One of the old-fashioned charms of living in Dublin’s Liberties is the steady clip-clop of horses going past the door every day.
Sometimes it is youngsters riding bareback in an area with a strong urban horse tradition. More often it’s the sound of carriages bringing visitors from the Guinness Storehouse, rated as Ireland’s top tourist attraction, which is just up the street.
The sound is the rhythm of the oldest working-class neighbourhood in Dublin, alongside the church bells from St Catherine’s and the chant of street traders. Of course, with horses comes a less charming byproduct – manure. The sight of it on the streets here may not be pretty, but it is part of the culture, part of the history of the area.
I don’t mind it. At least it’s not dog dirt on the footpath, I think, as I bypass another ball of horse poo while crossing the road at the back of Vicar Street.
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Besides, there is a long list of more pressing matters in the community, lovely and all as it is. Burst bags of domestic rubbish torn and strewn all over the pathways, tourists sidestepping their grim contents. Cars speeding up narrow, one-way streets used by children and older people. As with any inner city area, there is persistent antisocial behaviour, public order crimes.
And yet it is the horse manure that is riling residents, particularly those who have been here barely a wet weekend in Liberties-time. It has become a problem in the area since Dublin City Council stopped taking it at its local waste depot last year. The council said the disposal service was discontinued – after 30 years – for “health and safety reasons”, and that “horse owners are now required to make their own arrangements”.
Local councillors rightly say pressure needs to be put on the council for removing a long-time facility without providing an alternative. The previous arrangement had encouraged responsible manure disposal.
Now, with nowhere else to dump it, sacks of manure are piling up outside stables, awaiting collection. More dung litters the streets. It seems foolish for an authority to allow horses in the city, but not allow the deposit of the horse’s manure – a valuable natural fertiliser and sustainable solution for equine waste.
However, the reports of increased horse manure dumping prompted a revealing reaction from newer arrivals.
Some of my fellow newcomers to the area got over-involved on local WhatsApp chat groups, more inclined to organise protests than try to understand the problem. Instead of standing up for the jarveys and the kids on horses, the instinct seemed to be turn against them.
Let’s put posters on the streets asking tourists to stop taking carriages, someone suggested. Why don’t we post signs telling carriage operators to pick up their dung? We could collectively call the council over every sighting, someone said. It struck me as a lot of time and commitment to dedicate to a bit of manure on Molyneux Yard and Meath Street – time that would be better spent campaigning for the council to take the manure, or provide a collection service. Rather than trying to cause problems for a local business left in the lurch, it might have been an opportunity to foster community.
It is a minority attitude, but it was instructive to see it exists. It shed light on how and why conflicts arise, especially in compact cities like Dublin, between those from a place, and those new to it. It is little wonder old communities often treat newcomers with suspicion or that there’s an attitude of resistance.
When I first came to live here, I was a bit taken aback at the borderline frosty reception from the locals. The Liberties’ status as the last bastion of old Dublin would lead you to assume everyone is delighted to welcome those who move in. Not so much – and now I know why. I’m not from the Liberties, but I was born in the Coombe, grew up in the mountains, and returned as an adult to settle around the corner in Pimlico. I’ve been living in Dublin 8 since I was 21, which is more than half my life.
Nobody cares. I’m an “uppie” – as I was indignant to be called on my first visit to a local pub – and I’ll always be one. I’m lumped in a box of a homogeneous group of people marked: Not From Here. I got over it.
This is an established dynamic where there is an influx of new people in a neighbourhood, typically due to gentrification. Sociologist Norbert Elias called the phenomenon “the Established and the Outsider” in his book of the same name about identity, rank and power play among such communities.
Tensions emerge in relations as long-time locals can feel threatened that newcomers will take over, they’ll lose status and their voices won’t be heard; while newcomers can be stigmatised and “othered”. It is a phenomenon rooted in territoriality.
If those of us new to the Liberties – or any area – want a sense of belonging, we have to start by understanding, respecting and showing deference to the people and customs here before us and who have lived their way for generations. We have to get down off our high horses.
And Dublin City Council should do the right thing and find a way to provide a solution for the horse waste.
Larissa Nolan is a freelance journalist
