Pub landlord Brian Moore, 54, is busy with customers enjoying a late lunch before they head out into the sunshine.
Yet the past months have been marred by cancellations and a sharp drop in tourists at the Mariner, which overlooks the waterfront in Drogheda, Ireland’s largest town.
“I will have done 40 years in the business next year and I’ve never seen it this bad,” Moore says.
On the other side of the town centre, across the River Boyne, Drogheda’s largest hotel has since March housed families fleeing conflict, violence and insecurity.
Its 113 rooms account for most of the town’s accommodation capacity, leaving other visitors with few alternative options – a small boutique hotel, a hostel or some private lets.
“You’re going to see a lot of smaller businesses closing. Once you close down the main source of accommodation in any location, it has a huge impact,” Moore says.
The D Hotel’s new residents, meanwhile, speak of relief. “We have been waiting three years for a visa in Afghanistan,” says a man in his early 20s. He travelled to Ireland last month by plane with his 47-year-old mother and two younger brothers after being granted protection.
The number of people applying for asylum in Ireland has almost tripled in the past year compared with before Covid, and the Irish government claims that Britain’s plans to deport applicants to Rwanda are behind 80pc of the recent rise.
Under Rishi Sunak’s flagship policy, some asylum claims may soon be processed in the East African country, with successful claimants being granted refugee status there.
Drogheda’s 44,135 inhabitants have welcomed refugees for two decades, but the sudden loss of the last large hotel without any consultation has put this to the test.
“Everybody’s angry and frustrated but there are not many people speaking out,” Moore says.
The town’s struggles are yet another symptom of how the strain on Ireland’s asylum system has reached crisis point.
This year an average of 60 people have applied for protection every day.
To keep up with demand, the Government needs to find board for 420 arrivals every week in the face of a longstanding housing crisis.
The pressures are most visible an hour away, in Dublin, where parts of the scenic Grand Canal and other areas near the International Protection Office have been fenced off.
Some 1,780 migrants have been forced to sleep outside after accommodation ran out in December.
The result is a repeated cycle of mushrooming tent cities being cleared only to emerge somewhere else.
But outside the capital many towns such as Drogheda are facing their own emergency, as the government scrambles to find accommodation to keep women and children off the street.
It warned in March that this could soon become impossible.
‘Safety is why we are here’
In Drogheda, a Nigerian man stands outside the D Hotel, where he is sharing a room with his heavily pregnant wife, 15-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter.
He has come out to clear his mind and is trying to get an update from the authorities on their asylum application.
He is well aware of the political row between Ireland and the UK and that he and his family are hardly wanted by either government.
“The news can make you depressed, you know,” he says wearily, while asking what the latest is.
He says he has met many fellow migrants fearful of being sent to Rwanda, but insists he came directly from France to Ireland.
Nigerians account for one in three asylum applications so far this year, with many migrants speaking of relatives being killed, kidnappings for ransom and violence.
“Safety is the main thing. That is why we are here,” he says, before making another call.
The Irish government claims 80pc of people in his situation have entered the country from the UK.
However, its own figures show applications started rising rapidly before the Rwanda policy was announced in April 2022.
From January to March that year monthly arrivals more than doubled from 400 to 1,040.
The numbers have since soared further, with more than 2,000 people arriving last month.
Experts are also sceptical of the authorities’ claims.
“We feel 80pc is extremely high. The way the government has calculated that figure is problematic,” says Nick Henderson, chief executive of the Irish Refugee Council.
The Irish government has admitted its figures were based on the assumption that anyone not applying for asylum immediately in an airport or port had come from Britain.
Regardless, “there is no doubt that there has been an increase in the number of people seeking protection. That can in part be attributed to the UK policy”, Henderson says.
Rishi Sunak has said the rise in asylum applications in Ireland is testimony that his policy is “already having an impact”.
There are broader factors at play however, Henderson says. He points to pent-up demand from Covid, wars on the edge of Europe and many European countries hardening their approach to asylum seekers.
“This is an exceptional time,” he says.
Ireland has accepted more than 100,000 Ukrainians since Russia’s illegal invasion two years ago, far more relative to its population than countries such as Germany, France and Italy.
‘Kiss of death’
Back at the Mariner, across from the four-starred D Hotel, all of these factors have led to a significant drop in customers for Moore.
“We lost a charity event for cystic fibrosis. We also lost a 50th birthday party because people travelling down have nowhere to stay,” he says.
The missed revenue from each of these events is “in the thousands” of euros.
The government explored leaving some of the D Hotel’s capacity for tourism, but said it was impossible because of safeguarding concerns.
Moore is struggling with more than cancelled bookings as a result.
“People always booked room-only, so we had the breakfast customers come down here because it’s a little bit cheaper and maybe they preferred it. You also miss all the people who used to come in for lunch while they stayed at the hotel,” he says, adding that many Irish people used it as a base when visiting relatives.
The blow to the business has been intensified by high inflation over the past two years, forcing many locals to tighten their belts.
“People would rather drink at home than come out to the pub. I never thought I’d see that in Ireland,” Moore says.
The Irish government is paying around €25m (£21.5m) to house asylum seekers at the hotel for two years.
In the town, there are rumours of bartenders quitting their jobs for €60,000 salaries in roles catering for migrants.
But while the government initially said the D Hotel would house up to 500 people, it soon emerged the fire certification would only allow 240 residents.
It means the annual cost per person will be more than €50,000.
Other tourism accommodation shot up in price overnight after the hotel closed to the public, one person employed in the industry notes.
Even those advocating for better conditions for asylum seekers say it was a mistake.
“It’s the perfect bad example,” says Henderson.
The town’s Irish parliament member Fergus O’Dowd, who is in ruling party Fine Gael, is angry too.
“If a county or a town loses its main hotel as a result of an arbitrary decision of a government minister without any notice or communication that is entirely unacceptable. I’m looking for transparency around that decision,” he says.
Moore is not alone in feeling the pain from the loss of tourists.
Many of them arrived at the hotel needing gear to explore the surrounding countryside. This provided outdoor shop Regatta in the Scotch Hall Shopping Centre next door with plenty of opportunities to sell rain jackets and practical shoes.
Footfall is notably down compared to last year, says one shopkeeper who prefers not to use her name.
“I don’t mind helping someone out. But at the same time where do we fit in?” she asks.
“We could lose our jobs. I am not saying that we will but we could. It’s a possibility that’s in the back of your mind,” she adds.
Many locals feel there has been a wider decline in Drogheda that compounds such fears.
“I’ve grown up in this town. Most of the family-owned businesses are all shutting down. In one week there were five [shop closures] in the paper,” she adds.
Such concerns are shared by Ricky Morgan, who runs the shop The Golf Bag across from the hotel.
“You really miss the tourists. You notice from last month. There would be people coming down for parties and family functions. They’d shop around the town and walk around. They’re all gone,” Morgan says.
Like many locals, he was shocked by the lack of consultation and how quickly the decision was made by the central government in Dublin.
“It has nothing to do with the poor devils coming in for asylum, God love them. But the government just came in and took [the D Hotel]. Imagine if you took out all of the hotel rooms in Dublin, it’s unimaginable. But because Drogheda is smaller, it is just a flick of a pen. Everything seems to be done without telling anybody. It’s just really sad that this has happened,” Morgan says.
Another person employed in the tourism industry who would not use their name puts it more bluntly.
“It has just been the kiss of death”, they say.
Housing crisis
Being an island on the periphery of Western Europe has long sheltered Ireland from the pressures of rising asylum claims felt in neighbouring countries.
When the war in Syria triggered an influx of nearly two million people into the European Union over just 15 months in 2015-2016, Dublin received only 3,370 asylum applications.
In fact, for a long time Ireland’s problem was people leaving rather than arriving.
In no other European country has more of the population emigrated for better prospects than Ireland in recent history.
While asylum seekers make up only a small fraction of overall immigration, the numbers have risen rapidly.
Applications were up 193pc in the 12 months to January, compared with the same period just before Covid.
It comes after soaring economic growth and dwindling unemployment helped fuel one of Europe’s most severe housing crises.
Rents have risen by 105pc since 2010 – more than four times the EU average.
Immigration control has soared as a source of concern, with 36pc of people citing it as a major issue in the most recent polling, according to Ipsos numbers published on Friday, up from only 7pc in 2022.
This has coincided with a hardening political stance on asylum seekers and refugees by the majority coalition consisting of centre-Right parties Fianna Fáil, Fine Gael and the more Left-leaning Green Party.
This week they announced that payments to Ukrainians living in state-provided accommodation such as hotels will be slashed from €232 to €38.80 a week from August.
The government will consider further benefit cuts in the coming weeks.
The Left-leaning main opposition party, Sinn Féin, appears to struggle to convince voters it could do better at handling the surge in asylum claims.
Support has plunged by 11 points since September, according to Ipsos B&A polling, as public concern over immigration has grown.
Meanwhile, independent candidates – many of whom are campaigning for reduced immigration – are polling strongly at 17pc.
The hardening stance marks a sharp departure from policy in recent years.
In 2021, children’s minister Roderic O’Gorman announced that asylum seekers would get their own front-door accommodation after four months and be allowed to work after six months.
Two years later the Department for Integration tried pleading with people to stay away.
It tweeted on 24 January 2023: “The Irish Government asks those who are considering seeking refuge in Ireland and who are currently in places of safety not to travel to Ireland at this time (…) This is due to a severe shortage of accommodation.”
Meanwhile, the spat with the UK continues.
It emerged this week that Britain has taken back 50 migrants who had attempted to cross the border with Northern Ireland on buses from Belfast to Dublin – despite Rishi Sunak insisting he is “not interested” in accepting anyone returning.
Belfast’s High Court has meanwhile ruled that parts of the UK’s Illegal Migration Act that paved the way for the Rwanda scheme should be disapplied in Northern Ireland.
Tent cities
One of the first people to notice the sharp rise in asylum seekers in Ireland was business owner Michael Finlay.
For 10 years he has run the Punnet Food Emporium cafe and greengrocer on Mount Street in an affluent part of Dublin near the Grand Canal.
His shop is around the corner from the International Protection Office (IPO), which is the first port of call for people seeking asylum.
The first tents emerged near his business around a year and a half ago. With time they multiplied.
“Every morning I had to move 10 to 12 tents before I could open the business,” Finlay says.
It was like “living in a movie”.
The street has been lined with big fences since the start of May, when the authorities moved 285 men who had been living there in tents for months.
“It looks lovely,” Finlay says dryly.
Does he feel reassured that his troubles are over?
“I don’t have much confidence,” he says. One only has to walk two minutes down the road, where tired-looking people are lingering outside the IPO, to understand why.
There are men and families with children. A woman with a buggy says she is from Syria.
“Do you know where I can get help?”, asks a young Palestinian man. With little English, he hands over his phone with a message that reads “Hello, I [have been] refused housing. I was a cancer patient. I want to take the housing because I don’t have immunity and I got a cold. I have medical reports. Help please.”
He says he arrived in Ireland by ferry from Turkey.
But single men travelling without families have little hope of being provided with more than a tent and a sleeping bag, despite Ireland’s obligation to house them.
Earlier the same morning, the Gardai swooped in to clear 100 tents near the Grand Canal, which is now covered with fencing.
There was a bus taking the men in the tents to sites in Crooksling in southwest Dublin, and Dundrum. Those who missed it are unsure of where to go.
Hours later new tents emerge in East Wall and Ringsend.
In the Dáil, Jennifer Whitmore of the Social Democrats pushes the Tánaiste Micheál Martin on how he will respond to new tents emerging.
“I hope you have a large supply of fences, Tánaiste,” she tells him.
The following day tents reappear further along the Grand Canal.
Numbers grew from 40 at the start of this week to 90 by Thursday, according to Irish media.
Conversations “cannot begin and end every time with accommodation”, Taoiseach Harris warned.
‘We beat Covid, but not the refugee crisis’
Despite the dire circumstances, the men waiting outside the IPO say they are grateful to be in Ireland.
Sleeping in a tent on concrete for two months is still better than the alternative, according to a Nigerian man. He preferred not to share his name.
“It is all about safety. In my country, you go to work and you don’t know if you’ll come back in the evening,” he says.
He decided to leave his home in the north of Nigeria after his brother was killed and the threats of violence became too much.
He travelled to the capital of Lagos and paid an agency that helped get him on a flight to Belfast. Upon arrival, his fixer took away his passport because he could not pay outstanding debts.
Like other Nigerian migrants, he speaks of the constant fear of kidnappings.
Amnesty International in January expressed concern over the Nigerian government’s failure to stem a rise in kidnappings for ransom.
“If my country becomes safe again, I will go. Ireland is good, but home is home,” he says, adding he just wants to get a job.
Another Nigerian man says he travelled to London before coming to Dublin.
“I don’t know if I would [still be] alive [if sent to Rwanda]. I just left my country. They killed my father and my mother,” he says.
He says his parents were politicians and that he has a degree in political science from his home country.
The man says he was surprised to be given any support at all.
“I did not expect to [receive money]. I really appreciate Ireland,” he says.
“When everything is settled, I will contribute. I will get a job and work hard. I hope God will continue to bless this country.”
Peter Walsh at the Migration Observatory in Oxford says a common misconception of migrants is that they are uneducated.
To leave an insecure country “you need the resources because it costs thousands upon thousands of euros”, he says.
“The people you see are those who have been able to get the funds and tend to be better educated and more middle class.”
Around the corner from the IPO, Clint Hamilton is breathing a sigh of relief that the tents outside his little Italian restaurant Mamma Mia are finally gone.
The government prevented local residents from putting up port-a-loos to stop people with no access to facilities defecating on the street, he says.
“We are here 15 years. It wasn’t the economic crash, it wasn’t Covid, it was the refugee crisis that was actually going to close us. We were due to close on 4 July if they didn’t resolve the issue”, Hamilton says.
He has taken €60,000-€70,000 from his construction company to keep the restaurant afloat since September.
“I’ll make it abundantly clear it is not their fault,” he says of the migrants. Yet speaking out has been difficult.
“There is a fine line between us being frustrated and being [accused of being] racist. You have to be incredibly careful,” he says.
Rise of the Right
The migrant crisis has led to rising tensions and far-Right protests, with protesters shouting “out, out, out” and “Ireland is full”.
Dublin was engulfed by violent riots in November after an immigrant was rumoured to be behind a knife attack on three children and an adult.
There have also been more than 20 incidents of arson involving buildings rumoured to be intended to house migrants.
The Irish Freedom Party has no seats in the Dáil and remains on the fringes. But many people fear that if locals feel ignored by the Government, such sentiment could grow more common.
“There will always be small elements of people [who are far-Right], but 99pc are just citizens and communities worried about the future and the fact that they’re struggling day to day, and now this is going to exacerbate the situation,” says Finlay.
“They don’t get any answers or engagements from politicians. If the government wants a far-Right element, they are doing a brilliant job.”
He is undecided about whether to vote in the EU elections in June, but if he does he will choose an independent candidate who “has the balls to face up to the reality of what’s going on”.
One only has to look up at the posters hanging from every lamp post ahead of the European elections to get a sense of the discontent brewing under the surface.
Near the Grand Canal one independent candidate promises “no more tent city”.
‘Payback time’
In Drogheda, a poster of a pale woman with freckles and intensely green eyes says “something has gone very wrong with Ireland.”
“I have never in my lifetime seen as much anger, especially in the rural area of Ireland, as what is going on right now,” says Pat Davy, a local who has lived there all his life.
Ireland’s history of emigration means people have generally been very accepting of foreigners, says Des Grant, who owns the local paper.
But now the public is growing resentful of what have come to be regarded as handouts.
“The average person in the town will say when we as Irish travelled all around the world when things were desperate here, there were no hotels and taxis from the airport for us,” Grant says.
This is why it is crucial that the government does more to communicate with residents and solve issues around accommodation, says Henderson from the Irish Refugee Council.
“Don’t take away that last hotel. Get your accommodation strategy better. At the root of all this is a huge housing crisis that this government hasn’t got a grip of,” he says.
O’Dowd says the solution is having a “fair and firm system” where fingerprints are taken on day one and applications processed within three months.
But rich Western countries have to get used to people knocking on their doors looking for a better life, he says.
“Colonial countries like Britain and other European countries exploited Africa and Asia for political reasons 100 to 200 years ago. This is payback time, unfortunately.”
The Government in March said it intended to stop using hotels to house migrants in areas where they are in short supply.
But people in Drogheda say they have no faith they will see the D Hotel back in use any time soon.
“I don’t believe a thing the government says,” says Brian Moore back at the Mariner.
He believes his business will see out the storm, but admits “it will be tough”.
Source Agencies
