I was not born Irish. I was born Swedish Karelian. Ireland did not choose me — I chose it. And I choose it still. I am Irish-ish, not because Irishness is a cloak to wear, but because it is a heritage I have taken on with responsibility.
Ireland is indigenous.
Not partially. Not metaphorically. Fully.
The Irish carry a handed-down culture:
- A language born of this land, carved into ogham stones.
- A law, the Brehon law, older than English common law.
- A memory of colonisation, dispossession, famine, and survival.
- An identity carried in families, music, and names.
I carry a learned culture:
- I was not born into Gaeilge, but I can support it.
- I did not inherit Irish history, but I can stand with it.
- I was not shaped by this soil from birth, but I can root myself in it.
Handed-down culture is inescapable. An Irish person cannot shrug it off, even if they try. Learned culture is chosen. I could turn away — but I don’t. Because to be Irish-ish is to commit. To carry the flame, not wear the cloak.
I cannot speak Gaeilge. But I support it fully. My daughter must pass a Gaeilge test to qualify for a Masters in teaching, because she wants to be a primary school teacher. And she is one of the good ones — born between cultures, yet carrying Irish identity forward.
She shows what I mean by Irish-ish. She is differently Irish, and in that difference she understands empathy. She knows that Irishness is not a cloak of purity, but a heritage that can be lived, learned, and handed on.
And so am I. I am differently Irish. I am Irish-ish.
That means I honour Ireland’s indigeneity, but I do not take on every cause the Irish take on.
Irish-ish is not mimicry. It is commitment with independence.
I stand with Ireland’s survival, its language, its culture — but I choose my own battles.
That is the difference between handed-down culture and learned culture: one is inherited, the other is chosen.
Ireland is for the Irish.
And Irishness is not something borrowed, not a fashion, not a joke. It is survival. It is memory. It is a people who refused erasure.
To be Irish-ish is to join that survival. To learn what others inherited. To protect what others preserved. To take responsibility for a culture that is fragile and precious, and in that responsibility, to become kin.
I stand with all indigenous peoples who fight for survival, culture, and sovereignty.
But I will not misuse that word. Not everyone who claims indigeneity is indigenous.
Indigeneity is continuity with land, language, and culture through history.
It is not a slogan to be borrowed, or a mask for imperialism.
And my solidarity goes further: I do not stand with Islamism. I do not stand with the Far Left. Not because I oppose Muslims as people, or ordinary Left-leaning folk — but because Islamism is an ideology of domination, and the Far Left is an ideology of erasure.
I am against Islamic imperialism, just as I am against every form of empire that seeks to erase peoples and cultures. Ireland knows too well what imperialism does: it steals land, outlaws language, mocks tradition, and scatters communities. To resist it abroad is to honour the fight we carried at home.
I know what cultural erasure looks like — I see it in Ireland’s story. The outlawing of Irish, the mockery of Irish identity, the scattering of Irish people. That is why I cannot ignore the same threats when they are aimed at Jews and Israelis.
My stance is simple: I am against Islamic imperialism. I am against the Far Left’s excuses for it. Erasure is erasure, no matter who does it, no matter who suffers it. If I stand with Ireland’s survival, I must also stand against the call to erase another people.
I was born on the Left. I believed in justice, fairness, and dignity. But the Left I knew is gone. Today the Left has become the new Right — rigid, censorious, hostile to dissent. If I were American, I would be a Republican. Not because the Right is flawless, but because there, I still see speech defended, culture preserved, freedom named as truth.
Even those called hateful can show respect. When Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, Donald Trump — her fiercest opponent — called her remarkable. He honoured her life. He showed dignity. And yet he is still painted only as hate. Tribalism blinds us. It blinds the Left most of all.
This is what I admire about America: its openness to invent a new nationality, to make belonging something chosen. To live together, to work together, across difference. But America also shows us the cost: there are always two sides. Openness does not end conflict — it begins coexistence. That is the true test of belonging.
And here I stand.
Not an influencer. Not a leader with millions of followers. In the world’s eyes, I am nobody. But I am still somebody — with a voice, with convictions, with a duty to speak.
Charlie Kirk inspired me to do this. He was important; I am not. But he proved that even the small can stand for something larger. To be Irish-ish is to carry a flame, even when you are the smallest spark.
Freedom lives in words.
That is why they outlast bullets.
We are not post-colonial. We are still decolonising.
And we declare it again and again:
Ireland is indigenous. Always was. Always will be.
Involution Labs 