Hunting for Craic

For another look at the underbelly of the Celtic Tiger, you could do worse then pick up a copy of Bill Barich's new book, "A Pint of Plain."

Barich, who is an accomplished travel writer and a well-read lover of literature, moves to Dublin and proceeds to circle the country over the space of about a year, searching for the perfect, authentic Irish public house (or pub.) Long enamored of the 'traditional' Irish of memory, Barich quickly discovers that much -- of not all -- of what we Americans consider to be 'Irish' is really "fairytale Ireland."

The John Ford/John Wayne film, "The Quiet Man" animates Barich's search, and perhaps most disappointingly when he travels to Cong, County Galway, and discovers that the 'real' QM pub is actually "a whitewashed, thatched replica of Sean Thornton's White O'Mornin'", where he is treated -- for five quid -- to views of "authentic reproductions" of the costumes from the movie, and other props. All in all, a rather inauthentic experience.

But Barich also discovers that the "authentic" Irish pub experience is itself become commoditized, thanks to Guinness (now a Diageo brand) and the Irish Pub Company, which itself has built over 400 "authentic" pubs world-wide, including conversions from other types of bars to an Irish pub (Interesting fact: "if a British pub switches to an Irish theme, say, and refits its interior with tin signs, etched Jameson mirrors, and so on, its profits frequently triple."(p.48)

Thus the book is really a study of modernization and globalization upon a traditional culture that is perhaps the world's most romanticized. In the end, there are only a handful of 'true' Irish pubs that survive to the present day, and most of those are run by senior publicans who seem unlikely to pass the bar to a child; notwithstanding the inevitable ("& Sons") in the name of a IPC-designed pub.

The end of the Irish pub is the end of a way of life. The farmers and related trades that supported the pub are going away, outnumbered by the information workers of the Celtic Tiger that Barich saw throughout the Isle. Even as the country reels from the Great Unwind, those traditional jobs will not likely return.

But one can still yearn for a pint -- and a bit of craic -- after a long day on the links in a pub such as Tubridy's.

Which of course, in a global economy, has its own website.

Which is, one supposes, Barich's point.

"You Can Hear the Angels Sing"

Heard again recently on the streets of Boston: an Irish brogue.

And why is that 'news'?

For much of the past 150 years, America was the 'Great Escape' for those in Ireland. They came to escape oppressive laws(*), primogeniture, and a marginal agricultural economy. They came in large numbers in the 1840s (during the Great (Potato) Famine, when almost a quarter of the Irish population departed), and again at the end of the 19th century. And with almost one-in-ten Americans claiming ancestry, Irish-ness has gone from political pariah to political punchline. (Even the current President of the United States spells his last name "O'Bama" on March 17th.)

In more recent years, many young Irish would come over for a few years in their early 20s (usually on temporary visas), make some money, and return home to raise their family.

But in recent years, the pace of this latter emigration, temporary as it was, had slowed. The growth of the "Celtic Tiger" began in the 1990s, suffered a brief set back around the turn of the century, and then took off with a vengeance in the new millennium. And the rise of the Celtic Tiger meant that 'good jobs at good wages' for young Irish could be found in Dublin and Galway, and not just Boston and New York.



















But while the growth may have been initiated thanks to low tax rates and an educated workforce attracting global businesses, it also deregulated banking and financial services. The growth also quickly spread to real estate and housing development. (An interesting parallel can be drawn to another country that de-regulated quickly: Iceland. Michael Lewis' take on the 'kreppa' is here; Ian Parker's (New Yorker) is here.)

And the overheated Celtic economy boiled over. As Paul Krugman described earlier this week, Ireland faces a technical depression: a contraction of the real economy of more than 10% this year. And as the Irish banks crumbled, the government stepped in -- think: Celtic TARP. But the world markets are not as forgiving to little Ireland as they have been to the U.S. (so far.) According to Krugman, unless the government gets its deficit under control by slashing spending and/or raising taxes, lenders won't buy Irish bonds. And thus, the crisis (at least on the Emerald Isle) will get much worse before it gets better.

Which brings us back to the happenstance of hearing the brogue on the streets of Boston. With the Irish economy heading downhill, young Irish again will be likely showing up here in Boston, in New York, and Chicago, looking for work and a better chance.

It's Back to the Future. Celtic Style.

(*) - For example, in the eighteenth century, thanks to British-based laws: "A Catholic couldn't sit in the Parliament, or be a solicitor, a gamekeeper, or a constable. They weren't allowed to attend university, either in Ireland or abroad, nor could they keep a school. Instead they relied on "hedge schools," where itinerant teachers lectured students in the open air. Priests said Mass in secret, too, at rocks and sites known only to the faithful. A Catholic orphan had to be raised as a Protestant, while no Catholic could own property or receive it as a gift." Barich, A Pint of Plain, p. 153-54 (2009).