Put it down to centuries of colonial resistance and a cheerfully anti-establishment culture, but the Irish often take a benign view of certain types of criminal.
When Dubliner Gerard Hutch, head of what is matter-of-factly referred to here as “the Hutch crime gang”, was acquitted of murder last year, television vox pops of fellow Clontarf residents were remarkably fond.
“Well, sure, he’s often landing himself in trouble, but he’s a fine fellow, altogether.”
“He’s a rascal, so he is, but he’s done a lot for his community.”
Out on bail last month, Hutch is now standing for the Oireachtas (Irish Parliament) while police investigations into his activities continue, including in Spain.
Another extraordinary spectacle was the 2021 funeral of violent Irish criminal Dean Maguire, who received full church sacrament and tributes, including a floral arrangement shaped like a spanner – his preferred tool – and an altar banner printed with his home-invasion mantra: “You know the score, get on the floor, Don’t be funny, show me the money.” His crimes included brutalising an 80-year-old couple while robbing their home.
How fond folk will remain of another much-loved rogue, mixed martial arts champion Conor “the Notorious” McGregor, remains to be seen, but his days of being termed just another cheeky young bithiúnach in his native Gaelic may be over.
His being found in a civil suit in November to have raped the plaintiff is the worst of his many stumbles from grace, until now barely marring a formidably successful boxing and multidisciplinary fighting career. Forbes magazine ranked him the world’s highest-paid athlete in 2021 and he has yet to squelch speculation he will run for the Irish presidency. The lightweight southpaw, now 36, is also well known for dangerous driving, brawling and assault incidents, after a fair few arrests and the odd out-of-court settlement.
As a champion cage fighter, he might credibly plead animal spirits. But when he made posts that were widely believed to have exacerbated Dublin’s vicious November riot last year, his celebrated machismo began to tarnish.
In the febrile aftermath of a foreign-born man stabbing three Irish children and their care assistant, McGregor posted a series of anti-immigration comments, prompting a police investigation into him for hate crime.
In fact, the stabber was a naturalised Irish citizen, resident for 20 years.
Now, a jury has ordered McGregor to pay nearly €250,000 (NZ$440,000) to Dublin woman Nikita Hand after it found that he raped her in a Dublin hotel. As a civil suit, it carries no other penalty and McGregor says he will appeal.
But whatever the appeal’s outcome, the testimony – Hand was extensively bruised – will likely have lasting resonance, as does the riot controversy. Even McGregor’s devout fans will struggle to minimise the courage it took Hand to pursue the case, exposing herself to international scrutiny and the prurience and malice of some onlookers.
Although she is widely lauded for her gumption, admiration and money can hardly make up for her experience – from the night in question through to being identified with this lawsuit for the rest of her life. However, she has lit a beacon for sexual assault victims chary of seeking justice, and put a dent in Ireland’s tolerance of popular bad boys’ behaviour.
Before this case and the riot comments, McGregor’s detractors would have described him as just an idiot – a talented sportsperson who should learn to control his temper and exercise better judgment. Now, it’s a stretch to say he’s just a bit of a rogue, a scallywag with a heart of gold. His actions have been seen to have severe consequences.
Suffice to say, this time there have been no vox pops excusing “a bit of devilment” from “ah, yer man, lord love him, he’s such a messer!”
