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6 min read

The rough sleeper: an icon of injustice

Each rough sleeper is a raw illustration of injustice. On an awareness day for both homelessness and mental health, Jon Kuhrt reflects on the root causes and yet sees hope.

Jon Kuhrt is CEO of Hope into Action, a homelessness charity. He is a former government adviser on how faith groups address rough sleeping.

A black and white close up of the weather-beaten and wrinkled face and beard of a homeless man.
Portrait of a homeless man in Prague.
Ales Dusa on Unsplash.

In 2016, five-year Brooke Blair became an internet sensation after a video of her berating Prime Minister Theresa May went viral. As she put it, she was ‘very angry’: 

“Yesterday night, I was out on the streets, and saw a hundred and a million of homeless people. I saw one with floppy ears, I saw loads. You should be out there, Theresa May. You should be, biscuits! Hot chocolate, sandwiches, you should be building houses. Look, I'm only five-years-old. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm saving up money but there'll never be enough. You've got the pot of money, spend some and help people.” 

The video struck a chord because a young girl was passionately expressing the distress, anger, sympathy and bewilderment that so many feel when seeing people sleep rough in such a wealthy country.   

The image of a rough sleeper is an icon of poverty. And just as religious icons represent the sacred, so does each person sleeping rough. 

Each rough sleeper is a raw illustration of injustice and social breakdown.  The structural issues of poverty and inequality crystalize in the plight of a vulnerable person huddling in a doorway. In them we see an amalgam of both political failure and personal tragedy. 

It's personal because we know that each person has a different story about what led them onto the streets. We will always be moved far more by a person than any statistic.  

The image of a rough sleeper is an icon of poverty. And just as religious icons represent the sacred, so does each person sleeping rough. A precious human of infinite worth, imprinted with the divine, living in destitution. And just as restoring fragile religious icons is a specialist job, so the task of restoring those who have been homeless is often complex and intricate work. 

Today, 10 October, is both World Homeless Day and World Mental Health Day. The two are closely intertwined. It’s a good day to reflect on the nature of homelessness and what we can do in the work of restoration. 

We cannot simply remove the tip of the iceberg without addressing the deeper issues ... The water is getting colder and the iceberg is growing. 

Rough sleeping is just the tip of a far bigger homelessness iceberg. It receives the most attention because it’s visible and visceral. But it is just a small fraction of the total number of people who have no settled home who exist underneath the waterline: those sleeping in temporary shelters, hostels and squats, sofa-surfing or placed in B&Bs. 

It’s the visibility of rough sleeping that gives it political capital.  Whilst in power, Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair, Theresa May and Boris Johnson all launched high profile initiatives with ambitious targets to reduce or end rough sleeping. 

In 2018, I was seconded from the Christian charity I was working for into the Civil Service as a specialist adviser on rough sleeping. In the four years I spent in this role I worked under four different Prime Ministers and six different homelessness ministers. Despite some significant progress made before and during the pandemic, the numbers of people sleeping rough and those in temporary accommodation are starting to rise again.  

We cannot simply remove the tip of the iceberg without addressing the deeper issues of poverty that it is connected to. The reality is that we have a deep housing crisis in this country. The water is getting colder and the iceberg is growing. 

But the challenge is that rough sleeping and homelessness are genuinely complex problems.  Politics and economics provide some of the answers but not all. After thirty years of working with people who are homeless, these are the key issues which lie behind homelessness. 

Poverty of resources 

The most obvious cause of homelessness is the lack of affordable housing. Housing is a resource which is not distributed fairly, and this inequity creates intense pressure and vulnerability. All of this is compounded by austerity, funding cuts and benefit sanctions which have withdrawn support services for vulnerable groups. 

As London has become an international playground for the uber rich, many new housing developments are simply investment opportunities. Often people sleep rough outside accommodation no one lives in. It is a stark picture of the failure of the housing market. 

This aspect of homelessness is the one that government can do most about. Brooke Blair was fundamentally right – Prime Ministers need to build more houses for those who need them.   

A poverty of relationships 

But homelessness is more than house-lessness.  Homes are more than bricks and mortar: they are places of relationships. 

And if you talk with anyone sleeping rough, you are likely to hear of relationships that have gone wrong with partners or with their wider family. Some are fleeing abuse or domestic violence; some have been perpetrators. Relational problems are often a key source of regret and shame; where people carry their deepest scars. 

In our concern for people’s rights to the resources they deserve, we should not lose sight of where humans find true meaning and fulfilment. We all have a deep need to know and be known, to love and to be loved.  We cannot get away from the importance of relationships and a sense of belonging. 

A poverty of identity 

Finally, and most deeply, is the issue of people’s inner identity. The essential relationship that everyone has with themselves.    

The rise in mental health problems are symptoms of a vulnerability of our inner well-being.  For people affected by homelessness, their experiences of exclusion and trauma are both a root cause and an on-going reason for their mental fragility.  

And the addictions to alcohol or drugs which are common to many rough sleepers are deeply connected to these psychological vulnerabilities.  Drugs become a form of self-medication to ameliorate pain.  And however negative, the lifestyle required to maintain addictions can be relatively exciting and can provide each give a day a clear goal. It can be hard to leave such an identity and embark on a demanding journey of recovery.

Homelessness doesn’t just end in a flat. It truly ends in community and connection.

So, in short, homelessness is far more than house-lessness. Houses are a key resource but homes are primarily places of relationships and identity. And the restoration of these cannot be just done by the government. It requires a whole community. 

Thirteen years ago, a Christian couple in Peterborough, Ed and Rachel Walker chose to invest their own inheritance into a house for people who were homeless.  The idea inspired others: it was simple and innovative: encourage people with wealth to invest in homes for those who are poor. And each home was attached to a local church which provides friendship and support and a critical sense of community.  

This is the roots of Hope into Action where I now work. We are now a national charity with 106 homes across the country and last year we housed over 400 people. Our model is a holistic response to the types of poverty I have described.  

Our tenants are provided with the resource of a great house where they feel safe and secure. And this is combined with relationships with housemates and the support of local church volunteers. And our whole focus is to empower our tenants to find a more positive identity: whether through purposeful work, on-going recovery or through exploring faith. Last year, fifty percent of our tenants chose to engage in church activities and six took the step to be baptised. 

Homelessness doesn’t just end in a flat. It truly ends in community and connection. In our work we see justice and generosity in how resources are shared, compassion in the relationships that are formed, and hope on which people can rebuild a positive identity. Just as a lone rough sleeper is an icon of poverty, each of our tenants is a symbol of hope. 

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Development
Justice
Music
5 min read

Millions of people are still cold, hungry and naked – will you be there?

The call to justice that echoes from Trafalgar Square to primary schools

Pete Moorey is a campaigner for Christian Aid.

A school choir sings in an ornate abbey setting
Twyford School Choir sings in Westminster Abbey.
Dean & Chapter of Westminster.

I’m getting close to my 50th birthday, so I’m prone to nostalgia. My mind wanders back forty years to my primary school days in the early 1980s in a village in Sussex.  

Once or twice a week, we’d have school assembly. This included singing hymns. Not something that a shy seven-year-old would usually enjoy. But, in fact, we belted out a series of classics with gusto, accompanied by an almost proficient teacher on an almost tuned piano. 

To Be A Pilgrim with its lyrics about fighting giants. All Things Bright And Beautiful and those purple headed mountains. And then our favourite When I Needed A Neighbour with the opportunity to scream out the words “I was cold, I was NAKED!” at top volume, cheekily looking at your classmates as you asked, “Were you there?” 

The thing about those hymns was that the lyrics stuck. Not just now, decades on, but even back then. And so when a teacher in assembly started to talk to the school about the famine in Ethiopia or the hurricane in the Caribbean, you began to think “Is that my neighbour?”  And when your church encouraged you to deliver envelopes door to door to raise money for Christian Aid Week, you asked yourself “Was I there?” 

Of course that was the intention of those songs. The story of When I Needed A Neighbour is bound up with the history of social justice movements in the UK and in particular the organisation I work for, Christian Aid. 

Christian Aid was founded in 1945 by the British and Irish churches, who felt convicted to do something to tackle the refugee crisis and poverty sweeping across Europe following the Second World War. 

By the late 1950s, it was running Christian Aid Week - a big charity appeal to tackle global poverty long before Live Aid or Comic Relief. And as Christian Aid reached its twentieth anniversary in 1965, this annual fundraiser was a big deal. 

Such a big deal in fact, it decided to launch the fundraiser in Trafalgar Square by running a Beat & Folk Festival. You can find an old newsreel of the occasion on YouTube. Nelson’s Column is surrounded by thousands of young people listening to the Christian equivalent of Peter, Paul and Mary and getting fired up about global injustice. 

For the occasion, the then Christian Aid area secretary for London, Brian Frost, decided that a new song needed to be written. And so he approached the modern hymn writer of the moment, Sydney Carter. Two years early, Sydney had written his most famous hymn Lord of the Dance

Brian was of that era when Christians were at the heart of the anti-apartheid movement and committed to ecumenical action. And so combining this passion for social justice and the folk song mastery of Carter - When I Needed A Neighbour was born.  

As Christian Aid marks its 80th anniversary, we revisited this classic. When you watch the newsreel of an early performance in 1965, you quickly realise its folk credentials. It’s not just the fact that it’s being sung by marvellously hirsute men, it’s also there in the folk melody, guitar accompaniment and sung refrains.  

A year later Sydney Carter would record an EP that included Lord of the Dance which featured the folk royalty of Martin Carthy on guitar. For folk aficionados, you’ll know him as one of the English folk music greats - married to the incredible Norma Watterson and father to Eliza Carthy. For those less familiar with the genre, he was also an important inspiration for Paul Simon and Bob Dylan - yes, him off A Complete Unknown. 

There’s no evidence that Martin appeared on When I Needed A Neighbour but I think his involvement a year later confirms that the song sits firmly in the Sixties folk music boom. To young ears, it would have been hip. To older ears, perhaps scandalous.  

How do you reimagine such a classic as When I Needed a Neighbour, 60 years on from its birth - and now 80 years into Christian Aid’s history? Especially at a time when we witness our global neighbours in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine, the DRC, and more wondering if - in the face of conflict and humanitarian disaster - anyone is there. 

We started with the lyrics. In 1965, Sydney Carter captured something of the simplicity of the issue at hand. People are cold, hungry and in need of shelter. And there’s something that each and every one of us can do, in our common humanity, no matter who we are, whatever our creed, ethnicity or background. 

Within a few years of the song being written however, Christian Aid had a lightbulb moment - it wasn’t enough for us to respond to emergencies around the world. Not enough also to work with communities on long term economic development. No, if are to live out God’s call to act justly and to love mercy, then we needed to be part of movements tackling the unjust structures and systems that result in poverty and inequality around the world. 

And so in returning to When I Needed A Neighbour and working with hymn writer Ally Barrett, we have now written new words that act as a call to each and every one of us to be a neighbour by speaking out for justice. This is something that Christian Aid has done throughout our history, calling for action to drop the debt in the 1990s or as one of the first development organisations campaigning for climate justice in the 2000s. 

This week we marked our 80th anniversary at Westminster Abbey by recommitting ourselves to God’s call for justice. And this included the Kingdom Choir (who famously sang at Harry and Megan’s wedding) and the Sacred Choir from Twyford Church of England school in London performing a gospel-tinged version of When I Needed A Neighbour

My hope is that, 60 years on, the song will still carry resonance. In an age when conflicts rage, the climate crisis runs riot and inequality is rife, isn’t it time to answer When I Needed A Neighbour’s call again? 

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