Away from the Manger

Dear Diary,

In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 2, verse 7, we read:  "And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn."  This was because she (Mary) and her husband Joseph had traveled from their actual home in Nazareth to Bethlehem.

Jesus Christ, in other words, according to Luke (no other Gospel mentions these elements) was born similar to the veteran mentioned in part I of the previous page of this series - homeless by situation, but not by way of life.

There are not a lot of mangers in Seattle.  And there's a great deal more rain than there is in Nazareth and Bethlehem.  So much so, in fact, that the main issue for survival outside here is protection from rain, though cold, heat, and other circumstances can also kill.

The first page of this series was not just a brief, ironic news report.  It was also meant as a demonstration that the city is serious about keeping homeless people from using tents or vehicles to protect themselves from the rain.  Both tents and vehicles are useful, in Seattle, mainly on public property - parks or sidewalks, for tents; streets, for vehicles.  And even inconsequential public property like the rocks south of S King St under I-5 is now off limits.

Tents and vehicles have two other important traits, as shelter for the homeless, in comparison to their main competitors, sleeping bags and indoor shelters.  First, they enable the accumulation of property.  Second, they're very visible.

Now, it would be entirely cynical to think the city's leaders object to tents and vehicles because they're visible.  So I must conclude that the objection is that they allow homeless people to accumulate property.   Presumably the homeless are actually the sacrificial goats - look, more Bible! - of the capitalist system, the ones forbidden to accumulate the way everyone else is encouraged to.  How someone like me, or my best homeless friend, with paid storage, fits in, I couldn't speculate.

In any event, the second page of this series was not just an endless, loquacious, self-indulgent recounting of my memories.  It was also a demonstration of a couple of facts.  First, there probably aren't enough private non-housing doorways in Seattle for all the unsheltered homeless.  I ended up two miles from the place I spent my days.  Second, faced with enough homeless people, commercial land-owners will not tolerate them.  In Laurelhurst, I and my few peers were accepted.  In the U-District, the parts of it I lived in anyhow, we at least weren't interfered with much.  But on Capitol Hill, miles of fencing have been erected with the simple goal of keeping homeless people out in the rain.

Let's look at that phrase:  homeless people.  All of the homeless are members of a particular species, Homo sapiens.  And while we who belong to this species like to compliment ourselves on how diverse we are, we do have some things in common.

Most humans are adaptible.

Most humans are resourceful.

Most humans wish to survive.

I hear your readers objecting, dear Diary:  "But what about drug addicts?  The mentally ill?  The incompetent?"

And in fact, I'm pretty sure all three categories are over-represented among the homeless.  But I am evidence that the mentally ill can be adaptible, resourceful, and wish to survive.  I've met addicts who were the same way.

I'm also a relatively passive man, which is a more serious impediment, and one I'm not sure is actually over-represented among the homeless.

So what's my point?

I took the light rail a bunch this weekend, re-visiting the doorways I chose to sleep in on the basis of how dry they were.  I was awed by the size of those dry subway platforms.

There are many churches in town with dry naves.

If homeless people are in fact people, then sooner or later they'll notice these facts too.  Then what?

There are also many residential porches in Seattle.  The building I'm writing from has one.  Are the city's leaders really determined to make homeless people turn to these?  I gave an example, in part II of the second page of this series, of campers in a private home's doorway.  Don't assume it can't happen again.

Most humans can collaborate.  Homeless people famously can't - the sociological term is "disaffiliation".  But if during this cold, wet winter collaboration is the only way to survive, the sociologists may find themselves surprised.  It's happened here before, hasn't it?  "Nickelsville", that's called.

What will it be, city leaders?  Would you rather see thousands of unsheltered homeless people die in the rain, or work together against you, or metastasise throughout the city, or will you walk the city back from the precipice you're hurtling towards?

Good night, dear Diary.  I make no predictions as to when or what the next page will be, but I'm not forgetting you.