Facebook, the real opiate of the people, often acts as an indicator of the attitudes and opinions of your social group – updated in real time. On the 24th of Septermber 2009, therefore, it would appear that the consumption of a tall cool pint of Guiness was on the top of many a ‘to do’ list. An almost constant stream of “To Arthur!”, “To Martha!” and even “To Llamas!” took my homepage hostage for the day. Frankly, it all felt a bit surreal.
For those amongst you who have perhaps been living in outer Mongolia for the past six months, the 24th of September 2009 was deemed to be ‘Arthur’s Day’, the 250th anniversary of the Guinness brewing company. A series of music events were organised worldwide to celebrate the occasion, in destinations across the world – Dublin, Kuala Lumpur, Lagos, New York and Yaounde. The events were broadcast worldwide on television and we were invited to raise a pint to Arthur at 17:59 on the day. All this was fore-grounded by months of television and print advertsing campaigns that depicted hoards of Guiness drinkers in majestic landscapes raising their glasses to everything from their dearest Arthur to the magic of llamas.
Arthur may have been a real person, but the mythical status he has been accredited with is purely a work of marketing, further intensified by Guinness’ undoubtedly successful ad campaigns. The truth is that Arthur’s date of birth is the subject of speculation. His gravestone in County Kildare tells us he died on the 23rd of January 1803, at age 78. However, the exact birthdate of 28 September 1725 was chosen by the Guinness company in 1991, apparently to end speculation about his date of birth. 1759 was indeed the year that Guinness started brewing his famous dry stout. However, the time chosen for the celebration – 17:59 – is a clever joke from a tv ad run some years ago. As for Martha and Llamas, their ONLY relevance to Guinness was through the TV ads. The entire day seemed more a drink raised to the wonders of advertising and marketing in the 21st century than an engaging tribute to one of Ireland’s most successful exports. Instead, in true postmodern style, our understanding of what is real – historical events, facts of date, place and time – has been negotiated and mediated by what is decidedly unreal – television, advertising, marketing. Nevertheless, it was great to see the history, especially when it comes to inbound marketing, we were even able to learn more from resources similar to this article by Web Presence. Arthur’s Day thus became a strange simulation, a day which saw businessmen in suits running to the pub in time for 17:59, a time which, in reality, had no significance. If the philosopher Jean Baudrillard famously proclaimed that ‘the gulf war never happened’ then similarly we can say that Arthur Guinness was never born: since our understanding of Arthur Guinness and what he has come to “mean” is a myth created within the last 50 years or so – the ultimate simulation.
Among the barrage of facebook comments dedicated to Arthur, there was a few dissenting voices. Mostly to the tune of “this Arthur stuff is a load of bullshit.” This in turn generated more commentary along the lines of “Bah Humbug” “Where’s your sense of patriotism?” and (God help us) “This country wouldn’t be where it is without Arthur.”
Patriotism? Really? Last time I checked on the admittedly already murky idea of patriotism, it didn’t require an unflinching support of an alcoholic beverage that has since become a worldwide brand and marketing success story. True, Guinness provided thousands of ordinary Dubliners with employment throughout the darker days of the last century (5,000 were employed there throughout the 1930s). True, the brand entices tourists to travel here from all over the world. But could it be that Guinness, by cashing in on this mythical sense of ‘Irishness’ (whatever that means) to make their money, are taking the rest of us for a ride? This is marketing repackaged as patriotism. One has to wonder just how much money Guinness (now Diageo and now based in London) made from Arthur’s Day.
The footage from Dublin was presented by Ronan Keating and Cat Deeley. We were subjected to the sight of Cat Deeley (almost certainly not a Guinness drinker) gingerly holding a pint of the black stuff. Tom Jones then launched into a rendition of ‘Sex Bomb’, looking suspiciously like a pint of Guinness himself, sporting a black leather suit and a crown of grey hair. Viewers were then shown a series of pre-recorded messages: Bono wishing Arthur a happy birthday? Who cares? Some dude from Kasabian talking about Guiness as his “favourite drink?” Oh, please. The global music events had as much to do with Irish culture as Simon Cowell has to do with high art.
The entire affair just seemed so generic. It was the Starbucks of cultural celebrations – filtered down culture that was so bland and banal it could apply to any nation on earth. The anniversary betrayed a complete lack of creativity, spontaneity and depth. This could not be blamed on the sheer size and scale of the global event. Unlike other global events, such as the Olympics or Live Aid, Arthurs Day was an event almost entirely devoid of emotion. Bizarrely, despite all these disparities, there have been petitions circling online calling for Arthurs Day to become a national holiday. This is not Irishness. We’ve been lampooned. What place does Guinness hold in the hearts and minds of Irish, both at home and abroad? Questions such as this have been left conspicuously unanswered. Let’s call a spade a spade here: this was not a national holiday. It was a publicity stunt, and a pretty damn good one at that.
