It’s a matter of pride vs prejudice

AS PAUL Brady once sang: “It’s nothing but the same old story.” And lately that line feels painfully accurate.

Recently, I read on Glasgow Live that the pub chain Katie O’Brien’s is set to open in Glasgow later this year. It should have been a straightforward business story—another venue investing in a city where pubs are closing at an alarming rate. Instead, the comments section quickly filled with the same tired tropes—potato jokes, ‘what part of Ireland are you from? Springburn’—the usual patter dressed up as humour, but rooted in something far less harmless.

What frustrates me most is not just the comments themselves, but the fact they are left unchallenged. If similar remarks were directed at another community, they would be removed immediately—and rightly so. Yet when it comes to anti-Irish racism, the rules seem to shift.

The same news outlet recently published a story about a man described as a ‘grandfather and Friends of Israel member,’ who claimed he was attacked at Celtic Park for wearing a badge. The narrative presented was simple and emotive. But a brief look at his own social media showed him tagging himself into posts placing Friends of Israel stickers in the section where a group of ultras sit. That context mattered. When people attempted to raise those points in the comments, the section was closed—only to reopen later with many responses censored.

So, why then is one comment section heavily moderated, while another is left open to clear anti-Irish stereotypes? Why is one narrative protected and the other treated as acceptable banter?

The uncomfortable truth may be that anti-Irish prejudice is so ingrained in everyday life that it is rarely recognised as racism at all. It is normalised. It is shrugged off. Challenging it risks losing engagement, losing clicks, losing audience share. In an age where outrage drives traffic, leaving inflammatory comments visible can be profitable. It feeds the narrative that ‘it’s not racism if it’s the Irish.’

Ownership vs impact

That’s why it was particularly disappointing to read The Herald article titled ‘Save me from an Irishman’s nightmare: Yet another Irish bar…’ written by Neil Mackay. Mackay is a respected journalist who has previously faced serious threats for his work. He is known for being provocative and controversial. But in this case, his tone felt less like thoughtful critique and more like adding fuel to a fire that hardly needs encouragement.

He describes visiting a so-called Scottish bar in Russia that turned out to be Irish-themed, run by owners who didn’t know the difference. In his view, Irish pubs abroad are little more than ‘Disneyland’ theme bars—cultural caricatures rather than authentic spaces. But authenticity is not as simple as ownership or décor.

This September marks 20 years since I moved to Scotland. For most of that time, I have worked, managed and socialised in Irish pubs across Glasgow and beyond. Some were independent family businesses. Others were chains. Some were Irish-owned. Others were not.

Mackay’s issue appears to be with pubs that are not Irish-owned. But does that standard apply elsewhere? Are all Italian restaurants in Scotland owned by Italians? Are all tapas bars run by Spaniards? If we applied that logic consistently, Glasgow’s hospitality scene would look very different.

And what about second-generation Irish owners? Do they pass the authenticity test? If lineage becomes the measure, where exactly do we draw the line? Instead of focusing on ownership, perhaps we should look at impact.

Take three very different examples. Kitty O’Shea’s may not be Irish-owned, but it invests thousands of pounds into Glasgow Gaels GAA every year, supporting youth development and keeping teams on the field. Molly Malone’s—part of a larger hospitality group—sponsors Dalriada GAC. The Malones Group—Irish family-owned —supports several university teams and multiple GAA clubs across Glasgow and Edinburgh.

Without the backing of these pubs—and many others like them—a significant part of Irish sporting culture in Scotland would struggle to survive. That support pays for kit, facilities, travel and opportunities for young players.

And it goes beyond sport. Irish bars across Scotland support Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (CCÉ) groups. They host traditional music sessions (above). They provide space for Irish language lessons in Glasgow and Leith. They show the All-Ireland Finals. They screen Six Nations matches. They create spaces where communities gather, not just Irish communities, but anyone who enjoys the music, the atmosphere, and the sense of welcome.

I run the Glasgow Irish Whiskey Club. We showcase Irish whiskey, highlight the people behind the distilleries and tell the stories of the jobs and craftsmanship that underpin the industry. None of that would be possible without venues willing to host us. That is real cultural promotion. It is economic activity. It is education.

These pubs promote Irish music, sport, language, food, and drink. They create jobs. They generate tax revenue. They keep high streets alive.

Tackling tired stereotypes

At a time when pubs across the UK are closing at record rates, Glasgow has never had so many Irish bars. That is not a conspiracy. It is supply and demand. People go where they feel welcome. They go where there is atmosphere. They go where there is community. To dismiss these spaces as theme parks ignores the lived reality of what they represent.

Are some overly commercial? Of course. Are some generic? Yes. But the same could be said for cocktail bars, sports bars, or American diners. The market decides which succeed and which disappear.

What concerns me more than criticism of décor or branding is the normalisation of mockery. The quick return to stereotypes. The sense that anti-Irish jokes are still socially acceptable in a way others are not.

Anti-Irish bigotry has a long and documented history in Britain. It affected housing, employment and social mobility for generations. While progress has been made, remnants linger—often disguised as humour.

When media outlets fail to moderate that humour, they reinforce it. When respected journalists frame Irish cultural spaces as something embarrassing or excessive, they risk validating those who already feel entitled to sneer.

None of this means Irish bars are beyond criticism. No business should be. But criticism should be consistent and fair, not laced with undertones that echo older prejudices.

Our culture has nothing to apologise for. It is rich. It is vibrant. It has shaped music, literature, sport, and social life far beyond our own island. If others try to replicate it, that speaks to its appeal, not its weakness. As the saying goes, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

Pubs are closing at an alarming rate across the country. Yet Irish bars in Glasgow continue to open. That tells its own story.

You may be ashamed of where you come from. I’m not. And I’ll always raise a glass to that. Maybe in Glasgow’s newest Irish Bar

Mickey Mullan is a proud Derryman, a seasoned bar manager, an award-winning spirit enthusiast and runs the Glasgow Irish Whiskey Club