Mary Lou McDonald says Northern Ireland ‘not economically viable’ as a territory as she calls for border poll on British TV
The Sinn Féin leader appeared on Good Morning Britain on Monday
Mary Lou McDonald said the children are being failed
Mary Lou McDonald made the comments during an appearance on Good Morning Britain on Monday.
By Mark Robinson
July 14, 2025 at 10:44am BST
Sinn Féin President Mary Lou McDonald said that the north was “not economically viable” as a territory and put its financial struggles down to partition as she called for a border poll during an appearance on British TV.
Ms McDonald made the comments in an interview on ITV’s Good Morning Britain on Monday, where she made the case for a referendum in the next five years.
The TD for Dublin Central’s appearance on the show comes amid growing speculation that she is gearing up for a potential presidential run.
While initially ruling herself out of this year’s presidential election, last week she said that the party’s candidacy was “a moving picture”.
On Monday, presenter Richard Madeley asked the Sinn Féin leader why she was advocating for reunification when the north was economically “running at a loss”.
“Why do you want Northern Ireland still so badly? Because, economically, I think it’s fair to say it’s close to being a basket case at the moment,” he said.
“This country pays it a huge amount in terms of subsidies to Ulster – far more than we get back.”
Ms McDonald said that the reason for the north’s consistent economic difficulties was down to partition.
“It’s six counties of the historic nine-county province of Ulster, it’s cut off from its natural political, social and economic hinterland,” she responded.
“Since the peace agreement was signed in 1998, the value of the all-Ireland economy has multiplied six-fold.
“The natural economic activity for a small island like Ireland is the entire island – it makes no sense to partition.”
Ms McDonald added that it had been 27 years since the Good Friday Agreement and that reunification was the “next chapter”.
“I think we have made enormous strides, all of us, and I think Ireland and Britain and all the political leaders and the people deserve great credit for that,” she said.
“Now we’re at a point where we say, ‘What’s the next chapter?’.
“For us, logically, in economic terms, in social terms, in democratic terms, Irish unity makes sense.”
Mural of Hooded Man Kevin Hannaway erected in west Belfast after PSNI return seized artwork.
Police seized the mural, which had been separated into a number of parts, from a house in the Rodney Drive area in west Belfast on Friday.
A mural of Hooded Man Kevin Hannaway was erected on Hugo Street in West Belfast on Sunday.
By Conor Coyle
July 13, 2025 at 4:55pm BST
A mural of Hooded Man Kevin Hannaway was erected in west Belfast on Sunday after it was returned following a seizure of the artwork by the PSNI.
Police seized the mural, which had been separated into a number of parts, from a house in the Rodney Drive area in west Belfast on Friday. A man was arrested and later charged with drugs offences after police say class A drugs were found at the same property.
Mr Hannaway died in January after a short illness. He was one of 14 Catholic men who were subjected to state-sanctioned torture when they were interned in 1971.
Mr Hannaway was convicted of knowingly rendering assistance to the ‘IRA’, and assisting in interviewing people involved in ‘IRA’-organised activities in 2015.
A number of other items were also seized during the searches, which the PSNI say were connected to an investigation into dissident republican group the New IRA.
However, it emerged on Sunday police were forced to return the mural to the homeowner, with footage emerging on social media of officers unloading it from a vehicle and returning it to the house.
Later on Sunday, the mural was erected and is now in display on Hugo Street in the city. Around 250 people were in attendance at an event to mark the unveiling of the mural.
A solicitor acting for the homeowner said she had threatened legal action against the “unlawful seizure” of the mural by the PSNI.
Victoria Haddock of Phoenix Law, said: “There was no lawful basis for the seizure of this mural which police have now agreed to return to my client following the issue of emergency pre-action correspondence.”
A PSNI spokesperson said the mural had been removed “to establish whether the possession of the item constituted any possible offence”.
“Detectives from the Police Service of Northern Ireland’s Serious Crime Branch carried out a search at a residential property in Rodney Drive, west Belfast, on Friday, 11th July,” the spokesperson said.
“During the search, a number of items were seized.
“A billboard was removed from the property while it was established whether the possession of the item constituted any possible offence.
“Following review, the billboard was returned to the property yesterday, Saturday 12th July. “
Irish born Monsignor Edward Flanagan went on to found Boys Town in the US BoysTown.org
Today we remember the rebellious and kind Monsignor Edward Joseph Flanagan, founder of Boys Town, Nebraska, who was born on July 13, 1886.
Born in Co Roscommon, Monsignor Edward Joseph Flanagan, the founder of Boys Town, was a lone voice in condemning Ireland’s industrial schools back in the 1940s and the treatment afforded to orphans and those born outside marriage generally. He was viciously castigated by the Irish Church and the Irish government for doing so.
His treatment at the hands of clergy and politicians makes it very clear that both powerful arms of the state were determined to stick to secrets and lies, and cover-ups when it came to the mistreatment of youths and babies.
When he came back to America, Flanagan, addressing the Irish clergy and political leaders, said: “What you need over there is to have someone shake you loose from your smugness and satisfaction and set an example by punishing those who are guilty of cruelty, ignorance, and neglect of their duties in high places . . . I wonder what God’s judgment will be with reference to those who hold the deposit of faith and who fail in their God-given stewardship of little children.”
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However, his words fell on stony ground. He wasn’t simply ignored. He was taken to pieces by the Irish establishment. The then-Minister for Justice Gerald Boland said in the Dáil (Ireland’s parliament) that he was “not disposed to take any notice of what Monsignor Flanagan said while he was in this country because his statements were so exaggerated that I did not think people would attach any importance to them.”
Flanagan was a devout Catholic, a man who Catholics and non-Catholics worldwide had deemed a hero. He was the Mother Theresa of his day.
Flanagan was born on July 13, 1886, in the townland of Leabeg, Co Roscommon, to John (a herdsman) and Honoria Flanagan. In 1904, he immigrated to the United States.
Unlike many others, Flanagan became a priest after he had arrived in America. He was ordained in 1912. In 1917, he was living and working in Omaha, Nebraska, when he hit upon the idea of a “boy’s town,” which would offer education and a home for the poor and wayward boys of Omaha.
However, demand for the service was so great that he soon had to find bigger premises. Boys Town, built on a farm 10 miles from Omaha, was the result.
The center was open to all. There were no fences to stop the boys from leaving. Fr. Flanagan said he was “not building a prison.”
“This is a home,” he said. “You do not wall in members of your own family.”
Boys Town eventually became so well-known – and so well-respected – that Hollywood and the U.S. President came calling. Spencer Tracy and Mickey Rooney starred in the 1938 movie “Boys Town,” and it made a national hero out of Fr. Flanagan. He was internationally renowned as “the world’s most foremost expert on boys’ training and youth care.”
When World War II ended in 1945, President Truman asked Flanagan to tour Asia and Europe, to see what could be done for the many children orphaned and made homeless by the war.
Flanagan decided to return to the land of his birth in 1946 to visit his family and to visit the “so-called training schools” run by the Christian Brothers to see if they were “a success or failure.”
The success of the film “Boys Town” meant Flanagan was treated like a celebrity upon his arrival. His visit was noted by the Irish Independent, which said that Flanagan had succeeded “against overwhelming odds,” spurred on by the “simple slogan that ‘There is no such thing as a bad boy.’”
But Flanagan was unhappy with what he found in Ireland. He was dismayed at the state of Ireland’s reform schools and blasted them as “a scandal, un-Christ-like, and wrong.” And he said the Christian Brothers, founded by Edmund Rice, had lost their way.
Speaking to a large audience at a public lecture in Cork’s Savoy Cinema he said, “You are the people who permit your children and the children of your communities to go into these institutions of punishment. You can do something about it.” He called Ireland’s penal institutions “a disgrace to the nation,” and later said, “I do not believe that a child can be reformed by lock and key and bars, or that fear can ever develop a child’s character.”
Despite that, the Irish church and the Irish government felt comfortable ignoring Fr. Flanagan, ignoring the fact that he was considered to be an expert in the matter of providing for the education and upbringing of boys who were otherwise considered to be “lost causes.” Again, his efforts fell on stony ground.
What was it about the Irish church and the Irish government that made them so insular that they felt comfortable dismissing someone of Fr. Flanagan’s stature? Even though Fr. Flanagan was a popular hero to many Irish people, his words had no sway with those in authority, whether in the government or the church.
And, once those who endorsed the industrial school model survived Fr. Flanagan’s broadsides, they must have known that no one would challenge them again. They were right, for 50 years anyway.
Donegal v Meath – All-Ireland Senior Football Championship semi-final live: Updates from Croke Park as Ulster champions
The Ulster Champion Tír Chonaill men take on the Royals for a place in the All-Ireland final
Donegal boss Jim McGuinness will be hoping he can go further than last year in the All-Ireland Senior Football Championship.
By Liam Grimley
July 13, 2025 at 2:00pm BST
DONEGAL takes on Meath in the All-Ireland Senior Football Championship semi-final at Croke Park for a place in this year’s Sam Maguire showdown.
Meath have been the surprise package in this year’s Championship, having knocked out Galway and registered wins over Kerry and Dublin earlier in the summer.
Next up for the Royals are Ulster champions Donegal, who will approach with caution, as they look to cap off their stellar season with an All-Ireland title.
Donegal won their place at Croke Park with a win over Ulster rivals Monaghan after a second-half comeback which has become the staple of Jim McGuinness’ side.
Meath came out as unlikely winners against Connacht champions Galway, with June’s Player of the Month Jordan Morris scoring 1-6 on his way to a man of the match performance.
The last time these two teams met in the Championship was in 2019 in the round robin stage, when the Tír Chonaill defeated Meath in Ballybofey.
Follow the feed below for the build-up, live updates, and analysis as Donegal and Meath face off to continue their summer for two more weeks.
Welcome
We’re bringing you live coverage of Donegal and Meath as the second All-Ireland finalist is decided at Croke Park.
Ulster champions Donegal have fought through the hard way for their spot today, suffering a loss against Tyrone to be demoted to the preliminary quarter-finals, where they beat Louth before thrashing Monaghan in the last eight.
Meath have brought the shock factor to this year’s Championship, with the Leinster finalists knocking Dublin out of the Leinster race, beating Kerry in the round robin and eliminating Galway in the last round to seal their place in the last four.
For all the build-up, live action and analysis from Croke Park, follow this feed as we complete the match-up for this year’s All-Ireland final.
Martin Hurson became the sixth republican to die on hunger strike this week in 1981. In this archive article by Connla Young for Daily Ireland, his fiancee recalls the place where the couple grew up.
To a stranger travelling through east Tyrone, the black flags and life-size posters hanging from telephone posts may arouse a mild curiosity.
To those closer to home, the images of Martin Hurson’s smiling face mask a hurt that has cloaked this close-knit community for a quarter of a century.
The area’s landscape has changed little since Hurson died on hunger strike on July 13, 1981.
A few new houses dot the rolling hills around Galbally where the Hurson family scratched a living from their modest farm. However, a new generation of young people has grown up in the district, relatively untouched by the 30-year conflict that raged during their parents’ youth.
People in their 20s and younger know Martin Hurson’s name but, for them, the events of the hunger strike are from a different time. Even so, tucked away in the belly of the rugged Tyrone countryside, a memorial to the hunger strikers tells of the place that Hurson and his nine comrades will always hold in the hearts of those who knew them.
At the time of his death, Hurson was engaged to Bernadette Donnelly from the nearby village of Pomeroy. The pair met at the wedding of Hurson’s cousin Sean Kelly and Bernadette Donnelly’s sister Mary Rose Donnelly in 1975. Within weeks, they were inseparable.
Now, 25 years later, Bernadette Donnelly has returned to the place where she and Martin Hurson grew up. She has brought with her a vast collection of personal letters sent by Hurson while he was on the blanket protest in Long Kesh. Almost 80 letters and a number of intimate poems reveal the depth of the couple’s relationship after Hurson was sentenced to 20 years in November 1977. He was arrested 12 months earlier, along with other young people from the Galbally area.
The wounds of the 1981 hunger strike remain raw for Bernadette Donnelly, while the anniversary of his death provides more cause for reflection.
“For the last few weeks, I have been looking at a lot of stuff I have.
“He wrote me a lot of letters and seven or eight love poems. I met his sisters and brothers this week and showed them what he had written. It was the first time they had seen them. It was really tough for them. We were crying and laughing,” she says.
The grief Bernadette Donnelly feels over her fiance’s passing was exacerbated by his quick demise. After 46 days on hunger strike, Hurson died more quickly than his comrades.
“He died so quickly. It was unexpected so I didn’t get to say goodbye. The last time I saw him was about seven or eight days before he went but I really didn’t think he was going to die.
“I used to write to him every week. My letters were about three pages long so he asked me to cut them down to a page. On my last visit with him, he was looking side on at me, which made me think he had double vision.
“The difference with Martin and the other men was how quickly he went. Other families got five or six days with their loved ones before they died. We didn’t get that,” she says.
Bernadette Donnelly was refused permission to visit her fiance as he slipped into the coma of his final hours. The grey steel gates of Long Kesh were slammed in her face by cold-hearted prison officials.
“Brendan Hurson and me were at a H-block march in Armagh when Malachy McCreesh, brother of Raymond, came over and said that Martin had taken bad. A Galbally man, John Campbell, drove Martin’s brother Brendan, Bernadette McAliskey and myself straight to Long Kesh. Neither Brendan nor me had ID and they were not going to allow Brendan in.
“His sister and father were already there with him but found it hard to watch him. They told Brendan that, if his father identified him, they would let him in but not me. I was engaged to get married to him but they wouldn’t let me in.
“Bernadette McAliskey pleaded with them to let me in but they wouldn’t because they said I wasn’t family. I just put my arm on Bernadette’s arm and said to her: ‘They shot you six months ago. Just leave it and I’ll get in tomorrow morning.’ They even threatened not to let Martin’s brother Francie in when he arrived,” she says.
She returned to the Hurson home in Tyrone and arranged to travel back to Long Kesh with them the following morning.
“I was at my sister’s house getting ready to go and see Martin when I put on the seven o’clock news,” she recalls.
“They just announced that he was dead. I thought I was going to see him then I found out he had died at 4.30am. His sister was driving down the road when she heard it on the news as well. That’s how we heard it.”
Hurson’s death brought a heartbreaking end to any hope of a shared life for the young couple.
“We had intended to get engaged the Christmas after he was arrested but we had to put that off. At the start, he didn’t take many visits but, as time went on into 1978, he began to take more. He used to talk about getting out and spoke of how we would go into Pomeroy and get married. He talked about how we would go to Galbally hall. ‘We wouldn’t send out any invitations. People could just come along,’ he said. There were plenty of musicians in Galbally and they would just come and play for us,” says Bernadette Donnelly.
“We were going to get engaged before he got picked up. He said that, if he had been out, we would have been engaged or married so we got engaged while he was in jail.
“I don’t think he expected to die on hunger strike. But he was very determined and I knew where he was coming from. I was behind him. I wasn’t angry. I knew why he was doing it.”
After Hurson’s death, his fiancee retreated into a period of deep grief and rarely ventured out. In 1984, she eventually decided to move to the United States to make a new life. Almost three years after Hurson’s death, Bernadette Donnelly removed her engagement ring for the first time. She has remained in contact with the Hurson family in the intervening years and is godmother to one of Martin Hurson’s nieces.
Several weeks ago, she returned to Long Kesh to finally visit the place where her young love breathed his last. This time around, the grey steel gates swung open to reveal a deserted Long Kesh. Only bitter memories and the grief of loved ones haunt the prison wing at Long Kesh today.
“If I had known Martin was going to die, I would not have left the jail that night. I would have stayed through the night to see him. I was back about six weeks ago and stood at the same gate I stood outside 25 years ago. And it didn’t matter if I got in that day or not. I saw the cell that Martin was in, and I was in the hospital wing. I sat in room seven, where he died. I stayed there on my own for a while and knelt down and prayed. I think I felt him in the room. I felt his presence there.
“I never want to see it again. Some members of the Hurson family will be down there on Thursday but I don’t want to see it again.”
The irony of being able to walk unhindered through the gates so firmly closed to her 25 years ago is not lost on Bernadette Donnelly today.
“I got into the jail after 25 years but, when I needed to be there, when Martin needed me, I could not be there. But I’m glad I was outside the night before he died, the night they didn’t let me in. If I had not been there, I may have thought there was a chance I could have got in and that would have been worse.
“But now that I have been there, I know how close I was to him. The distance between the gate and the hospital is so short. When I was there, I could not believe how close I was to him and yet, as they say, so far away.”
In the last 25 years, Bernadette Donnelly has built a new life for herself but still carries the memories of 1981.
“He sent me 78 letters and I kept them — the first to the last. It was 25 years ago but, to me, it seems like last week. I recall everything from that time. I have found it very hard this year. It has brought back a lot of memories and it has been really hard but I’m getting on with it for him.”
