Among the countries that make up the first world, particularly the United States, there are few issues that cause more embarrassment and are more indicative of failure than the ghastly sight of your fellow citizens toiling in filth, living in cardboard encampments, wandering or shuffling aimlessly, or lying unconscious in the shadowy corridors of vacant alleyways.
In the richest and most economically robust country in the world, it is often asked, why do we continue to see our once vibrant and picture-perfect cities deteriorate into scenes that are more reminiscent of visuals from the third world? Of course, I am referring to the long-admired American cities, the great cultural capitals of America like New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Portland. Philadelphia and Seattle, too, are frequently mentioned in the nationwide conversation about rising homelessness.
There are, as one would imagine, many different factors that can cause a person to become homeless––it is a phenomenon that no thinking person describes as simple. Broad economic downturns, increases in housing and living costs, and the COVID-19 pandemic can enter the conversation as root causes fairly quickly, as they are broad, sweeping factors that can affect millions at a time. But there are plenty of other factors that have and must be addressed, including a particular factor that I don’t believe I have ever heard mentioned.
For clarity, I have lived in many of the cities I mentioned above. New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Portland. In these cities, one becomes familiar with homelessness of all sorts. From the couch surfer who has nowhere to go, to the newly homeless, who still works a day job and is pulling themselves together, to the more sullied veteran.
In Los Angeles, I had a true bout with homelessness myself. With little money and nowhere to go, I took up living in my car for approximately four months. But I was lucky, in many ways. I eventually got a job bartending, and after two months of saving my earnings, I got out of my car and into an artist’s studio, where I lived and painted for the next four years. Clearly, not every brush with homelessness ends this fortunately. I only say this to provide some personal context in the much broader conversation.
In my experience and knowledge, there is no singular, matter-of-fact root cause of homelessness. Every homeless person is an individual with a narrative and history as colorful and complex as anybody’s. However, there are patterns and factors that are practically constants within the encampments of long-term homelessness. In such cases, we may think of this population as the resigned homeless. They have seemingly accepted their fate in the streets, and instead of focusing on gaining housing and upward movement, are resigned to their lifestyle of living outdoors.
To look at the factors that often accompany this more permanent subset of the homeless, one could visualize the layering of an onion––each outer layer is a consequence of multiple factors that lurk underneath the visible surface. The first layer may be something like substance abuse. Unfortunately, in many cities that have adopted more tolerant drug policies, like Seattle, San Francisco, and Portland, a large increase in homelessness, deaths from overdose, and an increase in large encampments are typically the norm. It is clear that the general homeless population has a strong relationship with substance abuse, whatever the choice of poison may be.
Too, upon casual observation, one can quickly see the litany of mental health issues that plague those with no permanent structured housing. This can be onset by a number of issues, including substance abuse and the conditions of homelessness itself. In this way, the conditions of homelessness, mental health issues, and substance abuse all combine together in such a way that it becomes nearly impossible, on a mass scale, to determine what the root cause may have been.
Alcoholism could lead to homelessness, leading therefore to mental health issues, or the exact other way around––one would need to have a case-by-case basis, to help understand when these issues came about and in what order. My guess is, you would have a hard time determining this timeline by questionnaire, particularly if your interviewee has good reasons to misplace some of the puzzle pieces.
However, there is often a core of the layering that we can see as a root cause of many of those who are homeless––trauma. This can come in any form of trauma and at any time in one’s life. From childhood traumas, sexual trauma, to personal tragedy, trauma is overwhelmingly regarded as a common root cause. I am reminded of the former doctor, whose wife and children all perished in an automobile accident. He began to drink due to this trauma, and when unable to stop, eventually lost everything and was out in the streets.
One gets the feeling that that sort of thing could happen to anyone. In this case, we see the pipeline from a traumatic event to substance abuse, to wandering the streets in its most rapid form. Of course, other forms of trauma need not be so dramatic, but even in their more subtle iterations, trauma can lead to debilitating circumstances.
In this way, one can safely say that the cause of homelessness is not simply poverty. Therefore, the answer to homelessness is not simply economic. The strategy for reducing homelessness starts in the here and now––that is to say, the current state of our collective mental health.
But as we research and prepare, plan and fund, in hopes of eradicating and solving homelessness in America, the problem will never be zero. One factor that some refuse to understand or believe is that some people choose homelessness as a lifestyle. And it is perfectly natural to not want to understand that or believe it. But in my experiences with the homeless, you can consistently find those who have dropped out of society, wish to have little to no responsibilities, are fine, and even prefer sleeping outdoors, and in many cases, will never ask a thing from you.
Yes, as strange as it sounds, some may prefer homelessness, and it is the choice that they have made. And that is the funny thing about freedom in America. You are free to pursue your own happiness, your own lifestyle. You are free to do as you wish. You are free to work as much or as little as you can. You are free to make as much money as you can, to own as many businesses as you can, to own as many houses and cars and yachts as you can, and plate them all in gold if you can.
But if you want to toil in the gutter or sleep in a cardboard box, completely removed from society, that is freedom as well. It is not one that I would choose, but that, again, is the thing with other people´s choices––they so often make little sense to everyone else.
Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
I'm reminded of a fellow student I met in the mid-late 70's at junior college. He was going to school fulltime while living in his van and showering in the gym. If I remember correctly, he was also a veteran. It makes perfect sense to me now that he chose to live like this so he could pay for school with his GI benefits and be free to study. I wasn't as smart as him and had to have a job to support my rent and gas for my car, eating into my study time. Zoning and cultural standards about housing contribute to homelessness, imo. I don't believe there are any efficiency apartments in our area, with a metropolitan area population of over 500,000 and 2 colleges. Then there're the mentally ill who are unable to take care of themselves, and the de-institutionalization that started in the 70's that put many out on the streets. How do we balance someone's choice to live outside with keeping public spaces clean?
Thanks for the important reminder. Unfortunately the conversation of homelessness typically is a why/how/who circle. Homelessness conversations most of the time don't include the people who are actually affected, the homeless. That's the town hall I want to see.