not how things work. Rights must be protected, and there will always be forces seeking to roll them back. Still, I'm a big fan of moving on. But it was a remarkable era. Reflecting a decade later, I find myself longing for the determined sense of potential the movement brought. I miss the feeling of optimism that was fostered on this island. I wonder what could have happened had the political figures who basked in its glory held up their side of the bargain: that this was the beginning of a new time ushering in a new kind of society from the ashes of recession, where equality for all was possible, and where people could fulfil the dreams and desires they had for their lives. Some of those desires are so simple; safety, shelter, security. [ The Irish Times view on marriage equality ten years on: an Irish milestone Opens in new window ] The referendum was won because the LGBTQ+ community had already done the hard work. The movement is often misinterpreted as a campaign that took place in 2015. But in reality, it was years of activism, court hearings, conversations, debates, strategising, protests, meetings, fundraising, deliberative democracy structures, and building networks and a framework that would ultimately evolve into the referendum campaign. And before all of that, there was all the other work the LGBTQ+ community (and the intersecting feminist movement) had done, all the brave souls who came before us operating in a much more oppressive context alongside rare but vital allies. In time, the marriage equality campaign generated a blueprint which the abortion rights campaign would build upon. Today, some of those same networks – or evolutions of them – are being used in anti-racist work, and as part of the Palestine solidarity movement. READ MORE I think challenging and demanding times can make you feel very present. I can replay the day of the vote and the referendum result hour by hour. I remember every vivid scene, every conversation, every location. But what challenging times also do is prepare you for what is to come. You may think the challenge is all about that specific moment, but in many ways it's a form of training for something down the line you can barely anticipate. Marriage equality: ten years on, has Ireland's progressive optimism disappeared? Listen | 44:33 At the outset of this movement, there were smatterings of people attempting to make the case that same-sex couples deserved rights. This case was made literally in the courts by Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan . It was made by the small group of people in LGBT Noise, who consistently and persistently went to gay bars and clubs to speak to the community directly about the rights they were being denied, and didn't always find a receptive audience. For years, it was made in conversations within the LGBTQ+ community as we attempted to build a movement that – given the numbers at early demonstrations – felt at times like a pipe dream. But what we had was determination. What we had was creativity. What we had was dedication. What we had was resilience. What we had was energy. What we had was a sense of civic engagement and culture of volunteerism and organising. What we had was an uplifting pride. What we had was a righteous anger, not rooted in grievance, but in the confidence of our authentic argument, and a rejection of the cynicism, and fear-based positions of those who opposed us. What we had was hope. More than anything, what we had was each other. [ Marriage equality a decade on: 'Things have gone backwards' Opens in new window ] We live in a changed country and a changed world now. Homophobia and transphobia is a characteristic of the Irish ethno-nationalist movement – one that has spread hate, violence, fear and disinformation – as it is with the authoritarian movements around the world it borrows from. Bigotry, resentment and manufactured fears, particularly those aimed at trans people, have found new avenues and expressions. Recently, walking home from the cinema with my wife, a boy on the corner just a few streets from our house, saw us holding hands and said to our faces 'I f***ing hate gay people'. This is a contemporary experience of an old hate. The difference now is that most people in this country think expressing such hate is unacceptable. But that doesn't mean old hate can't find contemporary expressions, whether repackaged by older generations or taken up by younger ones. The leap of trust LGBTQ+ people took in relying on solidarity to achieve equal marriage was as profound as the empathy and support that was offered. Ten years ago, when we came together, when empathy was expressed – when people who had no personal stake in the outcome of that referendum stood with the LGBTQ+ community – the movement became broad and porous. It offered multiple entry points and participation was encouraged in many different forms without judgment. That really was beautiful. And that beauty, whatever ugliness came before or after, I'll never forget. If we can tap into that again, who knows what kind of society we could be?
Irish Times
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
In a Word... Suffragette
Let us men be glad we did not live a century ago. Then – when 'we' were 'lazy, selfish, thoughtless, lying, drunken, clumsy, heavy-footed, rough, unmanly brutes, and need taming'. Even as there remain among us: 'Beauty Men, Flirts, and Bounders, Tailor's Dummies, and Football Enthusiasts.' (You know who you are!). A 'Tailor's Dummy' is described as 'a man who looks good in a suit but has the personality of a sock'. Apologies to the Irish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Socks (you can't be too careful these days.). How different to then, when advice on keeping a man happy was equated with having a content dog - 'feed the brute!' This was described as harsh, on dogs. It was noted how dogs were 'always loyal and love unconditionally' - not necessarily the case with men. READ MORE We men, of course, are so much different now than those described above by a 'suffragette wife', as quoted from a 1918 document on display at the Pontypridd Museum in Wales. She went further and advised young ladies: 'Do not marry at all.' To those who 'must', she said the best prospects would be a 'strong, tame man', such as the 'fire-lighter, coal-getter, window cleaner and yard swiller'. One suspects that her real emphasis was on '...tame'. Yet, all these years later, is there a man among us who would dare sing – even in jest – that song from the 1964 film My Fair Lady: 'Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Man?' [ The Making of Mollie review: Anna Carey's book is now a razor-sharp suffragette stage comedy Opens in new window ] ' Why can't a woman be more like a man?/Men are so honest, so thoroughly square;/ Eternally noble, historically fair./Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat./ Why can't a woman be like that?... '...Men are so pleasant, so easy to please./Whenever you're with them, you're always at ease.' (Bless my timorous soul, but where's the exit?) Lerner and Loewe, who wrote that song, are – mercifully - dead. (If they weren't, they would be.) More acceptable now would be You Don't Own Me, sung by Lesley Gore in 1963. 'You don't own me/Don't try to change me in any way/You don't own me/Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay...' 'Suffragette wife' would definitely approve. Suffragette , from Latin suffragium (with French feminine ending ` -ette ') for 'right to vote' for women. inaword@
