Winnipeg Free Press (Newspaper) - August 1, 2024, Winnipeg, Manitoba
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COMMENT EDITOR: RUSSELL WANGERSKY 204-697-7269
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RUSSELL.WANGERSKY@WINNIPEGFREEPRESS.COM
A7 THURSDAY AUGUST 1, 2024
Ideas, Issues, Insights
It’s time to move on from the Houston Model
M
ANITOBA politicians are fixated on the
“Houston model” as the solution to home-
lessness.
The obsession began prior to the recent provin-
cial election when Wab Kinew, then leader of the
Opposition, pointed to the Houston model as the
approach his government would take if elected.
Since then, Houston has seen a trail of Manitoba
delegations. In September 2023, Winnipeg Mayor
Scott Gillingham and his housing adviser visited
Houston.
In March 2024, the Free Press sent a reporter,
and a CBC reporter followed in May 2024. This
past week, Manitoba’s housing minister took a
delegation of 26 people to Houston. Houston is
celebrated for its success in greatly reducing
homelessness, however investigative journalists
in the U.S. have revealed the same issues that
Manitoba housing advocates have long pointed
out, having seen the limitations of a similar ap-
proach used here.
What is so special about Houston?
It turns out, not much. Gillingham reported
being impressed “that all organizations work
under one plan, with a network of members using
a data-sharing system…”
Perhaps the mayor didn’t know that Winnipeg
has a similar system.
End Homelessness Winnipeg (EHW) was estab-
lished in 2015 to co-ordinate the homeless-
serving sector to end homelessness in 10 years.
The Coalition for the Homeless of Houston/
Harris County (CFTH) may have some useful
insights for EHW. But the emphasis on co-
ordination distracts from the more fundamental
problem — the lack of housing and supports that
require significant government investment.
Rather than pointing to the failures of com-
munity organizations, governments need to take
responsibility. For example, the City of Winnipeg
should co-ordinate with the province to ensure
that new rental housing being developed through
programs like the federal Housing Accelerator
Fund (HAF) include units, and supports, for the
most vulnerable.
Politicians are excited about Houston’s “Hous-
ing First” approach.
The homeless serving sector in Winnipeg
embraced the Housing First model long ago. They
have also learned that the model isn’t sustainable
if it relies on housing people in the private market
with subsidies, as Houston does.
Houston’s housing advocates are now learning
this, too.
The CFTH has helped many people access
housing with Housing and Urban Development
(HUD) department vouchers. Similar to Manito-
ba’s Rent Assist and the Canada Housing Benefit,
HUD’s vouchers provide financial subsidies
to cover the gap between what households can
afford and market rents.
But there are problems. Many without a per-
manent place to live are not eligible for vouchers.
There is also a growing shortage of housing
affordable to very low-income households. HUD
assisted housing accounts for only five per cent
of housing stock in Houston and the Nation-
al Low-Income Housing Coalition shows that
Houston ranks second worst in the country with
only 19 affordable units for every 100 low-income
renter households.
Further, 80 per cent of extremely low-income
renters are considered “severely cost burdened,”
paying more than 50 per cent of income on rent.
The lack of affordable private rentals combined
with declining social housing is making it diffi-
cult to sustain the voucher system that Houston’s
model relies on, especially with COVID-19 funds
expected to dry up. The CFTH estimates home-
lessness could increase by 60 per cent (5,200 peo-
ple) by 2026 if they can’t replace these funds and
source an additional $35 million to $50 million in
new annual funding.
Houston is also seeing many people return
to homelessness after being housed in private
rentals because of weak tenant protections. The
city has among the highest rates of eviction in the
country. One critical analysis refers to Houston’s
market-driven approach as “a shell game with
tenants moving from place to place, courtroom
to courtroom, and few chances for long-lasting
relief.”
Some landlords would rather evict tenants than
respond to requests for repairs, which means
tenants are also prone to live in poor conditions
out of fear.
Manitoba has experienced many of these
same issues after housing people in private
rentals with Rent Assist. We have learned that
the only sustainable solution to homelessness is
through a comprehensive approach that includes
a robust supply of social housing, wrap-around
supports, and strong rent and tenant protections.
Manitoba’s Right to Housing Coalition carefully
researched its comprehensive Social Housing Ac-
tion Plan which was released in the fall of 2023.
The Manitoba government has been well briefed
on it and it is making some progress aligned with
aspects of the plan. It needs to do more.
A more progressive approach to learn from
is Finland’s. It adopted Housing First in 2008.
But unlike Houston, it takes a comprehensive
approach, combining investment in the supply
and maintenance of social housing while provid-
ing wrap-around support for tenants. Helsinki,
Finland is known across the world for its success
in ending homelessness. Its approach is more
closely aligned with the Manitoba Social Housing
Action Plan and what the Manitoba government
has begun to do, albeit on a smaller scale than
needed.
Examining policy solutions in other jurisdic-
tions can be informative, but we need to recog-
nize when they don’t live up to the hype. Manito-
ba politicians have given the Houston model far
more attention than it deserves. The Manitoba
government should focus on scaling up its more
comprehensive approach by further expanding
social housing, increasing investment in commu-
nity-led supports, expanding tenant protections
and investing in mental health supports and
public health measures to support people who use
drugs.
Shauna MacKinnon is a professor and chair of the University of
Winnipeg’s urban and inner-city studies department.
Democrats discover the power of ‘weird’
IN the summer of 1946, The Adventures of Super-
man, a popular radio show for kids, began a story
arc called “The Clan of the Fiery Cross.” In it,
the Man of Steel takes on a shadowy xenophobic
organization that, quite intentionally, resembled
the Ku Klux Klan. The head of the clan is an evil
manipulator, but the rank and file are presented
mostly as dopes.
In one scene, the Grand Scorpion dismissively
refers to his followers as “suckers” and “little
nobodies.” It comes out that he’s only after their
monthly dues; the racism was the tool, not the
goal.
The storyline was suggested by a man named
Stetson Kennedy, who had infiltrated the KKK
and approached producers with the idea of using
pop culture to humiliate the organization. Appar-
ently, it worked.
In Kennedy’s memoir, he describes attending
a meeting after the Superman episodes began air-
ing, and watching hell break loose: “When I came
home from work the other night,” one member
complained, “there was my kid and a bunch of
others, some with towels tied around their necks
like capes and some with pillowcases over their
heads. The ones with capes was chasing the ones
with pillowcases all over the lot. When I asked
them what they were doing, they said they were
playing a new kind of cops and robbers called
Superman against the Klan.” The man continued:
“I never felt so ridiculous in all my life! Suppose
my own kid finds my Klan robe someday?”
This story has fascinated me, a former English
major, ever since I learned about it in the 2005
book Freakonomics.
It’s all about the power of word choice, rhet-
oric and peer pressure. Kennedy’s disgruntled
Klan member had presumably joined the group
because he wanted to seem powerful and noble
to his loved ones, and powerful and terrifying to
minority groups. But then he was forced to see
his own actions through the lens of Superman,
at which point he realized that maybe his fellow
citizens didn’t see him as heroic or scary.
They just thought that he was kind of … lame.
Which brings me to “weird.”
If you hadn’t noticed, Kamala Harris’s support-
ers have rolled out a new line of attacks against
Donald Trump. Whereas the former president
may have previously been heralded as a super-
villain and aspiring dictator, Harris’s surrogates
are more and more just describing him as a big
weirdo.
“He’s just a strange, weird dude,” Minnesota
Gov. Tim Walz (D) told an assembled group of
60,000 “White Dudes for Harris” at an online
fundraiser Monday evening. Walz is, if not the
inventor of this tactic, its most skilled propo-
nent. “These guys are just weird,” he laughed at
another recent speaking event, later continuing:
“We’re not afraid of weird people. We’re a little
bit creeped out, but we’re not afraid.”
Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg on
MSNBC commented that vice-presidential candi-
date J.D. Vance’s remarks about childless women
were “a really strange take,” and said Vance’s
“weird style” was going to bring about “weird pol-
icies.” Later, Buttigieg went on The Daily Show
and told Jon Stewart that Vance had “turned out
to be,” as he described it, “odd.”
Clearly, at least some of this rhetoric has start-
ed getting to at least some Trump surrogates:
“This whole ‘they’re weird’ argument from the
Democrats is dumb & juvenile,” posted Vivek Ra-
maswamy on X. “This is a presidential election,
not a high school prom queen contest. … Win on
policy if you can, but cut the crap please.”
“I wish (I) knew a better way to describe it,”
Sen. Chris Murphy (D-Conn.) replied. “Your
party’s obsession with drag shows is creepy.
Your candidate’s idea to strip the vote away from
people without kids is weird. The right-wing book
banning crusade is super odd. It’s just so so far
outside the mainstream.”
In various television appearances or speeches,
Walz has described his word choice as a deliber-
ate way to take the wind out of Republican sails.
Yes, Trumpy rhetoric might be bullying and au-
thoritarian, Walz has said, but bullying behaviour
is often just masking cowardice.
But I think that the exchange between Ra-
maswamy and Murphy — and Rep. Alexandria
Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), who chimed in with, “Be-
ing obsessed with repressing women is goofy” —
more accurately gets at the dynamics at play.
A central pillar of Trump’s campaign is the
idea that liberals are perverted misfits who want
to tear down American values.
Married men and women who have children
are normal, but couples without children, or
parents without partners, or children with two
dads, or women who have two children but also
once had an abortion — those people are morally
deficient. All of this is old-school puritanism, but
Trump brought it all into a pep rally atmosphere.
Not only was it morally correct to pass judg-
ment, but it was also festive and fun. They were
strong; libs were weak. They were right; libs
were wrong. They were with the prom king, who
was telling them they were awesome, and the libs
were outcasts in the library, probably being read
to by a drag queen.
“Weird” intrudes on that narrative. It doesn’t
entirely upend it, but it does plant a seed of doubt.
What if, instead of being admired or feared, they
are instead being laughed at? What if, instead of
edgelords, they are actually just the kids in the
corner eating glue off their hands?
“They called us weird so I’ll call them weirder,”
said Sen. Marco Rubio (R-Fla.), according to an X
post — but “weird” is an insult that doesn’t work
both ways. Gay kids, trans kids, cat ladies and
horse boys have already spent an entire lifetime
being told they were weird, and they have learned
to wear it as a badge of honour if they need to.
But when your whole political movement is
based on a return to some Pleasantville vision of
American normalcy, “weird” actually hurts. It’s
not great to wonder whether, in the eyes of your
fellow citizens, you’re just kind of lame.
At a broader level, what “weird” does is reject
the entire premise of the Republican platform,
something that Democrats have seemed to be
doing more frequently since Harris took over the
ticket. In the White Dudes for Harris online rally,
which featured speakers such as Mark Hamill
and Josh Groban, one early speaker lamented
that, “When white men have organized, it was
often with pointy hats on,” and that “masculinity
as a trope has been ceded to the MAGA right.”
Other speakers used their time to argue that
the most fundamental characteristics of mas-
culinity — strength, the ability to provide and
protect — were qualities demonstrated by the
left, not the right.
“They have Kid Rock, Kevin Sorbo and a
dolphin aficionado,” offered actor Josh Gad, best
known as the voice of Olaf in Disney’s Frozen
franchise. “We have the Hulk, Samwise Gamgee
(and) Luke Skywalker.”
Is any of this going to work? I don’t know. But
it seems like a more effective strategy than, say,
calling Trump’s supporters a “basket of deplor-
ables,” as Hillary Clinton did during the 2016
election. “Deplorable,” it turned out, could easily
be transformed into “badass” in the eyes of some
supporters.
“Weird” doesn’t work like that. Because it’s
not about a collection of behaviours. It’s about an
unpleasant fug that gets on you and follows you,
one that you can’t even fix because you can’t even
smell.
In the parlance of Michelle Obama: They go
low, we go “ew.”
- The Washington Post
SHAUNA MACKINNON
MONICA HESSE
CALLAGHAN O’HARE / FREE PRESS
The skyline of Houston is seen on Feb. 14 in Texas. Houston has had significant success in getting people who were once homeless into housing, but is its system right for Winnipeg?
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