In August 2024, videos circulated widely on Irish social media showing a dozen masked men dressed in black fatigues and balaclavas at Béal na Bláth in County Cork. The group stood beneath Irish tricolours and banners bearing the insignia of Clann Eireann (Irish Family), an extreme far-right movement founded earlier that year, which unapologetically supports Nazism. Béal na Bláth is a sacred site for many in Ireland. It is here that Michael Collins, one of the leaders of the Irish War of Independence, was assassinated in 1922. The placement of the rally was a deliberate attempt by Clann Eireann to claim Ireland’s revolutionary past.
Their leader, Justin Barrett, a long-time far-right activist, spoke in the video about ‘defending Irish identity’. Barrett has previously said (quite honestly) that his group is anti-democratic and willing to use force to defend its vision of Ireland. In a recent speech, he made his stance on immigration clear: ‘I don’t care if he’s here legally or illegally, if he thinks he’s here to stay. He’s going home.’ The figurehead wore a military-style uniform reminiscent of the Nazi SS, and added, ‘Not one person from Africa or Asia belongs or can ever belong here. No matter how much they integrate.’
In Irish political discourse, Barrett is treated as a meme. He is often mocked for his angry tone, short stature, and paramilitary-style clothing that is usually too large for him, earning him the nickname ‘Litler’. Laughter can be a great medicine, but humour aside, the appearance of Barrett’s group at such a historic location marked a shift. Paramilitary aesthetics, republican symbolism, and rhetoric about ‘racial purity’ have increasingly become part of Ireland’s far-right ecosystem.
Entering the Mainstream
Five years ago, such a public gathering would have been almost impossible. Previously, activists and members of the public shut down attempts to launch far-right organisations in Ireland: Pegida’s 2016 ploy to launch in Dublin, and Generation Identity’s efforts in 2017, were famously met with large counter-mobilisations that forced them off the streets, often quite violently.
Dublin, as a city, has historically been extremely hostile to far-right movements. Many would put this down to the history of Irish Republicanism in the country. Patriotism and nationalism in Ireland have long been tied to progressive ideals as opposed to much of the rest of Europe, where patriotism has been associated with a nation’s colonial past. Ireland generally considers itself immune to the far-right populism taking hold across Europe. It is a common trope in Ireland that people will look at the continent with a wry smile and a sneer, thinking that the growth of far-right movements could never take off here. Yet this myth has been squashed. In the space of about five years, Ireland has gone from having no significant far-right street movement to several, with some being extremely radical.
The Turning Point
The beginnings of the current far-right organising surge in Ireland can be traced back to The National Party, an extreme-right ethno-nationalist group, founded in 2016; the party advocated for heavy border controls, the protection of Irish identity, catholic conservatism, and nationalism. The group remained marginal for years and was only significant because they were the only organisation of its kind.
It was during the Covid pandemic that Ireland’s far-right began to gain momentum. A mix of lockdown fatigue, fear, and exposure to online conspiracy theories brought many people into contact with more fringe political movements. Many people felt disillusioned with the government’s poor handling of the pandemic. Sinn Féin, the main left-wing opposition party with a strong base in working-class areas, criticised the government’s handling of the crisis but often argued for even tighter controls, which alienated voters.
Figures began to emerge into the public eye, such as Hermann Kelly of the Irish Freedom Party. He used anti-lockdown demonstrations to raise the party’s profile and build networks. Over time, the messaging shifted from criticism of restrictions to more explicit anti-immigration rhetoric while Telegram channels and other online spaces became hubs for organising and sharing conspiracy content as the movement began to gain steam. Once the floodgates had been somewhat opened for the first time in recent history, groups began to openly advocate for more hardline right-wing policies: organisations like Síol na hÉireann, a Catholic fundamentalist movement, and Proud Boys Ireland appeared, promoting even more extreme ideologies.
In the post-pandemic period, these groups, which have now built up a strong membership base, shifted their focus. Ireland is undergoing a severe housing crisis with rising rents and skyrocketing homelessness, with over 16,000 people living in emergency accommodation, including 5000 children. Rents are rising annually, with the average rent in Dublin now surpassing €2000 a month; over 23,000 eviction notices were issued last year. Anger has therefore turned towards asylum seeker accommodation centres. The line from many of these groups is, ‘House the Irish first’. Many blame refugees for the housing shortage, instead of government policy.
A unique aspect of the Irish far-right movement has begun to emerge as these groups have focused most of their animosity towards Sinn Féin, the country’s largest opposition party, more so than targeting the government parties. There is a belief that Sinn Féin are encouraging the influx of refugees and migrants, and many feel that this is a betrayal of its working-class roots. Protests are more common outside of Sinn Féin offices than outside of government buildings. The Right has also regularly targeted the offices and individuals in People Before Profit, another left-wing party which is not and has never been in government. There have been about thirty-three arson attacks on refugee accommodation centres in Ireland in the last two years. In March 2024, a Croatian immigrant, Josip Strok, was beaten to death in Dublin after being confronted by a gang of youths who demanded that he speak English and not Croatian to his friend.
From the Ballot Box to the Streets
In the 2024 local elections, several far-right candidates, including one for the Irish Freedom Party, won council seats for the first time. In the 2024 general election, far-right parties failed to win any seats in the Dáil but made gains in vote share. The Irish Freedom Party received over 18,000 first-preference votes nationally (0.8 percent), and the National Party secured around 6,500.
The previously mentioned Clann Eireann represents a harder line than these electoral parties. They reject democracy and have called for the mass deportation of all foreigners (except Irish Americans). Members have marched through Dublin in military-style clothing and adopted republican imagery. In 2023, IRA prisoners released a public statement condemning the far-right’s use of republican symbols, calling it a distortion of republican values.
Ireland has witnessed growing street-level violence connected to immigration tensions. Protests outside refugee accommodation centres have sometimes escalated into rioting, and each year the Gardaí records a 12 percent increase in hate crimes. Dublin saw its worst rioting in decades in November 2023 following a stabbing outside of a primary school by a non-Irish national, where vehicles were set on fire and shops looted. (Garda Commissioner Drew Harris originally blamed the rioting on left-wing groups before having to make a public apology.)
Isolated attacks on foreign nationals are also becoming increasingly common, such as in July 2025, when an Indian man who had moved to Ireland to work as a doctor a few weeks before was brutally beaten. He was attacked by a vigilante gang in a Dublin suburb, and residents in the area claimed that the gang went around the estate hunting non-white people. Anti-fascist counter-mobilisations still occur, but no longer consistently outnumber far-right demonstrations as they once did.
A Shifting Political Culture
The rise of Clann Éireann and the broader far-right movement comes at a time when celebrity figures, including UFC star Conor McGregor, have amplified anti-immigrant messaging on social media. McGregor’s posts after the 2023 stabbing incident were widely criticised by government figures. On the morning of the riots, he tweeted: ‘Ireland. We are at war.’ The celebrity’s brief 2024 presidential bid showed that these views are gaining mainstream traction — though McGregor remains a divisive figure whom even the Irish far-right could not unify behind.
There has been a strong response from people in Irish society. Anti-racism demonstrations continue to draw large crowds, and many groups on the Irish far-right have attached themselves to loyalist organisations in Belfast. A group called ‘Coolock Says No’, who organise anti-immigrant demonstrations in Dublin, were chased out of the town of Dundalk, and some of them were violently beaten as a response to their marching in Belfast with far-right British loyalists the week before. In September 2025, Clann Eireann attempted a ‘national socialist’ demonstration at St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin. The rally went ahead with no organised counter protest, but onlookers jeered and shouted at the self-proclaimed neo-Nazi organisation. As the attendees of the rally dispersed, they were violently attacked by a large group consisting of organised Republican groups and locals.
Ireland’s far-right and anti-immigration movements remain smaller than those in much of Europe, but their rapid growth over a short period is striking. Groups like Clann Éireann and the Irish Freedom Party are small but have been successful in shifting public discourse. The Overton window in Ireland has undoubtedly shifted rightward in recent years. As the housing crisis and cost-of-living crisis worsen, these groups will continue to have momentum on their side.