Category: Homelessness

Categories
Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry

Homelessness is Not a Crime.

Last week, the current Presidential administration released an executive order with a noble title, “Ending Crime and Disorder on America’s Streets.” Here is the opening paragraph of this problematic memo:

Endemic vagrancy, disorderly behavior, sudden confrontations, and violent attacks have made our cities unsafe. The number of individuals living on the streets in the United States on a single night during the last year of the previous administration — 274,224 — was the highest ever recorded. The overwhelming majority of these individuals are addicted to drugs, have a mental health condition, or both. Nearly two-thirds of homeless individuals report having regularly used hard drugs like methamphetamines, cocaine, or opioids in their lifetimes. An equally large share of homeless individuals reported suffering from mental health conditions. The Federal Government and the States have spent tens of billions of dollars on failed programs that address homelessness but not its root causes, leaving other citizens vulnerable to public safety threats.

There are misconceptions and factual errors throughout this order. (There are errors and twisting of facts in that single paragraph alone.) Dear reader, I’m just one finite person, so I will only address one problem today.

This order conflates homelessness with mental illness, substance misuse, and crime. This is wrong.

The Venn diagram below is an approximation of the reality of the intersections of homelessness, mental illness, substance misuse, and crime:

Green = Homeless; Yellow = Mental Illness, Substance Misuse; Red = Criminal Behavior; Blue = Civil Commitment

Most people are not homeless, which is why the green circle is small. Here in King County (the county Seattle is in), over 97% of people will sleep indoors tonight. Are there people who are homeless with mental illness and/or substance misuse? Of course. Did some of these people have such issues before losing their housing? Yes. Did some of them develop these problems after becoming homeless? Indeed.

Then there are all the people with a place to call home who also have mental illnesses and substance use disorders (yellow circle). In fact, many people with mental illnesses (including schizophrenia and bipolar disorder) and substance use disorders (like alcoholism, which kills more people each year than opioids) are not homeless. Furthermore, they will never be homeless.

Likewise, many people who do criminal things do not have mental illnesses or substance use disorders (red circle). If they are incarcerated, they go home when they are released from jail. Psychiatric “beds” make up only a small fraction of all jail beds. Most people who are incarcerated do not behave in ways that warrant psychiatric intervention while they are there.

The blue dot represents civil commitment, or forcing someone into an institution for psychiatric reasons. The vast majority of people with mental illnesses and/or substance misuse will never be hospitalized, let alone involuntarily committed. Some people end up in jail when they would be better served (i.e., get treatment) in a psychiatric institution.

This seems to be the worldview of the current Presidential administration:

Green = Homeless; Yellow = Mental Illness, Substance Misuse; Red = Criminal Behavior

The language of the executive order suggests that if someone is homeless, then they must have a major mental illness and/or substance use disorder. (Hence the green “homeless” circle is completely surrounded by the yellow “mental illness, substance misuse” circle.) This is wrong. It does not reflect reality.

However, as a result of this cognitive error of conflating homelessness with mental illness and substance misuse, they offer the solution of civil commitment:

Green = Homeless; Yellow = Mental Illness, Substance Misuse; Red = Criminal Behavior; Blue = Civil Commitment

Notice that the blue dot of civil commitment has transformed into a bigger blue circle that surrounds the green circle of homelessness. The memo also argues for “maximally flexible” civil commitment, which is a convenient way to keep people off the streets if homelessness equals mental illness and substance misuse (which, again, it does not).

To be clear, I am not cool with people being homeless. I ended up in public health psychiatry because there are people who are homeless because of debilitating mental illnesses and substance misuse. They get better with treatment. Then they escape homelessness — and all the challenges that come with it.

If you look at that first diagram, though, the overlap between homelessness and mental illness and substance misuse is limited. And a number of people — often people in their late teens and early 20s — don’t have any major mental health or substance use problems when they become homeless. (They are often fleeing unsafe and untenable situations in their homes.) Not knowing where you will sleep tonight is stressful. Trying to appear “normal” and “fine” makes you anxious and depressed. Worrying about unwanted attention and personal safety while outside, unsheltered, when it is dark is exhausting. No one, as a kid, thinks, “When I grow up, I want to be homeless, have a drug or alcohol problem, and need psychiatric services.” That is literally no one’s ambition.

This administration wants you to believe it’s humane — offering treatment to people with mental illness and substance use disorders. But that’s not what it’s about. It’s about hiding people who are so poor they have nowhere to live.

If this were really about providing mental health and substance use disorder support and treatment — you know, actually helping people — then the Presidential administration would not have cut $1 billion (yes, billion with a B) from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. The administration would not have gutted Medicaid, which is the primary funder of mental health and substance use disorder support and treatment to people who are poor, including those who are homeless.

Don’t be fooled. Pay attention.

Categories
Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry Systems

Loud Music Is Disorder. What About Memecoins?

I read this provocative essay about “disorder” when it was first published in September 2024. I found myself alternating between nodding and frowning. It’s not a short essay, but I do encourage you to read it. (For those who lean left politically, the author is a thoughtful conservative commentator named Charles Fain Lehman, a fellow at the Manhattan Institute.) I considered writing up my reactions at the time, but I deferred. My reactions felt squishy. I didn’t have data to back up my reasons for frowning.

I still don’t have data, but the increasing disorder at the federal level frustrates me.

To summarize: Lehman opens by citing statistics that crime has indeed fallen in the US. Many Americans, though, feel that crime is rising both in their communities and across the nation. He then argues that “disorder” is increasing and offers these as examples of “disorder”:

  • A man blasting loud music from his phone in a subway car;
  • Teenagers spray-painting graffiti on a public park;
  • A large homeless encampment taking over a city block;
  • A man throwing his trash on the ground and walking away;
  • A group of women selling sex on a street corner.

From this, he proposes a definition for “disorder”: domination of public space for private purposes.

He goes on to argue that engaging in disorderly behavior is the rational choice, but most people do not contribute to disorder. Why? He attributes this to

“social control”—the regulation of individual behavior by social institutions through informal and formal means.

Lehman says that the Covid pandemic, in particular, weakened social control (e.g., fewer “eyes on the street” due to increasing remote work; reduction of law enforcement numbers due to the George Floyd murder and defund the police efforts). He adds that “the core to combating disorder is restoring public control of public space.”

To his credit, he doesn’t offer law enforcement as the sole solution. Lehman briefly describes changing the environment with intention (e.g., broadcasting deterrent music, putting pressure on landlords to clean up spaces). But, once informal efforts fail to restore order, then formal systems must intervene. In his view, law enforcement is the primary formal system.

Most of my professional work has been with people experiencing homelessness and mental illness. But I’m not actually cool with people living outside. I feel discouraged and unsettled when I see tents blocking lengths of sidewalks. When I see people slumped on the sidewalk due to fentanyl, my first thought is, “I wish you would stop using drugs.” I am not a fan of disorder.[1]

I like Lehman’s definition of disorder. While not comprehensive, “domination of public space for private purposes” is a reasonable starting point.

What I don’t like is how many of his examples are associated with poverty (homeless encampment; prostitution; loud music on public transit, a space rarely used by wealthy people). Yes, these are visible and common examples of disorder. But what about the disorder associated with people with wealth and power? Just because we don’t see it every day doesn’t mean people with money and influence are paragons of morality. Why no commentary on that?

Is it disorder when the President visits golf resorts that he owns? He profits from his Secret Service detail staying in his hotels. Isn’t that the domination of public funds (our tax dollars!) for his private, profit-building purposes?

Likewise, is it disorder when the President and his wife launch their own memecoins? Isn’t their use of public office to collect millions of dollars a form of disorder?

Is it disorder when the deputy chief of staff in the White House redirects ICE agents to enact his own anti-immigration agenda?

Is it disorder when the federal administration cuts millions of dollars from scientific research funding because language in the grants references race, gender, and sex? Isn’t this the domination of public resources for a private, anti-DEI ideology?

Is it disorder when the federal administration wants to cut billions in Medicaid funding so that people with extraordinary wealth will get tax breaks? How is that not domination of public resources for private purposes?

None of these actions had occurred by September 2024. Regardless, I wonder if Lehman had considered the intersection of power with his definition of disorder. Lehman says early on in his essay that

critics [contend] that disorder is just another word that the powerful use for whatever it is the non-white, poor, and otherwise marginalized do.

This criticism, combined with Lehman’s omission of power, illustrates who does and does not get to define “disorder”.

We are seeing nauseating abuses of power in this Presidential administration. If blasting music on a bus is disorder, but funneling public money into personal projects is not, then we’re not defining disorder. We’re excusing power.

[1] I am a fan in believing that people can change. And they do! People stop drinking and using drugs. They start taking medication, and they learn how to manage their symptoms sooner. Again, just because we don’t see that change every day doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

Categories
Funding Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry

Geriatric Homelessness and Medicaid.

I submitted the following as an op-ed essay, though neither local publication accepted it. (I understand: Many people have many opinions about all the actions and inactions happening these days.) The tie-in with Medicaid is important, though I more want people to know this: There are people who are old enough to be your parents and grandparents who don’t have a place indoors to call home.

A van has been in the same parking spot in South King County for over six months. Inside are unopened water bottles, packages of adult diapers, trash bags—and a man. He is over 70 years old. Though he isn’t sure what year it is or the name of the current president, he knows that he wants to live in an apartment. He just doesn’t know how to make that happen. 

In another city park in South King County, a woman sits alone next to a trash can. Her black wire pushcart is stuffed with plastic bags. The stink of urine that surrounds her keeps people away. The trees are bare, a cold breeze is blowing, and she thinks it is a Saturday in June. She is also in her 70s. She slept outside last night, as she has for several years. The only topic she can speak of with confidence is her pet cat.

These are not isolated tragedies. They are alarms. If Congress follows through on its proposed Medicaid cuts, more vulnerable older adults—including those with dementia—will be forced onto the streets. This is unacceptable.

Older adults with memory problems who live outside seem like exceptions. In fact, they are part of a growing population. The US population is older than it has ever been. The number of Americans over the age of 65 is projected to increase by millions in the coming decades. Increasing age is the greatest risk factor for the development of dementia.

The California Statewide Study of People Experiencing Homelessness revealed that nearly half of single homeless adults were over 50 years old. Of them, over 40% became homeless for the first time at age 50 or older. Many of these older adults are eligible for Medicaid because they are poor. If they had more money or support, they would not be living outside. 

Dementia, like other chronic illnesses, drains savings. The costs of care add up fast. In Washington State, in-home caregiving services average over $31 an hour. Facility-based care, such as an assisted living facility, is also expensive–nearly $7000 per month. Skilled nursing facility costs are even higher. Many older adults run out of money.

This is where Medicaid funding for long-term care comes in. The federal government pays for over half of these Medicaid long-term care services and supports. For many, Medicaid is the only reason they have a place to call home.

Cuts to Medicaid would slash payments to long-term care providers. Staff would be laid off. Facilities would close. What about those with no family support or money? They will have nowhere to go. We will see more older adults, including those with dementia, living outside. No one wants this. Right now, Medicaid is the last safety net catching older adults before they fall into homelessness.

It is possible that Congress will protect Medicaid funds directed towards long-term care. President Trump has said that his federal administration will “love and cherish” Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. However, proposals from Congress show a clear desire to divert funds from these programs that thousands of older King County residents rely on. 

The man in the van ultimately agreed to go to a local hospital for brewing medical problems. From there, he was discharged to a skilled nursing facility. He was thankful: This is the first time he’s lived indoors in years. Medicaid made this possible. 

The woman remains outside. Without Medicaid, thousands more older adults will join her. That is the future Congress is choosing if it cuts Medicaid. 

Categories
Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry

The Word “Mental” in Project 2025. (vi + vii)

The sixth instance of the word “mental” is on page 509 in the section about “First-Day and First-Year Administrative Reforms” for The Department of Housing and Urban Development (emphasis mine):

The Office of the Secretary should execute regulatory and subregulatory guidance actions, across HUD programs and applicable to all relevant stakeholders, that would restrict program eligibility when admission would threaten the protection of the life and health of individuals and fail to encourage upward mobility and economic advancement through household self-sufficiency. Where admissible in regulatory action, HUD should implement reforms reducing the implicit anti-marriage bias in housing assistance programs, strengthen work and work-readiness requirements, implement maximum term limits for residents in PBRA and TBRA programs, and end Housing First policies so that the department prioritizes mental health and substance abuse issues before jumping to permanent interventions in homelessness. Notwithstanding administrative reforms, Congress should enact legislation that protects life and eliminates provisions in federal housing and welfare benefits policies that discourage work, marriage, and meaningful paths to upward economic mobility.

The seventh instance of the work “mental” is on page 516 as a footnote to the paragraph above (emphasis again mine):

The U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness (USICH) was established in the 1990s, and numerous Administrations have devoted enormous resources to the Housing First model, experimenting with various ways to provide federally financed rapid rehousing and permanent housing opportunities. Housing First is a far-left idea premised on the belief that homelessness is primarily circumstantial rather than behavioral. The Housing First answer to homelessness is to give someone a house instead of attempting to understand the underlying causes of homelessness. Federal intervention centered on Housing First has failed to acknowledge that resolving the issue of homelessness is often a matter of resolving mental health and substance abuse challenges. Instead of the permanent supportive housing proffered by Housing First, a conservative Administration should shift to transitional housing with a focus on addressing the underlying issues that cause homelessness in the first place.

    Long-time readers will recognize that this falls right into my professional bailiwick…

    (cracks knuckles)

    … but I won’t spend too much time on the data because there are excellent summaries elsewhere. For example, the Office of Policy Development and Research published Housing First: A Review of the Evidence. There they describe the stance the federal government took in the 1990s, summarized as “treatment first”:

    housing was available only to individuals experiencing homelessness who were willing to work for it.

    This is exactly what the authors of Project 2025 want. If they know this history, they know that this “treatment first” model did not reduce homelessness, but an alternate model called “housing first” did, and for various populations:

    Overwhelming evidence from several rigorous studies indicates that Housing First programs increase housing stability and decrease rates of homelessness. The best available evidence indicates that Housing First programs successfully house families and individuals with intersecting vulnerabilities, such as veterans, individuals experiencing substance use or mental health issues, survivors of domestic violence, and individuals with chronic medical conditions such as HIV/AIDS. 

    While the authors of Project 2025 argue that “mental health and substance abuse challenges” are the “underlying issues that cause homelessness in the first place”, they again are ignoring data that illuminates the actual underlying issue (emphasis again mine):

    Much of the research looks at the variation in homelessness among geographies and finds that housing costs explain far more of the difference in rates of homelessness than variables such as substance use disorder, mental health, weather, the strength of the social safety net, poverty, or economic conditions.

    Is it true that there are some people who are homeless because of their “mental health and substance abuse challenges”? Yes. However, their common denominator is not having enough money. There are people with “mental health and substance abuse challenges” who are not homeless and that’s because they have enough money, or someone else has enough money, to pay their rent. (Think of the depressed ladies who buy cases of wine from Costco and return to their suburban homes to drink 20 bottles of wine a week….)

    So that’s the data. But, as a psychiatrist who works with people who are or were homeless, let me share some some “n of 1” perspectives about the work.

    Importantly, most people who are homeless don’t need the services of a psychiatrist. Could they use mental health support? Sure: When you don’t know where you’re going to sleep tonight, anxiety is a natural reaction. If you find a place to sleep, but there isn’t a door you can lock (or a door, period), you probably won’t sleep well. Without routine access to a bathroom or running water, you can’t keep yourself as clean as you would like, so you start feeling self-conscious about it. It’s hard to perform well at work if you aren’t sleeping well, you don’t feel your best, and you don’t have a place to call home. You know what solves these psychological problems better and faster than a psychiatrist? Housing.

    A psychiatrist can help people with significant psychiatric conditions (like schizophrenia) who are homeless. Among the reasons some people have shared with me about why they will not move indoors:

    • The aliens will assassinate me if I move inside.
    • I want an apartment, but God tells me that I don’t deserve to be indoors.
    • If I move in, they will turn on the parametric speakers to make me insane.

    Most of these people don’t have jobs because their symptoms get in the way of their ability to show up on time, work with customers, etc. Because many of them have had terrible experiences with the traditional health care system, some are reluctant to talk with me. But, with the essential help of my non-medical colleagues, many will. Some people, with time and relationship-building, will agree to try medication to treat their symptoms. (Yes, this really happens.)

    When you don’t have a stable place to live with a door to lock and easy access to cabinets and calendars, it’s hard to take medication as prescribed. Pills get lost. Other people might pilfer them. Someone might run off with your bag. Plus, if medications make you sleepy, you might only take them when you know you can sleep safely. You know what makes it easier to take medication on a regular basis and manage side effects like sedation? Housing.

    Maybe you’ve heard about long-acting injectable medications. Instead of having to take a pill every day, you can get a shot once a month. This sounds like an elegant solution, right? Some people are cool with shots, but a lot of people aren’t. (Would you want to get a shot every month instead of taking pills?) But let’s say our hypothetical patient who doesn’t have a place to live is willing to get a shot every month. (This really happens, too, but not as often.) The challenge here is finding the person every month to administer the shot. Maybe they will come to a clinic or other meeting spot, but their symptoms can make tracking time (and appointments) a challenge. I can go out and try to find them, but if they move around (because of their symptoms, privacy, safety, etc.), there is no guarantee that I will. You know what helps people receive their medications like monthly shots on a routine schedule? Housing.

    But let’s go to an extreme. Let’s say that I’m working with someone who is homeless whose psychiatric symptoms are severe and dangerous. Maybe they have stopped eating because they are certain that they don’t have internal organs. Or how about this: A man is chasing children with a lead pipe because he believes that the kids are government agents trying to kill him. Here I exercise my coercive power: I go through the steps to hospitalize both people against their wills for psychiatric reasons.

    So now they’re not on the streets, they are in a hospital somewhere. Time passes, treatment works, and they no longer need to be in the hospital. So where are they supposed to go upon discharge? They didn’t have a place to live before the hospitalization. In this Project 2025 universe, they don’t deserve housing because they’re not working, so back out onto the streets they go. And the cycle begins all over again.

    Let me also tell you that most people under my care want to work. Because people who are homeless live in the same culture as those of us who have housing, we are all indoctrinated in the idea that there is value in work, and your value as a person involves work. The jobs they often want are often completely reasonable. The person who thinks the aliens will assassinate her? She wants to work as a bookkeeper again. The person who fears the parametric speakers? He’s open to working in the print shop. The person who hears God telling him that he can’t move indoors? He’d like to be a barber. But when you don’t have an address to put on your job application, or you don’t have the money to apply for classes or a business license, how can you make your employment dreams a reality?

    If the goal is to reduce the number of people who are homeless, then accept the research data and make housing more affordable for all. If the goal is to reduce the number of psychiatrically ill people who are homeless, then ensure that they have stable places to live so they can meaningfully participate in treatment.

    But if the goal is to coerce people, with the threat of homelessness as the cudgel, to live according to the values of the Project 2025 authors, then just be up front about it. Just make sure you follow that line of reasoning to its logical conclusion: Put it in writing that you believe some people deserve to be homeless — and thus deserve to die.

    Categories
    Homelessness Observations

    Tents.

    A tent in the woods is a symbol of defiance. Whether among towering trees, on a rocky beach, or next to an icy lake, it is a marker of someone intruding upon the natural world. Even if the tent and its occupants leave no trace, the tent itself is a trace, a brightly colored sign of someone who is passing through and does not naturally belong there.

    A tent on a cracked sidewalk, underneath a concrete bridge, or tucked into the corner of a parking lot is a symbol of resignation. The tent and its occupants often have no other place to go. They do not belong there and everyone—including them—wishes that they were only passing through. Alas, the tent is their home.

    A tent on a college campus is a symbol of defiance. It is not their home. The tent is a vivid icon of someone who is expressing their displeasure with the status quo. The occupants want progress, they want change. Through occupying their tent in a place where it does not belong, they hope that change will come to pass.

    A tent in a besieged city, its buildings in ruins and its surviving residents terrified, is a symbol of resignation. They, too, have nowhere to go. Alas, the tent is their home.

    I worry how people in power, people who lie, and people who have agendas kept in shadows will manipulate the symbol of the tent. It is much easier to target tents than to recognize the humans within.