It Could Happen Here - An Update from Belfast

Episode Date: June 23, 2026

Lee Hurley, a writer and resident of Belfast, participated in relief efforts after vicious racist riots spread through the city, targeting non-white residents. In this essay he lays out what he saw and experienced.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is an I-Heart podcast. Guaranteed Human. Also Media. Hey, everybody. Robert Evans here, and this is It Could Happen here. I wanted to talk today a little bit about Belfast and about what happened there earlier this month. The racist riots in which mobs of bigots ran through the city forcing people out of their homes for not being white, destroying businesses, terrorizing people. It was horrific. And if you spent any time watching live streams or videos or,

just the coverage. I'm sure you felt as frightened both for those people directly and just for the future as many of us. And in the wake of something like that, it can often be hard to know, like, what to do? And what would I do if this were happening in my community, right? Like, what is the proper response, especially if there isn't, you know, an immediate response in the moment that meets, you know, the rage of one of these nights and actually is able to stop it? You know, if these bigots are able to go through and attack and harm people, you know, and, you know, how do you both respond to that and help the people who have been hurt and how do you deal with the fact that that could be a very dangerous situation, you know, especially if you've still got these mobs of people out there who are willing to hurt the folks that you're trying to protect and anyone potentially trying to protect them. Well, obviously the people who live in Belfast are dealing with that problem immediately. And so the best place to go if I wanted to know what that was like was to someone who's been living through it. And fortunately, I found the posts on Blue Sky of Lee Hurley. He's a Belfast-based writer. He's the owner of Dailycanon.com. Lee also runs the

Transagenda, which records and documents anti-trans media coverage in UK papers. You can subscribe at transagenda. Info. I reached out to Lee after saying some posts that Lee had made about what he had witnessed in terms of the local response to people trying to organize to help folks who had been attacked and brutalized. And Lee wrote an essay for us and read it, and thankfully, was good enough to do both of those things. So this is some direct firsthand reporting both on what it was like to live in Belfast while that was going on and what it's been like

to watch the community spring into action to try and make right some of the wrongs that were done. So without further ado, here's Lee. Last week, Belfast hit the headlines worldwide. In usual Belfast fashion, it wasn't for anything good.

On Monday 8th of June, 2026, a man was attacked and stabbed in North Belfast by a refugee. It was a vicious attack caught on camera that resulted in the victim losing an eye and being placed in the medically induced coma. At the time of recording, the victim remains in hospital. The next day the city exploded, riots took place across Belfast, fires raged and people were forced to flee from their homes. Today I want to talk to you about what happened, what really happened, not the attack and not the riots themselves, but what went on in the hours and the days after that.

Beyond the brick-thowing and the burning and the fear, because something good did happen, and I think it's important that the world knows about that. You need to know that Belfast isn't all bad, it isn't what you saw on the TV, that while the horror happened on the streets, the rest of the city said, enough. We mobilised. This is the story of the real community of Belfast. Belfast is a beautiful city, rich in culture, history, world-renowned for its food, and, if you would believe it, it's welcome in the future.

Ask anyone who's visited for recommendations about what to do in the city and you'll likely hear them rave about the Titanic Museum, a Game of Thrones tour or the stunning architecture. They'll tell you how nice everybody they met was. You'll be told about some wonderful restaurant they visited and the amazing trad music session they stumbled upon in some quaint backstreet pub. They'll tell you they want to go back. One of our most popular tourist activities is a tour of the key sites

that played key roles in our Civil War. taxi drivers will take you to the places where blood was shed, bombs exploded and those left behind still visit the morn. The tours aren't even that expensive. Here in Belfast we've made a small industry out of the darkest parts of our country's history, the troubles. Although the days of bombs and murders and army-controlled streets are spoken off in past tense by those tour guides, the beliefs, culture and division that fuelled the fighting are still just as strongly held in many communities throughout the city as they were on the day that peace agreement was signed. nearly 30 years ago. Belfast is a beautiful city,

but it's a city that requires context to be fully understood and, somewhat argued, fully appreciated. Like almost all wars, the troubles centered around identity and access to resources. On one side, the nationalist or Catholics who identify with and wish the country to be

United Ireland, on the other, loyalists or Protestants, who want Northern Ireland to remain part of the UK. The division goes deeper than that is much more complicated, but it's a bit like the left-right divide of Democrats and Republicans in the US, knowing what side someone falls on can usually tell you a lot about their other beliefs and morals. Even international politics gets devied up here to one side of the other, loyal to support Israel, nice to support

Palestine. Of course, it's not that simple, not all Protestants and Catholics hold the same viewpoints, but for the sake of brevity and generalising, and this is, of course, a very short and brief explanation of what is actually a very complex history that spans hundreds of years. We simply don't have the time to win at all with any more depth than that. It's not the focus of this podcast anyway. But even that oversimplified summary should help you see the contextual ends through its Belfast and what happened must be viewed. And it is within this context where tribalism and nationality and identity are so important

that whole housing estates advertise theirs by painting their curbstones in the colours of the British or Irish flag. Jamp murals celebrating both murderers and the murdered alike are painted on the sides of houses, where hate for the other continues and where resources are fiercely protected and fought over, that this story takes place. Tension has been bubbling up about migration for the last several years in Northern Ireland and elsewhere. Just last summer we saw riots in nearby Balamina and in Belfast, after an alleged sexual assault took place with the accused perpetrators being two teenage boys from Romania. Houses and businesses were smiced up and burnt if the riot of,

believed there was any connection whatsoever to an immigrant, no matter where in the world they hail from. I remember driving through Botanic, a vibrant multicultural area of Belfast we give a few minutes away from, and seeing business after business destroyed, the hookabar, the international supermarket, cafes. Several months later, the charges against those two teenage boys were quietly dropped due to significant evidential developments. Like everything else here, attitudes to immigration and race in general has a pretty clear split between our two main communities. Throughout loyalist areas, you will find graffiti and signs

stapled on the lampposts. Foreigners not welcome here. No Muslims allowed. Stop the boats. A lot of the time, these vitroly messages aren't even spelled correctly. Education is just one of the many areas neglected here that nobody ever riots over. That's not to say there's no such thing as a racist nationalist.

There are assholes everywhere. Belfast is, of course, no different on that front. When this most recent horrific attack took place in a city were immigrants, legal, illegal refugee, asylum, secret doesn't actually matter in fact

because you don't have to be a migrant to be targeted, you just have to be non-white. Whether already treated escape votes for every problem

where racist riots have become something of a summer tradition, everyone knew what was coming. Within our, social media

was full of AI-generated posters telling people to take to the streets to protest immigrants. When they said protest, we all knew

they meant riot. And so the city shut down. for three days shops schools community centres swimming clothes public transport and businesses were held hostage to racism some places opened for a few hours in the mornings before having to close again the buses were running the buses were off half the city worked from home fake protest posters popped up on social media everyday life and routine was thrown into disarray and chaos but it was when the sun went down that the actual horror happened from the comfort of our homes with the blinds down many of us sat skirt scrolling social media to trying to find out what was happening. Via helicopter footage streamed live on YouTube, we watched our city get destroyed.

We texted each other and made phone calls and even shit posted online, trying to find some levity or light in the situation. For others, those days changed their lives forever. They watched the cars get burnt out and along with the metal and the tires. Tomorrow's school running transport went up in smoke. Sand from the last family trip to the beach,

still in the footwheels, a favourite cardigan left in the passenger seat, gone. all of it gone whole homes gone whether physically set on fire or threatened through the letterboxes or driven out by a fear many of us will never have to know the true number of people who fled their

homes since the 8th of June is hard to gauge some have gone to stay with relatives or friends across the city some have moved to completely new places waiting to feel safe enough to try again many have left the country altogether and who can blame them that is our loss they say in times of trouble look for the helpers, but here in Belfast you wouldn't have seen too many at first glance.

That's for the same reason you didn't see people rise up and take on the rioters face-to-face. Fear. Fear of personal reprisal from the loyalist paramilitary organisations. Fear of alerting the rioters and making the situation even worse for those you're trying to help. Fear is endemic here. But there were helpers, hundreds in fact. But our helpers moved quietly and in the shadows. Without fusser fanfare, people across Belfast began taking action almost to.

immediately. As everyday life began to return to normal in schools and shops cautiously reopened, strangers became small heroes. Families were moved from their homes and their darkness and children taking to and from school. The elderly and sick and pregnant accompanied the hospital and doctor appointments. In church halls and community centres, supermarket-sized food banks sprung up from nothing. Money was raised from all over the world. Where there was need, somebody met it. Then they returned and asked who they could help next. In those moments, the real Belfare. We're seeing. is another chance to win.

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I couldn't sit and do nothing anymore, so here's what he's happening, she said. She'd already contacted a church in a range use of their hall. She'd contacted people she knew through her community work to get word out. I posted about it on blue sky, not mentioning anything about where it would be located out of fears would be targeted. And someone asked if there was a fundraiser. There wasn't. There hadn't been anything just a few hours ago.

Not thinking it would get much attention, I threw up a link to my PayPal and said I'd pass the money on if anyone wanted to donate. Thousands came flooding in from all over the world, particularly from Minnesota. Saturday came and we were up at 6 a.m. to hit the wholesalers, having roped in another friend to help with her car. By 9 a.m. we were at the church with two car rolls of food and essentials, not knowing if it would just be the three of us standing there all day with a load of food. None of us had ever done this before, although L. has experienced working with immigrants and asylum seekers in other areas. We couldn't have been more wrong. Through the networks Elle had formed over the previous 48 hours,

and organisations started sending us addresses of people who needed food. Volunteers kept arriving. People flowed in with donations of food and money and essentials. By the afternoon, people were dropping stuff in, taking photos of our board that showed items. We were low in and then going shopping to get those items specifically. Hundreds of food parcels were packed up. Need one for a family of five went to call across the hall, as Elle coordinated everything that needed to go out.

What ages of the children? Do they need nappies? Came a reply without fail. Everybody just pits in with whatever was needed to be done. Others dealt with people who came in themselves and need to help. Drivers sent from other small charities arrived to collect parcels for people they were helping. I found myself managing the stock running to the shop and the wholesalers time and time again to fill up with items we couldn't keep up with. Basics like oil and sugar, flour, rice, pasta, soap, sanitary products, nappies.

The list was endless, as with the number of places. people we were trying to help. For three days, people who had never met before stood side by side sorting food parcels. Strangers took strangers into their car and into their homes. Is this definitely Halal was desperately gouged by a lot of white people. I've lost count of the amount of people I've met over the last week, but I know it's more than I would usually meet in the year. To be fair, I'm not actually that social, but it was still a lot of people. I don't think I got the names of half of the ones I worked alongside in that pop-up food bank that my partner seemed and magic out of thin hour using the relationships she'd built up through her job.

But it didn't matter. There wasn't time for small talk. It was more, hello, thank you for helping. Pass me some cooking oil, please. Are we out of deodorant again? That's not to say there was no bonding. When you share an intense experience like that under the weight of emotions we were working with, there's a connection built.

There was a sense of community that I've never experienced before, and, given the circumstances, I sincerely hope to never experience again. But that seems unlikely. In that church hall where we ran the food bank, nobody needed to be told what to do. There was no induction or even delegation of rules. For three days, people turned up and they found themselves something to do. And I don't know if it will surprise you, because it shouldn't. But there were many migrants and refugees who turned up to help themselves.

One woman came because she was in need of food for herself. But she asked if she could take some extra to make meals for others. Within two hours, we had 30 containers of home-cooked halal curry to deliver the homes. thanks to her work. I'm not sure I've ever been able to truly define what love or selflessness of solidarity mean, but I'm pretty sure that's what it looks like. This is not work being done by professional charities or organisations. That's not to say they weren't doing anything far from it, but I want to take a moment to press upon you that this was everyday people, figuring it out together, many of whom who had never done anything of this before. What's app groups were created,

phone numbers shared and Google Doc databases thrown together across the city, volunteers together and apart. Does anyone have clothes for a baby? Can someone drive a lady to an appointment tomorrow at 10 a.m.? Resources were shared across makeshift donation centres. If one center had run out of diapers, another was sharing their supply.

Volunteers drove from centres to shops to homes, trying to find what was required. It was beautiful chaos, and it worked. Nobody had to be there. Almost all the volunteers had arrived through word of mouth. I don't think I saw one single social media post or advert calling out for help. help, apart from the one I posted on her last day. Help just came. Like me, many of the volunteers felt

compelled to do something. Sitting at home beyond the locked door and watching he had to fill the city via live stream, just wasn't cutting it anymore. One volunteer told me that when the violence erupted, they simply couldn't get the affected people out of her head. They took Friday afternoon off work to deliver food and essential supplies to families who were too afraid to leave their homes. More than anything, she said she wanted to show that people of Belfast Care and the newcomers to our city are welcome. At a time when fear and uncertainty was affecting so many families, it felt important to her to offer practical support and remind people that they were not alone. The work people have been doing and are still doing is not without risk. I spoke earlier of fear.

There's a dark rumour that Northern Ireland has the best knee surgeons in the world due to the paramilitary's favourite punishment style of knee-cabin where the place of gunned in the back of you. your knee and put the trigger blowing out the front. If you live in a community running by the paras and you piss them off, you're going to know about it. It might be a brick through your window, graffiti on your door, or a visit from the local police to tell you, they would strongly advise you leave the premises and find somewhere else to live. For many community volunteers, this was a case of heart over mind. They were driving into loyalist strongholds that had been rioting just hours before to deliver food

to the very people that had been targeted. But their compassion for those sitting hungry, tired and scared, outweighed the fear they felt for their own safety. Many of the volunteers who helped will never tell their neighbours what they did. They may never tell anyone about it. Drivers arrive back to the hall with stories of families sitting in the dark

with no electric in the meter, of mothers hiding in the back room by the door with their babies in their arms ready to runge of a flaming bottle come through the window. If you've wondered for a moment what kept us motivated, now you know.

Some volunteers sprung into action from the first moment and some are still going. There are still people from ethnic minorities. community in great need. I cannot imagine the fear they're still living in. But why was it left to the people to take action? I've heard that question asked several times during the last week. It's hard to know. Many people are rightly wondering whether government was and all this, where are our politicians? Yes, some get on their podiums from time to time to condemn the violence, but if it wasn't for the community on the ground and the wonderful, generous people who

donated money, all of those people that we helped would still be sitting there, hungry, tired and scurred even more than they are now. I know that here on the ground we're putting together a contingency plan so that we're ready to spring in the action should this happen once more. And we've done that without any of the resources at the disposal of the government, albeit in our own small way. So why after so many summers of this happening do we know nothing of any government plan? If there was any sort of plan, surely we would be seeing it in action by now. The sad reality is this is likely going to happen again, probably this very summer. We have a lot of problems and very little solution.

How do we guarantee housing that's safe in a city that's littered with hate? How do we say to people, we're giving you a food parcel with a week's worth of food? But next week you're going to have to sort it out yourself and go to the shop. Next week you're going to have to walk past your neighbours smashed windows and the graffiti saying Muslims out. Next week you're going to have to walk past the house of that loyalist who insists on calling you slurs every time he sees you. Even as I'm recording this, there are new calls for so-called protein.

over the next few days, there's a rumour a non-white man was arrested for trying to break into someone's house. I'm not being coy by saying non-white, that's the base level of racism we're currently operating with here. And an incident like that is enough to set this all off again. For the rest of the summer, eyes on both sides of the immigration argument will skim over news articles, searching for a race or nationality to be mentioned. I cannot imagine how it feels to be a member of an ethnic minority and beyond tenderhooks, hoping and praying someone of colour, does not. not committed crime. You may be forgiven for thinking that we have absolutely no other crimes

occurring on a daily basis, especially non-committed by white people. Of course we do. They're the majority. We have one of the highest rates of violence against women and girls in the whole of Europe. Since 2020, 30 women had been violently killed by a man, a local man. Did they riot then? I'll give you two guesses. Our community action was not enough. That's the sad reality. What does some toilet rule and a few vegetables matter when someone's car has been burnt out? How does a bag of rice compensate for having to leave your home?

It just doesn't. But maybe it will bring a small bit of hope. When we decided we were going to do something to help, that's all we started with, hope. And now, a week later, after thousands of pounds worth of food, electric vodgers, phones, SIM cards, blankets and pajamas have passed

in and out of our doors into the homes and emergency accommodation across Belfast. It's all we're left with. Hope that we helped. Hope that we won't ever have to do it again. As one recipient of financial help put it, the real value is not in the amount. It's the kindness, humanity and compassion behind it.

At the very start of this podcast, I told you Belfast is a beautiful city, rich in culture and history. But to borrow the wonderful words of that recipient, I think it's also a city rich in kindness, humanity and compassion. It is a city that is shown that can and will come together when it really matters.

Even if you can't always see it, that's the real face of Belfast. I want to say thank you. Thank you to everyone who I met but never got the names of. The people I'd never have met and I hope I don't have to meet again. Thank you to everyone who donated from across the world. That support meant everything to us and allowed us to help those who needed it the most. And I also want to say thank you to the people here in Belfast and Northern Ireland

who have been the most affected by these riots, to the immigrants, the refugees and the asylum seekers. Thank you for coming here. for having to our community and for becoming our community. We are the real community of Belfast and we are nothing without you. It Could Happen Here is a production of Cool Zone Media.

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