Encampments Part 3

There have been some developments since the last time I spoke on our homeless encampment situation. My last update was September last year. We had two encampments, one by the train station, and one on Roos Island in Victoria Park. The city's plan was to let the weather get cold enough that the residents would leave. That didn't work. 

There were talks on whether or not to evict them. At the train station they went as far as issuing a notice to leave by the end of the month, but no one complied. So they did this thing where they would extend the eviction deadline by a month at a time for awhile before they eventually stopped bothering. 

A while later there was a discussion on whether or not to move out the Roos Island residents, and it was eventually decided that they couldn't because the city didn't have any alternative shelter options available.

A public discourse was held on whether or not to take down the statue of Queen Victoria in Victoria Park. That may sound unrelated, but Roos Island residents issued 13 demands concerning affordable housing, drug laws, and oppression toward marginalized groups. One of the demands was the removal of colonial imagery, starting at Willow River Park (their proposed name for the park). The largest local colonial symbol is that statue of Queen Victoria. It has routinely been used as a medium for people to express their distain toward Canada's roots, specifically regarding the residential schools, by splashing red paint on it and by putting children's shoes around it.

Some locals complained that a decision would be made with bias in favour of the encampment residents, especially because the mediator said that she would prioritize marginalized voices. At the time I thought that this might be a token effort on behalf of the city to show good faith to the island residents, as it would be a nod to one of their demands. But it's easier to take down a statue than it is to create affordable housing or change drug laws, and it didn't come with a promise to further decolonize.

It all went out with a fizzle though, as indeed the discussion seemed in favour of removing the statue, but it's still here today without further pursuit of the topic. At some point, a plaque was added at the base, saying that the city acknowledged the harm done to the Indigenous peoples.

Eventually, some more shelter options were developed. Single room houses with communal washrooms which allowed the city to say that they had provided an alternative to the encampments before making moves to evict. The new space is next to a dump, a detail that gets mentioned by the unhoused and the housed alike whenever it's brought up. Some people voluntarily took advantage of the new shelter, but many felt the location was less convenient due to it being further removed from resources.

So residency on the island didn't dip as much as the city had hoped, and they resorted to a classic Canadian trick.

They decided to "renovict" them.

In Ontario, we have renter protection for anyone living in a residential unit constructed before 2018. That means rent increases are limited to a certain percent per year. Because housing has increased so drastically and so quickly, that means that people who have been renting for longer are getting nicer and nicer deals compared to anyone that needs to move currently. So landlords typically are not fond of long-running tenants, because they know they can jack up the price if they move out. To get around the renters protection, it's a classic move to go with what is popularly known as "renoviction". This is the act of providing renovations to the unit. If the alterations are significant enough, they can justify a rent increase that bypasses the usual rent limit, often to an extent that renders the unit unlivable to the current tenant.

In these pictures, barricades have been placed in front of both of the bridges that act as sole access to Roos Island. Apparently they've got plans to renovate both bridges at once, fully cutting off access to the island. In the meanwhile, they just have fences up as a symbol of their future promise to construct.

It's still not quite as drastic a move as fully and completely cutting people off. They stationed security guards at each gate, and they allow for residents living there before the gates went up to continue to access it. They don't allow new residents to move in though.

It did make living there uncomfortable enough that the residents slowly moved away from the site. Right now, there is one lone resident occupying the entire island, constantly monitored by four security guards.

Less action has occurred at the train station encampment. Residency there has decreased by about half, and it looks like the city has paved over about half of the previously grassy space. This could be the key deterrent, as it's hard to pitch a tent on pavement.