For many of us living in Dublin's south inner-city, where the fall of darkness brings in its train a palpable sense of menace, the sight of Garda patrols back on the beat last weekend was welcome. On Sunday night, an eye-in-the-sky Garda surveillance helicopter buzzed reassuringly overhead. These measures are the centrepiece of a new crackdown on street violence and general public disorder. The operation is being orchestrated by the assistant Garda Commissioner for Dublin, Jim McHugh, whose Operation Oiche is attempting to reclaim the night.
This was a particularly welcome move after the figures released by Dublin hospital emergency units revealed a massive problem of unreported street violence. At the same time, a number of tragic deaths brought home dramatically the dangers involved in being on Dublin's streets after dark. First, there was the death of actor Robbie Doolin in an incident outside a city centre hackney cab office. Then, last week, student Brian Murphy died in hospital following a row outside the southside nightclub Anabels. And on Tuesday, the Garda revealed that David Langan, the 19-year-old from Castleknock who was found dead at Portobello Bridge last Friday week, had received a number of blows to the head. It was originally believed he had fallen.
This disorder is happening in the context of unprecedented economic prosperity and record-low unemployment figures, indicating something rotten with the state of Dublin. It is surprising that there has not been greater political fallout from the alarming statistics produced last week by the casualty wards of four Dublin hospitals which revealed they treated 1,400 assault victims - mainly under 25s - in the first six months of this year. And the figures did not include the biggest hospital in the Republic, St James's in the south innercity, or the huge St Vincent's emergency hospital, where Brian Murphy died. It can be reasonably estimated that the inclusion of these hospitals would bring the assaults figure to significantly above 2,000.
The levels of, and intensity of, violence have increased dramatically. In 1990, there were 26 murders in the State - by 1998, the number had almost doubled to 51. While one commentator has said the problem was, in part, rough working class boys, "losers" in our economic success story, picking on successful middle-class nerds, in fact violent assaults are indiscriminate. Any serious investigation into the cause of the problem of assaults and public disorder cannot ignore the significance of the massive increase in the city's capacity for the sale of alcohol in recent years. In Dublin's centre there has been a huge increase in the number of "superpubs" in recent years. And there has been a proliferation of new hotels with huge bars attached. Many traditional pubs have big extensions, cannibalising buildings at the back, the sides, upstairs and downstairs, turning them into a multiples of their former selves. And these drinking venues have much longer opening hours.
Some establishments also have cut-price happy-hour drinks, so people can tank up on the cheap. The age profile of the clientele targeted by these new pubs, clubs and hotels tends to be younger than previously. So, at the end of the night, particularly from Wednesdays to Saturdays, thousands of drunk young people are disgorged into confined areas and mill about the streets between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. At closing time, they compete for taxis and jostle in queues at take-aways. The problem of disorder is aggravated when there is a cluster of late-night venues in a relatively small area, such as the new "Village Quarter" - Camden Street, Wexford Street and Harcourt Street - and where two of our international footballers allegedly displayed their fancy footwork on a car roof last week.
Although a similar situation exists in Temple Bar, it has two significant advantages in terms of safety. First, Temple Bar normally has a visible Garda presence, which acts as a deterrent to lawbreaking. Second it has, and is known to have, video surveillance cameras. Another key element, in areas of cluster especially, is the unsatisfactory dispersal of large, drunk and volatile crowds. There is a late-night bus service but it is not enough. Having thousands of people heading to the few places in the already crowded city centre where this transport is available is problematic from a security point of view. Just as at soccer matches in England, dispersal after an event is crucial to ensuring public order. It is worth noting that all three recent deaths involved late-night transport: Robbie Doolin's altercation was at a hackney office; Brian Murphy's at a taxi rank; and David Langan was trying to hail a taxi.
This expansion in alcohol consumption is in a culture that already has an alarming tolerance of alcohol, especially considering the damage to health, and its link to road deaths, murders and violence on the streets and in the home. It is a tolerance, too, that attracts visitors to Dublin.
Meanwhile, Operation Oiche tries to deal with the consequences. If the new, visible police presence is maintained; if closed circuit surveillance is employed in flashpoint areas, and if co-ordinated dispersal arrangements are put in place from Thursday to Saturday nights, it will go a long way towards curbing street violence. The courts also have an important role to play in terms of sending out a strong message of society's disapproval.
The problem of street violence may be partially because of, rather than in spite of, runaway economic success. More people have more disposable cash and there are more places where more drink can be consumed. A massive increase in alcohol consumption and a failure of the authorities to put in place measures to manage the consequences, lie at the heart of after-dark disorder in Dublin.
Winging It resumes next week
