Talking homelessness in SF

Honestly? We're kidding ourselves.

I have to admit I’ve been a little bit of a broken record on this one.

In the course of years of reporting, writing and thinking about homelessness in San Francisco, I have had a chance to talk to several visionaries. They have big plans.

We’re going to build tiny houses. Or we’re going to have the city buy a hotel and house over 100 people. Or we’ll create open space campgrounds on vacant lots.

And I always say the same thing:

First, bless you for thinking of your fellow human beings. This is a noble idea.

But . . . (and here it comes)

You know, when you create a space like that, you own that space. You are responsible for keeping social order. You are the one who must make sure it is safe and secure. You will be the one who will fix the water pipe or repair the elevator.

That’s your job.

And from what I’ve seen, that’s the hard part. After the ribbon-cutting and the speeches, the real work is in maintaining that space, in good order, for years and years.

And how are we doing?

Well, a Chronicle story a week ago pretty much screamed “institutional incompetence.”

It is a nightmarish read of seedy, flophouse hotels, plagued by violence and drug overdoses. The elevators break down — always a complaint in those buildings — trapping the old and disabled in their rooms.

And first, let me say to the reporters, Joaquin Palomino and Trish Thadani, well done. The story is comprehensively reported, well written and filled with data. It understandably got lots of attention.

But I would just say, this isn’t exactly a bombshell. I’m sure we could find example of earlier Chronicle stories that made the same wrenching points. I’d like to know how many there have been over the years.

Apparently, as a city we’ve chosen to take the position that that is just how it is in the Tenderloin. Run-down hotels, filthy conditions and random violence.

And sure, someone probably has an example of a well-run, clean and safe building.

But I don’t think any of us would dispute that the majority of these places continue to be slums. And that those tiny, sad, dirty rooms house a large number — the Chronicle says roughly 6,000 — homeless individuals whose rent is covered by the city.

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And, to take it a step further . . . if we have made that calculus, and say that’s OK, there’s a real world consequence.

The Tenderloin is never going to change. No office worker or tech bro is going to move into one of those hotels because his or her office is nearby.

And wasn’t that the idea of the Twitter Tax? Give tech companies a break to populate mid-market and their employees would spill into the surrounding neighborhood. It hasn’t happened. And why would it when accommodations are that sketchy?

And if you want to yell about “gentrification,” that is certainly your right. Have at it.

But looking at what you have in the TL right now, are you really sure that’s what you want to fight to preserve?

So, it would seem obvious that funds need to be directed to those buildings, programs and residents. And in fact, last week the city’s Department of Homelessness and Supportive Housing asked for $24 million to address the “squalid conditions” and staffing shortages that were brought to light by the Chronicle story.

So there you go, right? Government in action.

Not so fast, as the Chronicle reported, the Our City, Our Home committee, which controls tax funds, rejected the request.

“The intention of the voters is that we were getting people off the streets,” Shanell Williams, chair of the committee, told the Chronicle. “We’re trying to expand on this current system, not repair the system that exists now.”

So there it is in black and white. Their idea is just to get them off the street. What happens after that is someone else’s problem.

We find cheap, grimy hotels. We install homeless people in them. And then accept congratulations for “addressing the homeless crisis.”

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All right, let’s look at this another way.

Where are homeless programs successful?

I’d say there are two examples. First, navigation centers, which do all the things that our homeless shelters are supposed to do. You can stay more than one night — meaning you don’t get kicked out early in the morning like at a shelter. You can stay with a partner. You can have your pet.

As SFist noted back in January, the Embarcadero Navigation Center, which had neighbors shrieking in terror back in 2019, was quietly given a two-year extension. For all the fears of crazy people roaming the neighborhood, there’s been barely a mention of the place — even on fear-mongering Nextdoor.

And another is the Safe Space camping place at Civic Center. Granted, there was just a shooting there (minor injuries), but for the most part it has been safe, clean and well maintained. Urban Alchemy, the non-profit that runs the site, is turning out to be a real city asset.

(I’m a fan of tents at Safe Space. There’s no brick and mortar building. Residents get their own private space. And although there have been estimates of high costs, they have to be a better solution than the SROs.)

But what do those places have in common? They are small. The Embarcadero Navigation Center has housed over 400 individuals at different times since 2019. The Civic Center safe space houses just over 100 people at a time.

That’s a tiny number compared to the thousands on the street.

But still, that’s what works — well-run, well-staffed places with security and safety. That’s the model.

And if we’re not going to do that, and continue to do what we have been doing — warehousing people in seedy hotels — there’s only one conclusion. We’re not addressing homelessness.

We’re kidding ourselves.

Sorry for the rant.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter: @cwnevius