Those owning and running “wet pubs” have every reason to feel aggrieved and the case they make for carefully managed reopening is strong. Much has always been done to communicate and celebrate the centrality of the Irish pub to Ireland’s appeal, domestically and internationally. Equally, critics have often sought to suggest such centrality is an indulgence and a curse.
That has been part of the problem with debating the licensed trade in Ireland; there is little middle ground and much the same applies to alcohol consumption. Shortly after the foundation of the State, writer George Russell mused on what he regarded as our misplaced priorities: it was “absurd that a country struggling desperately to find its feet should attempt to maintain in proportion to its population twice as many licensed houses as England . . . statistics for individual towns are still more startling. In Charlestown and Ballaghaderreen every third house is licensed to sell liquor; Ballyhaunis, with a total population of a thousand, has a drink shop for every 20 of its inhabitants and Strokestown and Mohill run it close with one for every 26 . . . how many of these towns can boast a bookshop, a gymnasium, a public swimming bath or a village hall?”
It was a legitimate question at a time when there was vigorous debate about licensing laws and when there were over 15,000 licensed premises. Today, there are in the region of 7,000 pubs and the current pandemic is likely to significantly reduce that further. But the pub still carries a strong currency and in a sense, publicans have been punished for that status as so many Irish pubs have remained closed while the rest of Europe have opened theirs.
That is also difficult to rationalise given that the Government has essentially admitted that it is not practical to police house parties – a serious cause of transmission of coronavirus – but, as evidenced by the focus on regulations for those pubs serving food, it is deemed possible to police the hospitality sector. Those involved in the wet pub trade welcome safeguards and rules, as it will be in their and their customers’ interests to follow them. Given the mantra now of having to live with the virus, it should be possible to live with it alongside wet pubs that have sufficient measures in place and a route to their reopening as vaguely alluded to by the Government this week needs to be clear and fair.
There is reason to believe those running pubs can adapt again if allowed, instead of facing existential crises
It would be naive to assert that all pubs will be venues of exemplary behaviour, and the arguments about them being “controlled environments” will always be open to challenge given the nature of alcohol, but we also need to consider the widespread availability of very cheap drink and the attendant raucous gatherings inside and outside. There are and will be rogue traders in every sector, but the vintners have a legitimate point when they question the lack of willingness to date to let them prove they can run their businesses responsibly. There are also pubs where you can buy a cheap meal and drink more than your fill, suggesting a double standard.
Sentimental guff
Granted, there is a lot of sentimental guff about Irish pub culture. One popular history book of Irish pubs focuses on nostalgia for the traditional pub, which, the book maintains, has epitomised “the essential charm of old Ireland” and provided a place to imbibe involving “an emigration of the soul from sometimes unhappy realities”, a somewhat deceptive euphemism. Many of us have conveniently selective definitions of excessive drinking; indeed, ambivalence has been identified as part of the Irish psyche when it comes to our relationship with alcohol.
But social solidarity is not irrelevant to the pub debate, especially when social isolation is a serious consequence of the pandemic. This is not about partying; in 1973 sociologist Hugh Brody observed small numbers of men in pubs in the west of Ireland in winter where attendance was not necessarily about talk; presence was “not expressed in discussion among the drinkers. Rather, they exchange silence as if it were words”.
To go back to Russell’s argument, many of the towns nearly 100 years on still do not have gyms, bookshops or swimming pools, but some of them do have the small, often family run pub, just about clinging on, and their importance as community hubs should not be dismissed at this of all times. They do a lot more than provide drink and many rural publicans have proven themselves adept over the years at adapting, reinventing and reflecting new social priorities and changing lifestyles. It is a long time since spittoons were provided for auld fellas to empty their phlegm, but there are old snugs a plenty that can surely contribute to a practical Covid decorum. There is reason to believe those running pubs can adapt again if allowed, instead of facing existential crises.