Counting Human Misery

Counting Human Misery

How to count human misery? Yesterday, a local TV station broadcast that there are only 150 homeless people in Memphis.  Apparently the reporter had gotten that number from the “point in time” count done under the auspices of the Community Alliance for the Homeless.  That count is done every January as a federal government requirement for local governments to receive federal funds to address homelessness.  If the numbers go down for this “point in time” count, then local government can claim it is successfully reducing homelessness, and urge that they get more money to continue their good work. 

I’m not sure what is more ridiculous, the whole “point in time” count business, or the way the federal government and local government use it to assess their efforts to reduce homelessness.  It functions like the “poverty level” or “unemployment level,” both of which hide the extent of poverty and unemployment in this country.  Still, I guess the “point in time” and “poverty level” and “unemployment level” are ways to count (or under count) misery.   

            Meanwhile there are a number of shelters, all privately run, that offer a place to stay for people on the streets.  One could tally up the number of people in such shelters each night and that would be another way to count misery.

            But there are some who are not welcome at those shelters.  Maybe they got in a fight or maybe they were gay or trans-gendered, or maybe they showed disrespect somehow during a mandatory religious service.  Or maybe they just don’t have the money to pay, since most of the shelters in Memphis require payment.  For whatever reason they are not welcome, but they probably need to be included in this misery count.  

            Others just do not want to stay at shelters.  They prefer to create a “cat-hole,” a hiding place where they can rest.  They don’t like the noise or the crowding or potential for violence or the type of religion required at a shelter.  If this kind of misery count is to be accurate, those too need to be counted.

            And then, of course, there are those folks who find temporary shelter with a friend or family member or put together enough money to get a room for a few nights now and again.  They are on the streets on some days and off the streets on others.  These folks also need to be included in this misery count.

            Of course, there are also those who got picked up by the police and will spend some time at 201 Poplar, the county jail.  They do regular counts there, and that count seems appropriate to add to this type of misery count.

            I could also include in this misery count those who were at Manna House this morning.  There were the 25 men who needed showers.  There were the nearly 80 people who needed “socks and hygiene” which included hats and gloves and scarves and blankets.  And there were some 500 cups of hot coffee needed to warm people up.  And 48 people signed up for shelter at Room in the Inn, and more wanted to but there wasn’t room.

Meanwhile a former director of a homeless services organization here in Memphis (who now has a book out touting all of her good work to reduce homelessness in the city) recently told Kathleen, “I’m not interested in making the lives of people on the streets more comfortable.  To do that only encourages them to stay homeless.”  

As I think about a misery count, it seems that instead of counting the people in shelters and on the streets, we should begin with this person.  Her attitude reflects a miserable failure to see the systemic causes of homelessness.  And what could be more miserable than to blame homeless people for being homeless?

So my modest suggestion is that this is how misery ought to be truly counted.  Instead of trying to count the number of people in shelters and on the streets, we really need to count of all of those who grieve rather than relieve the poor.  Those are the most miserable people of all.