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OTwo Editor Cillian Howley describes the significance of the various stickers covering different parts of the city centre
Have you ever noticed the sheer amount of stickers plastered around the streets of Dublin? Traffic lights, road signs and bus stops serve a dual purpose. In addition to their intended function as markers to drivers and pedestrians, these poles have become a platform for protest, self-promotion and even scams. The messaging of these tiny bulletins varies greatly across the city. To get the word on the street, just take a look at the stickers.
It can be hard when rushing from place to place to read the tiny print of these stickers. You pass them everyday, but your brain likely filters out their content, deeming the information unworthy of digestion. It may only be when you’re forced to stop by a red light that you take a closer look. Even then, you might be more focused on spotting a suitable gap in traffic to get across or just looking down at your phone. As a more careful pedestrian, I so often find myself face to face with these poor man’s billboards. I catch myself rolling my eyes at some of them as if to indicate my morals to some non-existent hidden camera. The ugly AI-generated cartoons with the distinct putrid yellow filter are met with a head shake.
Temple Bar might be one of the most highly sticker-ed zones. And it's for good reason; it gets heavy foot traffic, though many of the gigs and events advertised have long passed. Glimpses of faded stickers peek out behind freshly placed ones. That's the thing about stickers; they tend to stick around. It's like looking back in time.
It's not just tattoo artists, DJs and indie singer-songwriters leaving their mark. It's also outrageously tall humanoids who are depositing their stickers only for the eyes of fellow giants. Or they're Olympic pole vaulters. Either way, whatever is being shilled must be top secret when it's eight feet up. What's not being obscured and are instead prominently displayed are the QR codes. Vague captions like “let’s connect” and “creatives wanted” seem too silly to fall for, yet some almost definitely have found themselves in that sticky situation.
Around O’Connell Street, the messaging is clear-cut. Busy bus stops are emblazoned with calls for Irish reunification. “Wipe out the Epstein class”, “Down with Fianna Fail” and “Class War” read stickers left by the Revolutionary Communists of Ireland. Stickers are an accessible, if unorthodox, way to become word on the street, literally. So, it's no surprise that much of their sentiment is anti-establishment, anti-capitalist and egalitarian. The dissatisfaction with the state of Irish politics is palpable. The angst expressed is easily understood with one sweeping glance of the hectic, dirty area that surrounds. Every shop needs a security guard and has a people begging at the entrance.
Some stickers add character, some tell stories. Rainbow stickers reading “Paid!” in block capitals on George’s St conjure an image of sausage rolls being consumed at three am outside Gay Spar after hours of drinking and dancing next door in The George. Or maybe it's the bored, sober office workers leaving them on their lunch breaks. Similarly, positive is the Palestinian solidarity that has touched, literally, every street, lane and alley in Dublin. This may be one of the few causes that has near-universal support amongst Irish people. Calls for boycotts, expletives and middle fingers directed at the IDF and “try peace” are among the messages left by activist groups and street artists.
Detractors could argue stickers are defacing public property and are vandalism. Still, stickers are less obstructive than people with clipboards and sign-up sheets. Bible bashers line Henry Street on the weekends trying to spread the word of the Lord. Pushy pamphlet givers might convert a few, but for the most part those papers will end up cluttering the streets when discarded by passersby too polite to decline. Stickers, funnily enough, stick around as well, but instead they cling to the surfaces upon which they were placed. At least they cannot be heard (in an unmistakably American voice) decrying modern society and insisting “Jesus is coming” over booming speakers. The last thing we need is imported Christianity. God help us all.
Other than those trying to defraud you, stickers are mostly harmless. They serve as little windows into different parts of the city. My advice for those who don’t like them? Keep ignoring them.