Residents’ stance on shelter more nuanced than nimbyism
Signs of discontent began popping up on front lawns in late August, weeks after the Salvation Army’s plan for a new homeless shelter on Montreal Road came to light.
The bold red and black letters — SOS Vanier — superimposed over the image of a heartbeat are a nod to an episode of great lore, particularly among the community’s Franco-Ontarians. The fierceness of their SOS Montfort campaign in the late ’90s crushed the provincial government’s desire to close the hospital.
These days, nearly 300 SOS Vanier signs dot the neighbourhood or appear in shop windows along Montreal Road. The citizen group selling them is raising money for an eventual legal battle should city council ultimately give the Salvation Army its blessing.
But lawn signs tell only part of the story.
People who have lived here for decades and others who just moved in express a variety of concerns that elevate the discussion to something far more nuanced than nimbyism.
There’s a tension here between the theoretical desire to help homeless people and the practical question about whether this plan is the best way to achieve that goal.
“People aren’t just saying, ‘I don’t like homeless people. Homeless people will ruin the neighbourhood,’ ” said Allan Dykstra, who lives with his wife and three children about two blocks from where the shelter would be built.
“I’m happy that’s not the main point people are making.”
Instead, they highlight the sheer size of the proposed facility, the Salvation Army’s approach, the feeling Vanier was finally starting to shed its bad reputation and a deep frustration that those with the power to do something aren’t actually listening.
These concerns may not factor into the planning committee’s debate this week. Its task is to coldly consider the proposal on its planning merits alone.
But it doesn’t render them any less valid to the Vanier residents who may ultimately find themselves living, in some cases quite literally, in the shelter’s shadow.
“I’m not sure building a big centre is the best way to help people,” said Allison Dunn, who moved to Vanier North three years ago.
Aren’t smaller shelters with a housing-first model the more modern, proven approach to tackling homelessness, she wondered.
Indeed, the model the city embraced in its 10-Year Housing and Homelessness Plan is premised on the notion of ensuring everyone has a safe, stable place to call home and providing additional supports as needed to help people stay off the street.
Smaller sites, some of which already exist in Vanier, are seen as easier to manage and integrate clients into the community.
Gaston Chouinard could point out three halfway houses close to his home on JoffreBélanger Way, where he’s lived since 2000. But “most people don’t know they exist,” he said, because they blend in and the number of residents never exceeds a few dozen.
Size aside, Sherri Vandehoef questioned why the shelter will serve only men. She’s lived in Vanier for almost a decade and often sees more women than men struggling. “Those are the folks who really need help here,” she said.
The Salvation Army’s conviction to abstinence-based addiction treatment also runs counter to the harm-reduction model championed by many in the social-services field, said Dykstra, who has previously worked in a shelter.
Will the new facility include a needle exchange or provide clean drug-use supplies to clients?
If not, where will the Salvation Army’s clients go if they want to drink alcohol or take drugs? And who will be held accountable if their behaviour creates safety concerns for residents?
“If you’re going to bring 350 new people into a neighbourhood, there has to be some shared responsibility. You just don’t dump that on city services,” Vandehoef said.
Her house backs onto Nault Park, a small green space on Ste. Anne Street with a swing set, climber and splash pad. Drugrelated issues were a problem in the park not so long ago, but the situation has improved. She’d like it to stay that way.
The white house on Montfort Street that Norm Drouin’s late father built in 1948 is for sale.
The son, 60, had planned to buy it from his mother someday, but the Salvation Army’s proposal rid him of that notion. The Drouin property backs onto the site.
“We’re afraid of what it’s going to bring to the neighbourhood,” he said.
The house has been on the market for almost three months. More than a dozen showings have failed to drum up any offers.
“I wouldn’t have even brought clients here if I knew it was in the backyard,” quipped one real estate agent.
He may have to drop the price and just take a hit, Drouin said. It’s a sad way to go.
Outside a nearby convenience store, Sheri (who didn’t give a last name) waits for a friend.
The shelter is a “bad idea,” she said. “They’ve been trying to clean up Vanier.”
The former Eastview has long had a reputation for being rough around the edges. Yet those edges are softening, thanks to an influx of new people moving into the area and the hard work of the local business improvement association.
“Time and time again, this neighbourhood has shown me it’s not as bad as people think,” Dunn said. When she moved to Ottawa from Iqaluit, she chose Vanier, and says she remains pleased with the decision.
That the shelter is to be built on Montreal Road — Vanier’s main street — is irritating to some.
The vision for traditional mainstreets such as Montreal Road is a vibrant collection of shops, restaurants and services that prioritize pedestrian comfort, cycling and access to transit.
Shelters haven’t been allowed on these mainstreets before, but the Salvation Army’s argument is that the shelter use is only one component of its larger, multi-purpose facility, and thus a site-specific exemption should be permitted.
“It’s just nuts” to put a shelter there, said Julie Viner. “I pray to God it doesn’t go through.”
No one will know exactly what impact the shelter will have until it’s built and by then, it will be too late for second thoughts. City council — and probably some residents, like Drouin — will have moved on. The others will be left to forge a new path forward.
How accountable will the Salvation Army be at that point, Dykstra wondered. If people’s worst-case scenarios materialize, what commitment does the community have from the organization that appropriate action will be taken?
It doesn’t help, concluded Vandehoef, that Salvation Army officials haven’t seemed particularly interested in hearing from or working with the community to make the shelter complex a better fit for the neighbourhood in the long term.
“You’d think they’d pay a little more attention for the benefit of their clients, not just us,” she said.