Land of a Hundred Thousand Welcomes — Just Not for Indians

I beg the reader’s forgiveness in advance for admitting the following — while I always had a passion for history and archaeology, my inspiration to take up a trowel came from sitting in the cinema with my dad to watch Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I was a child, but I knew that Indians didn’t eat monkey brains or tear beating hearts from people’s chests. I’d met Indians by then and, most importantly, had watched Ravi Shastri bat against Ireland on a damp Wednesday in May 1982. In secondary school, my best friend was a diplomat’s son from India, Ankoosh, and I converted him from cricket to soccer. I even read the Mahabharat and watched the TV series on the BBC.

When my mam worked as a manager in a Dublin medical bureau, one of the nicest doctors I met there was a Maharashtra native, Ashok Varadkar, who also happened to live not far from our home. I got to meet his son Leo and daughters Sophia and Sonia. Leo — whose path crossed with mine many times in the years that followed — would go on to be our country’s 14th Taoiseach (Prime Minister). Indians settled in cities, towns and villages across Ireland from the 1970s onwards. Indian food was established as the third leg on the ‘import’ stool along with Chinese and Italian. A chicken korma in the 1980s was an adventure for the Irish palate — and yes, I know, you don’t have to explain that this is about as spicy as a glass of fresh milk.

When Ireland’s IT mania took hold in the early to mid-2000s, there were plenty of Europeans, Americans and Brits willing to take a punt on life in Ireland, while Eastern Europeans were brought in to pick crops and wait tables. We spoke English — kind of — we had good food and beer, plus Ireland had culture, music, seas, an ocean, and lots of green fields. Rents were low compared to salaries, and you could buy a house — what wasn’t there to love? Then it all went bang. The IMF and EU bailed out German, American and other foreign investors. Ireland’s property market had less spice than a korma, and even the ‘low-cost’ Eastern European labour began to return home. Ireland had to reinvent itself, and deals were done with the big tech players to stop them fleeing.

Then COVID-19 hit, and Irish higher education institutions and the low-paid service sector were dealt hammer blows. The over-reliance on student recruitment from China (a failing from Dublin to Moscow, Rome to Glasgow) meant there was suddenly a deficit. Ireland’s neighbour, the UK, decided to crack down on Indian student visas — so Ireland took up the slack. Indian techies and graduates were offered a chance not only to pay outrageous fees to study in Ireland, but also to work in the tech and services sectors. In 2024, Indians were the largest group of foreign workers in Ireland, receiving 35% (13,566) of the employment permits issued.

Many Indian immigrants to Ireland have told interviewers that they saw this as an ideal opportunity to make a ‘better’ life, and the number of visas for Indian nationals has climbed rapidly since 2021. Additionally, tech and pharma companies happily offer two-year contracts to qualified technicians through job agents, who portray this as a stepping stone to the USA — I mean, it’s only an ocean between us, after all.

On a visit home last month, it was pointed out to me by an Indian friend that the counter staff in a whole range of shops are no longer Chinese — or even Irish — but Indian. I took the opportunity to speak with some of the youngsters working in the Blanchardstown Shopping Centre in North-West Dublin.

“I’m studying now in ITB (Institute of Technology, Blanchardstown) and work here part-time. I like Ireland very much. It’s not as cold as I thought. Do I want to live here when I graduate? Maybe, but probably not. I’m aiming for America.” — Kiran, 23, Maharashtra.

Kiran told me he’d had one unpleasant incident when, during the recent conflagration between Pakistan and India, two Pakistani men insulted him as he sat on a bus to Dublin city centre. Another Indian national, working in the same mobile phone store, said she was called “smelly” by some young Irish girls of African origin. Kiran remarked that there are idiots everywhere.

An unprecedented rise in anti-Indian sentiment — not just online — has been very easy to track. Blame can be laid at the feet of Ireland’s hapless (at best) or devious (at worst) governments since 2020. With the highest-ever homeless figures in the state’s history recorded this June, and with a severe deficit of housing and rents out of reach for many working professionals, they have pressed ahead with satisfying the sub-standard third-level education sector and profit-hungry multinationals. This toxic combo has left Indian immigrants open to increasingly angry rhetoric — because there is a clear confusion between legal and illegal immigration, fuelled by all political parties and media outlets.

In March, a new development of 44 houses went on sale in Drogheda, a town north of Dublin — all were bought by Indian nationals. Cue pictures and videos of smiling first-time buyers in the Irish media, an almost Pavlovian offering to get a reaction from thirty-somethings still living in their childhood bedrooms across the country. “How are they able to pay cash for a €400,000 home?” X (formerly Twitter), Facebook and other social media channels erupted in outrage. Calls for bans on property purchases by foreigners rang out — and the national media expressed shock at such a reaction, despite having hyped and interviewed said buyers.

Indians got caught up in the growing unease at ‘uncontrolled’, ‘illegal’, ‘unvetted’ immigration into Ireland. Yet none of that is remotely true. Rather, the vast majority of Indians have done as I have for many years: gathered documents, saved money, lined up work, and — once their visa was in hand — travelled. But when there is a feeding frenzy fuelled by inept government and money-oriented media, there is no nuance. More photos of smiling Indians with keys to new houses, more shock expressed at the backlash from struggling Irish natives, and more labels slapped on — ‘racist’ and worse.

“My kids go to the local Cul Camp (a day camp organised by Ireland’s Gaelic Athletic Association) every year, since before the pandemic. My three daughters love camogie (one of Ireland’s traditional sports), and I go to all their matches. Then, in May, one girl from my youngest one’s team said — ‘My mam said all you refugees get free houses and it’s not fair’. What do you tell an eight-year-old?” — Sanjay, an accountant who has lived in Ireland since the 1990s.

Kids repeat what they hear at home. It’s not their fault — they’re just kids. But that a child under ten is coming out with this shows that it is a topic at the table — and it’s not just the domain of the mythical far right. Anyone expressing anything the government or media doesn’t like is ‘far right’. Anyone asking for discussion and nuance is tarred as far left.

Indians are coming to Ireland and buying houses for cash. How can young Irish people scrimping and saving for a mortgage compete with this legal migration? #ireland #india #dublin pic.twitter.com/hWRVb6qSlr

— TheLiberal.ie (@TheLiberal_ie) April 21, 2025

I approached the Indian Embassy in Dublin to ask about difficulties faced by their nationals, especially those reported by the Irish Council for International Students (ICOS). While the Embassy would not comment on specific reports, they said they are “aware of isolated incidents” but that “on the whole, Ireland is safe.”

From the eleven Indians I spoke with in two days, four said they’d experienced some uncomfortable moments — but nothing physical or overtly threatening. However, Sanjay did have this to add.

“When I bought my house here with my wife, we had no family money to support it. We got a mortgage and we’re still paying it. Now, in my opinion, there is understandable unease even from me when I see what’s happening.” I asked him what he meant.

“It’s not only Irish asking questions about how someone just a year in the country can pay so much cash for a house. Right?”

Neither of us could answer — only agree that there is a palpable change in Irish attitudes, with even the ‘old Indian-Irish’ troubled by confused government policies.

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