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For the luck of Éire! Terry Alts, The Happy Pig, Atlantic fish, Book of Kells, & the spoils and spores of ancestry

Ireland. We arrived early in the morning by the ferry from west Scotland, figured we needed to get to the outskirts of Belfast to hitchhike, passed flagrant support for the old empire,

and hightailed it south to a hitching point on the verge of a slip road, that went both south and west – our best chance of getting to Galway.

It took around thirty minutes before Yvonne picked us up in her camper and hurled us southward for about an hour, yarning with Meg about how the goddess is present here in Eíre.

We were in the hands of the goddess and her muse, wild chance, and in the flow of it were offered two more lifts before we landed in Kells.

Kells, where the famous book was once held (between Iona where it originated and Dublin where it now resides), is where the goddess temporarily lost us, or rather we lost her.

We spent hours trying to thumb a lift and eventually we stole into a pub’s free wifi, found a local bus route, walked back across town, flagged the driver, and stepped onboard.

Not so fast! We didn’t have a bus card or any Euros, so the driver refused us until a kind punter shouted us tickets, stating we just merely pay it forward. 🙏🏽

Two buses and a train later, we reached Galway just before midnight, 18 hours after we woke in our tent in Stranraer, west Scotland. We slept long that night in a house belonging to some friends from home, and eventually we woke and took the gentle morning sun.

Around the corner was an independent grocery store where we bought some goodies. After cooking breakfast, we set out for a big drift, finding a historical edge, along the River Corrib.

the tourist centre,

and some of the better moulds of Galway.

Drawn to all the waters that have determined the planning of the city,

we swam in the Atlantic on the days it was warm.

It was good to finally stop and catch our breath.

Salthill, the coastal suburb where we stayed, has become gentrified in recent years, although the tough past was still present in the backstreets.

During the week we left the small city on a number of day trips. Fields, forests, animals and wild spaces called us.

We bussed to the little town of Loughrea, walked the village streets,

beheld the agri-religious present.

and walked out of town for three miles,

to Feara Bréige, otherwise known as The Seven Monuments or the Moanmore East Stone, a ceremonial site that dates back around 3000-5000 years.

Patrick had earlier found a small, pierced stone on the beach at Salthill, collected up some cabbage palm leaves to strip for cordage, and made this little neck piece,

for Woody on the last day of his 13th year.

We stayed awhile, contemplating our lineages, the ceremonial approaches we are part of back home, all the cultures, chance encounters, lands and peoples who brought us to now.

We left some wool from sacred Scorhill in Dartmoor as an offering,

and continued our journey south. We had a fair distance to walk to our screening later in the day and set off, savouring the bounty of blackberries –

gifts of the goddess.

It was quite a walk and our thumbs were not smiled upon by the locals, many of whom lived in almost identical houses to this.

After a few hours of walking, one guy stopped in an old Landrover and spoke crudely, ‘Get in’. We baulked, beginning to describe our intended destination before he sped off almost crushing Patrick’s foot. Woah!

Half an hour later, as it began to rain, a woman travelling home from an organics workshop stopped and drove us the remaining miles to The Happy Pig, where we cut some wood and met Mark Boyle,

whose lovely stack we contributed to.

Mark, Marie-Thérèse and Olwyn, were three of the collaborators we met at The Happy Pig and the An Teach Saor community project. Marie-Thérèse took us on a tour of the gardens,

and the beautiful house Mark built.

This small timber framed and clad strawbale home has been made with an attention rare today, and sports a living, earthen roof, and a way of being in a garden as a friend to life.

In the cold and drizzle of the late afternoon, we felt deep kinship with the politaesthetics of this small, well-organised community,

bridging their way home, albeit fatigued by the many drop-ins who frequent the community, due to the attention garnered from Mark’s books.

Once it grew dark, about 25 people filled The Happy Pig for a screening of The New Peasants,

and afterwards we received a gift of inspired questions, met Paul Kingsnorth and spoke with him after the Q&A. What a day, which ended with a generous lift back to Galway by Keith, who gave Woody his spare hurling stick and ball.

The next day brought Woody and Patrick’s shared birthday. We rose early, bussed to Rossaveel,

where we conversed with both donkeys and horses,

and put Woody on a fishing charter with captain Kevin and several lovely families.

They headed out of the little harbour,

and on into deep water around the Aran Islands. Woody caught two fish, including the largest pollack of the day!

Patrick headed off to Inis Mór, one of the Aran islands, for a day of walking,

observing,

and soul labouring, some of which materialised in this:

We are so so grateful to our friends from home, Jo and Paul, for offering Paul’s home in Galway, where we could rest and source some local organic flour and bake bread each day,

drift more slowly and notice little delights on the streets,

discover the old economies, which bore nutritious meats from the tides,

and to behold the artisanal crafts of a time past, though soon to return.

Preciously, we had time to sit, work through complexes inherent in a family, including a young person transitioning to adulthood.

On our final day in Galway, Meg and Woody went fishing and exploring parts of the small city they’d not been too, while Patrick bussed south to Ennis in County Clare for family business.

In the grand new library of the town,

he was assisted by friendly librarian Peter, who set him up with old local newspaper mircofilms from 1830.

Originally, Patrick thought his paternal Eíre ancestor was Michael Daniel Connell from Loughill in Co Limerick but this was an Ancestry error. After establishing his apical ancestors from Clare were Michael Connell and Catherine Mary Killeen, Patrick then searched the records that linked them as parents of his great, great grandmother, Agnes C Connell. Michael was transported to Australia in 1830, and in the library Patrick found the newspaper where his case was reported under Ennis Assizes (second column).

He will write something more substantial later on the Terry Alt agrarian rebels of co. Clare that his forebear, Michael Connell was punished for being part of, and offer it as a kin piece to his Luddite post.

The things to know for now is that after Michael Connell received his ticket of leave and was essentially free, a prior love from Ennis, Catherine Mary Killeen, born in nearby Drumscliff in Co. Clare, joined him in Moruya and married him on Yuin peoples’ land. The now famous Mossy Point at Broulee was prior named Connells Point after him,

and he is described in the local historical records as being “an interesting chap, folk-lore has it that he was a sort of layabout bushranging, beachcombing squatter who lived there in the 1850s.”

Patrick headed from the Ennis library to the magical Drumcliff cemetery,

and found a number of Killeen’s in the district.

and a monument to the 2000 locals buried here who died during the potato famine a decade or so after Michael Connell was shipped off to NSW.

In 1860 the Irish revolutionary John Mitchel wrote, ‘The Almighty, indeed, sent the potato blight, but the English created the Famine.’

All the misery, all the suffering, all the ideological warfare across the globe because of the strange appropriations and misspellings of this guy – the spiritual sun/son –

who offered two very simple invitations – to upturn the money tables (collective accountability to the wellbeing of the village) and to be sovereign in our unique connection to the divine spark (the personal accountability required to keep our souls alive and nourished).

Before he left Ennis, Patrick connected with the divine spark within the musicians at the P Lucas establishment.

He had been on the look out for a session not mediated for American tourists, and found it here. Bliss!

The next day we travelled to Dublin by bus. By now we were conditioned to accept exhorbitant public transport costs in Eíre and besides, we had a date with Cian, a Dubliner, genealogist and historian, who helped organised our screening at The Happy Pig, and gifted us tickets to the Book of Kells at Trinity College, his old alma mater.

After beholding the old book under glass in a darkened room, Cian guided us through the Long Room, and spoke about the complex and troubled journey of Irish independence,

It was quite a room, and there was a lot to say and notice, including the absence of books removed for archival cleaning.

We are so grateful to Cian for his enthusiasm and support for us while in Eíre,

grateful to Niall, whose house we stayed in in Dublin, despite never meeting him. Grateful to Ali and Richard (from back home) whom we joined for a pint in the capital, and grateful to the goddess who is ever present in this rich and lyrical land, the only country to have a musical instrument as its official emblem.

~

Thank you to the many supporters and fellow journeyfolk of this whole month’s adventure. We’ve learned much, grown, remembered, questioned, changed and aged, and as we now turn for home we take with us in our full hearts a little of the communities of life from the mother countries of Albion, Cymru, Alba and Eíre.

In praise of the humble wheelbarrow (or, What Luddites can teach us today)

Listen to the audio version of this post (18mins), or read below.

 

 

Industrial progress is our civilisational spell. It is the spell of the modern, of comfort, of innovation-anxiety, of hyper-domestication, of estrangement and separation, of unashamed pollution. The collective name we call this spell is hypertechnocivility.

From birth we are conditioned to conform to this story. Early on daycare separates us from our most significant protectors, leaving us vulnerable and often emotionally wounded. As wounded fledglings industrial schooling grooms us to become compliant cogs in the narrative of progress. Technical colleges or universities finish the hardening process, equipping us with trades or degrees to serve industrial capital, rewarding us materially, as long as we are compliant, dutiful and stay under the spell, or in our lanes. By our mid twenties we become modern serfs in service to the Financial Industrial Complex. The key to success is to do as you are told, become upwardly mobile, and not look at what’s really going on around you.

Every industry larger than cottage is subordinate to the Financial Industrial Complex, which controls all the other global raiding parties – Big Tech, Big Pharma, Big Oil, Big Military, Big Ag, et al. Big Finance is the apex predator of this greater mob of morally depraved elites because it controls the capital for all other industries, including government.

It was the Luddites (1811-1812) who mounted the first and only serious rebellion against the spell casters of industrial progress. This happened in the midlands and north of England, where a number of our family’s ancestors hail. Initially the resistance focussed on ‘machine breaking’, smashing the frames of early industrial textile machines that were reducing the capacity of cottage weavers and hosiers to earn a proper income through their fine crafts.

A new power class was emerging in England at this time. The early industrial manufacturers established the first chapter of mass production. They had in turn derived from a revolutionary political theology designed by Adam Smith and others who gave spark to modern predatory capitalism, and lobbied parliament to bring in draconian laws that further prevented common folk from self-provisioning. The classical political economists knew that capitalism could only work if The Common – land that could once be used for people to produce or gather food – was enclosed, and townsfolk, artisans and peasants could no longer easily create non-monetary economies of community-sufficiency.

The Invention of Capitalism by Michael Perelman is a comprehensive resource for examining the dark and mostly untold story of Classical Political Economy.

While the enclosures began in feudal England centuries earlier, Smith and co conspired with the church and state to make sure people were economically fragile and thus exploit-ready for manufacturers and other industrialists. This in turn created unbound poverty and suffering, which would eventually force people to move into the growing manufacturing centres to look for work, kickstarting a de-ruralisation process that continues today:

Displaced populations leave the land and make their way, uselessly, to the cities; urban ghettos swell and fester; families without skills recognisable in the cities compete for the few available jobs or go on the public dole, using food stamps to buy what they once knew how to grow. –– Kirkpatrick Sale (1995)

The wretchedness caused by enclosure and through dispossession of ancestral commons led to mass poverty. This created widespread crime that in turn led to the advent of populations being policed for the first time, as well as the establishment of faraway colonial jails like Australia. Industrial progress is also the story of made-man mass suffering, exported from England to across the world.

The history of the Luddites’ powerful though short lived uprising to save their autonomous economic-technological-cultural relations is told in Kirkpatrick Sale’s detailed Rebels against the Future: Lessons for the Computer Age. Sale’s social history brings greater awareness of the mass exploitation of labour that occurred at this time, which was required to catapult industrial capitalism into existence.

Through the many stages and processes of industrial progress we have more or less become an estranged species of anthropocentric urbanites who no longer yearn to be in relationship with earth-honouring technologies, or living within processes of regeneration. We fabricate stories of progress such as efficient electric homes powered by lithium-ion batteries, without reporting on the millions of fires these batteries start each year and the horrific costs to environments and people that the mining of this one particular metal creates.

In every new technology manufactured by the story of industrial progress, harm proliferates. Look behind the curtains of any new product, any new drug, every new digital tool or means of production, and someone or something is sick or dying. Electric technologies requiring rare earth minerals or metals won’t save us, but these technologies just might:

So, given what we now know about industrial progress, is there anything we can learn from the original Luddites? Is there anything to learn from their gallant failure, which took an English army, larger than any that fought against Napoleon, to crush their resistance?

The first lesson for us from the Luddites is violence only begets more violence, and the state is designed to ultimately protect capital before workers. As we have seen for decades, governments will use excessive force against any uprising, and Big Tech is almost fully capable now of silencing any form of dissent or using dissenting subgroups to create ideological silos in a bid to continue the colonial practice of divide and rule.

Before they resorted to violence, however, the Luddite’s political strategy was to petition the political class.

Lord Byron made his maiden parliamentary speech speaking up for subjugated artisans who were being rapidly turned into impoverished subjects of capital. But shortly afterwards Byron became famous for his writings, and his attention in support of the Luddites disappeared. And then no one in the political class championed the traditional textile artisans whose industry was the first to be subject to the moral depravity of early industrial capitalists. Such powerlessness, especially felt by weavers, led to greater acts of violence against textile manufacturers’ machine parts (thousands of weaving frames were smashed), then against the factories (some were burnt to the ground), then manufacturers themselves (some were murdered).

Secondly, Luddite resistance didn’t pivot towards alternative self-organising economies. Luddites wanted to maintain life as it was, where cottagers would raise their children to take on the craft or trade of the household with their future generations engaged in meaningful, self-organising labour that was rewarded by money. Luddites and their kin perhaps could not imagine alternative economic lifeways as some of us are crafting now. Rapid onset poverty has a way of destroying creativity and thus diminishing the scope to problem solve because the sole concern of destitution is sheltering and feeding oneself and family.

Today, time-poverty, including among the wealthy, similarly destroys the ability to problem solve because responding to a predicament intelligently requires a mind not over-filled with stresses and distraction. To respond to the predicaments of our time, however we are reading them and which ever ones jump out at us and call for our attention, our minds need to be connected to the universal creativity of the living of the world.

The lack of pivot of the Luddites was probably also due to the demotion of subsistence (or non-monetary) economies, again due to prior enclosure laws. While Luddite cottagers, at night, focussed on organising secret militia attacks in numbers that are astounding to consider right across the industrialising midlands and north of England, they could have alternatively spent this time covertly growing crops on marginal or hidden lands, keeping pigs and chickens in simple enclosures, poaching the game and stock of the landed gentry, and generally setting up underground food networks, which also distributed other basic needs to people. This form of covert economic resistance may have resulted in the manufacturers having much less of a population to draw on for labour, and therefore lessening their ability to exploit workers with wages that barely enabled people to survive.

Thirdly, life is not worth living when we are enslaved or owned by others and we cannot augment our own economic forms with kindred souls. Many Luddites had nothing to lose but to gather, swear oaths (a crime considered worthy of hanging or transporting to Australia), and form secret militia groups that would conspire to attack the new masters.

The political classes learned from the political violence the Luddites escalated between 1811 and 1812. After the Luddites were eventually smashed, the new rich manufacturers, the established political elites and the financial class gradually conspired to produce more subtle ways to placate and incarcerate working peoples and turn them into docile factory slaves. Industrial schooling, drugs, alcohol and mass entertainment became important tools of capital that worked on placating and making soporific the rebellious spirit the Luddites possessed. As we know, these are still some of the tools used for compliance today.

Adaptation before panic has been a message we and countless others have been singing for some time now. Collapse now and avoid the rush, as John Michael Greer famously wrote in 2012, precisely two hundred years after the last Luddite was publicly hanged.

The Luddites had no such prior story to inform them. No story of pivoting or reclaiming. Nothing before them had so utterly transformed human life and economy, as rapidly. Today, it’s hard to see anything that the three industrial revolutions haven’t already shat on, so an argument for economic alternatives, village rebuilding and reclaiming a ceremonial species approach should, you would think, have greater agency. So what are the road blocks?

Fear is central to killing off the creative agency needed to spell a new story of economy and culture making. The spell of Industrial progress is bound by fear. What will my parents think? What will my partner think? What will my peers think, if I take off the chains and leave the cave of industrial progress?

The Luddites wanted to preserve pre-industrial life where handmade tools aided cottage productions of beautiful and useful things, and contributed to a village logic that was not centred on extraction and pyramidal hierarchy, but rather was rooted in relationship with local, bioregional, land-accountable practices of life making. Yes, manorial lords stood over village folk to lesser and greater degrees, however, this powering-over was relatively benign by comparison with the misery of early factory servitude. As the spell of industrial progress spread like a plague throughout the world, the word Luddite naturally became a pejorative term employed by hypertechnocivility to shame-label critics.

Although all three of our wheelbarrows have derived from industrial mines, factories and markets – two salvaged from the local tip shop and one purchased new and given to us as a gift – they represent technology that can be replicated by materials walked for and harvested respectfully in nearby common land, which we help care for. Our wheelbarrows are low-impact transportation technologies that enable us to take large amounts of fodder to our goats and collect our winter fuel. We do not take for granted their simplicity or their meaning in recrafting ecological economies of place.

While we currently have access to a car, and we hold a small title of land that belongs to the great industrial legal lie terra nullius, we give no money to Big Finance, Big Tech, Big Ag, Big Pharma, Big Military or any other industrial complex. We have crafted a cottager, community sufficient lifeway based on ancestral relations to local economy making, brought forward into the context of today and the Mother Country we live within. We don’t dress in period costumes or romanticise what was. Instead we find kinship with our ancestors and community in reclaiming and re-skilling, while recognising the greatest threat to life is the romanticisation of industrial progress.

Rather than violence as our response to the sickly spell of industrial progress, we choose defunding its power. This, for us, is the most rich and rewarding form of resistance, which is steeped in relationships that the Financial Industrial Complex or its challenger, Big Tech, can never have jurisdiction over. Sharing our story, linking with like minds, revillaging, and teaching our lifeways and learnings at the School of Applied Neopeasantry, is all we can do alongside the primary concern of actually crafting economy that refuses to participate in industrial progress. This scale is human and local, and soon to come back offline. Living the change. Living life outside the chains of the cave. Sharing our learnings with others. Dancing in the face of industrial progress without fear. This is our power.

Our wealth is time and relationships and knowledges and skills almost entirely found outside the vast drag net of the Financial Industrial Complex. We generate so little money that we don’t pay tax, therefore we don’t support the war machine or participate in government welfare given to corporates to promote earth- and health-wrecking technologies, such as gain-of-function synthetic medicines or drone warfare or more toxic biotech farming practices.

Yes, we are neoluddites. Yes, we are conspiracists. Yes, we are anti-vaxxers. Yes, dirty hippies. Yes, witches. Yes, op-shoppers. Yes, radical homemakers. Yes, neopeasants. Yes, some of us are quite toothless, repair things and practice self-suturing.

And yes, we are among the freest people we know.

An open letter to a Labor minister complicit in iatrogenocide and genocide

Attention: Catherine King, MP

We wrote to you in November 2023 in relation to the iatrogenocide you have actively participated in since 2021. In 2022 you even went so far as to give one of our family members unsolicited medical advice, which we captured on video.

We are grateful that our family and around 300 people in our community, did not take your advice, and as a result none of us in this cohort has long Covid, immune system collapse, died suddenly, suffered heart inflammation, had a stroke, or developed blood clots, brain aneurysms, turbo cancers, or any of the other vast array of injuries associated with these immune and heart-wrecking injections. We feel gravely for those bullied into risking their health by public influencers, such as yourself, often in order to keep their jobs. The injection never was designed to stop transmission, yet you argued it would. It is now 2025, and you have never acknowledged your wrong-doing or the harm you helped cause.

And now, as a senior minister in the federal Australian Labor government, you are also complicit in the most public genocide the world has ever seen. Your support for an extremist-supremacist government that is, before our very eyes, killing and starving innocent peoples is not surprising to us, since we lived through yours and Morrison’s Covid regime. We are not naive to the fact that whatever big industry – especially weapons and pharma – want, Australian politicians grant without question. Yes, you are not the only one complicit in these crimes, but as a MP local to our home town, we want to be clear: concerning these big geopolitical and global health issues, you do not represent us.

While we, a part-Jewish family, do not think you or any of your colleagues will ever be prosecuted for the crimes against humanity committed over the past five years, we are writing to inform you that we and many others see your complicity as part of these crimes.

In one small response to the 18 month-long genocide of Palestinians, we wish to share with you and our readers the following.

 

 

We are currently raising money for a Palestinian permaculture and CSA farm that is practicing resistance agriculture in the West Bank. As we attend Q&A screenings of The New Peasants over the next month, we will hold a series of solidarity raffles for the farm. Om Sleiman Farm grows organic food for around 30 households, however over the years members of the farm have been shot at by those guarding illegal occupation. In the two photos of the farm above, the white settlement in the background, encroaching onto the farm, is the illegal occupation at work by ethno-supremacists, who, like early settlers in Australia, believe it is their god-given right to steal land and use violent force and tactics to do so.

Can you, Catherine, imagine a world where the Australian government not only imposed sanctions on genocidal regimes, but supported grass roots groups (not NGO colonialists) to produce ecologically-sound, organic food systems across all countries? Nutritious food that would radically reduce the need for pharmaceutical interventions and thus iatrogenic corporate profiteering? By living a permaculture lifeway and developing a community-sufficient (rather than corporate-dependent) economy over many years, has meant that no one in our family has required a GP for a decade.

Your support for the illness industry globally, enforced starvation in Palestine, and militaristic genocide by Israel is not the future. It is merely Five-Eyes neoliberal colonialism in action.

If you were truly working towards healthy people and healthy biomes, and access to these essentials for life making without proxy wars, we would celebrate you. It is clear, however, where your priorities lie. You do not represent us. We reject any authority or jurisdiction you might claim to have over us.

Sincerely,
Artist as Family

Reculturing agrarianism (with Silvia Bottinelli)

 

Patrick had the pleasure of speaking with art historian Silvia Bottinelli this morning about her research on the politics and aesthetics of food sovereignty, the origins of her work, and some of the challenges and cultural renewal taking place in art practices that include agrarian nodes.

In a previous video, we offered our contribution to her book, Artists and the Practice of Agriculture, which constitutes an interview Silvia conducted with us a few years ago.

In today’s conversation, Patrick begins by asking Silvia about her origin story into this research.

You can either listen in (60mins),

 

or watch their conversation.

Cover pic by Jordan Osmond from Happen Films.

Yarning with Derrick Jensen (on writing, civilisation, experts, storying, bear cubs, and more)

 

Patrick yarned with environmental writer Derrick Jensen this morning and we present their conversation here, in its entirety. We hope you enjoy this weaving, wefting, circling, listening and sharing.

Here is the audio (1hr, 11mins),

 

And here is the vision.

 

Produced by Meg with assistance from Beck Lowe and Derrick’s friend Heather.

An honouring of Dave Holmgren (at the celebration of his 70th orbit around the great ball of fire)

 

Our cherished friend and community elder, David Holmgren (below left), best known for being the co-originator of the permaculture concept, turned 70 this year, and to celebrate, a small group gathered under the grandmother pear tree at his home, Melliodora, to share food and to honour this special man in our lives, and the lives of so many.

People offered various forms of praise and story in what became an open-mic-this-is-your-life-Dave-Holmgren kind of event. Patrick prepared this honouring, which we are sharing with you today. Here’s the audio and the text, if you wish to read along (10 mins).

 

And here is the man with Patrick’s praise, taller than the man himself.

How has David, and his work, affected your life, Dear Reader? Your anecdotes and stories are most welcome.

Thanks Ian Lillington for the first photo and Su for the second.