When Acres Become Ego: The Irish Obsession with Land...
How Many Farms Do You Actually Need? Ego, Greed, and the Irish Obsession with Land…
Ireland and land. It’s a love story, a war story, and a tragedy all rolled into one. For generations, land was a matter of survival; it fed families, kept the roof over their heads, and gave them standing in a world where standing mattered. I get it. My ancestors lived it.
But somewhere along the way, survival turned into status. Owning land became less about living and more about looking like the big guy. And let’s be real, some people in this country would sell their own shadow for another acre.
Why? Because in Ireland, land isn’t just dirt. It’s ego wrapped in green fields. It’s the family name written across a map. It’s being able to say at the pub, “Shur, I’ve a few hundred acres meself.” And the truth? That sentence has destroyed more families than poverty ever did.
I keep asking myself: How many farms do you actually need? How many fields does it take to fill that hole inside you? Because I’ve seen what greed does, it rots people from the inside out. The same hands that once lifted you up will push you down if it means an extra half-acre.
Here’s what’s worse: greed is contagious. One person starts grabbing, and suddenly the whole family’s in a silent war. They don’t talk about birthdays anymore; they talk about boundaries. Not boundaries of respect, actual boundaries, with maps, markers, and measuring tapes.
And let’s not forget the EGO. Oh, the ego! The puffed-up chest at the mart, the whispered comparisons at funerals:
“Did you hear he got another bit of land? Great man altogether.”
Great man, my arse. What good is a kingdom if you rule it alone because you drove everyone else away?
I’ll tell you what greed really does:
It destroys souls. It kills laughter. It turns blood into ink on legal documents.
And for what? So you can stand on a hill and say, “All this is mine.” Newsflash: someday it’ll be someone else’s, and you’ll just be another name on a headstone.
Here’s the kicker: land doesn’t make you big. Character does. And if your worth depends on the size of your farm, you’ve already gone bankrupt in the soul department.
What about you? Have you seen land rip families apart? Or is this madness just part of our Irish DNA? Pull up a chair, I’ve got tea and turf, and this rant isn’t over yet.
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
Leave a reply to Mae Faurel Cancel reply