PRESENT TENSE:THE VINTNERS' Federation of Ireland (VFI) has been grumbling into its pints again this week, and every breath reeked of apocalypticism and self-pity. Thousands of jobs have been lost, it says. Some 1,700 pubs closed in the past five years; 250 alone in the past 12 months. Rural pubs are under threat. And if you don't care about us, it says, would somebody please think about the aul' fellas.
The aul’ fellas get dragged out every time the VFI pours another pint of bitterness. They are trapped at home, unable to get out for a pint and a chat and a catch-up as they’ve been doing for decades, because the State won’t rescue failing pubs or has made it too difficult for aul’ fellas to enjoy a pint or two and then make their way home at the end of the night. “The fabric of rural Ireland is closing down,” according to the VFI’s president, Val Hanley. “There will be no social outlet unless we take something in hand at this point.”
The Irish pub is – socially, historically – a singular and precious thing. In the national psyche it occupies a unique place between shame and pride, but there is no doubt that its death would make this country a duller place to live in, and worse to visit. That, though, is to assume it is in a critical condition at all.
The vintners’ figures don’t provide context. In 2008, there were 9,500 pub licences in the country. Even if more than 250 pubs have closed since then, it still leaves a good deal more licences than there were in 2000, when there were 7,500.
There followed a relaxation in licensing laws, and boom time for pubs. In that context, the “death” of the Irish pub begins to look more like a post-boom correction. And the pub becomes just like any other trade struggling in a recession.
Still the vintners complain and, unlike many of their customers, their tales of woe are listened to because of their power as a lobby group. And they are right on one level. The traditional Irish pub – the grocer pub, the small unselfconscious place with character – has suffered in recent years. So, on the one hand we have the undisputed greatness of the Irish pub and people trying to earn a living, and on the other we have the VFI complaining about the closure of pubs as if it is some unmerciful act of an uncaring, joyless State. But if they want to blame someone for that, they might as well start with themselves.
It is publicans who tore down countless old pubs and replaced them with larger, soulless places unrecognisable from bars in most major cities. It is they who saw the greatness of the Irish pub and then gouged the authenticity from the streetscape in favour of a mock Irish pub. It is they who replaced the welcoming silence with the sound of TV screens. They did this because they saw a market for it. That the market might shrink was the risk they took.
Some closures are down to people selling on their licence; others because of business decisions that went wrong. We all know of the pubs that extended themselves and became too big to cope with a recession, or to survive even during the boom.
In rural areas, the problems of running a pub have been exacerbated by certain outside factors. Some of it, remember, has come through attempts to save lives – either through the smoking ban or the enforcement of drink-driving legislation. Some champions of the rural pub complain of people being unable to enjoy a pint or two and drive home, as if the “fabric of rural life” were woven from the meandering exhaust fumes of a homeward-bound drinker.
Anyhow, the broader problems of location, social trends, rates and transport links are not publicans’ alone. They are similar to those faced by restaurants and cafes, for instance. But restaurants close every week. It is what happens to good and bad eateries. That, famously, is the risk of the business.
Few would pine for the decline in the sandwich maker. Of course, there’s no sentimentality there. No history. No social resonance. But when they tore down their own history, many publicans cared little for sentimentality. Which is why, much as we treasure the Irish pub, it’s hard not to feel that many of the VFI’s gripes should be left at the bar stool.
shegarty@irishtimes.com
