When Paul Sheehan thinks back to 2005, the year he returned home to Cork and joined Cork Simon, he remembers brightness, optimism and possibility. “Cork was buzzing,” he says. “It was the European Capital of Culture. Patrick Street had just been renovated, Oliver Plunkett Street had new lights and footpaths. The whole city felt lifted.” After years working in radio in Ireland and later with the BBC in the UK, he wanted to come home, and the role with Cork Simon felt right. At the time Cork was, as he puts it, “a great place to be.” But only a couple of years later came the financial crash, and ever since, he has watched homelessness move from a worrying trend to what he now calls “a real crisis.”
Looking back, the head of campaigns and communications at Cork Simon says the work of then and now is “like chalk and cheese.” For decades the typical person Cork Simon supported had lived on the margins, people with very complex needs, deep trauma, addiction, poor mental and physical health, fractured family relationships, and a lifetime of feeling failed by the State. “Many had severe childhood trauma,” Paul says. “Many had poor engagement with school. They were distrusting because they had been let down by the system since the day they were born.” That group will always exist, he says. But today, they are no longer the only people experiencing homelessness. The crisis has widened dramatically. “Increasingly,” he says, “we’re seeing people struggling just to keep a roof over their head, struggling to keep their head above water.”
The rental sector is the key pressure point. “Anyone depending on the rental market is at a severe disadvantage,” Paul says. “People are just one letter from their landlord away from knocking on our door.” That letter is usually a notice of eviction because the landlord is selling up. “If that happens, that person has no hope. They can try for months, but they won’t find anything they can afford. Now we are seeing more and more people who are working but depending on emergency accommodation for their housing.” Others sleep in their cars. Some are couch surfing. “They’re just one argument away from the street. And these people aren’t even counted in the official homeless statistics.”
Even the soup run reflects this shift as Paul explains, “When I started, the soup run was for people sleeping rough with no food or social contact. Now we see people who do have a roof, but every cent is going to keep that roof over their head. They’ve nothing left for food. They’re terrified of falling into homelessness, terrified to even knock on our door.”
He sees younger and younger people being affected. “So many in their twenties, thirties, forties, still in their childhood bedroom, their lives on hold, huge pressure on families,” he says. “And one of the biggest reasons single people come to emergency accommodation now is family breakdown.” Years ago, there was always a pathway out of homelessness. “The private rental sector was there. It was affordable. People exited emergency accommodation and rarely returned. That option is gone. Completely. The supply of rental housing has been reduced to a trickle.”
People often ask Paul how he keeps going, surrounded by such sadness and systems that repeatedly fail. He is honest. “There are days when it feels like there is no light at the end of the tunnel,” he says. “But every person who gets out of emergency accommodation is a huge win. Every person we bring in off the street is another huge win. When we prevent someone from going back to the street, that’s a win.” He is crystal clear on one belief, “Everybody pushed into homelessness is being failed by the system.”
Paul believes the homelessness crisis has become normalised. “We take it for granted. You walk down Patrick Street and see people sleeping in doorways, huddled for warmth or safety, and we barely bat an eyelid.” Politicians have called it an emergency for years, he says, “but nothing meaningful has been done.”
If he were in power, he says Ireland would need nothing short of a fundamental overhaul. “We need a complete shake-up of housing policy. It’s not fit for purpose. Government after government has said the market will solve it. But we know now that’s not true.” He believes Ireland has stepped up before and can do so again. “We cleared the slums in the ’70s. We built at scale. Housing is a fundamental human need and right, without housing we are nothing.” The disappointment of the failed housing referendum still lingers. “We were close,” he says. “But it fell at the last hurdle during the last government.”
When asked about protecting himself emotionally, he says he doesn’t think that way. “Protecting myself would mean normalising homelessness. I flip it. I focus on people’s resilience. Sometimes I leave here thinking, how is that person still upright? How are they still alive? How do they function from one hour to the next?” He has seen people with “every door slammed in their face” still believe things will change. “It’s inspiring,” he says. “It keeps me going. Our staff are also inspiring, they face impossible situations every day with compassion, creativity and relentless determination, and Cork Simon simply couldn’t function without them.”
He also speaks with pride about Cork. “Cork is unique,” he says. “We have a real grá for each other. We look after each other. Cork Simon wouldn’t be here without the support of the people of Cork.”
Rough sleeping fluctuates, but the outreach team might meet twenty to twenty-five people any morning, sometimes more. This year they sometimes met up to fifty. During Covid, numbers dropped dramatically because “every sector worked together,” he says. “It showed what can be done.” But after lockdown, things deteriorated quickly. Today, many more people are homeless due to the cost of living and lack of housing than due to complex needs. “People just can’t afford a roof over their head.”
The road out of homelessness is long and difficult. Their emergency shelter at Anderson’s Quay saw 44 people a night when Paul began, now it houses 76. He continued “ It’s packed to the rafters. It’s great to be off the street, but imagine 76 people in a small confined space, all with complex needs.” When every exit route like private rental and affordable housing is blocked, people get stuck for longer and longer. “If you’re a single person in emergency accommodation now, you’re on the last rung of the ladder. You literally have no hope.”
He describes the nightlight service they run, which was originally meant as a three month winter initiative in 2017. “There were sixteen sleeping bags put on the floor of the day service,” he says. “Sixteen people sleeping on the ground in one room.” It was meant to close in March 2018, but it has stayed operating every night since, and it is full every night. “As Dickensian as it is, and that is the word I’d use, it’s still better than being on the street.”
Cork Simon’s work is vast from Outreach to Day Services, Emergency Shelter and the Nightlight Service, the Soup Run, Rapid Rehousing and Tenancy Support, Addiction Treatment, High-Support Housing, Youth Homelessness Prevention, Employment, Training, Housing First and Shelter Diversion. But every single one of these services depends on the one thing Cork simply doesn’t have – one-bedroom homes. “They’re like hens’ teeth,” Paul says. Housing First, a government initiative, is one of the most effective responses they’re involved in rolling out locally. It’s a model that began in the U.S., and as Paul explains, “The principle is simple no matter what a person’s condition or needs are, you house them first. Once they have a roof, all of the energy can go into addressing their issues that pushed them into homelessness.” The results speak for themselves, it has an 85% success rate, making it one of the most effective homelessness interventions in the world. But even though Cork Simon continues to deliver the programme on the ground, the reality is disheartening. “The targets for Housing First here are very low,” Paul says. “Very limited. They don’t make a dent in the numbers being pushed into homelessness. It would be great to see it expanded.”
Shame is one of the deepest wounds homelessness inflicts. “There can be overwhelming feelings of shame and failure,” according to Paul. “Sometimes people move to Cork because they don’t want to be recognised back home.” The moment of asking for help can feel unbearable. “People are ashamed to even knock on our door. When you knock on our door, that’s when everything has failed.” And then there is the shame of invisibility. “People tell me that being invisible is as crushing as being homeless. It means you don’t exist. Life is going on around you and you are not seen.”
Christmas brings it all into sharper focus. “It is very tough,” he says. Christmas is a time of reflection for all of us. For someone homeless, with twenty-four hours a day and nothing to do, it weighs even heavier.” Sometimes, for a few, the season brings temporary reconnection with family. “But it rarely lasts.”
Cork Simon will be fully operational at Christmas . “The shelter will stay open. We’ll do Christmas dinner. The outreach team will be out on Christmas Day. The soup run will operate. Everything will continue.”
Fundraising is always a challenge, not because Cork people don’t care, but because homelessness frightens people. “People realise now that many of us are only one letter from our landlord or one paycheck away from homelessness,” Paul says. “There is more understanding. Less judgement. People trust Cork Simon. We never give anyone a free house,” he adds. “They pay rent. That is part of life. We help them if they struggle, but the generosity of Cork people keeps us going.”
As another Christmas approaches in a city where the crisis feels deeper than ever, Paul holds onto the same belief that has sustained him for twenty years, “Cork looks after its own.” And with a little bit of help, a bit of compassion, and the determination that defines both Cork Simon and the people of Cork, he believes “anything can still happen.”
For more see https://www.corksimon.ie/
