INNER CITY'S BATTLE WITH DRUGS

Michael O'Farrell Looks At The Problems Of Dublin Inner City

KNEELING before a can of cider placed on the altar steps of the parish
church in Sean MacDermot Street in Dublin's inner city, a man is slowly
banging his fists on the ground, pleading with God to give him the strength
to give up drink and drugs.

To the man's left is the statue of Matt Talbot, who famously triumphed over
addiction.

To his right a handmade patchwork quilt displays the names of some of the
more than 300 locals who lost their lives to heroin.

The area just off O'Connell Street between Summerhill and Sean MacDermot
Street has never shared equally in Ireland's wealth.

"The Celtic tiger went by here on an express train," says local Sinn Fein
councillor, Christy Burke of a community not unlike many deprived areas of
inner city Dublin.

The tough inner city neighbourhood of Summerhill and Sean MacDermot Street
has endured a notoriously negative reputation for generations. Although
improvements have been made, it is still heroin that this community is best
known for. Heroin and its resulting violence, crime and death. It's a
reputation difficult to overcome.

But it's an unjustified perception and locals are doing their best to turn
it around, pointing to the many community support services and facilities
that were non-existent ten years ago.

"There's a lot more services out there at the moment," says local resident,
Joe Dowling, a drug support worker with the Inner City Organisations
Network (ICON). "But there's still big problems with drugs. The dealing
isn't as open as it was years ago but it's still there," he says.

Ironically, generations of drug abuse, leaving hardly any family untouched,
has given this community it's most valuable strength. A strong community
spirit means help is always at hand. Any improvements made over the years
are largely due to locals fighting tooth and nail for their own community.

"It's an extremely good community in helping one another - one of the few
places in Dublin like that. When any family has a problem even their worst
enemy will help," says Father Jim Smith, a Jesuit who has worked all his
life in the north inner city. But although the help is there, it can only
succeed when people look for it.

"The difference now is the places are there for those who want it. But
there are people using drugs from 12 onwards and that's the reality. Drugs
are still here like they always were but we can only help people who want
to be helped," says Val Kelly, who works for the Crinan Youth Project, a
health board-funded drug treatment facility.

Many see education as the key.

"We need some kind of drugs education in the schools focused solely on
addiction," says a local mother who wishes to remain anonymous.

"The situation hasn't changed that much. I don't think anybody has the
answer but people do need to be caught before they slip through the net.
There are still some as young as 13 who are falling through," she says. Six
years ago her own son died from heroin.

Michael Bradley, 77, has lived in Summerhill all his life delivering coal.
He is philosophical about the drugs problem. "The kids are not bad but the
way it's gone now the drug money is too tempting."

While dealers continue to push their lucrative trade, crime continues to
soar. The latest Garda report found Dublin's north inner city had the worst
crime levels in Ireland.

The statistics are skewed due to a large amount of crime committed by
visitors to the city centre with no connection to the community.
Furthermore, the local population is quite small so that when crime in the
area is recorded as a percentage per head of the population things seem
worse than they really are.

Nevertheless crime is a major problem and is forefront in the minds of
locals. Many children have come to view it as a form of fun.

Melissa Brazil, 10, who says she loves the area, likes watching the older
boys joyriding. "It's good when they rob cars. I love watching them
rallying the cars," she says as if speaking of a favourite hobby.

As she speaks three youths are ripping the door off a burnt out car 25
metres away. Close by in the other direction a group of older youths sit
behind the church breaking bottles and voicing menacing threats from behind
half empty vodka bottles.

Despite all the best efforts of the community, a vicious circle is
continuing unabated, fuelled, more often than not, by poverty and addiction.