Britain’s Homelessness Crisis: Are Councils Fighting a Losing Battle?
Humayra exhales sharply, rubbing her temples before taking a sip of her now-cold coffee. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and she’s already drowning in a week’s worth of cases. Officially, she’s supposed to work from home four days a week, but the sheer volume of people needing housing keeps pulling her back to her desk in Hackney Council’s overstretched offices.
“I had a woman crying on the phone this morning,” she tells me, voice edged with frustration. “She’s been evicted, nowhere to go, kids in the back of the car. What do I say to her? I have to house them, no matter the cost.”
The cost, as it turns out, is astronomical. When I ask her about how much councils are spending, she doesn’t hesitate: “Temporary and emergency accommodation is becoming a joke… we’re spending more money than ever before, but somehow the problem is only getting worse.” Research suggests that council spending on housing the homeless has skyrocketed by almost 400% between 2018 and 2024, with councils across Britain shelling out an eye-watering £1.6 billion on temporary accommodation in the past five years.
Humayra has worked as a housing officer for over five years, splitting her time between Lambeth and Hackney. I ask her which borough is harder, and she doesn’t hesitate. “Hackney, hands down,” she says, shaking her head. “Private landlords don’t want to give up their properties to council tenants, not when the average house price is around £600,000.”
The lack of available housing is pushing councils to rely on temporary solutions—hostels, hotels, even B&Bs. “Do you know how much we’ve paid Travelodge in the last five years?” she asks. “£26.1 million.” She lets that number hang in the air before adding, “Homelessness is making some people a lot of money.”
Wanting to understand her role further, I ask what type of cases she deals with most. While she used to work with families, she now handles single tenants—people who often fall through the cracks of the system. Her face tightens slightly when I ask about the challenges. “These are some of the toughest cases I’ve ever had to deal with,” she admits. “Young people kicked out of their homes, people coming out of prison… entitlement makes me want to pull my hair out sometimes.” But then, just as quickly, her frustration shifts to something closer to guilt. “I get why they feel that way, though. If you’re desperate, you expect the system to catch you. But the truth is, we’re drowning.”
There are also checks and balances in place, that mean those looking for emergency and temporary accommodation have to follow a strict set of guidelines “ one guy said he couldn’t work, when I checked his bank statement I saw that he’d been travelling up and down the country… I had to send him away to the job centre before we can proceed”, although this seems harsh Humayra essentially acts as a gatekeeper ensuring that housing goes to those who need it most first.
I ask her about the government’s pledge to build 1.5 million homes before the next parliament and whether she believes it will make a difference. She scoffs. “The last government made the same empty promises. They had COVID to blame for their failure. What excuse will this one have?” The last time Britain built anything close to that target was in the 1960s, and even then, large-scale slum demolitions offset much of the progress.
For many, the issue of housing has become tangled with the immigration debate. After violent riots erupted outside a Holiday Inn sheltering asylum seekers, public scrutiny of council spending only intensified. When I ask Humayra whether she feels there is a balance between helping local homeless people and asylum seekers, she shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t have all the answers,” she admits. “I just know this isn’t sustainable.”
She sighs, glancing at her overflowing inbox. Tomorrow, there will be another eviction, another desperate phone call, another case she has no choice but to handle. “The bottom line is, something has to change.” But when I ask her what she thinks Prime Minister Keir Starmer will do, she only shrugs. “I don’t think even he knows.”