IT’S BEEN OVER a decade since the government introduced the Housing Assistance Payment (HAP) scheme. Since then, the housing market has changed drastically, going from bad to worse. HAP has been controversial since it first arrived, but over time, it has failed to adapt to the country’s spiralling housing emergency.
Differing from other rent subsidy schemes, HAP set out to ensure people could cling to some semblance of housing security while also working full-time. In this regard, the scheme is an indirect acknowledgement of the market’s failure to make housing accessible even to those who work full-time.
HAP’s issues have been evidenced again and again by studies and reports from housing charities and NGOs. One recent and damning example is the Simon Community’s December 2025 report, which showed that no properties were available to rent within standard HAP limits in the 16 areas they examined.
Reluctance from landlords
Approval for the scheme is one obstacle, but finding somewhere to live once you are proven eligible has become an insurmountable challenge.
“Why on earth would a landlord willingly bother to avail of it?” the late journalist Christine O’Donnell asked, regarding HAP, in a 2017 article for TheJournal.ie.
She reflected on how the scheme seems enticing on paper, but noted that, by nature, it leaves renters open to prejudice and classist discrimination. O’Donnell described the term HAP as a “bomb” that would obliterate her prospects of being considered as a tenant; the situation has only worsened in the decade since.
The problem lies with the scheme’s reliance on the private rental market.
In the absence of suitable regulation, Ireland’s rental market has mutated into a parasitic, exploitative and extractive monstrosity. HAP cannot keep pace with the market monster, even as the government pours billions of euros into the scheme. In 2025, our budget had a provision of €482 million for HAP. This year’s budget allocates €570 million. Who knows what that figure will look like in 2027 and 2028?
Of course, there is an urgent need for people to be housed, but HAP in its current state is unsustainable, and it is not working for the people who need it. In the background to all of this, pressure relief valves like the Tenant in Situ scheme have been tampered with, creating more uncertainty for local authority tenants across the country.
We do not know when Ireland’s housing woes will be resolved, but when the day comes, there will be significant shame regarding the billions wasted on the insatiable appetite of private landlords. Many of these landlords are Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs) and foreign pension funds, which are greedily gulping down taxpayers’ money, while we’re told that a public housing scheme and a state construction company are unaffordable pipe dreams.
It is in everybody’s interests to resolve the housing crisis as a whole, but in particular, to see the remediation of the public and social housing sectors. Who wants to see €500 million a year bled from the public’s purse and into the bloated belly of the private rental market?
The cost for tenants
Outside of the fiscal absurdity of the current system, there are a great deal of issues that HAP tenants around the country face. The Ombudsman’s office acknowledges this: “In most cases, HAP no longer covers the full cost of rent.”
According to the Ombudsman, the State’s payments fall short of covering the rental rate set by private landlords for two-thirds of HAP tenants. In these scenarios, tenants pay top-ups to make up the difference between rental rates and what is paid by local authorities. Tenants also have to pay an additional 15%-18% differential rate of their weekly income to local authorities in Dublin to offset the cost of the scheme (the rate differs from authority to authority).
Concerns about the cost of this were raised by Threshold almost six years ago, when there were 100,000 tenancies subsidised by the State. The charity highlighted that as a result of top-ups and additional council costs, many HAP tenants were struggling to pay electricity and heating bills, or having trouble covering the costs of groceries, childcare and school.
Now, with the fuel crisis to grapple with, things have only gotten worse.
The social cost
Given the limited availability of accommodation for HAP recipients on the rental market, people who do end up housed can find themselves cut off from their communities and support systems, feeling isolated and displaced. A friend of mine, who cannot drive, has dealt with homelessness and housing insecurity for well over a decade.
The short supply of accommodation for HAP tenants left her with the dilemma: face homelessness or accept an apartment two and a half hours away from friends and family, because it is all that is available.
Those who have no experience with the system might see distance as a small burden to shoulder, compared to homelessness. The reality is that this system can significantly hinder social cohesion, cultivate disjointed communities and have a very negative impact on wellbeing and quality of life.
Now, two hours away from friends and family, this individual is paying more for a one-bedroom REIT-owned apartment than many people are paying to rent three-bedroom houses, once her top-up and differential rate are taken into account. She believes it would be cheaper to leave HAP altogether, as she’s paying over €1,000 per month; however, she fears that in doing so, she may lose her place on the housing list, which she has been on for over a decade.
This situation is not an anomaly. A quick Google search shows numerous individuals availing of HAP have discovered that it would actually be cheaper to just rent normally from the private market, but they experience the same anxieties regarding their position on the housing list.
This only scratches the surface of the issues people are experiencing. But HAP is just another example of what happens when a country is governed to serve the interests of a select few.
Kelly Earley is a writer and podcaster from Coolock, who has a deep interest in culture, technology, community and social justice. She writes for The Journal every week.