It took him less than 20 seconds to answer the question. “We want the homeless to stay inside,” he replied. “There is enough room available [in shelters].”

In mid-January, after wide public and political opposition to his decisions, a reporter asked Legault if he envisioned lifting the curfew for homeless people. “If we change the rules and say we can not give a ticket to somebody who is saying that he is homeless, you may have some people that will pretend to be homeless,” replied Legault.

“We do not have enough capacity in the [shelter] system to accommodate everyone with all of their needs,” says President and CEO of Old Brewery Mission, James Hughes, in an interview with the author. “The Premier is not right to say that there are enough places. We have enough for most people, but not for all.”

The Premier’s move is draconian. The curfew is understandable given the current state of the pandemic – extreme times call for extreme measures. But what I do critique is Legault’s blatant disregard and apathy concerning the homeless population, and the court ruling does not exonerate his past apathy. He should be held accountable for the fear and unnecessary loss of life created by his refusal to exempt the unhoused.

As Hughes puts it, “homelessness doesn’t stop at 8 p.m.” Yet, this seems to be the way Legault sees it.

If actions do speak louder than words, our Premier showed us how unable he was to deal with a humanitarian crisis he himself was worsening, had the court not intervened.

Legault is willingly turning a blind eye on a chronic situation he clearly understands, all for political expediency. Because of his lack of empathy for the most vulnerable members of society, he has no problem sending out the police – a branch of the state that legitimately uses violence – to enforce public health measures. The use of police is not a sign of leadership; it exposes his unidimensional strong-man mentality, and that he favours punishment over addressing the root cause of a problem: lack of housing and social support.

Facing mounting criticism for his stubborn refusal to exempt the homeless population, the Premier proved how far he was willing to go to defend his decision.

In mid-January, a reporter challenged Legault to see if he envisioned lifting the curfew for homeless people. On what ground was this claim rooted? Could Legault – or someone from his cabinet – confirm this with tangible facts? After all, this has been a matter of life or death. That is what we saw more than a week ago with the death of Raphael Andre, an unhoused Innu man.

The police are not equipped or trained to deal with social or public health crises, they’re a dangerous solution for people that need help. In other words, a ‘shock therapy’ of public health measures that include police crackdowns – if the curfew is not respected – are not the way to go when dealing with people in distress, and further puts them at risk.

This is an opinion shared by both Hughes and Joannie Veilleux, a community organizer at Le Réseau d’aide aux personnes seules et itinérantes de Montréal (RAPSIM). “Presently, the issue is dealt with as a public security matter by the police, who are using oppressive measures,” says Veilleux. “For us [at RAPSIM], this is not the answer. On the contrary, [these measures are] possibly more dangerous for the unhoused people.”

Legault promised that police officers would not be ticketing the unhoused unnecessarily. He subsequently said that they will be “using their judgment” and do a “very good job.” However, “there are thousands of police officers, and are they all going to act out [of good faith]?” Hughes asks. “Are they all going to act with the humanity that’s necessary regarding this issue? The answer is obviously not.”

Before the court ruling, at least six unhoused people had been fined. That is six too many.

According to Veilleux, some police officers have allegedly torn up attestations for traveling during the curfew, given by community organizations like CACTUS.

The unseen effects of the curfew on the unhoused population

This year, drug overdoses skyrocketed. The curfew is aggravating this trend as drug users are left with even fewer resources. According to numbers provided by Urgence-Santé, monthly interventions for overdoses have doubled and even quadrupled in comparison with last year.

According to Veilleux, this grim tendency isn’t set to fade away with – especially when the curfew was in effect. She explained that curfew and social distancing measures made it more difficult for drug users to use in groups, meaning that overdoses can be deadly. Veilleux added that drug dealers, fearing the curfew, are staying inside after 8 p.m. Therefore, unhoused drug users might buy more drugs than they usually would to avoid running out. Unable to safely consume their drugs at safe injection sites – closed because of the curfew – the risks are high.

“Outreach workers, who are the ones in direct contact with the unhoused, have a harder time finding them [on the streets]. That’s a worrisome trend,” says Veilleux. Community street workers, unable to track their clients, are constantly tormented by the possibility to never see them again.

Drug users are not the only ones who suffer from Legault’s curfew.

“It is also important to highlight the risk that women are facing,” says Veilleux. “Since the streets are deserted, and unhoused people need to hide even more, women are often more isolated. Hence, they can suffer from physical and sexual violence.”

In what world is it considered logical to terrorize marginalized populations and fine them when shelters are full, or for refusing to sleep in overcrowded shelters and put themselves at risk for COVID-19? What is the point for the Legault government to do this? The only outcome this curfew has had on our homeless population is keeping them on the streets.

Raphael André, a 51-year-old Innu man, froze to death in a portable toilet overnight on January 16, steps away from a curfew-closed shelter. This is a consequence of Legault’s curfew at the expense of the unhoused population. André’s death could have easily been avoided.

Legault’s decision was inherently flawed; it forced homeless people to become more vulnerable, while preventing them from accessing shelters. Why is it that Legault can make an exception for dogs to get walked, but not for members of our society during a global pandemic? What Legault should have done instead are substantial solutions to provide a humane right to the unhoused.

The outcomes of the curfew on the unhoused population

The only outcome I can see emerging from this is further debilitation of a community already in crisis. Legault makes decisions that effectively touch us all.

Working as a volunteer in a listening centre, I can say that the curfew heightened the emotional distress of both marginalized communities and frontline workers (who risk their own health).

“Since the pandemic hit, my mood has been a bit of a struggle,” says Holy Ann White Gromley, volunteer coordinator at Face à Face. “A lot of stress and anxiety every day. With COVID, our clientele’s anxiety has gone through the roof, and that weighs on the team as well.”

In a way, it seems as though COVID-19 is a catalyst for the proliferation of pre-existing social issues in our society.

Francine Tremblay, a part-time Sociology faculty member at Concordia University shares the same point of view. After working and volunteering for 20 years with marginalized communities in Montreal, she observes that the pandemic has only magnified issues that have never been properly dealt with in the past.

Times of crises exacerbate social issues that already exist, yet, by having a closer view of the problem – we can dissect it, understand it, assess it, and ultimately solve it.

For Tremblay, the problem is not solely about money (or the lack thereof), but about poor communication and the inadequate administration of the issue on the part of the government. “We need to listen to the people in the field, [the community organization]. They are the ones with the expertise. They are the ones who understand the problems,” says Tremblay. For her, the way to solve the issue is to get city officials, chiefs of police, and community organizations together. The goal is to allow all three actors to engage in talks and genuinely listen to one another. It is only then that concrete changes can happen, says Tremblay.

It would be counterproductive for the government to ignore community organizations and attempt to ‘solve’ humanitarian crises by themselves. After all, these grassroots groups have been working in the field to take care of our citizens. They have valuable experience, and also, many of them are funded by public money already.

But what can we do now? I have asked this question to everyone I have interviewed and unanimously they told me three main things.

First, go volunteer. If you have some time, and you can squeeze in a couple of hours of volunteering in your week, do it! Get in touch with the organizations in your vicinity and ask them if they need any help. Also, the website JeBenevole.ca is a good place to start.

Then, donate. Of course, cash support is always welcome, but you can also call the shelters nearest to you, and ask them what they need. Since it is wintertime, Hughes says that warm socks, winter garments, undergarments, winter coats, hats, and gloves are all items that the unhoused population need.

And lastly but not least, the way you interact with unhoused people goes a long way. If you feel like it, strike a conversation with them. Act with respect. Everyone needs and deserves human dignity, period.

I understand that we are in dire times, and I recognize (to a certain extent) his efforts. However, we need not let our social net fray and tear. If the government will not do their job, we, the citizens, must.

Homelessness is a complex and multifaceted subject; it demands, at its core, empathy, and understanding. It is not just about having ‘more beds’.

Special thanks from the author: I’d like to personally thank James Hughes, Joannie Veilleux, Francine Tremblay, Katherine Vehar, Holy Ann Gromley White, and my peers at Face à Face. This piece wasn’t a personal one, but rather a collective one; I was merely the connective thread that sewed all your voices together. I hope I have done you justice.

The post Legault is Still Responsible for Creating a Humanitarian Crisis appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Winter 2020, I went abroad to study in Monterrey, Mexico. On February 3, the city became my new home. The following week, school started. 

I had amazing classes, my Spanish level increased exponentially, and I attended all the conferences I could attend on campus. Early on, I made a solid community of friends coming from all parts of the world. I also stopped smoking cigarettes. 

For a long time, I had not been this happy.

However, when March came around, things changed for the worse. On March 12, a little more than a month after classes started, Tecnológico de Monterrey closed its doors after recording its first case of COVID-19. On March 15, while I was fighting a hangover by eating goat brain in an overcrowded market, a friend texted me that the government of Canada was going to close its borders on March 17. Since my host parents were an elderly couple and I still intended to go out to enjoy the little freedom I could have (seeing my friends, going on hikes, etc.), I decided to move. 

The next week, I was living in a glass-walled apartment on the eleventh floor of a 12-story fancy residential building. I had the entire place to myself. 

The food was cheap, so I ate out; alcohol was abundant, so I drank; drugs were easily accessible, so I bought some. I also started smoking again. For the first month, this hedonistic life was bliss. However, after a certain period, fun withered away and loneliness took its place. I became resentful towards the virus. For eight months, I had worked tirelessly, surmounting countless obstacles, to go on this exchange, and it all went to shit in an instant. 

At first, I denied what I was experiencing. During the week, I became a booze-driven recluse and on the weekends, I went to my friends’ place and unleashed my repressed self by blacking out on whatever I could put my hands on. Denial evolved into deep anger towards myself, mainly. I became selfish and used others as means to reach my ends. Then, my anger turned into a deep state of depression. I started recognizing that I was swamped in a pool of my own wrongdoings. Because of that, I hated myself and consumed even more. 

Despite all that, fortunately, my marvelous friends supported me through these rough times. They are the ones who kept me within the limits of sanity. 

When this exchange came to an end, I cried my heart out. At the airport, curled up in a ball, I was talking to my father while weeping like a pathetic lost dog.

On July 7, I came back home penniless, jobless, and went to live at my parent’s place. When I first saw my old folks, I barely even acknowledged their presence. I did not want to be in Canada.

The first night, I went through something that was resembling withdrawal symptoms. I was squirming in my bed and my mind was constantly running but couldn’t think of anything. Tears continuously rolled down my cheeks. 

Yet, that night, something clicked; I understood that I couldn’t repeat the experience I had in Mexico.

The next day I woke up and I quit everything cold turkey – it’s not like I really had the choice. I built myself a schedule, set some short-term goals, and came up with a work-out plan. But most importantly, I vowed to stick to a discipline that would keep me away from my own destructive behaviours.

The two weeks of quarantine passed in an instant.

After my confinement, I discovered Gabor Maté, a Canadian physician who specializes in trauma and addiction. I watched all the interviews and podcasts I could find on Maté. It was at this moment that I understood what I went through in Mexico.

In a podcast Maté did with Russell Brand, he explains that nothing is addictive in nature**. When grandma gets morphine for her hip replacement, she doesn’t necessarily become addicted to opioids once she’s out of the hospital. The same is true that I didn’t become an instant gambler when I played the slot machine for the first time.

However, we are all susceptible to fall into addictive behaviours. Simply put, addictions are attempts to soothe our pain. 

Maté says that “addiction is an attempt to regulate your inner state to an external behavior.” In other words, when there’s something within yourself that is unbearable, you may start looking for external stimuli to alleviate and cope with your pain – i.e. starting to compulsively eat ice cream in an attempt to cope with the emotional trauma of a breakup. In turn, these addictive behaviours reinforce your addictions because your brain, by getting what it’s craving, sends you a temporary rush of dopamine. This rush of dopamine is “activating the same brain circuits as … as when [an addict] consumes [their] stimulant,” says Maté. The physician adds that we crave this very dopamine because it makes us feel alive, focused, and present. 

Back in Mexico, lonely and under quarantine, unable to recognize and deal with the source of my pain, I alleviated my grief with external components. When I was drunk, high, or climaxed, I found solace in the tranquility that came right after the rush. It’s not the actual consumption that I was craving, but the numbness that came shortly after.

It’s only once back in Canada that I understood that this pain came from repressed traumas that I had been putting aside for way too long. This “failed exchange” was what ignited everything. 

When I came back to Montreal, I was able to stop engaging in these addictive behaviours by finding new ones that impacted me positively.

Building myself a strong schedule, and having the discipline to follow it, is what anchored me to reality. Because I simply “did things,” I was able to achieve something and find value in what I’ve accomplished. 

Moreover, moving back to my parents’ place turned out to be great. They became a strong community for me. Cooking, talking, and going on long walks with them was exceptionally therapeutic. The point here is to have a strong community – physical or virtual – to fight isolation and loneliness.

Lastly, when I was struggling with my own thoughts, I would write them down instead of keeping them inside. Laying down your emotions on paper is an excellent introspective device; you become your own psychoanalyst. 

I recognize that these tips personally worked for me. Yet, they might not for you. I’m in no way saying that these are infallible answers to deal with addiction. If they can help, I’m glad. If they don’t, I invite you to try and find the things that work for you and fit with your personality.

My intention here is not to be a phony self-improvement coach, nor to sell you an overly simplistic armchair-twelve-step-guide to fight addiction and find happiness. I’m not an authority in the field of trauma-related addiction.

My intention here is simple: to share my experience. If reading this can prevent you from going through what I did, I’m happy. 

Amidst this second quarantine, in times of isolation and loneliness, try to find something that truly drives you. If ever you’re struggling with psychological pain, take this time to find what’s hurting. This is easier said than done, but try it. 

And if ever things get unbearable, please, ask for help. Reach for your friends, family and loved ones. You can also call listening centers like Face à Face or Le Havre among others. If you aren’t too keen on talking with others, you can also try online therapy with apps like Talkspace or Betterhelp. If these two options do not work, you can always seek professional help. A good place to start could be reduced-rate therapies offered by places like McGill’s MindSpace. To stay in that line of thought, you can also look if your university is offering counselling and psychological services. Finally, there is always the option of low-cost psychology sessions. 

The most important thing here is to allow yourself to be helped.

And if ever you want to talk, I’m here.

Reminder: This article does not substitute professional diagnosis. Gabor Maté is a prominent expert on trauma, childhood development and mental health. But as a public figure, his views are not beyond criticism. 

**We tend to emphasise that addiction finds its roots in chemical causes which subsequently create physical addiction. Although the latter statement is true, addiction goes deeper than that; it also heavily relies on a slew of circumstantial, personnel and environmental factors.

Author bio: My name is Olivier and when I’m not traveling, I study Journalism and Sociology. I’m an assumed movie-goer, eternal melomaniac, sports enthusiast, and inexhaustible conversationalist. Yet, I learned that when I stop talking, I know something fishy is going on. If it’s also your case (or not) and you want to talk, feel free to contact me at olivier.laurin@hotmail.com

The post Op-ed: What Addictive Behaviours Taught Me During the Lockdown appeared first on The McGill Daily.