U2 are on a winning streak.
The Irish rock band completed a hugely successful 40-date run at the Sphere in Las Vegas last spring, grossing $244.5 million in ticket sales, making it the fourth-highest-grossing concert of all time, and fans who missed the band's live performance are flocking to a new “immersive concert film” that recreates the spectacle.
My dad, a working-class Irishman through and through, once said, “Yes, this guy wears sunglasses indoors.” Indoors!
Nearly half a century later, the Dublin quartet is more popular than ever, at least in the United States.
Back home in Ireland, few people cared. Why? In one word: Bono.
Let me explain.
You see, in Ireland humility is not only admired, it's expected. We squirm when we receive a compliment and have a sort of national dyslexia when it comes to compliments. We show affection by poking each other with witty (or not-so-witty) remarks. It's the way we do it. Compliments are like kryptonite and boasting is met with intense backlash.
For years, Bono (whose real name is Paul David Hewson) has been seen as someone who believes he's better than everyone else. As my father, a working-class Irishman, once said, “He's definitely the guy who wears sunglasses indoors.” Indoors! Ireland is a place where you're more likely to encounter aliens than sunlight.
The hypocritical singer
Bono's political and humanitarian involvement is undoubtedly admirable. From promoting debt relief for developing countries to raising awareness of the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa, he's done more good than most rock stars could dream of.
But when Bono starts preaching to the audience at a U2 concert, it comes across as preachy and preachy. I've been to a few of the band's concerts, and I've lost count of the number of times Bono has interrupted the music to deliver an impassioned speech about love, unity and the suffering of the world.
Ok, these are important topics, but there is a time and place for everything.
Imagine a typical U2 show from the late 2000s: An hour or so goes by, and the band still hasn't played classics like “With or Without You” or “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” Anticipation builds as Bono launches into a lengthy monologue about his good friend Desmond Tutu.
Yes, Tutu was a great man, a giant in the fight against apartheid, but most people there had no idea who he was. What's more, they hadn't come to hear a lecture on social justice; they'd paid a fortune to see a rock show, not to hear about the miracles performed by the late, great bishop and theologian. And yet that's exactly what they got.
But that's Bono – always a man for a cause, and while in America people might admire that, in Ireland we just roll our eyes and chuckle.
Separating Hewson from the pack
It's crucial to distinguish Bono from U2, just as it's crucial to distinguish Xi Jinping from the Chinese people. U2 is an inherently great band. There's no question about it. They've delivered some great albums, from the raw power of The Joshua Tree to the experimental genius of Achtung Baby.
The rest of the band seem like genuinely decent people – I've had a few conversations with The Edge and Larry Mullen in the past, and they come across as down-to-earth, humble, Guinness-boosting types.
But Bono, for all his seeming good intentions, has been the target of criticism in Ireland. It's not that he's a bad person — in most ways he isn't — but the damage is already done. The impression is already made.
Have a concept
In Ireland, once a decision is made it is almost impossible to change that consensus. Not only do we almost hate praise, we are a stubborn people. Even when presented with compelling evidence we will stubbornly stick to our beliefs. I know this is illogical, but it is the way it is.
So while Bono's sermons about world peace and love may be inspiring in other parts of the world, in his native Ireland they have only served to reinforce long-standing perceptions that the 64-year-old takes himself too seriously.
Recently, a phenomenal Irish musician named Dermot Kennedy Sit for an interview with comedian Theo Von. At one point their conversation touched on a topic that has deep roots in Ireland: the idea of ”having an idea.”
In Ireland, to “have ideas” means to overestimate oneself, to be full of conceit or arrogance, or to be what is commonly called “big-headed” (Seán More,(Pronounced like “can more.”) It's a concept deeply ingrained in our culture, where humility is paramount and anyone who deviates from that is an immediate target for criticism and relentless ridicule. And, fairly or not, Bono fits that bill.
Um, Connor?
Another man who perfectly embodies the “idea” label is Conor McGregor, who I've written about at length before. His recent announcement that he will run for the Irish presidency in 2025 should be seen as a shameless PR stunt. McGregor claims he “The only logical choice” But most people with functioning brains are like the people in Dublin. Seems to be missingwould be opposed.
The Irish presidency, like that of the British monarchy, is a largely ceremonial role – the president has no real legislative powers and is a decorative office for representing the country, not shaping policy – and McGregor's entry into the race is unlikely to change that.
McGregor is underqualified for iconic status. His UFC career is in the doldrums and his latest presidential run exudes a desperation to stay in the spotlight. He is not a statesman, nor is he a statesman, he is an opportunist. His history of violent outbursts and incoherent rants, including assaults on Irish citizens, makes him hardly the right man to represent Ireland on the world stage.
Ireland faces real and pressing problems: a housing shortage, a crumbling health system, rising violent crime and economic uncertainty — none of which McGregor is equipped to address. His swagger and bravado may have won him fights in the Octagon, but it won't solve the country's mounting crises.
Indeed, his candidacy risks turning the presidency into a sideshow and drawing attention away from the serious work that needs to be done to solve Ireland's problems. But he doesn't seem to mind. Such is the danger of being obsessed with “ideas” – they can drive reason into irrationality and once sensible people into the realm of dangerous delusion.
Both Bono and McGregor built images of unparalleled magnates that ultimately alienated them from a country that values humility above all else. They once understood long ago the importance of continuing on their own paths, but those days seem long gone.
