In the outpouring of community grief that followed Guardian Australia’s story about Bikram Lama, a comment by a colleague really hit home:
double quotation markThe reality is that, even if I met Bikram right now, I still couldn’t guarantee him a way off the street.
And it’s true.
Despite the genuine sadness and goodwill behind the thousands of social media comments, likes and shares – the urge to help that symbolises so much of what is great and good about the Australian character – most aspects of our crisis support system remain closed off to people like Bikram who are non-residents.
If Bikram had a pathway out of homelessness, he might still be alive.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
At the start of the Covid pandemic in 2020, people who were sleeping rough were identified as being some of the most vulnerable to the virus.
In Sydney, as in most capital cities, there was a highly successful coordinated response between governments, policymakers and service providers to support people sleeping rough. They were offered accommodation and wrap-around health and other services to keep them safe, along with a rapid pathway into long-term housing.
But almost as soon as we’d managed to house and keep safe the majority of inner Sydney’s homeless population, we realised there was a group – as many as one in five rough sleepers – who had been left behind: people who were non-residents.
“Non-residents” refers to people in Australia who are asylum seekers, temporary visa holders, undocumented people or New Zealand citizens who arrived after 2001.
As a result of their visa status, non-residents are denied access to temporary accommodation or social housing, income support and, in many cases, healthcare. Depending on their visa, many are either unable to work or face tight employment restrictions.
With little or no safety net, non-residents are notoriously vulnerable to financial hardship and homelessness.
The inability to work or a job loss, a relationship breakdown or becoming unwell can quickly lead to housing insecurity and homelessness. And if you can’t access crisis support when you need it, extreme poverty beckons.
The result is that non-residents in crisis are heavily reliant on overstretched charities for support.
Confronted with this reality in the early months of Covid, homelessness and health organisations advocated for non-residents to access the same basic crisis services afforded everyone else.
And the New South Wales government responded with good sense and compassion.
For the first time, non-residents were offered government-funded emergency accommodation along with health support.
But come the end of the lockdowns, we went back to the old arrangements – which is where we find ourselves today.
Every day my colleagues across homelessness, community and health services encounter non-residents who are sleeping rough because they can’t get help.
And, sadly, there are hundreds of stories like Bikram’s.
No one should die because they are homeless.
As we have seen this week, rough sleeping – whether it occurs in a large metro CBD or in a makeshift homeless camp on the banks of the Murrumbidgee – is not just an incomprehensible tragedy but extremely dangerous.
Aside from the great personal risk, the health impacts are severe. St Vincent’s research shows that people who have experienced a single episode of homelessness are at a four time higher risk of premature death than the general population.
The Guardian’s own reporting has exposed in stark terms the way that homelessness can become a death sentence.
While we work with governments on a long-term solution for homeless and at-risk non-residents, it’s important not to forget the role of Australian universities and colleges.
Many non-residents that St Vincent’s hospital Sydney’s homeless outreach team encounters sleeping rough, like Bikram, are – or once were – international students.
It’s long past time for Australia’s tertiary institutions to live up to their duty of care when it comes to their international enrolees.
Australian universities and colleges have built a sophisticated global recruitment machine – particularly from developing nations – but it’s hard not to conclude they are doing the bare minimum when it comes to the welfare and wellbeing of the students they attract.
The result is that hard-pressed homeless charities are left picking up the pieces.
In my line of work, you don’t make a judgment about why someone is living on the street. You just help.
Tomorrow I will encounter another Bikram: unwell, homeless, at risk.
It’s a human being standing in front of me who needs my help. Why does the system tell me I have to qualify the lifesaving care I can offer depending on visa status?
A candlelight vigil will be held in Hyde Park at 5pm on Thursday in memory of Bikram Lama and to ackowledge the plight of Sydney’s homeless population
Erin Longbottom is the nursing unit manager of St Vincent’s hospital Sydney’s Homeless Health Service, where she leads a multidisciplinary outreach team delivering essential healthcare to people experiencing homelessness across the inner city
Source:
www.theguardian.com
