Every new generation of architects has its heroes. In the early 1980s in Scotland, ours were Robert Venturi and Michael Graves. Venturi's Learning from Las Vegas and Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture were must-have texts and watered-down copies of Graves's Portland Building were posted on every student review.

The fundamental principles of the modern movement, where form follows function, were old news for cocksure students like myself, because Venturi had declared - turning the Mies's maxim on its head - that 'less is a bore'. Graves was also a master draughtsman, so the broken pediment and oversized keystone became building must-haves.

Charles Jencks called them 'post-modernists' and their work was easy on the eye. Looking back, it is now apparent that their architecture lacked any rigour or city context. However, in an effort to be seen as fashionable we forgot about Robert Mathew, Peter Womersly and Gillespie Kidd and Coia - major talents on our own doorstep.

The post-modernists mucked up a whole group of architects qualifying in Scotland during the mid and late-1980s. Ours became the lost generation and Scottish cities - especially Glasgow - are only now recovering. I look at their work now and laugh, but the damage has been done. How could we have been so stupid?

Today's heroes are Daniel Libeskind, Zaha Hadid and Herzog and De Meuron and "deconstructivism" is the buzz word. Now, after the success of the Jewish Museum in Berlin, Libeskind has been lined up for a major project in D·n Laoghaire which, for many Irish architects, will at last bring international recognition and put Ireland firmly on the architectural map.

As an outsider, I would have to say that Ireland already has an outstanding modernist culture and its urban regeneration initiatives are influencing architects everywhere. But judging by the reception for Libeskind, Irish architects don't yet seem to know it.

Writing in The Sunday Times, critic Hugh Pearman also thinks that Dublin now has "the chance to trump London."

For many of us in Scotland though, Dublin has long held the master card.

Scotland is going through its own architectural revolution, battling between conservation and evolution, but my impression - at least at first glance - is that Dublin seems unaffected by issues of conservation or heritage which have held back modernism in Scotland.

Trinity College, the US Embassy, Busaras and a collection of well-designed modernist buildings on the Liffey are far superior to those in my home city of Glasgow.

Everyone knows Temple Bar is a commercial success story, but what of Dublin's new architecture? The majority of the good stuff has been designed by Irish practices and, where outside architects have been used, the buildings have not been such a success.

The new British Embassy looks good in promotional literature and architectural magazines and I admire the understated and contextual approach of Allies and Morrison. In reality, however, the building is a disappointment, its impact overcooked and bland. The architects obviously wanted to make the most of a high-profile commission but the multi-layered references, from neo-classical to Scarpa and Kahn, are thickly applied, self-congratulatory and ultimately self-defeating.

Recently, I spotted a simple modernist building - the Institute of Advanced Studies, on Burlington Road, designed by Sam Stephenson.

Unlike the British Embassy, it is both clear and concise in its architectural lineage and its influence can be traced back directly to Louis Khan. The building also reminded me of Alvar Aalto's National Pensions Institute in the clarity of its structure and immaculate detail.

In Dublin's historical context, conservation and indigenous building materials seem less important.

Architects inspired by the modern movement are bare-facedly international in style and the architecture all the better for it. The restrained and pared lines of modernism at its best also fit well with a Georgian city.

Ronald Tallon's new Civic Offices at Wood Quay, though a large-scale project, is still sensitive to its historically significant site. It terminates at the west end of Temple Bar and resolves complex issues of scale, including a challenging relationship with Christ Church Cathedral. It is excellent. Although it reminded me of both the Scottish Office in Leith and Atlantic Quay in Glasgow, it is more refined than the former and not as brutally engineered as the latter.

The regeneration of Temple Bar was allegedly influenced by the development of Glasgow's Merchant City, in that its development was planned to integrate with the city's historic street pattern, was small in scale and intended to encourage people to move back into the centre. There is sadly no comparison, for Temple Bar is alive day and night.

Here also the best examples of the work of younger architectural practices in Ireland can be found, including deBlacam and Meagher. As much of my own work in Glasgow involves stitching disparate pieces of existing building and townscape together, I am interested in the work of Sheila O'Donnell and John Tuomey at the Irish Film Centre, which was the seminal project in Temple Bar's redevelopment.

Working within an urban block which contained existing buildings housing an old Quaker meeting house, they created new, complex spaces for cinemas, restaurants, bar and meeting areas.

This project, more than any other, brought Dubliners back to the area and established an architectural standard for the new generation of Irish architects. It also had an influence in Britain.

Other buildings of interest include those of Shane O'Toole, Paul Keogh, Grafton Architects and Shay Cleary Architects. Their projects are small-scale but well defined. What is most satisfying about their buildings is that they do not sit in isolation but each contributes towards the success of the other. The scale, material and detail, is consistent and restrained. The buildings are contextual and Irish.

Last month, as I sat in Meeting House Square, it occurred to me that with their usual subtlety and cleverness, the Irish had managed to create consistent and authentic living architecture that seems to have eluded us in Scotland.

So I am surprised when the prospect of having a building designed by one of today's heroes, which will probably ignore this solid foundation, rich history of modernism and urban context, is greeted with acclaim.

Don't forget Michael Scott, Ronald Tallon, Peter and Mary Doyle, deBlacam and Meagher and those who built Temple Bar, for they are the real heroes of Irish Architecture. Because if you do, one day you will look back on it and be consumed by regret.

Alan Dunlop is a partner in Gordon Murray and Alan Dunlop Architects, Glasgow.