I was sitting at Grand Canal Dock the other day, past the wall people used to write on in honour of U2, which is now covered with hoarding for whatever latest office is to be built. The garbled graffiti conveying love for the Edge from Spanish tourists, like most things in Grand Canal Dock, is being plastered over.
I was watching the wakeboarders in the dock as they struggled with balance and landed face first in the water again and again. A Viking Splash tour was chugging by, the guide in the amphibious vehicle pointing out the large theatre at the other end. It's called Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, but before we started naming theatre spaces after utility bills it was called Grand Canal Theatre.
In the water in front of the theatre, kids were messing about learning the craft of SUP – stand-up paddleboarding – which is not some kind of thing that contravenes the Geneva convention but a rather a calm water activity. Grand Canal Dock is full of new words and new people, soaking up its delicious shininess. The whole place screams success.
It’s the kind of place you bring people who haven’t been to Dublin in years. “Look!” you say, like a garment factory boss showing off production lines to Kim Jong-un. “Look at how shiny and successful we are!” Grand Canal Dock is everything Dublin isn’t about. It’s clean and pleasant and almost unnervingly ordered.
Rendered digitally
The place is designed. The contemporary architecture is quite beautiful in spots. It’s one of those places that looks like it has been rendered digitally, the computerised images of a couple walking a dog and a woman cycling coming to life. Other retail units across Ireland have to deal with plastic sheeting with images of pretend shop interiors plastered across them to give the impression they aren’t derelict.
So why then is its escalating growth so off-putting?
I got up from my seat. The din of construction was overpowering. The Kool-Aid drinking of tech employees is bad enough; but it pales in comparison with the Government’s love of Grand Canal Dock’s multibillion-dollar corporations, which contribute so little to the social and cultural fabric of the city while reaping all the benefits of setting up in this little tax haven we call Ireland.
While they expand, the rents are jacked up. At the time of writing, there are 23 properties for rent at Grand Canal Dock. Would you like a €2,600 a month two-bed in the Marker? A €3,500 three-bed on Hanover Dock? A €2,995 two-bed in Charlotte Quay?
You might want to pause before you get on to the Labour Party about the rent situation in the docks. Labour sold its headquarters on Ely Place for €800,000 (an absolute bargain, by the way) and moved to the top floor of the Bloodstone building on Sir John Rogerson’s Quay. Bloodstone, like a hefty chunk of Dublin, is now owned by an American private equity firm.
Labour will be paying rent of €212,625 a year, which means in less than four years, they'll have paid in rent what they sold their former headquarters for. At least they don't control the Department of Finance. I guess that's what you get when you move to a quay named after a property developer.
Prices are phenomenal
When it comes to selling property, the prices are phenomenal. Developer Bernard McNamara used to own Dock Mill – a warehouse on the water – before Chris Jones, another developer, bought it two years ago for €1.3 million.
Earlier this year, Google needed a little more wriggle room and bought it for €13 million. Ten times the price. Google had previously bought a 15-storey building for more office room. That cost €99 million. Google paid €100 million for Gordon House and Gasworks House.
Last year it bought the Grand Mill Quay building for €65 million. The strategic development zone scheme in Grand Canal Dock means if you own a building you can get permission for construction from the planners down the council and An Bord Pleanála is unable to appeal.
Boland's Mill, which sat there unused for years, is being redeveloped by the National Asset Management Agency to the tune of €150 million. You'd love to see something nice happening with it but nothing will slow down the insatiable appetite for office blocks. Nama is concerned about the lack of office space in Grand Canal Dock – not concerned enough to move itself out of the area to make room, mind you.
‘Cultural space’
The designs for Boland’s Mill show some of the most incongruous-looking office blocks you could imagine barging on to the skyline, the 19th century warehouses cowering below. Plans include “cultural space”. Ha! Two of the most important cultural spaces in the area – the Factory and Mabos – have already been squeezed out.
Shiny things can be nice, and Grand Canal Dock’s shininess sure is pretty and tempting, but super-high rents and ugly office blocks are cutting off this part of Dublin from the rest of us. Given the lack of interaction these companies have with the city, maybe that’s what they ultimately want. That’s just the way things are now, isn’t it? Even the Dubliners sang about “the new glass cages that spring up along the quay”, in the rare old times.