The explosion of Dublin into surrounding counties and farther afield has far-reaching social and environmental consequences, writes Frank McDonald, Environment Editor
Where is "Dublin" these days? What is "Dublin"? Yes, it's a European capital, with all the trappings of a cappuccino society. But the lively, cosmopolitan city centre is increasingly surrounded by a north American-style "edge city", sprawling far out into Leinster.
This is Commuterland. A whole new world of housing estates tacked on to the periphery of towns and villages 50 to 60 miles from College Green, where people get up at 6 a.m. to face a long journey by car or bus to work in Dublin, perhaps not getting home until after 8 p.m.
Dubliners used to complain that their city was overrun by "culchies" . Now the tables are turned. Driven out by preposterously high property prices in the capital, thousands of Dubs have joined the exodus to find cheaper homes elsewhere, colonising Leinster.
Commuterland is growing by leaps and bounds, as graphically illustrated by the preliminary report of Census 2002, published this week. What it shows is that there has been a population explosion in the counties adjoining Dublin and even in the counties adjoining them.
In effect, bits of "Dublin" have popped up on the outskirts of Drogheda, Dunboyne, Gorey, Kells, Kinnegad, Mullingar, Portlaoise, Ratoath, Rochfortbridge, Trim and Tullamore - not to mention Virginia, Co Cavan, which isn't even in Leinster.
New houses are certainly more affordable in such locations, decreasing in price as one moves farther from the capital. But the young couples buying them are condemning themselves to a lifetime of commuting.
This pattern of settlement is as unplanned as it is unsustainable. Its extensive spread and heavy car-dependency account for much of the weekday, peak-period congestion on the main roads leading to Dublin and on the M50, which distributes traffic around the city.
The social effects of long-distance commuting in the US have been well-documented by Robert Putnam in his book, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, particularly in terms of its negative impact on "social capital", or traditional community life.
He defines social capital as the networks and interactions which inspire trust and reciprocity among people. This is usually acquired through day-to-day, face-to-face relationships with neighbours and other people in local shops, pubs, restaurants, parks or churches or within community groups.
Putnam found that commuting long distances by car is "demonstrably bad" for social capital, not least because it substantially reduces the amount of time people have to spend with their children or to get involved in their community, i.e. by joining a local residents' association or sports club.
"In round numbers, the evidence suggests that each additional 10 minutes in daily commuting time cuts involvement in community affairs by 10 per cent - fewer public meetings attended, fewer committees chaired, fewer petitions signed, fewer church services attended, less volunteering, and so on."
According to Prof Kevin Leyden, exhausted Americans turn inwards to the home and turn on TV. Instead of learning about their world and the people in it by participating in that world and talking to the people in it, they learn whatever they know through the distorted lens of television.
ASSOCIATE professor of political science at the University of West Virginia, Prof Leyden spent some time at NUI Galway researching social capital and planning in Ireland.
In an article in The Irish Times in June of last year, he warned: "Car-orientated sprawl will ruin the social fabric of your nation."
He cited the example of Binn Bhán, a new housing estate off the Western Distributor Road in Galway, which was billed as "a new community set in green open space minutes from the city". But where were the schools, the shops, the parks and playing pitches? A car-drive away in every case.
In surveys of more traditional neighbourhoods, such as the Claddagh, Prof Leyden found that residents tended to walk more, know their neighbours better and feel "more connected with where they live".
One consequence of the explosion of Dublin is that new schools, shops, parks and playing pitches will have to be provided in Commuterland even as the population required to sustain existing facilities in more mature suburbs closer to the city is falling rapidly, as the census shows.
The same phenomenon is evident in Cork, where the city's population has fallen by 3 per cent over the past six years while substantial increases have been recorded in areas to the north, east and south of the city. This extends the Cork commuter belt, though admittedly not as far as Dublin's.
The only real beneficiaries of Dublin's sprawl are auctioneers, publicans and shopkeepers in Leinster towns. And farmers who have been flogging land for housing.
Whether the huge vested interest they represent can be resisted by politicians is doubtful. We shall see soon enough when the final version of the Government's long-delayed National Spatial Strategy, with its ostensible aim of achieving more balanced regional development, is published in September.
Certainly, the Government's determination to proceed with the motorway network outlined in its National Development Plan 2000-2006 will exacerbate the problem simply by making it easier for car-borne commuters to live even farther away from the major urban centres.
Not only will the motorways cost an estimated €12 billion, gobbling up 5,000 acres and adding to air pollution and greenhouse gas emissions, but further public money will have to be spent to extend water and sewerage services to yet more commuter belt housing strung along their routes.