If you picture someone sleeping in a doorway, wrapped in blankets with a shopping trolley nearby, it may be time to broaden that thinking. In Tāmaki Makaurau, rough sleeping accounts for only a small proportion of homelessness, an estimated 3 to 5 per cent.
Stats NZ defines homelessness (or “severe housing deprivation”) as people who do not have access to habitable, secure, and adequate housing, including those without shelter, in temporary accommodation, couch surfing, or living in uninhabitable dwellings.
In other words, homelessness is frequently not visible. John Tiy from Bays Community Housing Trust (BCHT) understands this only too well. Founded in 2004 and affiliated with Long Bay Baptist Church, the organisation offers affordable, decent-quality housing on the North Shore for those in social and economic need.
“It could be an older couple renting a room in a crowded boarding house because they can no longer afford market rent,” he says. “A family living in a garage separated from the homeowner’s car by a blanket. A woman and her children sleeping in a car after escaping violence. Or whānau ‘couch surfing’ from one relative to another because there’s nowhere permanent to go.
“And, increasingly, we pass these people every day at the supermarket or school drop-off.”
That reality sits uncomfortably alongside another truth.
Homelessness is often spoken about in deeply dehumanising ways. Online comment sections can quickly descend into talk of “dregs”, “lowlifes”, personal weakness, or the assumption that unhoused people actually choose that path.
Yet, for the vast majority, the evidence paints a very different picture.
Housing First Auckland recently hosted a community workshop in Browns Bay, with insights from The Salvation Army, VisionWest, DePaul House, and Manaaki Rangatahi (Aotearoa’s only youth housing and homelessness collective).
“One of the key messages we try to reinforce is that homelessness is rarely the result of a single issue or personal failure,” explains programme manager Rami Alrudaini. “More often, it reflects the cumulative impact of housing costs, poverty, trauma, mental distress, family violence, health issues, and systems that struggle to respond early enough.
“We often simplify homelessness down to individual choices, but the reality is usually much more complex and human.”
The reasons may be complex. The solutions needn’t be.
Several evidence-based themes emerge repeatedly: early intervention, secure housing, and coordinated wraparound support. Yet arguably the most effective policy is one of prevention – not only morally, but financially too.
Rami explained the numbers.
Research conducted locally by the University of Otago on the “cost of doing nothing” found that allowing homelessness to persist without effective intervention can cost the government an estimated average of $65,000 per person per year across areas such as emergency healthcare, policing, justice, and crisis responses.
For someone in emergency housing, the estimated cost averages around $55,000 per person per year, with costs reducing further by more than half when people are supported into transitional housing and other intensive housing support programmes.
By comparison, some prevention and tenancy sustainment programmes may cost as little as $5,000 per person per year.
This last approach would mirror successful international models, notably Finland’s widely lauded Housing First strategy, where permanent housing is treated not as a reward for someone who has sorted their life out, but as the foundation from which they can progress.
And there are signs that many New Zealanders may recognise this.
Housing First Auckland cited independent research conducted in 2025, showing that:
• 88% of respondents view homelessness as a serious issue
• 75% agree everyone should have access to decent, affordable housing
• 62% believe government has a key role in addressing homelessness
Why then does so much stigma persist?
Partly, perhaps, because rough sleeping is the most obvious sign of homelessness, and that can be challenging. Distress, addiction, or mental illness may all be on public display, and it’s easy to assume that that’s the full picture.
But Rami is at pains to make an important distinction: substance use is often “a consequence, not a primary cause” of being unhoused.
Once housing insecurity begins, its effects can quickly spiral. Financial stress becomes chronic stress. Physical and mental health deteriorate. Relationships fracture. Employment becomes harder to maintain. Children’s schooling suffers. The lack of a stable address can affect everything from accessing healthcare to applying for jobs. The sad reality is that many people are far closer to housing insecurity than they might like to believe.
Much of Auckland’s North Shore is often portrayed as rather affluent and, therefore, without real hardship. However, organisations working in housing support say the profile of homelessness has shifted significantly in recent years. Increasingly, it includes working people, older residents, families, and those who previously might never have imagined themselves at risk.
Why? Let’s look at the bigger economic picture.
New Zealand continues to grapple with high living costs, rising rents, increased mortgage payments, company liquidations, and an unemployment rate at an almost 10-year high. Even those in full-time work can find themselves stretched to breaking point once rent, power, transport, food, childcare, and other basic necessities are factored in.
As BCHT’s John Tiy observes, “Housing affordability can no longer be viewed in isolation from the wider economy. If wages fail to keep pace with costs or work disappears altogether, housing insecurity can quickly follow.”
While public debate often focuses on housing supply alone, the issue isn’t as simple as “build more houses”. New developments may remain financially out of reach for many households, as evidenced by new-build townhouses sitting empty for months, waiting for buyers at a profitable price point.
“This means there’s a growing disconnect between the housing being built and the people who most urgently need stable homes,” John says.
In the meantime, emergency accommodation providers (e.g., motels, backpackers, motor lodges) are often used well beyond the short term. This type of crisis accommodation is intended to stabilise people briefly before they move into secure permanent housing. But when long-term options are limited, families can remain stuck in temporary environments for months or even years.
That can take a huge toll.
“When we speak to people who are unhoused, they talk about wanting ordinary things: stability, belonging, less stress, meaningful work, household items, dignity, and the feeling of being part of a community,” reflects Rami.
“One person said they’d like ‘to build a home with video games in it’. Another spoke of wanting services that ‘understand my needs and treat me with dignity’.”
Building something better
Homelessness is often discussed as though it happens to a fundamentally different category of people. But the underlying drivers are all things that exist within ordinary life.
For some, there is a strong enough safety net to absorb those shocks. For others, there isn’t.
Reducing homelessness – or perhaps one day, eliminating it altogether – requires more than emergency responses or periodic crackdowns aimed at moving visible rough sleepers elsewhere. It will need long-term thinking, joined-up systems, and a willingness to see people experiencing homelessness not as outsiders, but as members of the same community.
“It is very clear that when people are supported with safe, permanent housing alongside the right support, outcomes improve significantly. Communities also have an important role to play through understanding the issue, challenging stigma, and supporting evidence-based solutions,” concluded Rami.
Perhaps the first step is changing the way we talk – and think – about the people affected by it.
