- It's miserable, you have nowhere to sleep, you're cold, hungry and thirsty. All the time. It's impossible to understand what it's like to live on the street if you haven't been homeless, says 64-year-old Hessu when we meet him at Alppikatu, or Alpgatan, 25 in Helsinki. There, the Salvation Army runs one of the capital's many shelters for formerly homeless people.
Hessu bears clear traces of a hard life on the streets, surrounded by drugs and crime. Two years ago he suffered a stroke that paralyzed his left arm and made him a disabled pensioner. But despite that, and despite the fact that he talks about his loneliness and longing for a wife, the spark of life seems to remain.
- I can walk and talk and I really enjoy it here.
He sips his coffee and tells us that he is drug-free, but addicted to caffeine and nicotine.
- And sweets, he says and grabs a large handful of sweets from the bowl on the table prepared for the interview.
Like Hessu, getting your own accommodation, a fixed point in life, is the core of the model, Housing First, which Finland has successfully operated for a long time.
The model, which started in New York in 1992 through the organization Pathways to Housing and the psychologist Sam Tsemberis, became part of the country's national strategy against homelessness in 2007 and began to be implemented on a larger scale in 2008. The basic idea is that people experiencing homelessness should be given permanent housing immediately without having to first become drug-free, undergo treatment or prove that they are ready to live independently. The strategy, which has survived eight changes of government, has, with a few small bumps in the curve, led to a steady decline in the number of homeless people and attracted a lot of international attention. Not least from British Prince William, something that Hessu proudly informs us about.
But as of 2023, when Finland's political power took a sharp right turn under the leadership of Prime Minister Petteri Orpo, the curve is broken. Between 2024 and 2025, the number of homeless people rose by 20 percent, according to official statistics from the Finnish housing authority Varke.
Although the current government has neither abandoned the model nor the goal of eradicating homelessness, many of the grants have been reduced.
For those who got an apartment through Bostad first, the austerity means for many that it will be more difficult to pay the rent.
- Unemployment compensation has decreased and social benefits have gone down into the basement, says Hessu and draws a steep downward curve in the air with his right hand.
- I can manage, but there are many petty criminals in this house who commit more crimes when the allowances are reduced.
His background shows how thin the line can be between a life with a foothold in society and a life on the streets. Before Hessu became homeless, he worked in the IT industry and was married for the second time. He has three children and five grandchildren, whom he still sees occasionally, although they never come to visit him.
Like many others we meet, the downhill slope began with a layoff, often in combination with a divorce.
- The company I worked for went bankrupt. It is difficult for a middle-aged single unemployed man to get housing from a private landlord.
Katja Rantasalo, who has worked as a social supervisor at the housing unit at Alppikatu 25 for two and a half years, broadens the picture of the problem and mainly points to the high rents.
- Housing First is a good model. When a person gets a permanent home, the basic conditions change. But one of the main challenges with the model is that there is not enough housing at a reasonable price, says Katja Rantasalo.
The residents, a total of 86 people, receive breakfast and lunch four days a week, as well as help with managing their finances and contacts with authorities such as social services or health care, where drug addicts receive substitution treatment.
Like many other Housing First units in Finland, it is permitted to use drugs or drink alcohol in your own home, but not in public areas.
- Allowing people to remain in their homes despite the fact that they use alcohol or drugs does not mean that we encourage their use. Almost everyone here uses drugs, so it can be a challenge when a resident comes back from rehab. If a resident wants to come to a drug-free housing unit, we do everything we can to make it possible, says Katja Rantasalo.
Just like at Alppikatu 25, the residents of the Helsingfors Deaconess Institute a little further down the same street are allowed to do some light work, such as cleaning public areas or the like. For this, they receive a maximum of 8 euros per day, a compensation that has now become problematic.
- Previously, you had to earn a maximum of 150 euros per month to receive income support, but now you are not allowed to have any income at all, says Mika Paasolainen, business area manager at Rinnekodit, a subsidiary of Diakoniaanstalten.
Here at Alppikatu 2, around 350 people live in different types of accommodation depending on needs. Just over 280 of them are part of the Housing First model.
We get to meet Anna who lives in the part of the house that is only for women. She was born into a Swedish-speaking family in Helsinki and after graduation she got a part-time job as a reporter at a newspaper.
- Then I made the worst decision of my entire life. I stopped working and started living on benefits because it gave me a little more money. Back then, I didn't understand how important it was to work.
In the same vein, she was thrown out on the street by her boyfriend. Since then, drugs and homelessness have characterized her life. Before she got a place at the Helsinki Deacon Institute about 12 years ago, she lived on the street or in various shelters where you check in and out every day without guarantees of a place.
- It was so tough on the street. To never, not even for five minutes in a toilet, be left alone.
With her black hair and matching clothes, it's easy to mistake her vulnerability. It is also something she has experienced many times before, for example when she was looking for housing.
- Are you sure you don't have a home, they asked me. You look so well groomed.
But beneath the surface there is a great uncertainty about managing a life on your own.
- I would never be able to take care of my finances myself. Even less now that everything has gotten worse and the government has removed grants that we received before. I'll probably stay here.
