You may, I confess, have begun to notice a pattern. Indonesia. Italy. Now Ireland. If there is a suspicion forming among parents and boys alike that I have developed an inexplicable attachment to countries whose names begin with the letter ‘I’, I can offer no convincing defence. I can only say that the world is endlessly rich, and it is only a coincidence that some of its most instructive corners happen to sit under that particular letter of the alphabet!
We have already drawn much from Indonesia from an assembly, and in just over a week, my colleagues and I shall have the very great pleasure of accompanying the Year 6 boys on their residential trip to Italy; a journey that promises we hope not just wonderful memories, but a living encounter with the beauty of the Italian alpine landscape, much history and culture and plenty of adventure to boot, on a scale that no classroom can fully replicate.
This week in assembly however, as part of our ongoing theme The People on Our Planet, I turned the boys’ attention rather further back in time to the Ancient Irish Celtic legal tradition known as the Brehon Laws.
What struck me, preparing the assembly, was how thoroughly modern these laws feel, despite being well over a thousand years old. The ancient Irish Celts built something remarkable: not a system of power enforced from above, but a philosophy of fair living, administered by trained judges – known as Brehons – who spent years studying not merely the letter of the law, but its spirit. The laws themselves are striking in their breadth. They protected women’s rights for a start, at a time when such provisions were essentially unheard of elsewhere. They enshrined obligations of hospitality. They offered protections to animals, to rivers, and even to trees.
The lesson I most wanted the boys in the Prep to take away was the distinction the Brehon Laws draw between cleverness and wisdom. A clever person can tell you what the rule says. A wise person can tell you what is truly right, alongside the rule. The Brehon Laws were never about catching people out or applying sanctions mechanically; they were about repair, restoration and understanding. When something went wrong, the question was not how do we punish? but how do we put this right?
Five lessons, I suggested to the boys, survive from this ancient tradition into our own lives today:
- That wisdom matters more than “cleverness” alone.
- That we are not merely individuals but members of communities and that our actions ripple outward.
- That making amends is worth more than simply saying sorry.
- That we must protect what cannot be replaced.
- That every person we encounter carries a story we may not yet have heard, which means first responding empathetically where we can.
I left the boys with a question: can you think of a time when you had to choose between following the rule exactly, and doing what actually felt right? The Brehon would say this is not a contradiction. Rules are a starting point. Wisdom is knowing when and how to apply them, with judgement, fairness, and heart.
