The meeja

On Sunday, our doorbell rang unexpectedly. This doesn't happen often: neighbours tend to knock, and friends phone before dropping in. The only people who use our doorbell without advance notification tend to be kids doing nick nacks. We don't always answer.

On Sunday, Simon answered. It was two researchers from RTE's Prime Time Investigates, weathered Irish male types, poorly dressed for the nasty conditions in thin fleece jackets and no raincoats. Poor chaps, I thought. They were calling door to door to gather information about crime. They had heard "heartbreaking" stories, they told us, about "what's called petty crime, though it's anything but petty".

I don't respond well to these moments; I rarely remember what I think or why when confronted by the meeja. We gave them a small bit of information and pointed out the neighbours they should talk to. Later I sent them an irritable and more informative email.

There is crime in my neighbourhood, and it's maybe naive to add "there is crime in every neighbourhood", because probably it is a bigger problem where I live. But I am infuriated by the thought of the national broadcaster pouring its ever-diminishing investigative resources into the tale of how ordinary decent people are terrorised daily in Dublin 8. From our brief doorstep chat (they haven't responded to my email), I gathered that the spin these guys will put on their story is this: "the economy is going down the drains and now, driven to desperation, working class youths are resorting to preying on the innocent residents of (name streets) for the few bucks needed to fuel their drug-addled lifestyles."

Forgive me for getting ahead of myself, and I promise to apologise publicly and even maybe eat a hat if I'm wrong. But I'm pretty confident that I'm not. I suggested to the chaps that they talk to some of the longer standing community activists in the area, to social workers and even (imagine!) the gardai. The fact is that what disaffection there is in this neighbourhood is deep seated, it never went away since the heroine epidemic in the 80s, not even as the economy grew. There is no decent community policing in the area (I don't believe there's any in Ireland, certainly not in urban Ireland), precious few services for young people, and no connection between the gardai and the social services. So you can talk about petty crime, and innocent victims, and reigns of terror. And in so doing, you can reinforce the perception - a pretty dominant one - that Dublin 8 is peopled by drug dealers and thugs. And as long as people think that, the marginalisation and disaffection continue.

Incidentally, here's our experience of crime, in three and a half years living here:

• Our house was broken into once, all our shiny technological stuff nicked. The back door was open - but that doesn't make it ok. We got everything back on the insurance too - but that also doesn't make it ok. It's a shit thing to do, and nobody should do it. I felt neither victimised nor terrorised though (partly because I wasn't living in the country at the time. Ahem).
• This August, my car window was smashed, randomly and viciously. That same evening, a large number of windows were smashed in the immediate vicinity, and my friend was chased down Cork St by a big gang of kids. Very very distressing. Nothing like this ever happened before or since, not even at hallowe'en.
• Last week, my car door was unlocked for 5 days, and my ipod visible on the dashboard. Nothing touched.
  

I dunno, crime happens and it's shit and of course Something Must Be Done. But I have no confidence in RTE, or those two nice men going door to door on a filthy Sunday afternoon, to tell a story that will shed any light on the reality of living in a mixed neighbourhood of social deprivation in the midst of an economic downturn. Silly me though. Why would I think they wanted to?