The Irish Passport Rush: Why a Quarter-Million People in the UK Reached for EU Citizenship
On a damp morning in Stoke Newington, the hum of a fryer and a radio playing a Dublin ballad underscored a quiet, constitutional revolution. Joe, who tends the bar at Ryan’s N16 and wears the circled shamrock of his grandmother’s county like a talisman, folded an application form with the care of someone tucking a letter into a treasured book.
He is one of nearly 243,000 people living in the United Kingdom who applied for an Irish passport in 2024 — the highest number since the seismic political shift that started with the Brexit vote in 2016 and culminated with the UK’s formal exit from the European Union. The Irish Department of Foreign Affairs tallied 242,772 applications in 2024. More than half — roughly 53% — came from residents of Northern Ireland, a region where identities, borders and travel rights have long been intertwined.
Numbers with Roots: What the Statistics Reveal
The headline figures are striking, but the subtler details tell a story about family, movement and future planning.
In Britain, applications through the Foreign Births Register — the route that allows people who were not born in Ireland but have an Irish parent or grandparent to claim Irish citizenship — reached 23,456 in 2024. To put that into perspective: in 2015, before the Brexit referendum, just 873 people applied via that route. The spike suggests more than paperwork; it suggests people thinking ahead for their children, their careers, their sense of belonging.
The 2019 wave also loomed large: the last big peak of Irish passport applications from UK residents reached 244,976 that year, with nearly half of those coming from Northern Ireland. Then the pandemic hit. Travel froze. Airports emptied. Applications dipped in 2020 and 2021 as restrictions and uncertainty made planning feel futile. But as planes began to fill again, the paperwork returned — and with it, a surge of decisions made not just for the present, but for a projected future.
Who’s Applying — and Why
There are as many motivations as there are applicants. For some, the passport is a practical travel tool that smooths airport control and opens up rights to work and live across 27 EU countries. For others, it’s a heritage claim: a legal anchoring of a family story that begins in Kenmare, Cork or Cobh and branches out into the British Isles and beyond.
“People are thinking in generations now,” says an immigration lawyer based in Dublin who has been helping clients navigate Foreign Births Register applications. “A 28-year-old might not have children yet, but they want to secure EU citizenship early so their future children will benefit. It’s about options — and about making sure your family isn’t caught on the wrong side of a border several years down the line.”
A community organiser who works with Irish diaspora groups in London sees another pattern: “This is the intergenerational diaspora making itself visible. Families who came here in the 1950s, 60s and 70s left pieces of themselves behind — cultural rituals, recipes, songs. Now the paperwork is returning those pieces with legal force.”
Personal Stories: More Than a Stamp
Joe’s grandmother came from Kenmare in County Kerry; her voice, he says, still lives in the cadence of the stories his mother told him. “When I first left the UK for a decade, I felt European — it was natural,” he says, pouring a pint. “Coming back, things had shifted. Getting an Irish passport is a way of reclaiming that part of me. And yes, airports are easier. But it’s also about that feeling of being part of something wider.”
Alison, who lives in the south of England and has a Cobh-born grandmother, frames it in practical terms. “My husband and kids have Irish passports and they sail through border control. It’s a small thing, but it changes travel. I’m applying so we’re all on the same side of the gate.”
These anecdotes echo broader economic and social realities. Between roughly 1949 and 1989, an estimated 800,000 people emigrated from Ireland — many to Britain. That migration created family networks that span islands and decades. Their descendants now stand at a crossroads of identity: British, Irish, European — often two or all three at once.
Paths to Irish Citizenship: A Quick Guide
- By birth in Ireland: Anyone born on the island before a certain date or under qualifying conditions.
- By descent (Foreign Births Register): If you have an Irish parent or grandparent, you may be eligible to register and then apply for an Irish passport.
- By naturalisation: For long-term residents who meet residency, good character and other criteria.
These pathways are legal scaffolding, but they connect to lived experience: the recipes, the songs, the Gaelic football clubs in English suburbs, the St. Patrick’s parade that still gathers in London, Glasgow and Cardiff.
A Cultural Renaissance — or a Safety Net?
For some analysts, the boom in applications is evidence of curiosity and reconnection — a cultural renaissance of sorts. For others, it’s a pragmatic response to political change, anxiety about future mobility, and the desire for redundancy in uncertain times.
“This trend sits at the intersection of identity and utility,” says a sociologist specialising in migration. “People are not just choosing passports like accessories. They’re choosing the options that will make life smoother — whether that means easier access to education in Europe, work permits, or simply the psychological reassurance of being part of a larger union.”
What This Means for Europe, Britain and Ireland
From a global perspective, the phenomenon is a reminder that national borders are not just lines on a map but living things that affect families, opportunity and belonging. The rise in Irish passport applications from the UK speaks to the aftershocks of geopolitical change: policies crafted in capital cities ripple outward into kitchens, classrooms and local bars.
It also raises questions about the future of diasporic ties. Will these newly minted Irish citizens deepen connections with Gaelic clubs, with Irish language classes, with trips back to ancestral towns? Or will the passport remain a pragmatic document kept for travel and contingency?
An organiser at an Irish cultural centre suggests both paths are possible. “Some people want the passport and the community. Others want the passport and carry on. What matters is that people have the choice. If anything, this is a chance for cultural institutions to reach out and say, ‘You belong here if you want to.’”
Looking Forward: Choices, Identity and Belonging
When you step back from the spreadsheets and the queues, this is a fundamentally human story: people making choices about where they belong, how they protect their children’s futures, and how they anchor the stories their families tell. The 242,772 applications of 2024 are not just an administrative load on consular services; they’re a chorus of decisions, small and large, that stitch together past migrations with present anxieties and future hopes.
So ask yourself: what does a passport mean to you? More than a tool for travel, is it a symbol of identity, a fallback, a bridge to a cultural home? In a world where borders are being redrawn by policy and circumstance, the choices people make today will shape the seams of belonging for generations.
On a late summer evening, Joe locks up the bar and walks past the mural of Galway dancers on a nearby wall. He fingers the application form in his pocket like a rosary, a small, practical prayer for possibility. “It’s not just paperwork,” he says. “It’s about making sure the next generation can choose where they belong.”
