OPINION: Homeless crisis needs more than politics to fix

I’ve worked in homeless services for more than 20 years. I’ve handed out food, helped people navigate housing programs and revived people from overdoses with Narcan — dozens of times. I’ve seen people succeed in housing, rebuild relationships and thrive. I’ve also seen people spiral, cycle through shelters, lose housing and die on the street.

That’s why the current debate about homelessness in New Mexico is so frustrating. Both the left and the right keep cherry-picking examples to prove their points, while ignoring the full complexity of the crisis.

“Housing First” and harm reduction dominate the left’s talking points. Yet too often, these are promoted without acknowledging what frontline workers, neighbors and even case managers see every day: Many people with severe mental illness and addiction cannot succeed in housing alone. A home can be transformative for those who are stable and engaged in services. But for others, placing them in an apartment without required treatment does little more than move their suffering indoors.

The right, meanwhile, often falls back on punishment or displacement. If there are open shelter beds, the thinking goes, people should have no choice but to use them. If they refuse, then it’s their fault. I understand the frustration — I’ve felt it myself when I’ve seen encampments grow while beds sat empty. But rarely do we ask why people avoid shelters: They can be overcrowded, unsafe or traumatizing. That doesn’t mean we should accept people sleeping in parks, but it does mean the solution isn’t handcuffs — it’s improving shelters so people don’t have to choose between danger inside and danger outside.

Both sides miss a key truth: There’s a population that doesn’t fit either narrative. I’m talking about men and women with severe mental illness and heavy drug addiction. Even if placed in housing, many cannot stay there without intensive, structured treatment. They need a level of care and accountability that goes beyond voluntary case management. Without it, they drift between housing, hospitals, jails and the streets.

Another truth we rarely acknowledge is the community cost of harm reduction. When neighborhoods see people in a constant state of self-destruction — passed out on sidewalks, overdosing in parks, cycling through public spaces — it erodes public trust and morale. It isn’t good for businesses, families or children. And it isn’t good for the individuals themselves, who remain trapped in illness and addiction.

We cannot pit the individual against the community, or the community against the individual. Every person on the street is part of the community, and the health of one affects the health of all. Denying either side of this equation is unrealistic — yet it’s exactly what our politics keep doing.

A better approach would be tiered, realistic and honest.

• For those who can stabilize with housing and voluntary support, Housing First and harm reduction should remain central tools.
• For those who cannot survive without treatment, we need court-supervised care with safeguards for civil liberties. Leaving people to die slowly on the streets is not compassion — it is abandonment.
• For shelters, we must invest in making them safe, dignified and trauma-informed, so that “shelter available” really means “shelter usable.”

Homelessness is not a problem we can solve by cherry-picking examples to prove our politics right. It is a human crisis that requires us to see the whole picture, even the parts that make us uncomfortable. New Mexico deserves more than slogans. It deserves solutions that work for all of us.