Opinion: Time we start demanding the resources we’ve long been denied
Speed limits on local roads have decreased to 60km/h as part of a Government strategy to reduce collisions and deaths on roads. Pic: Brian Lawless/PA Wire
Last Friday, as I set off to work, I found myself a little confused. News reports were buzzing about changes to speed limits on rural roads, but I couldn’t quite figure out how it applied to me.
As far as I’m concerned, all the roads around Loughglynn are what I would call rural roads. They run through rural Roscommon a place where "urban" is a foreign concept. With all due respect, Loughglynn is definitely not an urban settlement. Therefore, I assumed all roads in this area would fall under the new speed limit of 60 km/h. I knew the national roads were not being impacted, but I figured the rural roads were also the roads like the R293 from Ballaghaderreen to Ballyhaunis, The R325 through Loughglynn, to Ballaghaderreen and Castlerea, or the R326 towards Ballyhaunis.
It turns out, however, that it’s only roads with the "L" prefix on their road numbers that are seeing their speed limits cut to 60 km/h. For those of us who travel on these roads daily, it won’t have much of an impact. In fact, many of the L roads I drive on aren’t built for high speeds anyway, and most drivers weren’t reaching the old speed limit of 80 km/h to begin with. So for me, the change isn’t drastic. The R roads, after all, are untouched. But as I thought more about it, what struck me most wasn’t the speed limit itself—it was the way the whole thing had been communicated, or rather, “not’ communicated.
The announcement of the change was poorly advertised. There was no real publicity until the last minute, and even then, it was confusing. After the announcement, all we seemed to hear about was the increased likelihood of speed checks. But really do people seriously expect a patrol car with a speed gun to be hidden on narrow, winding roads, hoping to catch someone speeding? Most of us travel on these L roads for just a few miles as part of longer journeys between more substantial roads. Speeding is rarely the issue; these roads are just not suited for it. So why is this focus on enforcement, when, in reality, the roads themselves aren’t designed for high-speed travel?
But beyond the confusion around the speed limits, there’s a deeper frustration that I think speaks to a larger issue facing the people of rural Ireland: a sense of being constantly overlooked. Most of those impacted by these speed limit changes are people like me—those living outside the "magical fairyland" that is the Pale. The Pale, of course, is the region that seems to hold all the political power and decision-making weight in the country. If you happen to live west of the Shannon, it often feels like you’re stuck in the shadows, wishing for a bit of attention or at least equitable treatment.
If you don’t believe me, just ask the ESB customers who live in rural areas. They’ll tell you all about the lack of power and the frustrations they face when it comes to basic services like restoring electricity after a storm. Or look at how many government ministers hail from west of the Shannon. The answer is simple: It starts with an F and ends with “all.” Power, influence, and resources seem to be concentrated in the Pale, with the west left scrambling to catch up.
Take Roscommon, for example. Just last Friday, we celebrated the appointment of Gareth Scahill to the Senate as one of the Taoiseach’s 11 nominees. Don’t get me wrong—I like Gareth, and I’m genuinely delighted for him. He’s a great representative, especially considering he’s only been in elected office since last June. But here’s the reality: this appointment is considered a “major’ event for Roscommon because Gareth will now become the “second” person from the county to be in the Oireachtas. He joins Deputy Claire Kerrane from Tibohine. When you think about it, that’s a stark reflection of how little representation we have. In the past, we could usually count on at least three TDs and three Senators from the county. But now, we’re celebrating a single, solitary representative in the Senate. Is this a problem? Maybe. Does it matter? after all we have Galway TDs representing the constituency of Roscommon Galway. Is it entirely the fault of the people of Roscommon? Hardly.
This lack of representation extends beyond the halls of government. Just last week, I discussed the aftermath of the storm that hit Ireland, and it’s still shocking to me that some areas of Roscommon are still waiting over two weeks for their power to be restored. In an age when the rest of the country is back to business as usual, it’s hard not to feel that those of us in the west are once again being left behind. The storm’s aftermath wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was a matter of life and death. People were admitted to hospital with hypothermia and pneumonia caused by the lack of heat at home due to power and water outages. These are scary times.
It’s a constant frustration to feel as though the people and communities in rural Ireland are treated like an afterthought—our concerns and needs swept under the carpet.
Way back in 1989 on the weekend of the All-Ireland Final , there was a sign in Ballaghaderreen near Brian Kelly’s Electrical Shop that simply said, “Last one out, turn out the lights; first one back, light the fire.” It had a different context in ‘89, but I often think about it now. Soon, the lights may very well be out for good in many parts of the west—unless we start demanding the attention, respect, and resources we’ve long been denied.
