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Russia Today
a day ago
- Politics
- Russia Today
Prof. Schlevogt's Compass No. 21: Pity picks sides – Ukraine mourned, Gaza shadowed, Russia blamed
George Orwell famously remarked, 'If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.' In the brutal realities of war and suffering, where borrowed beliefs replace independent thought, Orwell's warning cuts to the core: liberty is a hollow promise if it shields us from truths we resist. True compassion demands stories that challenge our biases and stretch our empathy beyond neat binary tales of 'good' and 'evil.' Yet political forces and media gatekeepers often silence inconvenient truths, trapping us in cycles of selective pity and moral stagnation. Breaking free requires a clear-eyed understanding of how the masters of political technology – the craft of shaping public perception, emotional response, and mass engagement – operate. Aristotle knew, and Attic tragedy showed, that pity follows a predictable pattern. With a precise grasp of the intricate mechanics of this multifaceted emotion, today's information warriors expertly calibrate its five interlocked enablers to achieve strategic ends: intensifying pity for Ukrainians while simultaneously dulling the emotional resonance of Gazan and Russian suffering. A point of interest: In much of the Global South and other regions outside the gravitational pull of the collective West, media narratives often diverge sharply from these Manichaean – black and white – portrayals, offering more complex and nuanced alternative perspectives that challenge this simplistic moral dichotomy. Because pity is a fragmented and inherently fragile emotion, Western political communicators repeatedly hammer binary messages with such relentless force that they become bludgeons, flattening nuance, crushing dissent, and echoing the same moral cues until they calcify into dogma. Yet this strategy carries sharp tradeoffs and reveals a critical vulnerability: the moment the narrative wavers – whether because information warriors shift priorities, or because reality refuses to comply and breaks through – the emotional scaffolding begins to buckle. Pity, once forcefully orchestrated, can swiftly curdle into skepticism, fatigue, or even backlash. What began as a unifying moral impulse risks collapsing into disillusionment. Pity is less a human reflex than a programmed response, and it works wonders. Let us use the 'Political Pity Equation' to lift the veil and expose how today's information magicians in the collective West conjure and banish public sympathy across three theaters of public perception – leveraging selective pity to sculpt a world that serves their interests: Ukraine, Gaza, and Russia. The magic formula is as simple as it is powerful: Pity (P) = Undeservedness (U) + Surprise (S) + Gravity (G) + Resemblance (R) + Closeness (C). The first enabler of pity, harm deemed undeserved, is selectively amplified or muted at will across the three discursive battlegrounds to serve the aims of information warriors. From the moment Russia launched its Special Military Operation (SMO) in 2022, Ukraine has been consistently framed in political discourse and the global media as the innocent victim of an unprovoked, unjust invasion – a lone David bravely defying the overwhelming, ruthless force of Goliath. The widely circulated account of an alleged Russian massacre in the small Ukrainian city of Bucha – its name aptly meaning 'trouble' and grimly echoing 'butcher' – detonated the moral center of the narrative and set off a seismic narrative shift. Dismissed by Moscow as a hoax, it nonetheless crystallized into a decisive turning point, reshaping the normative landscape of the war. The chilling chronicle of reported events intensified global outrage, sharpened ethical clarity, and heightened moral urgency, thereby galvanizing massive political and public support for Ukraine's cause. Information leaders also deployed their most potent weapon: children – the master key to the human heart. They wielded child-centered imagery with precision, intertwining it with the universally protective figure of the mother. Headlines flared with claims of Russian forces abducting thousands of Ukrainian minors, wrenching them from their families under the smoke of war. The stories struck like thunderclaps: maternity wards in Mariupol, Kherson, and beyond, allegedly reduced to rubble, tiny cries silenced beneath collapsing ceilings. Each narrative was calibrated not to inform, but to ignite – grief, outrage, and unwavering allegiance. In an unexpected twist, the first driver of pity – the perception that suffering is undeserved – offers a raw glimpse into this emotion's fragility and the tradeoffs woven into the texture of emotional manipulation. The moment Ukrainians are cast as reckless in their demands, ungrateful to benefactors – including refugee-hosting nations – and their government framed as authoritarian and belligerent, the edifice of pity begins to crack. In this scenario, initial sympathy dissolves into irritation, then hardens into outright contempt, as Ukrainians are subtly recoded as morally flawed: no longer blameless victims, but architects of their own undoing. In that shift, their plight ceases to be tragic and starts to seem deserved. Yet the tide has not turned decisively on this front, at least not yet. If Ukrainian pain still reliably commands Western pity, why do so many Gazans and Russians suffer offstage – and worse, without global compassion? Part of the answer lies in downplaying Aristotle's first enabler of pity: undeservedness. As a result, pain is met not with empathy, but with silence, suspicion – or even blame. The human toll is heavy, yet it goes without equal attention, recognition, and moral acknowledgment. In the Gaza Strip, civilians face a relentless Israeli blockade, mass displacement, and daily bombardment: hospitals, food centers, and schools all targeted. The UN reports nearly 88% of the territory falls under Israeli evacuation orders or militarized control, cramming over 2 million people into just 46 sq km – barely a third the size of Walt Disney World – as critical infrastructure lies in ruins and essential services have broken down. Strikingly, over 100 aid groups accuse Israel of orchestrating a deliberate, systematic campaign of forced mass starvation in Gaza – a crime, critics may argue, that brief pauses cannot undo. As if the cruel ordeal was not already beyond measure, Israel aims to corral Gaza's entire population into a so-called 'humanitarian city' – a narrow, sealed, permanent enclosure from which no one will ever be allowed to exit, branded by critics as a modern concentration camp. Western leaders, on the rare occasions they dare to voice even the mildest reproaches of Israeli force, invariably hasten to hedge them with the obligatory mantra affirming Israel's right to exist and defend itself – as if Hamas ever threatened the Jewish state's very survival – excusing, whitewashing, and offering cover for relentless, disproportionate shock and awe. Tellingly, Palestinian agony is still rationalized as the foreseeable and righteous payback for Hamas's 2023 attacks on Israel – a narrative fulcrum that undercuts the first enabler of pity: blameless suffering. The killing of some 60,000 Palestinians – mostly women and children, with the toll still climbing – is spun not just as justified retaliation for the reported death of about 1,200 people (about 400 of which were security forces), but as a necessary price for the rescue of some 250 hostages, soldiers among them. Even scenes of utter ruin are filtered through unproven claims of proximity to militant targets. To preserve the narrative's absolutes and sharp moral lines, disruptive context is quietly erased, such as the inconvenient history of what critics describe as prolonged Israeli aggression. Notably, Hamas viewed its incursion as a desperate bid to break free from a decades-long cycle of Israeli oppression. To protect the hostage story from complicating nuance, Western media seldom mention that Israel has nearly doubled its Palestinian prisoners since the incident – now around 10,000, including minors and many held without charge – whom Hamas, for its part, regards as Palestinian hostages for future swaps. The pain of Palestinian civilians, when noted at all, is often refracted through narratives that question their innocence instead of recognizing it as collective punishment: killing and uprooting an entire population to pave the way for the so-called 'Gaza Riviera.' This framing draws on long-cultivated, nested stereotypes. At the macro-level, Western political and media elites have long equated the Palestinian people wholesale with extremism and militancy, dulling empathy and easing indifference. At the meso-level, the Gaza Strip is persistently cast as inseparable from Hamas, fueling endless cycles of violence. At the micro level, civilians are often falsely branded Hamas sympathizers, guilty by association. Together, these overlapping layers blur the line between civilian and combatant, victim and perpetrator, veiling the true injustice, muting ethical alarm, and stifling ethical reckoning. Thanks to this persistent, multi-tiered formatting, Israel – unlike the so-called 'pariah states' Russia, Iran, and North Korea – remains insulated from serious Western sanctions, including lasting arms embargoes, despite allegations of grave war crimes. Germany's rationale for inaction is particularly revealing: holding Israel accountable might jeopardize diplomatic leverage over its government – leverage that, in truth, is vanishingly small, if not entirely imagined. Contrast this with Russia – an ostracized nation whose grief has been morally exiled. For many people there, the conflict with Ukraine is a harsh reality – relentless shelling, surreptitious drone strikes, and crippling economic sanctions tearing through daily life. Yet the Western political and media machine suppresses pity primarily by blanking out the Russian suffering or, in the rare cases that it is mentioned, casting the pain as deserved, blaming civilians for their government's actions. What should move the audience instead becomes a ledger of guilt. Conflating Russian identity with military aggression and geopolitical culpability, Russians are portrayed as the authors of their own misery – not victims, but complicit enablers functioning as extensions of state power. Their pain is portrayed not as a human tragedy, but as policy consequence – a purportedly imperial and irredentist nation framed as reaping what it sowed. When civilians die in drone strikes or conscripts return in coffins, the world looks away. Not because the pain is not real, but because it has been labeled deserved. Western discourse has scrubbed Russian suffering of innocence, casting every civilian as an accomplice, every wound as retribution. To entrench this skewed perspective, political technologists twist facts and erase the stark reality of innocent Russians killed by Ukrainians. Take the sunbathers – including children – torn apart on a crowded Uchkuyevka beach in 2024, as Ukrainian cluster bomblets rained down. Though captured on video and confirmed by eyewitnesses, the ruthless attack was swiftly dismissed as stray debris. By contrast, Ukrainian deaths are routinely portrayed as premeditated, merciless acts of terror by Russia against defenseless civilians. Conspicuous, too, is the silence around the 2014 Odessa Trade Union building fire, where 42 pro-Russian protesters burned to death. And this, even as the UN and Council of Europe censured Ukraine for failing to prevent the tragedy and for serious lapses in policing and justice. Also buried from view is the 'Gorlovka Madonna' – a mother claimed by Ukrainian shelling in 2014, arms wrapped around her slain child amid the rubble, a raw symbol of shattered innocence. Heretical suggestions that Ukraine bears any responsibility for the conflict – through nationalist provocations or entanglement in Western ambitions – are sidelined, replaced by a clear-cut, simplified narrative of pure victimhood. By dehumanizing afflicted Russians and sanctifying Ukrainian losses, Western discourse effaces any sense of injustice that would evoke true pity, instead breeding moral detachment and deadening compassion. Inconvenient analogies that contextualize and relativize Russia's war – from the Cuban Missile Crisis to Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, and Iraq – or provocative thought experiments – like Russia using Mexico as a launchpad against the US – are airbrushed from the conversation. Such disruptive comparisons, which fracture moral lines, are drowned out by a binary narrative demanding one villain, one victim. An element of shocking surprise, such as calamity striking unexpectedly and suddenly, is often interwoven with perceived injustice and acts as a powerful additional catalyst for pity. Western media framed Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine, literally, as a bombshell, sparking global compassion for the embattled underdog. Yet the reality is starkly different, as the following will reveal. Admittedly, historians in retrospect often fall prey to hindsight bias: the illusion that outcomes were obvious all along. But viewed from just before the invasion, with no foresight of what lay ahead, clear and urgent warnings of looming catastrophe were already sounding, as proven by key agencies flagging the threat at the time. In December 2021, Russia issued a high-stakes ultimatum to NATO and the US, demanding sweeping security guarantees, and in the weeks before the invasion massed an estimated 150,000 to 190,000 troops along Ukraine's border. US intelligence accurately predicted the scale, direction, and time window of the broad offensive. In fact, the forecast was so precise that global media managed to fly in star reporters and position cameras on rooftops, primed for the spectacle that, true to form, graciously obliged – as if on cue for the world's lenses. The repeated framing of Russia's attack as 'unprovoked' not only forged a sense of injustice, but also amplified surprise – a clear example of the first two enablers of pity intertwined. To uphold this dominant, slanted storyline of abrupt and shocking onset, Ukraine's fraught history with Russia – and the fairly predictable eruption it triggered – was erased. Prudent statecraft would have Ukraine, like Belarus, Kazakhstan, and others, pursue harmonious relationships with its far stronger neighbor. Sound judgment would have called for leveraging deep ethnic, economic, and cultural ties instead of courting confrontation and banking on risky Western intervention. Another moment where an unexpected rupture shocked the world: the 2023 Hamas attack. Because it was painted as an unimaginable bolt from the blue – though hardly the first act of horrifying violence in the region – sympathy for Israel surged. By contrast, Palestinian suffering, stretched out over years, faded into background noise. Western media consistently blunt outrage by repeating that Israel had 'warned' Gazans before airstrikes – as if forewarning, especially when escape is impossible, absolves the violence; as if announcing destruction somehow renders it less brutal; as if Israel holds the right to dictate the movements of over 2 million besieged, captive people in Gaza – now reportedly reduced by 10% since the war began. Russians, too, harvest few 'pity points' from the collective West, as their suffering is framed not as surprising but as expected retribution for the invasion. In some ways, Russia fares even worse than Gaza in the global media, with even fewer stories or images of civilians harmed by Ukraine making the rounds. Political technologists dial the volume of suffering up or down, orchestrating pity like a soundcheck. The images of Ukrainian civilians sifting through rubble for survivors after bombings, mothers cradling wounded children in ravaged hospital corridors, and soldiers limping from the frontlines all paint a picture of pain that is serious yet not total and final. Stories of cities shattered but still resisting, families displaced but clinging to hope, show suffering that demands empathy, resolve, and assistance. This raw, visible struggle embodies Aristotle's condition perfectly: harm that is tragic but yet incomplete, stirring deep, enduring pity and – its vital counterpart – inspiring resolute action across the globe. By contrast, Israel has barred independent reporting from Gaza, hiding the human toll from clear view. Without vivid images or personal stories, public empathy and solidarity falter. Western media deepen this detachment by subtly casting doubt on casualty figures, labeling them, even in headlines, as claims from 'Hamas-run' sources with presumed agendas. No such qualifiers appear for Israeli data. Meanwhile, Israel's relentless airstrikes and bulldozing flatten and erase entire neighborhoods in Gaza, while its suffocating blockade of the Strip starves hospitals of fuel and children of food, breeding a sense of endless catastrophe. When whole communities vanish beneath the rubble, devastation feels too vast, too abstract, too overwhelmingly conclusive to move hearts or rouse action. For Russians, grief caused by Ukraine often unfolds quietly: perhaps a mother receives a sealed envelope bearing news of her son's death, a village school shuts down after teachers are lost, or neighborhoods strain under rising prices. With much of this suffering framed as the cost of political choices, and lacking the immediate, agonizing cries for help seen elsewhere, the pain lacks its sting – muting pity despite the real human losses. To conclude, information warriors wield pity like a precision-guided weapon –calibrated, targeted, and devastatingly effective. That makes it all the more urgent to grasp what fuels this emotion. Crucially, pity is stirred not only by perceived undeservedness, shocking surprise, and the sheer scale of suffering, but also by what I call 'protected relatability'. [Part 2 of a trilogy on the politics of selective pity. To be continued. Part 1, published on 26 July 2025: Prof. Schlevogt's Compass No. 20: The Political Pity Equation – Who deserves our tears?]
Forbes
4 days ago
- Business
- Forbes
Real Leadership Starts With Purpose
Dave Wagner is President & CEO of Everbridge, which helps to keep people safe and organizations running. In business, we talk a lot about purpose. It shows up on walls, websites and in investor decks. It shapes our values and drives our mission statements. But too often, purpose is treated like a slogan—something you reference, not something you rely on. The truth is, purpose only matters when it's lived. In my experience, the most powerful expressions of purpose don't happen in presentations or offsites. They happen in the quiet, unscripted moments when someone chooses to step up. Not because they're told to, but because it's who they are. Not long ago, we received a message from a longtime customer. He wasn't writing about a product issue or a support ticket. He was writing to thank one of our team members for stepping in during a moment of personal crisis. This wasn't about implementation timelines or system uptime. It was about compassion, presence and leadership during a time of deep personal need. That moment had nothing to do with contracts or technology, but it had everything to do with purpose. I share this not as a corporate anecdote, but as a leadership lesson. Because in a world where disruption is constant—where cyberattacks, extreme weather, geopolitical instability and supply chain shocks are reshaping how we operate—leaders are being forced to make faster, higher-stakes decisions than ever before. In that environment, strategy is important and technology is essential, but purpose is what keeps your people aligned when the playbook runs out. Purpose is what builds resilience. When I speak to other CEOs, I often hear the same concerns: How do we keep our teams engaged? How do we adapt to change? How do we stay focused through uncertainty? My answer often starts with purpose. Not as a vague ideal, but as a practical tool for resilience. One effective way I've found this can be encouraged is through personal purpose statements. Ask people to reflect on the moments when they've felt most proud, and then articulate the values and motivations behind those experiences. It's a simple but powerful step, because when someone knows why they do the work, they're far more equipped to navigate how to do it, especially under pressure. Purpose empowers people to act with autonomy, even when direction is limited. It encourages collaboration over silos and reduces friction during times of stress. Purpose also builds trust, internally and externally. Customers don't just buy what you make—they believe in what you stand for. And employees, especially today's workforce, want to feel connected to something larger than output or quarterly goals. They want to know their work matters. Purpose doesn't replace performance—it drives it. There's a misconception that purpose is somehow 'soft' or that it comes at the expense of performance. I believe the opposite is true. Purpose clarifies priorities. It helps leaders make faster, more consistent decisions, and it motivates teams to go further, especially when the stakes are high. At Everbridge, for example, our purpose is to help organizations manage critical events and protect lives. It's why we exist. And in our world, the difference between a timely response and a delayed one can be measured in lives saved. That weight comes with responsibility, but it also inspires action. I see it in how our teams show up for customers and how we partner with governments and enterprises to prepare for the unexpected. I saw it most clearly in that customer note from a customer thanking one of our team members for showing up during one of life's most difficult moments. Leading with purpose starts at the top. If you're a leader reading this, I'd offer this reflection: Does your organization know its purpose? Not the words on your website—the real purpose. The one that shows up in how you hire, how you recognize people and how you lead in moments of uncertainty. And more importantly: are you living it? I'd suggest leaders should even go a step further, challenged to create their own personal purpose statements—clear, human answers to questions like 'What do I want to be known for?' and 'When do I feel most alive at work?' When leaders can name their purpose, they can lead from it. If your team sees that you prioritize what matters, even when it's inconvenient, they'll follow. If they see you cut corners or treat purpose as optional, they'll do the same. In my view, the best leaders today are the ones who can help teams stay focused amid distraction, lead with values when there's pressure and return to purpose when things go sideways. Purpose is a long game. You don't build a purpose-driven culture overnight. It takes time, consistency and trust. And that return on investment shows up in how your teams collaborate, in customer loyalty and in performance. Sometimes purpose shows up in moments you never expected, when someone takes action not because they have to, but because they believe in what you're building together. That's when you know your purpose is real and your organization is ready for anything. Forbes Technology Council is an invitation-only community for world-class CIOs, CTOs and technology executives. Do I qualify?
BBC News
7 days ago
- Health
- BBC News
NIAS volunteers drive cancer and kidney dialysis patients
Kindness, compassion and a free car ride goes a long way when you're undergoing hospital treatment for health issues, such as terminal cancer or kidney patients rely on the goodwill of strangers, many of whom become volunteer drivers for the Northern Ireland Ambulance Service (NIAS) are among the lesser known roles that keep the health service ticking along - and they do it all for free."It is vital to the running of NIAS," said Yvonne McMichael from NIAS."They go above and beyond on the daily." More than 75 people, from across Northern Ireland, give up their time - and cars - as part of NIAS's Voluntary Car them is Willie Hutchinson whose three children have all had kidney their transplants, they underwent dialysis - a procedure which removes waste products and excess fluid from the blood when the kidneys stop working."They used the car service quite a lot to get to the renal units," the former lorry driver told BBC News him, volunteering is his way of "pay back"."Somebody did it for them so I'm doing it for somebody else," he said. In 2023, the grandfather of six was awarded a British Empire Medal (BEM) for services to Hutchinson's nominee was a patient he brought to and from hospital appointments for a number of years."The day that I got the award, I had brought him home – he wasn't well – and I took him into the house and he more or less fell into the chair," he said."I told his wife to ring for the doctor."He died that afternoon so he never found out that I'd got the award after all the work he had done to put me forward for it."It was a bit sad and bittersweet that he didn't know I'd got it but his family were thrilled to bits for me." 'Not just transport' The volunteer drivers are not employed, or paid, by NIAS, and only receive a mileage allowance for transporting patients - in their own cars - to and from hospital voluntary service saves NIAS money as it is significantly cheaper - and uses less resources - than taxis or Nicholl, a former mayor of Mid and East Antrim, has been on dialysis for almost seven years and relies on the service."I can tell you from experience that volunteer drivers are not just transport but they're part of the caring system," he said."These volunteer drivers give of their time freely. It's not just a lift to them, they have compassion, they bring calmness at a time when a patient like me needs that." With ambulances in high demand staff and resources stretched, Yvonne McMichael, who oversees the volunteer car service, says the work the volunteers do is "top tier"."With the capacity levels that we have at the minute, we do not have enough ambulances to provide the service to everyone who needs to get," she said."They cover Northern Ireland, providing service to seven renal units and also transferring patients to the two cancer centres at Belfast City Hospital and Altnagelvin, as well as taking patients to other appointments." Before becoming a volunteer driver, Martin Garrity had worked in an office for 35 years."I wanted a wee change," he said."I was chatting to a friend of mine who was doing voluntary driving at the time and he suggested to me I try it and 15 years on, I'm still here."For him, the best thing about it is the people he has met."When you have your patients maybe three times a week, you build up a friendship with them and their families and they're so appreciative," he said."You get close to them and they confide in you about certain things. Sometimes there's bad news and it's sad, it's tough."So will he still be volunteering in another 15 years?"I hope so," he said."The reward you get is worth it and I'd say the other drivers would say the same."
Globe and Mail
22-07-2025
- Health
- Globe and Mail
A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita Reinforces Commitment to Specialized Dementia Home Care in Derby, KS
A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita Reinforces Commitment to Specialized Dementia Home Care in Derby, KS. This heartfelt image captures the genuine bond between a professional caregiver and her client, symbolizing the compassion and trust at the core of dementia home care. A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita continues to deliver dignified, personalized support to families in Derby, KS—ensuring those with dementia can thrive in the comfort of home. A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita reaffirms its commitment to specialized dementia home care in Derby, KS. Led by Gustavo Torres, the agency provides compassionate, personalized support to help individuals with dementia remain safely at home while easing the burden on families. Their trained caregivers create structured, familiar routines that enhance emotional well-being, reduce caregiver stress, and promote dignity and comfort for clients across Derby and Wichita. Derby, KS - A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita today announced its continued dedication to providing specialized and compassionate dementia home care for families in Derby, KS. This ongoing commitment addresses the growing need for professional support that allows individuals with dementia to remain in the comfort and familiarity of their own homes, enhancing their quality of life and providing peace of mind for their loved ones. As the population ages, the demand for experienced and reliable memory care services has increased significantly. For families navigating the complexities of a dementia diagnosis, securing trustworthy and effective care is a primary concern. A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita offers a lifeline, delivering personalized support that prioritizes safety, dignity, and independence for clients throughout the region. The primary benefit of receiving Dementia home care in Derby, KS, is the ability for individuals to age in place. The familiar surroundings of home can significantly reduce agitation, confusion, and anxiety, which are common symptoms for those with dementia. This stable environment helps preserve a sense of normalcy and routine, fostering emotional well-being and cognitive function. Caregivers strive to create a safe and supportive environment, enabling clients to maintain their cherished daily routines. Furthermore, the service provides invaluable benefits for family caregivers. By offering expert dementia care at home in Wichita and Derby, KS, A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita allows family members to take much-needed respite, confident that their loved one is receiving professional, one-on-one attention. This support system helps prevent caregiver burnout, reduces stress for the entire family, and allows for more quality time to be spent together, focusing on relationships rather than the demands of caregiving. "Our mission has always been to provide care that is not only professional but profoundly compassionate," said Gustavo Torres, owner of A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita. "We understand the unique challenges that come with dementia, both for the individual and their family. We are steadfast in our commitment to the Derby community, ensuring that every family has access to a reliable partner who can help their loved ones live with dignity and security in the place they know and love best." A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita offers customized care plans tailored to the specific needs and preferences of each client. Services include assistance with daily living activities, medication reminders, meal preparation, companionship, and engaging in memory-focused activities. The agency's team of highly trained and vetted caregivers is equipped to handle the evolving nature of dementia, providing consistent and adaptable support. For more information about A Better Solution In-Home Care Wichita and their dementia home care in Derby, KS, please visit their website at About A Better Solution In-Home Care Wichita: A Better Solution In-Home Care Wichita is a leading provider of non-medical in-home care services for seniors and individuals needing assistance in Wichita, Derby, and the surrounding areas. With a focus on personalized, compassionate care, the agency is dedicated to enhancing the quality of life for its clients, allowing them to live safely and independently at home. Media Contact Company Name: A Better Solution In Home Care Wichita Contact Person: Gustavo Torres Email: Send Email Phone: +1 316-800-9577 Address: 815 N Waco Ave Suite 20 City: Wichita State: Kansas Country: United States Website:
Irish Times
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Sinéad O'Connor's father: ‘I visit her grave every week. We have a conversation or I bring her up to date'
The father of singer Sinéad O'Connor visits his daughter's grave every week where he brings her up to date on what is happening in his life. In a rare interview on RTÉ Radio 1's Oliver Callan show Seán O'Connor said that when his daughter died on July 26th, 2023 , he cried his eyes out for a fortnight. The outpouring of grief from her fans at the time had been a comfort. 'I still miss her and of course it's a comfort,' he said. 'Sinéad had two personas. One was in the public arena and the other was with her family. And I saw her funeral as being lovely for her fans. At a personal level, I've never had publicity in respect of Sinéad, and it made it all the more hurtful for all of us when she died. 'I visit her grave every week. And we have a conversation or I bring her up to date. I put my hand on the gravestone, which was designed by my daughter, Eimear. And it's very simple. It just says Sinéad O'Connor, two dates, born and died, and 'God is Love'. And that's it. It's more to do with her fans than the family. The family is in the heart.' READ MORE Seán said in life his daughter could be cranky at times. 'Sinéad could be outrageous in the public world and she could be outrageous with the family. She could be cranky. But in the end I always had a feeling of compassion for her. She was always on the edge. We got on very well most of the time and sometimes she'd fall out with me. 'It's a very great help for me to know that in January, two years ago, we were on the phone and we agreed we'd go to Wexford for a three-night holiday. We did. Together. It was the greatest bit of gas. 'We went out to the hotel. We went in to check into two rooms, myself and Sinéad, and we went off for a drive and we came back. I had been upgraded. I had a suite with chocolates, a bunch of flowers. 'Jesus, you couldn't go anywhere with Sinéad, but someone would come over in the back of beyond in Wexford, 'oh Sinead, how are you, I love that song of yours'. So we had that and we'd arranged to go away again in April, but when April came she said she'd go to England instead and I didn't see her again, other than when she came home from England [after her death]. 'So it was a sad time, the strength of the family around then helped me and I'm beginning to deal with it now.' Sinéad O'Connor performing in 1988. Photograph: Paul Bergen/Redferns Seán also spoke about the impact his daughter's death had on the family. 'Our family of siblings are quite united. I mean, they have their differences, but although they're from different parentage to some extent, they were all brought up together,' he said, adding that 'all in all, when we have a family get-together, we can all turn up together.' [ Sinéad O'Connor was quiet and loud. Brilliant and bashful. She oozed a kind of creative lava Opens in new window ] When asked about faith, Seán said: 'I believe in God, and I believe, I am not sanctimonious, but as I get older, you think more about passing on and actually behaving in a certain way that's more related to Christianity, like caring for your neighbour a bit more. There's not enough love in the world, you know, that's what you discover.'
