Photo courtesy of Pitstop Ploughshares
Damien Moran is one of the five anti-war protesters accused of criminally damaging a US navy aircraft. The trial started this week in the Dublin Circuit Criminal Court.

For a young man, Damien Moran has experienced more than most do in a lifetime. When I meet him in a café in Dublin, I find it difficult to absorb the flowing description of his life to-date. The density of his language, the serene and ecclestiastical tone of his voice and his overall demeanour is awesome. So far, Damien has worked with HIV sufferers in Haiti, entered the Holy Ghost seminary, been charged with disarming an American fighter jet in Shannon and, as a consequence, spent five and a half weeks in Limerick Prison.

The principal reason for talking to him was to find out more about his role as one of the prominent members of the anti-war movement in Ireland. What I got was so much more. To start the story, having graduated from UCG in 2000 with a degree in English and Geography, Damien decided to hook up with a former secondary school principal in Port au Prince. While there, he witnessed extreme poverty, something that he had been shielded from by his relativelyprivilegedd upbringing in Offaly.

Following this three month stint, he returned to Ireland. At this juncture of his life, there were conflicts that needed to be resolved. He tells me the story of a friend calling to his house and inquiring as to his whereabouts. His housemate answered the question by saying: "He's either in two places, in the cathedral praying or in the pub drinking".

His decision to join the Holy Ghost seminary was borne out of the Haitian experience and woke him up from his slumber. However, it seems Catholic vocations run in the family. His aunt is a nun who spent time in war-torn Rwanda and his uncle is a Benedictine monk. As expressed by his demeanour in this interview, he claims not to have "an evangelical zeal to convert the heathens of our world". He humbly tells me that his wish is "to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked and to give shelter to the homeless".

At the beginning of 2003, Damien became unsettled by the impending war in Iraq. He, along with four other members of the Catholic Worker Movement, went to Shannon and is alleged to have disarmed an American fighter jet that was stopping over. As a result, Limerick Prison became his home for almost six weeks. He movingly tells me about setting up a prayer group with a man convicted of manslaughter, a heroin addict and a paedophile. All the while, he drew inspiration from watching 150,000 people around Ireland marching in opposition to the war on a TV screen in his cell. Outlining his dietary provisions, Damien is at pains to add that the Aldi bread wasn't up to scratch.

Following the mistrial last May, Damien has been spiritually preparing for life behind bars if the ongoing retrial doesn't go his way. His mother will cry but she understands that her son fully believes in what he is doing. He finishes our chat by making references to Ghandi and lists non-violent resistances that have succeeded around the world. Damien is praying that Ireland can be added to that list.

No, it's not the latest handheld to come from the US. It's actually a country way out east.

He faces a judicial system created by its invaders, judges who happen to be Kurdish, guilt which can be established if the judges feel satisfied with the evidence and possible punishment that could be compared to that of Texas - the death penalty.

That he is responsible for the most unforgivable crimes is not at question. What is at question is why he has not been sent to The Hague to face an international court of justice.