Anyone over 40 will remember the thrill of seeing Liberty Hall for the first time. It shone like a beacon of modernity, a symbol of the transformation of Dublin from the black-and-white era of drab tenements in the Georgian slums to an almost blinding technicolour future laden with all sorts of possibilities.
The city, we thought innocently, was dusting off its old cobwebs and embracing the 20th century. Gazing in awe at what was then the Republic's tallest building, it seemed to us that Dublin had arrived at last.
Liberty Hall is now a shabby monument to misplaced optimism as well as being an unfortunate addition to the visual clutter around the Custom House. Equally, few can be found today to say a good word about O'Connell Bridge House or about the cluster of taller-than-average office blocks in and around Poolbeg Street, of which Hawkins House is unquestionably the most odious. Indeed, it was the appearance of this group in the 1960s that persuaded Dublin Corporation to adopt stricter policies aimed at protecting the city's low-rise skyline.
Over the past year or so, there has been a renewed debate about the appropriateness or otherwise of high buildings in the city. The development lobby is quite gung-ho about the prospect and even seems to have stolen a march on the planners with audacious schemes such as that proposed for George's Quay, directly opposite the Custom House, or the immensely more ambitious £1 billion development earmarked for a 50-acre site at Spencer Dock and North Wall Quay, where the long-delayed National Conference Centre is to be located.
The corporation's decision to grant permission for the George's Quay scheme, subject to the height of its central glazed tower being reduced from 100 to 80 metres, is currently under appeal to An Bord Pleanala by no less than 10 parties - including the Dublin Docklands Development Authority (DDDA). A large question mark also hangs over Spencer Dock, not least because of uncertainty over whether it will go through the normal planning process or be dealt with by a deeply sceptical DDDA under its fast-track "Section 25" process.
For some, the scheme unveiled recently for Spencer Dock by the renowned Irish emigre architect Kevin Roche recalls the opening credits of Dallas. For others, it is reminiscent of "the bits of New York that don't work, like Battery Park City". Certainly, there can be no gainsaying its enormous scale - with a central tower rising to a height of 128.3 metres, flanked by a virtual wall of office buildings up to 84.3 metres high and surrounded by hotels, apartments and landscaped spaces, as if Canary Wharf had come to Dublin.
The tallest building at Spencer Dock would be even higher than the Millennium spire planned for the site of Nelson Pillar in O'Connell Street. But whereas the spire, at 120 metres (or nearly 400 feet), would be a slender, tapering stainless steel piece of sculpture rising from a base of just three metres (less than 10 feet), the tower proposed for Spencer Dock would be a serious building - albeit lightened by its blue-tinted glazed curtain walls - and its impact on the skyline would inevitably be compounded by its high-rise neighbours.
THE justification being offered by the developers, led by Treasury Holdings, is that almost six million square feet of ancillary development is required to support the inherently loss-making conference centre - a "must have" project, according to the city manager, John Fitzgerald. He believes that Dublin can't afford to set its face against a facility which promises a substantial economic spin-off. But whether Dubliners, or even the corporation itself, can swallow the enormous scale of what is now being proposed is open to question.
The corporation's development plan, still in draft form, takes a more relaxed view of height by removing or rewriting many of the restrictions contained in the current city plan, adopted in 1991. Its new approach, amplified by a policy document published in November, concedes that high buildings "represent a major change in the city's basic form and character" and says that any such change "must be set within a well-directed and controlled framework". That sounds fine as far as it goes, but where is it likely to lead us?
The city manager, supported by an influential faction of senior corporation officials, believes there are locations in the city that could take high buildings; these would include Docklands and even some suburban areas where "focal points" could relieve the monotony of their low-rise scale. In this context, the Phibsboro Tower, another grim legacy from the 1960s, can hardly be regarded as a useful precedent, though the policy document notes that Ardoyne House, which looms over Herbert Park in Ballsbridge, "is not deemed objectionable".
Neither could anyone seriously criticise the new 17-storey apartment block at the corner of Charlotte Quay, on a pivotal site in the Grand Canal Docks area. Designed by O'Mahony Pike Architects for the much-maligned Zoe Developments Ltd, it fits in quite elegantly, mimicking the profile of a nearby grain silo on the inner dock. It has no impact whatever on the city centre skyline; seen from a distance or up close, this slender white tower is surely an example of how high buildings can contribute positively to the urban environment.
WHAT the corporation's new policy spectacularly fails to do, however, is to specify precisely where high buildings - defined as "those which significantly exceed the general building height of their surroundings" - might be built. This could have been done by carrying out a detailed visual analysis of the city, identifying the locations which could "take" a tall building. No such study has been undertaken, apparently because there wasn't enough time to do it; in effect, we are now navigating into dangerous waters without the aid of an Admiralty chart.
There has been a lively public debate about the Millennium spire, designed by Ian Ritchie, a highly-regarded London-based architect, and chosen from 205 entries in an international competition. Some have expressed criticism of the "faceless" nature of the adjudication process, arguing that the public should have had a role in it. But in the 1988 Pillar Project ideas competition, what the public voted for was a huge triumphal arch - perhaps not realising that it would have been twice the height of the GPO and bulky enough to sever O'Connell Street.
Dick Gleeson, the corporation's deputy chief planning officer, sees the spire as a "wonderfully clean, abstract piece of art" that will help to transform the image of O'Connell Street; I have no doubt that he is right. People may agree or disagree with the spire, but the decision has been made. However, they ought to have some input into any significant change in the policy on high buildings. With amendments to the city plan on public display over the next few weeks, they have an opportunity to make their views known.