Josie Appleton writes:
There has been a public outcry over the call by the leader
of Windsor Council to remove homeless people before
the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in May. Apparently, the
area’s homeless are leaving their bags all over the place and this ‘presents a
beautiful town in a sadly unfavourable light’. Yet such an attitude to the
homeless is not restricted to extremely well-off councils at times of royal
events. The homeless are being pushed and hassled out of public spaces across
the UK, and indeed in the rest of Europe and the US, too.
Homelessness was from the beginning a matter for the constable; it
was a question of criminal law and public order.
In
the 19th century, against a background of large numbers of homeless discharged
military personnel, the 1824 Vagrancy Act made it an offence to sleep rough or
beg. This act remains on the books today, and after decades in remission it is
now being used with increasing frequency. Between 2006 and 2014, the number of
court cases for vagrancy offences increased from 1,510 to 2,365.
But
the Vagrancy Act is only the half of it. Since 1997, successive governments
have created new, open-ended coercive powers, which have without fail been
targeted at homeless populations. This began with the Anti-Social Behaviour
Order, which was frequently used to impose behavioural constraints on street
drinkers or rough sleepers. Then there were laws allowing alcohol confiscation
(so-called Designated Public Space Orders), which were systematically used
against homeless people drinking on the street.
When I was campaigning against
alcohol-confiscation laws in Brighton a decade ago, I met several homeless
people who had their alcohol confiscated on a daily basis.
Since
then, the powers have exploded, and the rights and protections for homeless
people have worsened dramatically. Police and councils across the country seem
to be making a unified attempt simply to remove homeless people from public
spaces; to have them go away, go somewhere else, stop messing up the streets
and bringing the area down.
The question is only which criminal justice ‘tool’
(as they call laws) would be most convenient to use.
There
are many options. Dispersal powers allow police officers to bar a person from a
town centre or designated area for 48 hours, if they believe that somebody’s
behaviour ‘is likely to contribute’ to ‘members of the public in the locality
being harassed, alarmed or distressed’. If they re-enter the area, they can be
fined or prosecuted. FOI research shows
that these powers have been used particularly against homeless people and
street drinkers, and, in some cases, against people handing out food for the
homeless.
Similar powers exist in the US, with orders known as ‘stay out of
area’ orders, or ‘trespass orders’.
In
the UK, there are also Public Spaces Protection Orders, which allow
councils to ban any activity they believe has a ‘detrimental effect on the
quality of life’. Several councils have criminalised lying down or sleeping in
public, while others have banned tents, begging, bin raking, or other
activities related to being homeless.
Community Protection Notices have
been used to give specific instructions to individual homeless people, to stay
out of a particular town centre, to not beg, or to not accept charitable
donations. It is then a crime for them to disobey this order. A group of
homeless people have been fined up to a thousand pounds for
begging or for street drinking: they now have Criminal Behaviour Orders, which
means that they can be imprisoned if they break the order again.
The current crackdown on the homeless looks archaic in certain respects: we see the return of that old idea that it is the job of criminal justice to incorporate people socially. As in the 19th century, there is in effect a crime of being poor, of lacking house and property and means to sustain oneself. Homeless people are criminalised – fined, arrested, prosecuted – merely for going about their daily necessaries of sitting, sleeping and eating in public places.
And yet there is a different tone to it now. The crackdown comes less from the high point of public order and morals, and more from the subjective complaint that the presence of homeless people is harassing or ‘detrimental’ to other people’s quality of life. The concern with the homeless is now more inchoate, de-centred and intangible, though it is nonetheless coercive for that. The homeless are seen as a messy, threatening presence, and both councils and police seek an urban realm that is clean, without conflict or discomfort. Perversely, the authorities cast members of the public as ‘victims’ of the homeless, whose very presence is seen as distressing and threatening.
Social-justice activists often say that the homeless should not be targeted because they are ‘the most vulnerable in society’. It is certainly true that many lack power and means, and have other problems, but they should not be seen as being without agency. In my conversations with homeless people about civil liberties, I have found them to be frequently cogent and forthright, in many ways more on top of criminal-justice principles than their pursuing officers. (I remember one man, fed up of having his alcohol confiscated, who sought out a bench outside a church which was private property, and from which he could salute the police officers with impunity.)
Homeless people have a right to sit on a bench, to drink, to eat, to sleep in public, not because they are uniquely vulnerable, but because they are equal; because they have as much right to be in a public space as anyone else. If they are not committing an offence, then they should be left to go about their business.
They
should be offered help – and there should be more hostels and more support –
but they also have a right to refuse this help, for whatever reason.
Many of the fines and orders have been used for those homeless people refusing to ‘engage with support services’, if they refuse the offer of a hostel place, for example. There are lots of good reasons why someone may refuse a hostel place – because of alcohol, violence, or police surveillance – but even if somebody’s reason does not seem good, it remains their reason and it should be respected. Because somebody has suffered poverty and hardship does not deprive them of the right to a basic level of respect and autonomy of their person.
So yes, we should oppose the call to clean up Windsor for the royal wedding. But the problem is not just in Windsor – it is in every town and city centre across the country.
The current crackdown on the homeless looks archaic in certain respects: we see the return of that old idea that it is the job of criminal justice to incorporate people socially. As in the 19th century, there is in effect a crime of being poor, of lacking house and property and means to sustain oneself. Homeless people are criminalised – fined, arrested, prosecuted – merely for going about their daily necessaries of sitting, sleeping and eating in public places.
And yet there is a different tone to it now. The crackdown comes less from the high point of public order and morals, and more from the subjective complaint that the presence of homeless people is harassing or ‘detrimental’ to other people’s quality of life. The concern with the homeless is now more inchoate, de-centred and intangible, though it is nonetheless coercive for that. The homeless are seen as a messy, threatening presence, and both councils and police seek an urban realm that is clean, without conflict or discomfort. Perversely, the authorities cast members of the public as ‘victims’ of the homeless, whose very presence is seen as distressing and threatening.
Social-justice activists often say that the homeless should not be targeted because they are ‘the most vulnerable in society’. It is certainly true that many lack power and means, and have other problems, but they should not be seen as being without agency. In my conversations with homeless people about civil liberties, I have found them to be frequently cogent and forthright, in many ways more on top of criminal-justice principles than their pursuing officers. (I remember one man, fed up of having his alcohol confiscated, who sought out a bench outside a church which was private property, and from which he could salute the police officers with impunity.)
Homeless people have a right to sit on a bench, to drink, to eat, to sleep in public, not because they are uniquely vulnerable, but because they are equal; because they have as much right to be in a public space as anyone else. If they are not committing an offence, then they should be left to go about their business.
Many of the fines and orders have been used for those homeless people refusing to ‘engage with support services’, if they refuse the offer of a hostel place, for example. There are lots of good reasons why someone may refuse a hostel place – because of alcohol, violence, or police surveillance – but even if somebody’s reason does not seem good, it remains their reason and it should be respected. Because somebody has suffered poverty and hardship does not deprive them of the right to a basic level of respect and autonomy of their person.
So yes, we should oppose the call to clean up Windsor for the royal wedding. But the problem is not just in Windsor – it is in every town and city centre across the country.
No comments:
Post a Comment