There was always going to come a point when Ukrainian refugees in Ireland would become a lightning rod for a more generalised frustration.
That point would coincide, one seasoned political observer privately predicted many months ago, with TV images of tented camps being set up to house refugees after the State had run out of accommodation.
At the time, with 25,000 houses or spare rooms on offer to Ukrainians fleeing Russian aggression, it seemed slightly alarmist. Now this prediction sounds grimly prescient.
The 50,000th Ukrainian is due to arrive in Ireland shortly. The number of people from countries other than Ukraine seeking international protection is almost triple what it was in pre-pandemic times. The tents have already gone up; 500 modular homes are going up next. And so too are the nimby hackles.
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In Kildare, there have been protests over proposals for 60 modular homes earmarked for Newbridge and Rathangan. One man described the plans on Newstalk – in an unfortunate choice of words – as “a grenade”.
[ Indoor arena at Abbotstown to be used for emergency refugee accommodationOpens in new window ]
[ Kildare residents stage protests over housing for Ukraine refugeesOpens in new window ]
Most insisted the issue wasn’t with the Ukrainian people, but a lack of consultation and facilities. However, following what was described as a “heated” public meeting attended by 100 people, the Ukrainian ambassador to Ireland Larysa Gerasko felt the need to clarify that “the claim that child trafficking is the number one crime in Ukraine is groundless”, she told the Leinster Leader.
She added: “We haven’t received a single report of a crime committed by a Ukrainian citizen on Irish soil.”
Meanwhile, in Finglas, a group of asylum seekers had to be moved out of their temporary accommodation in a warehouse because of fears it could be set on fire. A report in this newspaper by Conor Gallagher detailed how, the previous week, a group of people forced their way inside and started filming. Two days later, the windows were smashed by someone wielding an iron bar.
In July, asylum seekers were moved from a hotel in Kinnegad to alternative accommodation amidst local objections. Ukrainian refugees were subsequently moved in. In both cases, far-right activists were involved in stoking up local anger and spreading false allegations online.
We are at a tipping point, and there is a depressing air of inevitability about it all.
It would be a mistake to overstate the significance of these isolated protests, but they are a far cry from the days when the Red Cross was unable to cope with the numbers of people pledging their spare rooms to Ukrainians.
In the event, a smaller, but still impressive 10,000 of those places materialised, and almost 4,000 Ukrainians are currently staying in private homes. This is no small tribute to Irish people’s capacity to do the big-hearted thing.
But even such genuine outpourings of compassion have a shelf life. Studies have estimated the best before date for empathy after a huge global disaster is between three and six weeks.
That time is long past. People are preoccupied with their own problems. We are facing a winter so bleak it could make the Covid lockdowns look like a picnic at the park.
We’re staring down the barrel of rapidly rising prices; shortages of everything from GP places to seats on school buses; hospital waiting lists; homelessness; the energy crunch and the ever-present housing crisis. The fact that none of these are uniquely Irish phenomena isn’t much solace when your energy bills seem to jump by 35 per cent every time you open a news app.
For all of these reasons, this is a moment when politicians and others with a platform have a moral duty to be extremely thoughtful about the language they use about the needs of refugees and asylum seekers.
There is no suggestion that Fianna Fáil Minister for Older People, Mary Butler, intended to do anything other than highlight her concerns about securing housing for older people when she went to the media this week to warn about 11 nursing home closures in three months. But she should have been more careful in her language.
“I’ve heard it anecdotally that some of the nursing homes are preparing to support displaced persons from Ukraine,” she told WLR radio. “I would be very, very concerned if that is a trend”, she said, insisting “this is not about Ukrainian people, per se.” Elsewhere, she spoke about “a contagion effect” among nursing homes.
CEO of Nursing Homes Ireland, Tadhg Daly, later clarified that “there’s no nursing home closing to become a centre for refugees”.
The protests over the modular homes in Kildare came after Sinn Féin TD Patricia Ryan sent letters to 500 householders claiming that “if this process is not managed right and the views of locally-based representatives are not listened to, the potential for significant conflict with host communities is significant”.
Green Party Senator Vincent Martin rightly warned that “this kind of language . . . has the potential to whip up a cold atmosphere of fear”.
Earlier this summer, Mattie McGrath called for a cap on refugees, while his rural Independent colleagues Danny Healy-Rae and Michael Collins wanted a cap on Ukrainians.
Politicians need to do better to avoid feeding populist rhetoric, including simplistic us-versus-them narratives predicated around the idea that those seeking protection will somehow get access to resources denied to local populations.
Ireland has so far proven resilient to this kind of fear-mongering, but the rise of the far right across Europe coincided with a period of relative economic stability here. Now that appears to be coming to an end. And so too should any lingering complacency that we are somehow better than that.
The idea that racism and xenophobia could experience a resurgence on both sides of the Atlantic and right across Europe – but somehow bypass Ireland – was always simplistic if not delusional, as we might be about to discover.