Tucked away in a corner of The Old Stand, a popular social hub for Trinity students, is a miniature museum dedicated to the Irish revolutionary Michael Collins. Mounted over a rich leather bench and mahogany table, one that, as is consistently true in quaint pubs, isn’t possibly big enough for the number of patrons the bench enveloping it invites, are framed memorabilia from the Irish War of Independence. At a time when Irish were excluded from formally engaging in politics, pubs like The Old Stand served as informal forums for revolutionaries and intellectuals. Collins is said to have convened meetings for the outlawed Irish Republican Brotherhood in that very corner, and today, patrons sip pints under his watchful eye.
The pictures, letters, and documents that adorn the walls are more than stale stale ink on withering paper that ornament that cosy aesthetic that is characteristic of Irish pubs. They serve a greater purpose as an interactive museum commanding reflection on the role pubs play as cultural hubs and political arenas. Another coveted spot, The Cobblestone, which brands itself as “a drinking pub with a music problem” boasts that it “is dedicated to preserving the rich tapestry of Irish heritage” through its daily traditional music sessions. The pub’s alluring authenticity attracts locals and tourists alike. Like many Irish pubs, The Cobblestone acts as a portal that freezes time and transforms place. Its lilt carries a heavy weight of history, and its informal stage (or lack thereof) fosters a camaraderie absent in other music venues. Trad music was composed on the backdrop of political, social, and religious disenfranchisement. The Irish frustration transcended into their music and served as an outlet through which they expressed their sorrows of poverty, loss, and emigration. Their solemnity in tandem with a patriotic struggle against the crown, a touchstone of Irish history, transfigured into songs expressing bold hopes of a free and unified Ireland. In custodians of tradition, such as The Cobblestone, patrons feel the atmosphere vibrating with the force of that same emotion. It resonates off the walls of the space and conjoins with the symphony of instruments that flow into the ears of entranced listers. “Danny Boy” illustrates the intersecting sensations of imprisonment and dejection with hope:
Nothing matters, Mary, when you’re free
Against the famine and the crown
I rebelled, they cut me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity
In continuing to host informal trad music sessions, pubs engage the next generation of politically engaged youth while also contributing to the Irish diaspora through its international crowd. The pub’s role in fermenting radical politics has diminished significantly. However, they maintain their status as community centers, cultural time capsules, and intellectual breeding grounds.
Out of all the social dos and don’ts that govern Ireland’s pubs, leaving politics at the door is not one of them. Discussion has been at the heart of pubs since their inception and although the degree of their political function has changed over the centuries, their status as political incubators and function as social nuclei is ingrained so deep into the Irish psyche that it has become intrinsic to their fabric. And if all of what I mentioned is not of any interest to you, at the very least, according to James Joyce in Ulysses “…you got a decent enough do in the Brazen Head for a bob.”
