Greg Maxwell finds it grating that society's concern for the homeless runs on a seasonal clock, retreating once the January hangover descends, writes Ed Power

They phone in their dozens each Christmas, offering to staff the soup kitchens and dispense party hats to the destitute.

Mr Greg Maxwell, the effusive chief executive of Dublin Simon, the capital's most high-profile homeless charity, politely declines.

He refuses to let it annoy him but finds it grating that society's concern for the homeless runs on a seasonal clock, blooming with the mistletoe and retreating into hibernation as the January hangover descends.

"Some of them actually get quite annoyed when we turn down their offer of help. They get on their high horses a little bit.

"We always tell them the same thing - the homeless don't particularly need help on Christmas Day. They require it during the other 364 days of the year.

"If they really want to help, they can call back after Christmas. They seldom do."

It is his disdain for sentiment that distinguishes Mr Maxwell. He does not regard Simon as a conduit for the nation's guilt but an instrument for achieving lasting social justice.

The outgoing Belfastman brings to the job a hard-nosed commercial acumen, ironically honed during a 25-year-stint as a career trade unionist. Corporate verbiage peppers his conversation.

He enthuses about Simon's soaring "brand awareness" (citing an MRBI poll in which 88 per cent of respondents said Simon would be their first resort should they suddenly find themselves homeless), speaks of tailoring services to meet the needs of "clients" and views the corporate community as potential partners rather than the agents of capitalist oppression.

He runs a tight ship, insisting Simon model itself along contemporary business lines.

Yet, there is little of the autodidact to Mr Maxwell. He exhibits scant regard for the niceties of rank, encouraging staff to "think outside the box" and challenge long-held assumptions.

It is this faith in the limitless potential of original thinking that yielded one of Simon's most successful initiatives.

Now in its fourth year, the House of Cards scheme - which encourages companies to donate funds, which would otherwise have been spent on Christmas cards to Simon, in return for an honourable mention in a newspaper advertisement - has raised €800,000.

With more than 150 firms participating this December, the project is expected to garner an unprecedented €350,000.

"It was the first time anyone, anywhere in the world had done something like this," says Mr Maxwell. "We proved that new concepts and fresh thinking always have the ability to tap markets and unlock income.

"Part of my job is to foster a creative environment at Simon Dublin. I want to assist people at being creative. I am interested in the substance of an idea rather than the source. It doesn't matter where an idea comes from, if it is a good one."

It has been an unlikely journey for Mr Maxwell, the Springfield Road Protestant who cut his radical teeth as a civil rights protester in Queen's University, delivered CND pamphlets to army bases across the North and, at 29, became the general secretary of the Union of Professional and Technical Civil Servants.

Since his appointment as Simon chief executive in 1995, Mr Maxwell has presided over a far-reaching re-positioning of the organisation, combining his keen business acumen with the firebrand enthusiasm of a life-long agitator for social change.

During his tenure Dublin Simon has increased its staff to 100, opened new shelters and established an innovative enterprise project in a disused Chapelizod factory.

He has also signalled a significant policy shift at the charity, hiring employees at competitive rates and insisting on top-of-the-range infrastructure.

Simon's charitable status is no cause for it to settle for second best, he says. If anything, it should measure itself against the most efficient, cost-effective operations.

The corporate sector has, in tandem, cultivated a fresh sense of social obligation and is no longer content to salve its sense of responsibility to the downtrodden by giving cash to whatever well-intentioned cause happens to be at hand.

"Business donors aren't interested in just doling out money because they feel it is the right thing to do. They expect to be told how their donation will be spent,they want to know that they aren't merely engaging in an empty gesture but that their contribution will make a difference."

Simon offers potential contributors a fully-costed "wish list" of projects, allowing them to match a donation to a specific endeavour.

"People like to know where their money is going. So we have tailored our operations to meet this need. A business may come to us and say it wishes to contribute a certain amount. We can give them a list of projects to choose from."

Mr Maxwell admits to being pleasantly surprised by corporate donors' reluctance to trumpet their participation from the roof-tops. "I genuinely believe that many companies feel they have a social responsibility to give something back but they don't necessarily want to be seen to be trying to gain publicity by helping a charity.

"Simon does not object to donors publicising their involvement with us provided they do so in a restrained manner, but very few actually seem to want to shout about it."

A corresponding hard-nosed practicality informs Simon's more populist ventures. The charity's regular overseas fund-raising walks have become increasingly specialist of late, as the charity fixes its sights on niche markets. Mr Maxwell cites past jaunts to the Sahara desert and an upcoming climbing trip to Brazil as outings tailored to a specific sector of society.

"It's all about knowing your market and properly pitching your product. Eventually any idea - even a very good one - runs out of steam and needs to be revised. By engaging in niche tours, we see ourselves offering something extra to people who want to become involved.

Given Mr Maxwell's penchant for business lingo, you could be forgiven for thinking that he regards Simon's core business - the provision of services to the homeless - as a distraction. When conversation turns to the destitute a little of his steeliness dissipates, however, granting you a glimpse of the humanitarian beneath the brash exterior. He openly despairs at the quality of services for street dwellers in the Republic, explaining that Dublin outstrips Paris in per-capita homelessness and London in gross numbers.

"In many parts of Europe support services are very rigorous, so it is actually quite difficult to end up on the streets for any period of time. Here, the State fails people and if you find yourself in a certain set of circumstances it can be extremely easy to slide between the cracks."

In other cities, street dwellers predominantly sleep rough by choice. Dublin's homeless people more often than not find themselves hunkering in shop fronts and doorways by necessity. An informal survey conducted by Simon last year found that more than 80 per cent of the capital's destitute haunted the streets against their will.

"There is a perception that the homeless in some way choose to turn their back on society. In Ireland this is often not the case. We are not dealing with people who are sleeping rough because they choose to do so but because the State has failed them."

Working with the homeless carries certain risks, so it is important that Simon does not seek to force help upon those who don't welcome it, Mr Maxwell says. Here again, his business sensibility manifests itself. He sees little point in pitching solutions to those who can do without.

"Many homeless people are very, very angry. They generally hold Simon in high regard but that's not to say they want our assistance. So we don't try and force solutions on them. We try to give them what we can. We're not here to tell anyone how to live their lives.

"Many homeless people end up on the streets because they have been deprived of the support structures that most of us take for granted. When I am making presentations to schools, I always tell them: 'Hold on to your friends and family. You never know when you might need them'."