ALL over Europe, local authorities - and governments too - are trying to grapple with the appalling legacy of system-built, high-rise housing. What was seen in the 1950s and 1960s as a quick technical fix, even as a heroic response to housing needs, is now widely acknowledged as a disaster, not least for the people who have had to live with it.

When Jacques Chirac assumed office as President of France, one of the first things he advised his cabinet to do was to go to the movies. Chirac had been particularly affected by Mathieu Kassovitz's film, La Haine (The Hatred), which portrays the hopelessness of life in the bleak, high-rise ghettos on the periphery of Paris, and he wanted all of his ministers to see it.

Of course, it will take more than a movie to put matters right. But at least Chirac's gesture shows that there is now a general acceptance, even on the political Right, of the need to break the link which clearly exists between poor housing conditions on the one hand, and the nihilistic culture of crime and drugs on the other.

In Ireland, too, what used to be known as the working class has been the subject of similarly crude experiments in social engineering - from the classic high-rise, low-density layout of Ballymun to the congested low-rise, high-density plan of Darndale, to the sprawling estates on the western outskirts of Dublin, all bereft of adequate facilities

We now have an opportunity to atone for past mistakes, beginning in Ballymun. Dublin Corporation, having toyed with the idea of renovating the tower and spine blocks indeed, one tower and two of the 19 spine blocks were refurbished in 1993 for £6.7 million - has concluded that demolishing most of the estate is now the only option.

Following an evaluation by consultants, the corporation has submitted proposals to demolish the six unrefurbished towers and renovate the rest of the eight-storey spine blocks, at a cost of £110 million. But treating a latent defect in the wall panels, which also applies to the three blocks refurbished in 1993, would bring the bill to £144 million.

Demolition and replacement of all seven towers and 19 spine blocks, plus refurbishment of the 10 four-storey blocks of "walk-up" flats, is put at £170 million. In other words, it would be nearly as cheap to demolish and rebuild Ballymun as it would be to refurbish the existing, fatally-flawed high-rise blocks. All it would take is the Government's say-so.

"At the political level, it is recognised that there is a big problem to be solved in Ballymun," said one well-placed source. "It has turned out to be Ireland's worst social experiment, based on the notion that families could live in high-rise housing. For the majority of people living there, especially single mothers with no child support, it's absolute madness."

The local left-wing TDs, Roisin Shorthall (Labour) and Proinsias De Rossa (DL), have been particularly active in lobbying for change. Mr De Rossa, as Minister for Social Welfare, is in a position to press the case for Ballymun in Cabinet, but Ms Shorthall who has her constituency office in one of the towers - has also been pushing hard on the issue.

Earlier this year, she brought the Minister for the Environment, Mr Howlin, on a tour of Ballymun so that he could see the problems for himself. He is now convinced that there is an opportunity to do something really imaginative - to make the rebuilding of Ballymun the Government's principal millennium project. The only barrier is money.

Mr Howlin's idea is believed to be the subject of a memorandum to his Cabinet colleagues, which is expected to be considered soon. He has already received some political support - notably from Mr De Rossa - but has yet to make a breakthrough. As an architect, the Minister for Finance, Mr Quinn, ought to be on his side.

Demolition is also favoured by the coalition of community groups in Ballymun. The real question is what mechanism should be devised to replace the towers with housing more suited to the needs of the tenants. This will require extensive - and meaningful consultation with the community, but it needs to go beyond that if we are to get the right result.

As far as the corporation is concerned, the design of a new-look Ballymun can be faithfully entrusted to the city architect's department. But the scale of the task, as well as the need to right a historic wrong, is so monumental that it demands nothing less than a major urban design competition to produce a model town for the 21st century.

Nobody would suggest that the design should be handed down like a tablet of stone from the top of the mountain. Local residents would have to be involved in drawing up the brief, in collaboration with the corporation.

An effective steering group could be formed by all of the main "players" - representing the corporation, the Ballymun Task Force, the Eastern Health Board, relevant Government departments and the community itself - to oversee the project and plan major initiatives in education, employment, health and social welfare, around a new town.

Its design would obviously have to take on board all we've learned in recent years about energy conservation, sustainable development, mixed uses, traffic calming and information technology. Is there any reason, for example, why every house shouldn't be plugged into the Internet? Also, with a Luas line to Ballymun now firmly on the agenda, its potential is surely unlimited.

THE project would have to be phased over, say, eight to 10 years - particularly because it would involve "decanting" such a large number of residents, as the high-rise blocks are demolished and replaced by more humane housing. That, too, underlines the need for an overall, strategic plan.

Uniformity must be avoided, however. The new town of Ballymun should be a recognisably urban place characterised by diversity - more like Rathmines than, say, Killinarden. It might also - though this is a long-shot in such a stratified city as Dublin - be socially mixed, with a certain proportion of the housing built by developers for private sale.

The ever-expanding Dublin City University campus is not far away, so there would clearly be scope for some student accommodation in the new town. Ballymun might even be reintegrated with surrounding areas, which turned their backs on it through such value-laden gestures as changing the name of Ballymun Avenue to Glasnevin Avenue.

Perhaps, this is understandable. After all, Ballymun became a symbol of deprivation and social exclusion and everything that's bad about public housing. "I see seven towers, but only one way out," Bono sings on one of U2's earlier albums, The Joshua Tree. The only way out, for too many young people in Ballymun, was via drugs.

But this benighted housing estate, the pup that was sold to Neil Blaney by the system-building industry, could yet become a symbol of renewal. The structural faults in the high-rise blocks make it almost inevitable that they will have to be demolished sooner or later. However, it is not just a question of money, but of vision, too.

There can be no doubt that there was an architectural imperative to build Ballymun. At the time it was conceived, high-rise housing was the "done thing" in Britain and the Continent and we felt we had to acquire at least one large estate of tower and spine blocks, deposited in what turned out to be bleak and windswept open spaces.

We rarely get an opportunity to rewrite history. And with the new millennium just three years away, we also need something to celebrate. All sorts of notions are floating around, some even more wacky and ephemeral than the "Time in the Slime". However, in rebuilding Ballymun we would be doing something which would last.

All it needs is a signal from the Government that it's prepared to go along with it.