Soup run do-gooders can’t have it both ways

CHRISTMAS wouldn’t be Christmas without an unholy row about homelessness. Three years ago, the death of Jonathan Corrie in a doorway beside Leinster House became a powerful symbol of political indifference to the growing social malaise. Last December, Home Sweet Home occupied Apollo House, commandeering celebrities, activists and members of the public to its side for vigils and carol-singing.

This week, Eileen Gleeson’s admittedly ill-chosen words about piecemeal voluntary efforts for the homeless showed once again how the No.1 hot button issue can trigger such outpourings of compassion and collective hand-wringing.

It’s not that homelessness isn’t at crisis point or that the rising numbers of children living in hotels isn’t a stain on the country but the haste to express solidarity in the shrillest terms, decry Government inaction across the board and defend the public’s right to distribute soup and sandwiches to whoever it damn well pleases, often seems shallow and hypocritical.

Ms Gleeson, director of the Dublin Homeless Chief Executive, questioned the good that people do when they head out on a frosty night armed with heavy flasks of steaming soup.

GRANTED, had Ms Gleeson’s organisation reached its target of providing homes for everybody in need of one, she would be in a stronger position to wag her finger about ‘bad behaviour’ on the part of rough sleepers and suggest that do-gooders can often do more harm than good – a point on which she and some homeless charities agree.

She’s guilty of putting the cart before the horse so to speak but we, in turn, might be guilty of an over-the-top reaction to the idea that ad hoc soup runs might make it easier for people suffering from mental health problems or addiction to avoid signing up for the supports they need.

But it’s as if the volunteers need the soup run as much – if not more – than homeless people. To give is to receive as the Bible says or words to that effect anyway. Handing out soup and sandwiches makes us feel better about ourselves – some might even find it spiritually uplifting. Or perhaps we feel we must expiate our guilty pleasure and relief at property prices rising again, notwithstanding the harsh implications for homelessness.

We know that if push comes to shove, many of us might opt to safeguard property values, even if it meant impeding the process of reducing the numbers of homelessness.

The protest in leafy St Lawrence Road in Dublin’s Clontarf – about proposals for a homeless hub in two adjoining period houses that culminated in a High Court challenge to the plan being struck out – shows how quickly empathy for the underdog can dissipate.

But it’s not just in Clontarf that nimbyism – objecting to what takes place on one’s patch – thrives.

BOTH the Taoiseach and former Labour leader Joan Burton wrote to An Bord Pleanála objecting to a four-storey apartment in their constituency, arguing that it would have a negative impact on house values on Dublin’s Navan Road. We get the politicians we vote for and they, in turn, generally follow the wishes of their constituents.

Beaumont Residents Association feared that a local development given over almost entirely to social housing would turn into a ghetto.

Instead of opening up spare rooms to homeless people – or even for rent through the Housing Assistance Payment – homeowners sign up for lucrative Airbnb, a trend that experts maintain is exacerbating the housing shortage.

We are astute about safeguarding house values and generating an income from property yet we turn into bleeding hearts at the mention of homelessness.

We may be well intentioned about homelessness but we are also hypocrites when we try to have it both ways.