"Fire on Babylon" is a song by Irish singer-songwriter Sinéad O'Connor, released in 1994 by Chrysalis and Ensign Records as the second single from the singer's fourth album, Universal Mother (1994).

[2] Larry Flick from Billboard said the singer "will continue to mend political fences with this genius, if not emotionally harrowing, slice of funk-rock".

"[3] Kelly Collins from Columbia Daily Spectator felt it "displays O'Connor's fiery side, and the slick programming adds a powerful element to the number.

"[4] Evelyn McDonnell from Entertainment Weekly found that she "cleverly probes the contradiction between mother-worshiping and mother-blaming", adding that "Fire on Babylon" has "flashes of passion".

"[13] Joy Press from Spin wrote that it's "a harrowing, almost apocalyptic opener, O'Connor's voice stretched shrilly over a menacing bass as she bears witness to her own nightmares.

"[14] Larry Nager from The Telegraph named it the "loudest" song on Universal Mother, adding that it "roars and O'Connor sings ambiguously about the biblical whore of Babylon, seemingly meaning the British Empire.

[18] In 2018, Matt Melis from Consequence wrote, "The trapdoor flipping of her home and spinning of her bedroom wall brilliantly use motion to demonstrate how much of that scared, little girl remains inside the adult O’Connor, but nothing screams Gondry more than the projected familial apparitions and memories that appear and fade throughout the video in the house’s backyard.

As light and dark outside the window mark the passage of time and neighboring homes shift about all around the house in question, O’Connor’s existence remains stunted and haunted until she finally confronts her abusive past.

"[20] Following O'Connor's death in 2023, Slant Magazine ranked the song number eight in their list of "Sinéad O'Connor's 20 Greatest Songs", writing, "With her newly honed bel canto vocal, O’Connor attacks the operatic scales of “Fire on Babylon”, mustering a religious-like conviction, while producer and ex-husband John Reynolds whips up a heady mix of reggae, trip-hop, squelching funk, and—why not?—a Miles Davis sample.

It’s one of the most galvanizing songs in O’Connor’s catalog, one of the few that marries her appetite for outspoken protest music with something that sounds like a proper radio single.