Who will own the solar panels in primary schools, and why does nobody care?
I remember watching The Founder, the 2016 film about the story of McDonald’s. I watched it thinking it would be a feel-good tale of ambition and perseverance. At first, that’s exactly what it delivered — a struggling salesman spotting potential in a small burger joint and turning it into a global empire. But as the story unfolded, the tone darkened. The character of Ray Kroc’s strategy wasn’t really about selling burgers in the end; it was about owning the land. He didn’t just expand McDonald’s — he took control, pushing out the original owners and ensuring his dominance by controlling the property. It was a masterclass in power dynamics, one that resonated with me far beyond fast food.
The recent government rollout of free solar panels for schools mirrors this strategy in an unsettling way. While the state is funding infrastructure upgrades, who actually owns these panels once they’re installed? Most Irish primary schools are still under church patronage, meaning the buildings — and potentially any upgrades — technically belong to the Catholic Church. Just like McDonald’s franchisees, the state funds and operates the schools, but the church keeps the ultimate control.
Perhaps, that’s why The Founder had such a profound effect on me. I guess the only difference is that it’s far easier to eat in a restaurant that isn’t McDonald’s than it is to not attend a school that isn’t under Catholic patronage.
Anyway, this arrangement, to me, is emblematic of the broader issue in Irish education. The church owns the infrastructure, the state funds the running costs, and teachers — many of whom no longer practise the faith — uphold the religious ethos in a professional capacity. When it comes to actual churchgoing, however, those same teachers, parents, and school communities are largely absent.
They are willing to work in Catholic institutions, uphold the ethos,deliver Catholic sacraments, enforce Catholic rules, and take part fully in the Mass… but only if they occur during their working day. Outside of their working day, all of their missionary work, all of their faith forming, all of their love of teaching children to love Jesus Christ ends.
The controversy surrounding First Communion and First Confession in the Diocese of Cork and Ross was fascinating to me. Bishop Fintan Gavin decreed that the sacraments must take place outside of school hours. With that in mind, teachers, who agree to uphold the ethos of their school and lead children in faith formation and prepare children for their sacraments, as part of their contract, are furious that they are being asked to fulfil this at a time where worship should happen — at Sunday Mass.
People like me argue that Sacraments belong to the church, not the classroom and, the Bishop’s directive is, ironically, a step in the right direction — one that shifts religious rites back into the hands of parishes and families. However, it seems they want the status quo: a system where religion is woven into the fabric of school life, where sacraments are scheduled like a class trip, and where no one has to think too hard about what that means. In other words, they themselves see the sacraments as a school event, not a religious rite of passage.
Maybe I’m wrong, but just like in The Founder, where Kroc keeps McDonald’s golden arches but takes away the original vision of the McDonald brothers, most Irish people seem to want to keep Catholic traditions alive without any of the faith that once justified them. I think every single school has a story about a child that skipped the church part of the Communion and went straight to the hotel. People love that story and think it’s funny. I’ve even heard people say — fair play to them, at least they’re honest! I’m sure you have heard someone say at a Communion, or you may have said it yourself, “I’ll see you at the Confirmation,” implying you won’t set foot in the church until then. And nobody bats an eyelid. A lot of people are so rooted in a tradition they don’t have the slightest belief in, and they will defend it to the death.
The controversy over prayer at Laois County Council meetings is a perfect example of this. I’ll call it selective secularism.
One councillor called for an end to the traditional Christian prayer at the start of meetings, arguing that a moment of silence would be more inclusive. Yet, the vast majority of councillors refused to even entertain the idea. Their argument? It has “always been done.”
This is the same logic that keeps the Catholic Church entrenched in Irish schools. People who would never dream of going to Mass will fight tooth and nail to keep Catholic traditions in place — as long as they don’t actually have to practise them themselves. It is a bizarre and self-serving mindset, one that allows people to reap the cultural and social benefits of Catholicism while discarding the obligations of faith. And it wouldn’t really matter if it didn’t affect anyone else, but of course, it does.
Councillor Paddy Buggy went even further, stating that since most of the council consists of Christians or non-believers, the prayer should remain. This outright dismissal of non-believers as having any right to object is a perfect encapsulation of the problem. The assumption that those who do not subscribe to religious belief should simply accept public prayer is precisely the kind of cultural Catholicism that allows the church to maintain power in state institutions. It is an act of erasure, a refusal to acknowledge that non-believers should have an equal right to participate in civic life without being subjected to religious rituals.
Going back to the rollout of free solar panels; they’re just the latest example of most people’s complete blindness. Every euro that the State spends on schools — whether for solar panels, new buildings, maintenance, or even paying the heating bills — ultimately benefits the Church. The Vatican, through its vast network of property ownership, quietly profits while pretending to take a back seat. The Irish taxpayer continues to pour money into Catholic-owned infrastructure and nobody says a word.
That is except when the National Maternity Hospital was at risk of being handed over to a religious order. That proposal sparked protests, public debate, and widespread opposition. Remember the slogans — keep your rosaries away from our ovaries? People were disgusted that a public building and all of the bills it would acquire would be paid by the State but gifted to the Catholic Church. Yet, when it comes to schools, the same people who rallied against church influence in healthcare seem unfazed by the fact that billions in taxpayer money flow directly into Vatican-owned property every year. In fact, I’d bet the majority of them stood at the altar beside the priest while their child pressed their palms together, holding the very rosary beads they wanted kept away from their ovaries.
I ask myself, all the time, why does this contradiction exist? Why is there an instinctive rejection of church control in hospitals and almost all other aspects of Irish life, but not in schools? Is it because schools affect only children — who have little say in the matter? Or is it simply a matter of familiarity — because Catholic schools have always been the norm, people don’t question the Church’s grip on them?
In the Founder, which made an anti-hero of Kroc, the narrative of the story was that the viewer was to be disgusted by his behaviour, as it was immoral and unethical. He won but he is not a hero. Does he care? I don’t think so. He became rich and McDonald’s is still a huge success.
This exact model is used by the Catholic Church in Ireland and it is more effective than having to directly manage the day-to-day running of the schools. If the church had to run and finance the schools itself, its power would diminish. Instead, it allows the state to pay for everything while maintaining ownership. The schools become well-funded, modernised, and comfortable — but all on Church-owned land, keeping them under religious influence regardless of changing societal values.
The question is: how long will this be tolerated? At what point will Ireland’s cultural Catholics stop pretending that a state-funded church infrastructure is not as vulgar as Kroc’s McDonald’s empire? And why is there no public outrage over this when there was so much noise about the National Maternity Hospital?
The Irish government claims to be a republic, but every cent spent on Catholic schools says otherwise. Until people confront this contradiction, the Church will continue to thrive — not through devotion, but through ownership.
