When campaigning for his gubernatorial position in 2018, Gavin Newsom, the Governor of California, branded homelessness as a societal failure and an abomination. He vowed to make the fight against homelessness one of his key commitments.
However, a scene unfolded recently as Newsom, dressed casually in denim jeans, a tee and a cap, was assisting state officials in pulling down a homeless tent city set up under a freeway overpass in Los Angeles. Newsom commented that unless this issue is addressed, they would lose the right to office.
Historically, like Ireland, California held a reputation for its humanitarian approach to those struggling in poverty. This changed drastically during the Covid pandemic. The surge in homelessness numbers led to a shift in political sentiment. Donald Trump criticized the Democrats for devoting taxpayers’ money to accommodate the homeless in posh hotels and pledged to rehouse them in cheap land-based tent cities.
On June 28th, the US Supreme Court, boasting a two-thirds pro-Trump conservative bench, overruled a previous ruling of a circuit court which declared that penalizing the homeless population with fines or imprisonment equates to cruel and unusually harsh punishment, an act forbidden by the eighth amendment of the US constitution.
This ruling effectively criminalised homelessness in the US. It encouraged the once liberal Democrats, including Newsom and the mayor of San Francisco, London Breed, to expel the homeless. In response, Newsom issued a statewide order to clamp down on homelessness. His symbolic participation in deconstructing homeless encampments on August 8th was seen as a caution to Los Angeles officials who were against this order.
The tale of my older sibling’s friend, who experienced homelessness for many years, provides a personal perspective. They became friends in the early 1980s at Chez Moi disco in Beverly Hills. Known as Big Bob due to his height, my brother had a taller disposition than his friend, Bob, an aspiring musician from Canada. Being six inches shorter, he earned the nickname Little Bob.
Upon graduating, my sibling found himself on hard times financially. His friend, whom we’ll call Robert, gifted him with a job at the music firm where Robert was employed in a sales role. The two of them cohabitated in an apartment located close to the 101 highway, nestled between the famous Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards. My sibling fondly reflects on these times, likening them to a chivalrous adventure in their successful pursuit of romantic interests.
Their success in love led both my sibling and Robert to move out and set up home with their respective partners. My sibling attempted navigating married life, took on the financial responsibility of a mortgage, and sought a steady job in LA’s County School District.
On the other hand, Robert had a different path, branching out as an individual with a career as a talent scout and representative. His dedication to music was profound, and my sibling even believed that Robert would one day take reins of the entire music industry. Everyone appreciated his humorous nature and admired his kind-hearted and gentle personality. He had a unique sense of humor about music itself; for instance, he would jest that punk rock was an avenue for less attractive individuals to exhibit style. He had his own names for songs too, like he’d refer to Def Leppard’s “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak” as “Bringin’ on the Headache.”
However, life threw Robert a curveball–his European girlfriend bid him goodbye, his career reached a dead end, and he fell into the clutches of substance abuse. His riches-to-rags journey was such that he couldn’t afford the fines for his parking tickets, let alone the rent for his dilapidated apartment. He endured a difficult decade, living on the streets of Hollywood Hills.
In 2007, when my sibling set out for an Arctic expedition, he handed over the keys to his home and $3,000 to Robert, urging him to grab a job at the local grocery store. On returning a few weeks hence, my sibling was greeted by the sight of an open main door, a somewhat delirious Robert, and a house that appeared as though it had been ransacked. Robert had amassed a lofty $450 phone bill from desperate attempts to reconnect with his ex in Europe. This resulted in my sibling asking him to leave.
Robert switched back to his homeless lifestyle, carrying his possessions in a backpack and frequented the public library for hygiene and computer access. Despite these hard times, his camaraderie with my sibling endured. They would convene at El Coyote Café for the evenings, where Robert would stretch a single drink throughout the night by diluting it with water. He was a proud man who didn’t want to rely on others for financial support as he was unable to return the favour.
Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics, “It’s just winners and losers and don’t you get caught on the wrong side of that line”, sparked a profound question in my brother’s mind as he mulled over Little Bob’s circumstances; he wondered, “What determines people’s triumphs or failures?” This, he stated, forms the enigma surrounding homelessness that isn’t easy to untangle.
For a while, Little Bob found shelter under the umbrella of a homeless establishment. He mockingly referred to them as the ‘homeless industrial complex’, commenting on the expensive lifestyle and wealth of the individuals in charge. However, the stringent rules and boundaries regarding smoking, drinking, and the admission of guests were unbearable for him, pushing him back into the streets. Towards the end of his life, he resided in public housing and made small earnings by dog walking.
My brother remembers Little Bob’s enthusiastic recollections of a ‘lost gold mine’, which felt akin to the way he imparted his passions. He would dig through YouTube for promising bands and press record shops to house certain artists. Despite setting up an artists’ management website, Little Bob never published anything. My brother eventually stopped enquiring about whether he’d dispatched the joint letters they’d penned, as the queries felt too much like reproaches.
On his passing in the early spring, Little Bob’s remains were taken back to Canada by his sisters. He had informed his kinfolk that Big Bob was his actual sibling.
Ivana Bacik, the TD and head of the Labour Party in Dublin, refers to the up-to-date government data on homeless individuals in temporary shelters. In June, 14,303 were registered, with 4,404 being minors. While this figure might be less than the projected 180,000 homeless persons in California, Bacik emphasises that each number symbolises a personal misfortune. She relates the monthly criticism towards the government for failing these individuals as new records are set.
My brother concedes that the homelessness problem might not have an end in sight. However, he compares the act of packing them into buses to a harsh school prank, stating his preference for compassion and a soft approach.