As riots and racist assaults surge across Ireland, Tejaswini Vaka asks: how do UCD’s ethnic minority students make sense of fear, belonging, and Irish identity?
Dissimilar stories, similar violences
A six-year-old girl was punched, assaulted in the genitalia with a bike, and told to go back to her country by a gang of teenage boys in County Waterford in August. Nia Naveen was born and raised in Ireland.
Naveen’s family is from Kottayam, Kerala, and her mother is a nurse, a frontline worker who has supported the Irish healthcare system for 8 years. This horrific assault was only one instance in a wave of assaults targeting South Asian immigrants this summer.
According to the Irish Network Against Racism, reported racist incidents have been rising sharply, with more than 700 logged in 2022 — the highest number since records began. A boiling point was evidently seen in November 2023, where far-right groups rioted in Dublin city-centre, looting shops, setting a Luas on fire, and harassing anybody who wasn’t ‘Irish’ in their eyes.
Oumba Kodia, a Chemical Engineering student at UCD, recalls sneaking around in fear to get his train back home that night. “Since then,” says Oumba, “I’ve tried not to take alleyways and avoid the Luas after 9pm.” Oumba is a second-generation immigrant that moved to Ireland in 2014. He has been a student in Irish education since 12. Oumba recounts his earliest experience of racism at around that age, in the first year of secondary school.
“A couple of Irish kids decided to make a game called the N-pass,” he says, “And the objective of the game was for an Irish or Caucasian classmate to ask a black person for the N-pass and once you give it to them, it opened a window for them to be openly racist without repercussions.” At 12, Oumba himself was unaware of what the word meant, only finding out later they were referring to a racial slur.
In March 2024, Josip Štrok and his childhood friend David Družinec, were brutally attacked by two young men aged 18 and 19 in Clondalkin. They were enraged by the two friends speaking in Croatian and followed them on the 13 Dublin bus before assailing them with a baseball bat. The two Croatian nationals had worked in Ireland for several years as carpenters. Štrok died in emergency care four days after the attack, and Družinec sustained several fractures.
What do a six-year-old Irish-born girl, two Croatian nationals, and a second-generation immigrant have in common? Not their ages, nor ethnicities, languages spoken, nor citizenships. They did not directly take the jobs of the assailants, nor their housing opportunities. Yet, they experienced similar unforgettable violences in their homes, a pattern that is emerging rather comfortably now in Ireland.
What they share is the fact that they don’t fit the monolithic, nationalist Irish identity demanded by perpetrators of such violences.
What is Irish identity?
According to the Central Statistics Office, immigration to Ireland has steadily increased since 2011, with the largest population increase of 149,000 people seen between 2023 to 2024. Driven by refugees and growing global middle-class mobility, many migrants are actively recruited by Irish companies to fill labour gaps in healthcare, construction, tech, research, hospitality, and more.
While migrants overrepresent the very sectors that keep the Irish GDP high, many Irish youths are disempowered by the very nationalist identity that violently campaigns against immigration. Samantha is a Stage 2 Biomedical, Health, and Life Sciences student at UCD. They are a first-generation immigrant born and raised in Ireland.
How can I feel a very strong identity for something when I’m always being questioned on it?
“People are always giving me that look,” Samantha says, “Like, where are you really from? How can I feel a very strong identity for something when I’m always being questioned on it?... There's certainly a sense of loss. I don't know if I can call myself Irish. It’s easier for me to say I'm Nigerian, but I was born in Ireland.”
Following the sexual assault of a young girl for which two Romanian teenagers were detained, riots erupted in Ballymena, Country Antrim in June. Spearheaded by the deceptive intentions of protecting women and girls in Northern Ireland, modern-day loyalist paramilitaries attacked six houses, four of which were set on fire. The windows of one such home were smashed; its occupants threatened with death and their bikes stolen. Five Filipino factory workers, who worked for Wrightbus, lived in this home.
Health, sanitation, transport, elderly care — like many first-world countries, Irish infrastructure has long relied on immigrants as invisible pillars of its society. Employers are dependent on migrant workers to fill low paying jobs as well, while far-right groups mobilise to hate-crime immigrants under the pretext of protecting the interests of the Irish youth.
“I’ve heard of ‘Irish future’ – what does that mean? Everybody they’ve attacked is also part of ‘Irish future’,” says Samantha.
The complacency of higher-level education
As of now, there is no publicly available evidence from UCD or other institutions regarding structural changes or disciplinary actions tied to the riots, or the several other emerging xenophobic and ethno-racial targeted violences. While UCD prides itself on having a significant international student body of 11,500+ students from 152 countries, there is still no concrete avenue where students can discuss concerns of identity and safety.
Further, youth programs targeting juveniles in Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland remain largely voluntary and lack funding. Gardaì often refer young perpetrators of violent crimes to counselling rather than punishment, reinforcing their confidence in no repercussions.
In response to what changes they would like to see at higher-level institutions, Samantha and Oumba both believe more needs to be done for students of ethnic minorities to feel safer.
“In my opinion, I feel like a couple of posters aren’t enough,” says Oumba. “‘Say no to racism’ is a good initiative but there’s no active phone line or space to come and share your story [regarding ethnic violence]. I feel UCD should do more.”
“Strong stances. Extra financial support. Spaces for us to flourish and have chats about these things that are happening.” says Samantha. “Accountability, honestly.”
Their stories may be different, but the violences they’ve endured reveals the same truth: Ireland must decide who belongs – and what future it faces if migrants, the backbone of its society, are driven away.