Strolling through the Liberties, in good form with the weather. Getting over a chesty cold, so on the up, spring in my step, cock of the walk. Letter through the door that morning, confirming no nasty virus floats through the veins. Evidently one can lay with dogs and escape lingering fleas; London barrel-scraping can finally be put to rest.

A cute fella, short, fit with embroidered jeans struts past me, and I check out his backside as he passes by. It’s a corker – firm and pert, denim creasing in just the right way to suggest good genetic fortune in cheekbones. I have no intention of cruising him, feeling relatively self-contained these days. I am just enjoying the view, and a wry smile crosses my face.
Isn’t it grand to be alive? As I turn around, back to mind where I’m going, I’m greeted with laughter from two students of mine, right in front of me, both cackling bespectacled women of a certain age, both overjoyed to have caught me out. “Don’t be so nosey!” they tease, with glee, nudging each other, delighted with themselves. I grin, call out a sheepish “hello” and walk on, they giggle away, the word “nosey!” pealing back and forth between them.
If anything, of course, it’s they who are being nosey, watching me from across the street and feeling quite at liberty to comment on where my eyes were wandering. The object of my attention is, I’m sure, completely unaware of my passing glances. But the exchange cheers me up – I’m beginning to feel in contact with this city again.
I end up at a meeting organized by An Taisce in Tailor’s Hall to discuss the state of various planned developments in the Liberties area. It’s my first ever meeting like it; a leaflet through my door last week invited me, mentioning that the old Iveagh Market on Francis Street was being redeveloped, and I could hear more about the plans if I turned up.
The place is full – and I get chatting to a woman beside me, who surveys the crowd and surmises that meetings are only well attended when people are unhappy. I protest politely that people aren’t necessarily that selfish, they could be there out of curiosity as I was (when I’m in good form I imagine the world is fully of bright and sunny optimists), but of course she was right.
People are swarming out of their anthills in protest at the development proposals for the hotel complex being built around the Market, and after seeing the plans, I can see why. There is a curious lazy arrogance about the scheme, a couple of brutalist tall blocks looming glumly behind and beside the Market, with no consideration or respect for the surrounding area.
We were told about the way in which it is possible, since the 2000 Planning and Development Act, for local people to influence the way new developments are built in their area, to a degree that is quite remarkable, imposing mandatory conditions on the developer that can be quite dramatic. All that is required is that people get organised and make coherent submissions – the trick is, of course, to be kept informed and to get the timing right. This is where An Taisce comes in. If enough local people are members, they are kept up to date with all the plans, and An Taisce then can work with them to facilitate effective local consultation and participation in the planning process.
At the same meeting, we were told of why water quality in Dublin is so good – An Taisce has been monitoring the Poulaphouca reservoir and its catchment area, and the nearby aquifer (underground water reserves) for a long time now, and has hounded illegal dumpers out of the area. They can take justified satisfaction in having safeguarded something so precious; and the slides they showed of the huge illegal dumps with refuse leaking into the water – my water, our water – were quite shocking. Dublin is lucky in that, unlike Galway, its water comes primarily from one main source, and so it is relatively easy to keep an eye on – but the key word is relatively; each illegal dump had to be excavated, a mammoth task.
Further west in the Liberties, near to where I live, I learned about the scale and ugliness of the planned developments in old Guinness land, either side of James’s St; huge tower blocks on a ridiculous scale, reminding me of the worst excesses of windy concrete city areas like Aldgate or Old Street in London.
An Taisce’s job is to be nosey – to be vigilant, to conserve, to protect, to keep us alert to what is being done to our environment, by private and state developers. It is a vast resource of common sense, and by the sight of the stack of completed membership forms on the table at the end of the meeting, it has managed to get local people in my area involved and passionately engaged in the shaping of our own neighbourhood and environment. This is politics with a small p, but in a green sense it’s the most powerful politics of all.
www.antaisce.org