Our capital is one of the great small cities of Europe.
Dozens of international studies reveal it to be relatively peaceful and safe; outward-looking yet proud of its rich history; home to well-educated and strikingly happy people.
We should be proud of these facts. Dublin is, after all, our capital.
Yet the anti-Dublin brigade, those who try to convince us that the city is full, or that it’s unworthy of the State it represents, have never been more vocal or more visible. Some of them live in leafy suburbs; others claim to speak for disenfranchised communities and plaster Tricolours on lamp-posts.
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What they share is a determination to see the bad in everything. Why build bridges when it’s much more tweetable to knock them down?
The Tricolour planting is a phenomenon that started in the north inner city, spurred on by groups of online malcontents, and has now spread far beyond Dublin.
This is not civic pride. It is a perverse exhibition of toxic nationalism because the playbook comes straight from England. In fact, our national flag celebrates the joining together of political traditions and reconciliation. Anyone who thinks it’s a symbol of monocultural identity is missing the point of Irish history. In the words of a local wag: “The dead, the dead, the dead: they have left us our Fenian fools!”
For many years, I have been writing about civic pride, which can loosely be defined as the amount of affection a place has for itself. Civic pride can serve as a bulwark against the excesses of nationalism, which is often backward-looking. Civic pride is more aspirational: self-improvement is part of the gig. At its most effective, civic pride can bring disparate groups of people together, promoting a sense of social solidarity.
This is not to say that civic pride is delusional. On the contrary, it demands clarity about the climate crisis; about housing, health and the cost of living, which are serious problems all over Ireland.
Many of our citizens feel angry, desperate and disenfranchised. Their problems reflect the cruelties of capitalism and the pitiful state of local government. Sensible people may know that weaponising our flag won’t solve those problems, but they don’t always join the dots.
What’s to be done about the flags? Nobody seems sure. One friend thinks it is only by changing the meaning of the flag, and flying them everywhere, that this lamentable trend can be subverted. Another, an immigrant, demands to know why she should have to put up more flags as a way of reclaiming the tricolour so it no longer belongs to the far right. I personally liked the suggestion of a letter writer to The Irish Times that the flags be left up and a donation for every one made to organisations advocating for the “rights of migrants, LGBTQ people or any group whose existence gets the flag warriors so flustered and upset”.
But what every town and city needs is far more resources to help residents – including immigrants – who lead precarious lives, and this is particularly true in Dublin, where there is the greatest concentration of people. It won’t happen until we give the capital the strong self-government it deserves.
Meanwhile, the city remains an easy mark for naysayers. Indeed, knocking Dublin is a national hobby. This was painfully revealed some years ago when a nationwide survey for Dublin City Council revealed that most Irish people have little or no emotional connection to their capital – that includes many Dubliners.
Anti-Dublin prejudice is so ingrained that we rarely consider its roots. The media have some responsibility – moaning about Dublin makes for easy clickbait. But our political establishment also needs to be honest about its role in fostering bigotry. We are all familiar with the rural politician who makes a speciality of his antipathy to the capital.
Dublin, we are told, is the root of all our problems. As a southside jackeen who likes the odd slice of truffle Brie from Fallon & Byrne, I don’t mind a good slagging. What’s ironic, however, is that Dublin is itself the greatest victim of excessive centralisation – and it always has been.
In 1924, the Free State government abolished the Dublin Corporation. That decision reflected a deep suspicion of voters in the capital, which is still a feature of political life in Ireland. The current programme for Government includes a single reference (buried on page 150) to the possibility of holding a plebiscite on giving Dublin a directly elected mayor.
That contempt for democracy gives oxygen to the Dublin-is-a-kip brigade. So does a lickspittle attitude to big tech.
When Cabinet ministers criticise those bedecking the streets in Tricolours, they ignore the fact that it is their failure to give our capital the leadership it requires, and to regulate social media, that enable sinister forces to generate support among disaffected citizens.
Then they ask Dublin City Council to clean up the mess.
Dublin is a great city. Everyone knew this in 1988, when city manager Frank Feely invented the millennium. That was 37 years ago. Today, the Hibernian metropolis is seldom feted here in Ireland. If we really love our country, let’s acknowledge that it is unfair and unwise to blame Dublin for the nation’s ills.
[ 52 reasons to love Dublin right nowOpens in new window ]
Patriotism demands a renewed commitment to our vibrant and magnificently cosmopolitan capital, wherever you call home.
The next time you find yourself lamenting the rise in anti-immigrant sentiment, remember that such attitudes have their roots in alienation and disenfranchisement.
Meanwhile, be wary of the nonsense claim that Dublin has gone to the dogs. That myth gives cover to the real problem: an establishment that refuses to defend and empower its capital. There is nothing patriotic about that.
Trevor White is a writer and founder of the Little Museum of Dublin
