A stoppage of Guinness, however temporary, could hasten this decline. Last month, Coors Brewing Company hired a former Guinness marketer to gain a better foothold in the United Kingdom, apparently unaware that it’s impossible to order a glass of the pale stuff with a straight face. But if the Guinness actually runs out (or goes up in price, a possible result of importing it), watery American brews may have a chance to get hold of the market. A Coors Light, Bud Draft or even a creamy Cafrey’s Ale is a weak substitute for an Irish stout, but soon pintmen and pintwomen may not have a choice.

Irish pubs are not completely without hope; Guinness could be shipped in from England or any of the other 49 countries that produce it, including Nigeria and El Salvador. But despite the earnest statement on the company’s website that “These days everything about an Irish and a G.B. pint of Guinness draught are the same,” few of the faithful truly believe it. There’s something in the water from the Wicklow mountains, the Irish-grown barley or the Kilkenny hops.

Of recent strike actions in Ireland (including teachers and Aer Lingus employees), this one is gaining the most international attention. Seven months of talks between trade unions and plant owners have been fruitless, and suddenly a local plant closing is not the only thing at stake in this conversation. Guinness and Ireland are inextricably linked, and the idea of pubs without homegrown stout could mean a serious blow to national identity.

The effects of the strike—and how long it lasts—remain to be seen. But hopefully, by the time we visit Lonergan’s Bar again the strike will be settled, 147 people in Co Louth will still have jobs and stout will be flowing from the taps. Guinness that is brewed, poured and served in the nation of its birth is a unique nectar, and my mother deserves at least one more half-pint.