The brief life of the Ghost of Christmas Present passed upon the stroke of midnight on Wednesday, and children began the countdown to the appearance of his brother, one year from now.
This Christmas, as I do every Christmas, I read Dickens’ "A Christmas Carol." There is a scene, right after the departure of Marley’s ghost, where Scrooge sees disembodied spirits, doomed to wander the earth. These spirits are begging and pleading, unseen and unheard, with the poor, homeless and disenfranchised. What they lament is their inability to help — a tragic irony, as they had the opportunity to act while alive but, now without physical bodies, can do nothing.
This got me thinking about homelessness. Is it the same thing? As the mayor of El Cajon, California, I’ve been an outspoken critic of how the state has handled the homelessness crisis. I asked myself, "Is it possible, like Scrooge, that I’ve been forging my own ponderous chain every time I criticize voucher programs, lawlessness and housing-first policies?" I wondered: if I were given the same gift that Scrooge received, what revelations might my hauntings reveal?
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The Ghost of Christmas Past, which brings to mind the 1970s, would show me a California largely devoid of homelessness. Back then, California was a relative paradise, marked by a sense of law and order.
But did not Christ say, "The poor will always be with us?" I know the 1970s were full of poor people — I was one of them. Most everyone I knew was poor. Yet we could walk downtown without running a gauntlet of homelessness. Crime existed, but police were empowered to protect communities. Beaches were places of beauty, not encampments filled with filth and despair.
Why? What changed? In my opinion, it was a conscious decision to make homelessness a viable option — by subsidizing the homeless lifestyle financially, eliminating laws that kept communities safe and clean, normalizing addiction and de-stigmatizing vagrancy (using the blunt language of the 1970s). In my imagination, the ghost would make no judgment but would let me draw my own conclusions.
Would the Ghost of Christmas Present show me the dark, dangerous encampments, rife with rape, violence and hopelessness? I believe he would. But would the blame fall on those trapped in this hell, or on the politicians? Would he show me the backroom deals and development contracts that sustain the homeless industrial complex — a system in which a select few profit from $25 billion in wasted funds while the problem only worsens, leaving NGOs begging for more?
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Would the Ghost gaze upon the wretched and say, "Blame me not for this misery. This is man’s doing"? Would he point to the people dying on sidewalks and say, "I see a tent left empty. If these policies do not change, this will be their fate?" Would he show me Christmas dinner tables where people laugh, shake their heads and lament California’s self-destruction?
The final ghost, like Scrooge’s, would be the one I fear most. He would show me a California where cities are uninhabitable and residents are scattered across the nation as refugees. He would reveal lawless anarchy in the streets, where sexual assault and overdose deaths are predictable and accepted outcomes. He would show shuttered retail stores, overrun hospitals and public spaces rendered unsafe. He would lead me to the ruins of the home where I was born. And, with his skeletal hand, he might point silently to places like Haiti, forewarning what lies ahead.
It is my Christmas wish that the true recipients of such hauntings would be the political decision-makers responsible for this crisis. May they wake up on Christmas morning with a new vision and vitality — one that prioritizes the welfare of all Californians over greed and failed ideologies.
If I were Dickens, I would write an ending where the homeless industrial complex is dismantled and replaced with effective solutions. Most importantly, I would write a happy ending for those trapped by homelessness and addiction — not by enabling them, but by enforcing laws that prevent street living while providing, and sometimes requiring, appropriate treatment. I would see municipalities regain the tools to clean their cities and reverse policies that have made California increasingly unlivable.
In reflecting on this, I see a disconnect between the poor and homeless of Victorian England and the crisis we face today. In 1843, there was no safety net and options were few. I believe Dickens’ poor would have embraced modern shelters, work opportunities and rehabilitation programs — not because they were better people, but because harsh conditions demanded it. "Are there no poor? Are there no workhouses? Many would rather die than go there," they said. This was their grim reality.
Today, however, our obligation to the poor and homeless must be matched by their obligation to participate in their own recovery. The real Scrooge in this story is the political class that has imposed a failed social experiment on Californians — a failure by every measure. May we all see the truth so we can proclaim, "God bless us, everyone."
