New late-night welfare zone including medic and security launches in Dublin city centre
Dublin City Council has announced the launch of a new late-night welfare zone in Dublin city centre.
The Dublin Nights Help Zone, supported by the Department of Justice, is designed to provide support to individuals who may need assistance during a night out in the city — whether they're feeling unwell, overwhelmed, or simply in need of a calm and friendly place to regroup.
The Help Zone will operate as a clearly branded mobile unit stationed on busy Camden Street, running every Friday and Saturday night from 10:00 PM to 3:00 AM, starting 4 July 2025, for a six to eight week pilot period. Nicknamed "The Nee-Naw", it will be staffed by a dedicated welfare team, including a medic, welfare officer, two trained security personnel, and a site operator.
Ray O'Donoghue, Dublin's Night-Time Economy Advisor, said: 'While officially known as the Dublin Nights Help Zone, the service will also be affectionately referred to in public as 'The Nee-Naw,' chosen to make the service feel more approachable and easier to identify. It's about making sure help is visible, stigma-free, and easy to access.'
Funded by the Department of Justice, this initiative reinforces a commitment to community-based safety and harm reduction in Ireland's night-time economy. The Dublin Nights Help Zone is part of the national Night-Time Economy Advisor Pilot Scheme, promoting innovative, people-centred approaches to creating safer, more inclusive cities after dark.
Richard Shakespeare, Chief Executive of Dublin City Council, said: 'The Dublin Nights Help Zone is a practical, people-focused initiative that supports our goal of making Dublin a safer, more welcoming city at night.
"By providing real-time welfare support in a key nightlife area, this pilot demonstrates how cities can actively support vibrant night-time activity while prioritising public safety and well-being.'
Join our Dublin Live breaking news service on WhatsApp. Click this link to receive your daily dose of Dublin Live content. We also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. If you're curious, you can read our Privacy Notice .
For all the latest news from Dublin and surrounding areas visit our homepage .
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Irish Times
06-08-2025
- Irish Times
One Night in Dublin ... out with the city's street cleaners: Smashed bottles, vomit, urine and worse
Discarded fast-food, pizza boxes, smashed bottles, burst black bags, vomit, blood, urine and human faeces – these are the staples strewn across the workplace of the capital's street cleaners as they start a weekend morning shift. It's 6am on Sunday. Drury Street, metres from Dublin's premier shopping thoroughfare Grafton Street, is ground zero for Dublin City Council 's army of sweepers, power-washers, sanitisers and vacuum-cleaners. 'This is the hotspot,' says Sean-Michael Larkin, the council's waste services manager. READ MORE This morning he is overseeing 38 cleaning operatives and drivers, bolstered by a number of contractors. 'Temple Bar was the hot spot. It is still very busy there, but since Covid this area is party central,' he says of the partially pedestrianised Drury Street and surrounding streets. Making his way towards Lower Stephen Street it is clear the aftermath of a weekend night in the capital is not only unsightly but potentially hazardous. There is a huge amount of broken glass – wine, beer and spirits bottles as well as smashed drinking glasses – along with discarded nitrous oxide canisters, congealing food and human waste. Sean-Michael Larkin manages a team of cleaners for Dublin City Council. Photograph: Dan Dennison 'That's more than likely kitchen waste,' says Larkin, gesturing to a mound of potato peelings and prawn shells. 'It's more than likely one of the private contractors [bin collectors] lifted an overflowing bin and it's spillage that DCC [Dublin City Council] will have to clean up.' Two council workers wearing bright yellow gilets sweep debris from the paths on to the road. Repeatedly Larkin stoops down to move bottles and cartons from ledges on to the road, for the oncoming 'Multihog'. Members of the street cleaning team at work in Dublin 1. Photograph: Dan Dennison The road will soon be swept by this 'machine sweeper', says Larkin. The 'Multihog' is a slow-moving vehicle that travels at about 8km-10km per hour with large rotating brushes that sweep then suck up all before it – glass, cans, chip-boxes or mashed-up pizza. Overhead and at ground level are seagulls with their relentless cacophony. 'They are a protected species. I have no idea why. But they are nightmare for us. They open everything,' says Larkin. At the turn to South William Street, by a well-known pizza spot, two gulls are pulling slices from a torn bag on the ground, throwing their heads back and swallowing their cold breakfast whole. Seagulls pose a huge problem for waste management in the city centre. Photograph: Dan Dennison 'They know their spots,' says Larkin. 'They have sampled every food on offer in the city. They know where they like to go.' It's 6.15am. The Multihog having already cleared this stretch, South William Street is now being power-washed. Neil Wrigley, night supervisor with PMAC stone and masonry cleaning contractors, describes what they have cleaned. Neil Wrigley is a contractor hired by Dublin City Council to pressure wash the streets overnight and into early morning. Photograph: Dan Dennison 'We are removing all the stains left from last night. There's been puke, pee, two pools of blood over there,' he says, pointing towards Castle Market. 'There was a human poo there,' he grimaces, looking towards the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre. 'We put a bit of pine in the hot water. It just makes the place smell better. The smell of urine is not nice. [ One Night in Dublin ... with the bouncers at Copper Face Jacks: Once you're gone, you're gone Opens in new window ] [ One Night in Dublin ... at the museum: A nocturnal walkabout at the Irish Museum of Modern Art Opens in new window ] 'We clean 44 streets over Saturday and Sunday – all over the northside and southside, with six vans.' Wrigley, who has been removing overnight filth from the streets for a decade, likes the work. 'There is great pride in getting the city back up and running. We see it every morning, the place, how bad it is and then how good we leave it,' he says. The council have their own wash teams too, says Larkin. There is 525 operational and 32 administrative staff in street-cleaning services, with crews out almost 24 hours a day, seven days a week. 'We run a night team, working from 10pm to 5.30am six nights a week – washing and street-cleaning. That is going up to seven nights a week. Another crew starts at 6am to 2pm and then another from 2pm to 10pm,' says Larkin. [ A night with the Dublin Fire Brigade: 'I didn't recognise my former colleague until he was pronounced dead' Opens in new window ] The team also includes drivers in larger sweeping and cleaning trucks, the Johnston 600s, and staff operating large sweeping/vacuuming machines known as 'madvacs' pushed and manoeuvred on footpaths. And then there are the crews emptying and re-bagging more than 3,200 bins across the city, of which just under 1,000 are within the 4km of the city-centre. Onwards towards Dame Street, there are multitudes of tourists already on the move. Dozens are gathered at the Molly Malone statue on Andrew Street, likely waiting for a tour bus, at about 6.30am. At Temple Bar Square Peter Flanagan is one of two operatives sweeping a sea of takeaway bags, cartons and other debris on to Fownes Street for removal by a Multihog. 'This is not too bad really,' says Flanagan. 'Some mornings it can be a hell of a lot worse. Sure you could have 100 bins there and they'd still throw it everywhere.' Up Crow Street, towards Dame Street and more bags filled with restaurant waste, including packaging, are split open. If the weather is good, there is often more rubbish to clean up. Photograph: Dan Dennison Larkin believes these may have been upended by people looking for empty cans and plastic bottles to exchange in the Re-Turn deposit scheme. 'I call them the Re-Turn entrepreneurs. It's a new issue we face,' he says. He is hopeful the removal of the derogation that allows city centre business use plastic bags to dispose of waste, from September, will reduce this spilt rubbish dramatically. 'They are a real issue for us. They are cheap and cheerful but they mean rubbish is everywhere,' he says. On Grafton Street, destitute people are sleeping in doorways as council staff sweep. 'We work around the homeless,' says Larkin. 'Once they are gone, we come back and remove the cardboard [on which many bed down] and any other waste. It is a sensitive issue but generally we have good relationship with them. There is a large human element to this work.' Shortly after 7am, back at Drury Street, Philip Clarke is sweeping up the last remnants of debris. Early morning on Drury Street. Photograph: Dan Dennison 'The wife says I am the best hooverer, the best floor washer,' he says, laughing. 'I had good naval training washing the decks. I was in the naval reserve for five years – got them decks shipshape and Bristol fashion.' On the same shift two weeks ago the street was 'a sea of glass ... there were cars doing U-turns ... they couldn't come up here,' he says. Asked why the scene was so bad he mentions high temperatures over the weekend of July 12th and 13th. 'The weather plays a big part. People come into town, drink, enjoy themselves. If the weather is good the mess the next day will be really bad,' he says. 'The worst thing that could happen would be if they extended the licensing hours. We'd never get in to clean up after them. 'Now, the clubs close around 3am and people are gone home by 4am so you have that window of opportunity. If nightclubs weren't closing until six in the morning, sure they'd still be in town when we're coming on. We'd never clean it.' In his job since 2001, he takes great pride in the work. 'When we come on it looks like a bomb is after hitting the place,' he says. After the team has cleaned Drury Street, Dublin. Photograph: Dan Dennison 'But in the space of two hours, the place is licked clean, ready to hand it back to the people.'
RTÉ News
05-08-2025
- RTÉ News
131 derelict buildings recorded in Dublin city
The number of derelict buildings in Dublin city has increased by almost 80% in the last four years. Dublin City Council's Derelict Sites Register, which tracks properties in the capital that have fallen into a dilapidated state, shows a jump from 74 at the end of January 2021, to 131 in July of this year. However, the local authority has now taken ownership of Neary's Bar and Hotel on Parnell Street, a building that has been derelict for so long one elderly inner-city resident says he barely remembers it as a functioning business. "I only vaguely remember it to be honest, I couldn't tell you much about," he said. "I'm in my 70s, and from the inner city, and I would remember it more the way it is now, than when it was a workplace. I notice dereliction a lot in the city. I walk around a lot, and I see it everywhere." Asked what he would like to see the property repurposed as, he said: "We need to turn it into flats for people to live in. Not another hotel, Ireland has enough of those. Accommodation is what we need most for sure." Dublin City Council has said that there are currently 131 properties on its derelict sites register and it currently has no plans to acquire any more. However, co-founder of the Derelict Ireland movement, Dr Frank O'Connor, has said that the number does not reflect the reality of dereliction in the capital. "You'll find there's a huge inconsistency across the country in terms of how local authorities tackle dereliction," he said. "From our work across the country, we generally find that the recorded numbers of derelict properties are far lower than the actual number, and from the data we have collected, Dublin is no different. "We see so much dereliction in Dublin, and it has a huge impact on the community. They lose out on the potential that property could offer to the area. I don' think there has been the cultural or political will to tackle the issue for the last number of decades, but that is starting to change. If you chat to people on the street now, they want change." Change may be made possible through a new statutory instrument called a Special Purpose Vehicle. Green Party Councillor for Dublin' North Inner City, Janet Horner, explains how it can be employed to combat dereliction in Dublin. "The Special Purpose Vehicle is proposed as part of the Taoiseach's Task Force recommendations, but it really comes from Dublin City Council as an idea. "Essentially, it provides for the creation of a development company, wholly owned by the city council," she said. "Because it's a development company, it's allowed to do things a little bit differently than the city council would be empowered to do. For example, it would to be able to acquire properties outside of the Compulsory Purchase Order process. "It enables the council to take risks in relation to derelict properties in a way that it otherwise wouldn't." "If you look around the wider O'Connell Street area, along Abbey Street, Parnell Street and Marlborough Street, there are significant derelict and vacant sites there and that is a prime place where the city council needs to be intervening and actually acquiring those properties." Dublin City Council has said that almost €9.9 million in fines for dereliction are outstanding in 2025, and Cllr Hornet said that is something that needs immediate attention. "It isn't easy to chase these things and pursue them to the courts, but it is really necessary," she said. "We have to be using that power to the maximum the potential of the city. Dublin needs to be alive and derelict sites are antisocial to the city."
Irish Times
05-08-2025
- Irish Times
‘Just be in the present moment': the tyranny of western McMindfulness
Sometimes, the present moment is precisely what we need. Sometimes, it is unbearable. The present moment is not a benign psychological state of calm and tranquillity; it is to be approached with caution because it is potent with possibility and the potential to unravel our cobbled-together lives. 'Just be in the present moment,' we might say to the overstretched parent, the struggling adolescent, the commuter getting home in the dark or the junior doctor 11 hours into another Friday night working in A&E. Often this is a heartfelt and well-intended response to witnessing our fellow humans in distress; an expression of a genuine desire to offer comfort and support. However, this is not always the wisest response; it ignores what we know about the human mind, obscures the structural issues that underpin much human distress and runs the risk of victim blaming. READ MORE Like every generation before us, when faced with the inevitable challenges of being human, we seek simple solutions to complex problems. We turn to our contemporary healers seeking a balm or a quick fix for the troubled heart and mind and the exhausted body. And now, more than ever, we place our hope, perhaps too readily, in the promise of the present moment, overestimating its power and mistaking it for a cure. These minds of ours seem to have minds of their own sometimes. Racing ahead, spiralling back, caught in loops or worry and scenes we never meant to replay. There is little doubt that the human mind needs to be rescued from the rollercoaster of worry and rumination, the cycle of graphic catastrophisation we are all gripped by from time to time. However, the imperative to simply 'be in the present moment' is often a well-meant but naive response that fails to grasp the complexity of the human mind. The 'just be in the present moment' cultural obsession has taken firm root over the past two decades, emerging in part from the oversimplification of mindfulness meditation. This trend has been described as 'McMindfulness': a westernised, reductive, fast-food version of Eastern meditation practices, stripped of their ethical and moral foundations. [ Anyone else had their fill of mindfulness? Opens in new window ] Experienced meditators might smile at the naive expectation that one could inhabit the present at will or, indeed, remain there for prolonged periods of time. Or that 'being in the present moment' is a straightforward choice; like flipping a switch and we're suddenly in the arms of the present moment, luxuriating in contentment and calm. Worryingly, the present-moment obsession locates the source of distress firmly within the individual, overlooking the structural and systemic conditions that underlie so much human distress. In so doing, the concept of 'the present moment' is co-opted to serve an increasingly individualistic and meritocratic social narrative. The current obsession with the present moment also plays into the lucrative wellness culture we find ourselves immersed in. A wellness culture that also seeks to exist in the absence of meaningful social critique. This culture places an unsustainable burden on individual bodies and minds, demanding self-optimisation without addressing the broader conditions that cause distress. In such a culture underpinned by insatiable individualism, we find ourselves stumbling towards a new kind of exhaustion, present-moment burn out. Sometimes, the present moment is simply too much to bear. Sometimes, it's too painful. Sometimes it's overwhelming. And fundamentally, that is not a failure of will; it is simply not how the human brain works. Advances in neuroscience tell us the brain does not behave like a machine, responding to commands, and switching gears on command. It is the product of millenniums of evolution, shaped to anticipate, remember and protect. It does not yield easily to commands such as 'just relax', 'don't be worrying' or 'be in the present moment'. Our brains are primed for vigilance, to detect threats, escape danger and act fast, not linger and reflect. This immediacy and reactivity once gave our ancestors a survival advantage in a threat-ridden world. It's a 'better safe than sorry' brain in the main; reflection weighing the pros and cons comes later; survival comes first. The human brain's ability to psychologically avoid and deny the present moment is a highly evolved way of protecting ourselves from being overwhelmed. At times it might be the only option, even the wisest one, when life's harshness is unrelenting, when the forces of social and economic deprivation offer no reprieve, and when the lottery of life seems incessantly cruel. [ Has mindfulness become just another wing of capitalism? Opens in new window ] 'Just be in the present moment' can be a brutal ask that risks exposing the human heart and soul to more than they can bear. In the face of adversity, temporary emotional avoidance may be precisely what's called for. Denial, so often maligned by present-moment enthusiasts, can in fact be our ally. It can serve as an adaptive, protective and even compassionate reflex in the face of the cruelty we can encounter as we make our way through this life. The danger lies in becoming trapped in a pattern of denial: the psychological toll involved in persistent denial is considerable. A little denial can go a long way, but we get into trouble when avoidance becomes a way of life. A life lived in a continual state of denial and avoidance will blunt all of life; we risk living a life that feels hollowed out, flattened. In the present moment we are invited to bow to our smallness and insignificance, where we recognise our place in the vast web of existence, our place in the 'family of things' as the poet Mary Oliver described it. The immensity of the universe is laid bare when the present moment is encountered; this immensity slowly and softly reveals itself to us, offering an invitation to breathe deeply and live more wholeheartedly. In the presence of this moment, our interconnectedness is felt viscerally again, as if for the first time. The present moment pulls the rug from beneath us, uproots us from an anaesthetised individualism and reawakens us to the sharpness and subtlety of our shared humanity. Our long-standing ill-at-ease, out-of-sorts hen on a hot griddle eventually gives way to a bewildering vastness: sparkling with marvellousness and insignificance, tipsy on the freedom of it all. Our current cultural obsession with the present moment often obscures its radical potential, attempting to neutralise its potency. The present moment does not exist in an abeyance of our past or our imagined future. The present moment is never cut off from our past or imagined future; it is carried on the wings of memory and anticipation, rooted in what has been and lifted by what might be. The present moment, nestled quietly here, is not a refuge of sameness or shallow calm. It is the threshold where the familiar comforts of predictability begin to loosen, making space for the life that has been quietly waiting for us all along. Dr Paul D'Alton is associate professor at the school of psychology, UCD
