News feature: Homelessness in London

Islington, London. Home to over 200,000 people, who live in one of the most vibrant and diverse London boroughs. On its doorstep, however, lies a homelessness crisis. According to official UK government statistics, Islington’s number of rough sleepers rose by 59 per cent from 2017 to 2018.

The borough is one of those almost mythical areas where council houses and Georgian terraces share the same street, but the divide is real. Trust for London state that poverty in Islington is high (33.7 per cent compared to 27 per cent across London) and has a bigger gap between rich and poor than 26 out of the 32 boroughs.

Government figures show there were 453 homeless cases in Islington last financial year. While records account for the ‘statutory homeless’ (households defined as homeless within the terms of the homelessness legislation) and rough sleepers, there are also those known as the ‘hidden homeless’ – people who don’t show up in official figures.

Voiceless, obscured and often unaccounted for, what is the human experience to be homeless, sleeping rough; living a life void of innocence, care or control, in the borough home to the heavenly named tube station?

Emerging from Angel underground, Islington High Street is less ethereal, more an encapsulation of 21^st century London; coffee stalls, concrete and traffic lights shout at the senses, while masses of people jostle and vibrate like an overheated beehive. Mark Turner, 33, has called these streets his quarters for over two years, though his downhill trajectory started decades before.

“Me mam kicked me out at 13. I started taking drugs at 13 – that was the start of it,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Turner’s accent testifies to his Wolverhampton roots. He carries a vulnerable smile that belies his age. “I moved down with a girl”, Turner says, pulling his collar down to reveal a tattoo that says ‘Sarah’. “She cheated on me. We had an argument and she kicked me out. Before that, I was working in powder coating.”

He carries a buoyant demeanour. Coupled with his spry, regional accent, Turner’s predicament against the backdrop of London’s cosmopolitanism, borders on the tragically absurd; as if a higher power has propelled a provincial boy from a bygone age into a contemporary dystopian nightmare. Still, Turner has no plans to return to Wolverhampton. “Too many bad memories down there”, he says. “That’s where it all began.”

Being from outside the borough, and London entirely, Turner argues he’s unable to secure a roof over his head in the area. While the National Homelessness Advice Service states that it is unlawful for a council to turn away an individual, or tell them to apply to another council because they do not have a ‘local connection’, Turner points to further obstacles.

“The rent situation is sky high.” Turner gestures to the heavens from his huddled position: “Instead of all these posh office blocks, build some proper communities. Cheap accommodation for people.” Islington Council’s website states that “Councils no longer have to offer homeless people a council or housing association home but can instead offer a property with a private landlord.”

Homeless charity, Crisis, underline’s Turner’s predicament by highlighting that the annual level of affordable housing output being attained is below 35,000 units, significantly under the 90,000 units needed, as identified by Crisis and the National Housing Federation.

Turner, for the time being, has to resort to the thoroughfares.

“It’s the community” he explains, “the people out here being generous that keeps me going. If I get enough, I stay at a backpackers hotel” Turner declares, and in a rare display of melancholy, drops his gaze.

Beyond the station lie the more open surroundings that hug the borders of Islington Green; a snippet of organic space in an otherwise silver landscape of concrete and glass. It’s an area that Reece McKenna, 20, survives, for he too is among Islington’s homeless population.

Jutting out of the entryway of the local Waterstones sits McKenna’s tattered tent. Braced against his tent is a cardboard placard that reads, “My name is Reece. I am homeless and need money for a provisional driving licence. Anything is appreciated.”

McKenna often sits outside the local Tesco Metro. He has vivid blue eyes and long wavy hair, but an expression marred by sadness. His hair and hands are blackened by grime, and his lips are chapped from the timely cold weather. Buttressed against the shop, McKenna sits atop a hard, urban terrain.

He looks up at the shop entrance tensely with a defensive glare.

“The man doesn’t like me.” States McKenna, pointing towards the emerging security guard. “He threw my mattress away once. That’s why my tent is across the road by Waterstones.”

Islington’s pavements are uncompromising in more ways than one - the number of people dying while homeless has increased by 51 per cent since 2013, according to charity, St Mungo’s.

McKenna explains that he’s lived in London since he was 16. “I grew up in Bedford, but my dad past away when I was eight. Then my mum met someone new.” McKenna is one of the many young adults that have nowhere to call home. According to the Office of National Statistics, young adults now account for around a quarter of households seeking help for homelessness across the UK.

Underlying McKenna’s predicament, like Turner’s, is a scarred past. He explains that, as a child, he was poorly treated by his stepfather and left scared. “I was tricked into feeling secure”, he says, tearfully. Consequently, McKenna has severed ties from any potential family support at a time of diminished welfare. In a statement released online, St Mungo’s said that funding for homelessness services has been cut by £1 billion a year since 2008/09. Furthermore, under government austerity measures, Islington’s council has declared that by 2020, national government will have cut its core funding to Islington Council by 70% since 2010, resulting in more pressure on frontline services and the charity sector.

Like a typical 20-year-old, McKenna has hopes and dreams; his eyes flash with enthusiasm when he talks about his formative years. “I’ve been to school and college. I’m very into art and I have an L2 NVQ in bricklaying.”

However, like Turner, McKenna also feels trapped. “Right now, in this situation, I can’t get work without a roof over my head,” he says. Crisis reaffirms McKenna’s sentiment and has criticised the government’s benefits sanction law as one of the barriers preventing homeless people returning to work. In a submission to the Public Accounts Committee on benefit sanctions in 2016, Crisis reported that homeless people are disproportionately affected by benefit sanctions, while asserting that in 2014, 39% of people using homelessness services were sanctioned, making them more than twice as likely to be sanctioned as the general population.

One of Islington’s homeless individuals who has found work is Tony Mitchell. Just off Liverpool Road, closer to Islington’s beating heart lies Chapel Market. On its eastern fringe, outside of a colossal Sainsbury’s, Mitchell plies his trade: selling The Big Issue.

Mitchell, 56, is homeless, but intent on getting his life back on track with an energy and enthusiasm that rivals most of Chapel Market’s merchants. “I was into my music; specifically a blend of jungle and reggae”, Mitchell says, with a broad smile. “I put all my money into running a studio, but things fell apart and I ended up homeless.” Mitchell may be homeless, but he’s no stranger to the neighbourhood. “I’m a Gooner. I’m a local boy, you know? I grew up around here”, he points and giggles, “I went to Philip Magnus School, round the corner.”

His upbeat cockney-like twang and incessant movement draw in many of the locals going about their weekend shop to stop and talk; local retired resident, Jane, playfully elbows Mitchell while sympathetically elucidating on her stance on homelessness. “If someone is homeless, I’d give them my hat or whatever change I had in my purse – know what I mean?” Borne out of the lived-in experience, Mitchell shares his own views: “Homelessness is a bit of a sore subject for the British. If you come across someone homeless, and you say ‘Alright mate, how are you?’ and they say ‘I’m sweet as a nut mate,’ you know they are genuine and are genuinely trying to get by.”

Along with the Big Issue charity that has afforded him some financial independence, Mitchell has community support, and he explains that thanks to a charitable couple, and at no thanks to the government, he has a bed to sleep on. “The government should be doing more”, Mitchell proclaims, “much more – they should get off their arse.”

His statements are reinforced by St Mungo’s, who asserts that: “The next government must take urgent action to end homelessness by guaranteeing long term funding for services.”

Mitchell hopes to get back into music one day. He has a bright outlook but is less sanguine on homelessness as the whole. Waving his arms dismissively, he states, “homelessness isn’t going nowhere.”