Julian Daly at UBCM: Disordered Downtown – Rethinking care for those in need

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The Union of BC Municipalities (UBCM) 2025 convention stirred up a lot of media coverage, especially the session “Disordered Downtown – Rethinking care for those in need,” and especially the speech by Julian Daly, CEO of Our Place Society.

Here is the session description:

“Over the past decade, communities across BC have seen a dramatic increase in the number of unhoused residents with significant mental health and addiction issues. In addition to the personal suffering of those who struggle with these challenges, downtown businesses and residents also struggle with a corresponding increase in vandalism, random acts of violence and theft. As local governments respond to this complex social issue, they find themselves on the front lines trying to fix a problem that is multi-faceted and in many cases beyond their capacity and mandate. This session will explore the factors that have contributed to growth of street disorder in our communities as well as viable response options, incorporating perspectives from impacted agencies, leading authorities and other key stakeholders.”

Some of the media coverage of Julian Daly’s speech was a bit “editorialized”, with selective quotes plus a fair amount of commentary.

I recommend reading his actual words. And today Julian Daly has an op-ed in the Times Colonist, which is a short version of his UBCM presentation. Here is a link. Comment: A better way to tackle disorder on our streets.

And here is his full presentation at UBCM. I’ve also pasted in a copy of the full presentation at the bottom of this post in case that link gets broken in future.

Several others also spoke at that panel, including:

  • Adam Dalrymple, President of B.C. Crown Counsel Association
  • Dr. Daniel Vigo, Chief Scientific Advisor for Psychiatry, Toxic Drugs and Concurrent Disorders, Province of B.C.
  • Leonard Krog, Mayor, City of Nanaimo

I may post later about their presentations, which were very interesting.

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Julian Daly, CEO, Our Place
Opening
Good afternoon, everyone.
Thank you for inviting me. It’s a real privilege to join you today to
share some thoughts on an issue close to my heart, and I suspect
close to yours as well: the disorder in our downtowns and how to
address it.
We all want the same thing: safe, vibrant communities and real care
for people who are struggling. We want a win–win. But what we too
often have now is a lose–lose: disorder on the streets, and lives still
being lost.
This is a complex, nuanced problem. Yet public debate often flattens
it into something very black-and-white: compassion on one side,
enforcement on the other. As though it’s a binary choice. It isn’t. And
that framing doesn’t help us move forward.
In the next 15 minutes, I’ll try to unpack some of that complexity
from my perspective: how we got here, what we’re seeing on the
ground, and — most importantly — what we can do about it.
The organisation I am CEO of, Our Place, an organization that serves
homeless people and folk living in poverty, working in Victoria,
Saanich, and View Royal. Our work spans the continuum: a large
community centre drop-in with meals, showers, and supports;
emergency shelters; transitional and supportive housing; sober
housing; and two therapeutic recovery communities, one for men
and one for women.
Our Community Centre is on Pandora Avenue , a part of Victoria,
which for many, is the epicenter of street homelessness and
disorder in our city.
Every day, my colleagues and I meet people in profound crisis. And
every day, we try to offer dignity, hope and support for folk to move
from just surviving to thriving.
But the challenges we face — and the ones our communities face —
are growing. And we need to speak honestly about why.

So how did we get here ?
Seventeen years ago, when I began in this field in Edmonton, most
people we worked with were struggling primarily with alcohol.
Drugs existed, yes — but they weren’t the main substance people
used.
Fast forward to today, and the landscape is almost unrecognizable.
The drugs have changed. And the drugs have changed everything. I
can’t stress that enough.
We are now dealing almost entirely with opioids, meth and fentanyl.
These substances are engineered for maximum potency and
maximum addiction. They are cheaper than alcohol, easier to get,
and devastating to people’s minds and bodies.
Those the drugs do not kill, they slowly destroy.
We now regularly see young people in their twenties or thirties with
brain damage caused by repeated overdoses and resuscitations.
Addiction and mental illness are now so intertwined that you can no
longer separate the two.
The majority of people entrenched on our streets — and who are
the sources of both real and perceived disorder, the people
wondering our streets screaming threats and in psychosis, the
people lying prostrate on our sidewalks or slumped in our
doorways. — are there because of their addictions and because they
are mentally unwell.
COVID made things worse. The isolation, loss of community, and
loneliness pushed people further into addiction and despair. We are
still seeing the repercussions.
But it isn’t only the drugs. We have also slid into what sometimes
feels like “endless accommodation” of behaviours on our streets that
are frankly not OK — behaviours that frighten people and make
them feel unsafe, including other homeless people. In our desire to
be compassionate, we have sometimes lost the balance with
accountability.
And when anything goes… it really does.
At Our Place, we are the largest provider of free meals on Vancouver
Island – over half a million a year. But today, many people who
desperately need our food, often low income seniors — and all the
other supports we offer — are too frightened to come into our
building on Pandora Avenue, because of what’s happening outside
it.
It has affected our funding as well. Long-time, generous donors have
told me bluntly they are no longer giving, because they associate us
with the disorder outside our doors. They believe, wrongly, that we
are somehow responsible for it. But perception matters — and that
perception costs us the resources we need to help the very people it
is our mission to serve.
Over the years, I’ve noticed a growing tendency, especially on social
media, to demonize, to “other” and to scapegoat street homeless
people for many of our social ills, as if all that’s going wrong in our
city’s is somehow their fault. I understand how distressing and even
terrifying it can be when someone is screaming, shouting, or
threatening violence, and on rare occasions acting out violently. But
those behaviours are rarely because people are bad. Almost without
exception, they are because people are profoundly unwell — people
living with untreated mental illness and addiction.
Also decriminalization, while well-intentioned, had unintended
consequences. In practice, it’s given people permission to use
openly. Police lost the leverage they once had to dissuade folk from
public use. What was once hidden is now everywhere.
At the same time, “catch-and-release” policing has reduced morale
among officers. Many police officers have told me privately that they
want to maintain public order, but when the legal system doesn’t
support charges and there are seemingly no consequences for
criminal activity, they feel powerless. If officers believe their efforts
won’t be upheld, many, understandably, shy away from
enforcement. This leads criminally intended individuals to act
without fear of repercussions.
Meanwhile, mental health crises go largely untreated.
It may sound harsh to say but well-meaning interventions can end
up feeding the problem.
Another troubling outcome of all this is the normalization of once
shocking scenes. People in drug-induced stupor are now so common
that I, like many others, simply check if they’re breathing and move
on. That normalization fosters complacency and reduces the
urgency to respond to human suffering.

So what do we do?
First, honesty. Let’s call this what it is. This is not only a housing
crisis. This is now primarily a health crisis.
We’ve talked for years about Housing First as the primary solution
to street homelessness. And its worked wonders for many. But I
would argue for that those who are most unwell currently on our
streets we need to move to and adopt a Health First model.
Housing matters — it is essential and the provincial government has
not stood still on this. In recent years — and particularly during
COVID — the provincial government invested unprecedented
amounts in shelters and supportive housing in Greater Victoria.
Those investments mattered, and they made a difference, housing
over 800 people, most of whom remain housed.
But for many of the most unwell people on our streets, housing
alone is not enough. Without addressing addiction, mental health,
and trauma, housing alone is usually not sustainable. Most people
experiencing entrenched street homelessness have been housed and
lost it due to untreated mental illness and addiction.
Health First means stabilizing people before housing them. It means
addressing addiction, mental and physical illness, and trauma. It
means building the foundation that makes housing sustainable.
And yes, sometimes, it means involuntary or secure care. That is
controversial, I know. But if someone is so unwell they cannot make
informed decisions about their healthcare , then leaving them to die
on the sidewalk with little but their liberties intact is not
compassion. It is abandonment. Sometimes the most compassionate
thing we can do is intervene.
We also need far more detox, treatment and recovery spaces.
At Our Place, we run two recovery communities called New Roads.
Outcomes are extraordinary — over 70% of participants graduate
successfully, and the majority remain sober years later. That is one
of the best returns on investment I have seen in social policy.
When I visit New Roads I see men and women, once lost, now
thriving — with agency, hope, and dreams again. Reclaiming their
lives .Recovery works. Indeed, it is one of the very few things that
seems to work, and work in a sustained way, in the current drug
crisis.
But it only works if we have enough spaces, in every community.
It’s also important to recognize the provincial government’s
investment—nearly a billion dollars over the last three years—into
recovery and treatment. That’s a substantial and unprecedented
investment and it is making a difference.
We also need more targeted enforcement from police. Let me be
clear: I am not talking about criminalizing poverty or mental health
or addiction. I am talking about going after the criminals who exploit
the vulnerable — the high and mid level drug dealers and traffickers
who push toxic substances, the predators who prey on homeless
people in distress and sex traffic women and even men, the people
who commit criminal acts of physical violence and theft.
Enforcement, used wisely, is not the enemy of compassion. It is a
tool of protection. I don’t think we should have a problem with
criminalising criminality.
We also need to recognize that not everyone on our streets is the
same. They are not a homogeneous group. There are casual
opportunist campers, criminals, profoundly unwell people and those
simply unhoused. A one size response does not fit all and does not
usually work well. Casual campers need to be moved on. Criminals
charged. Those that are unwell and unhoused need health services
and shelter and housing. So, enforcement for some. Healthcare and
housing for others.
Compassion must be balanced with accountability.
Services must be tailored to individuals needs. Systems must be
interconnected, not siloed. Housing and health services must
consistently work together, not apart, to create truly integrated
continuums of care and housing.
This last point is crucial and where we have seen housing and health
services working well together there have been extraordinary
outcomes. They need to be inextricably linked if we are to
comprehensively address street homelessness and public disorder.
And this brings me to a critical point: no single part of the system
can solve this alone. Not the city. Not the health authority. Not BC
housing. Not police. Not nonprofits. When any one of these parts of
the solution act alone, outcomes are usually poor.
The only time we see real progress is when all the pieces of the
solution work together. That is when the change we need becomes
possible.
Let me share a story of hope in this respect.
In 2020, during COVID, the Mayor of Victoria, Lisa Helps, brought a
small group of us together – housing providers, Island Health, BC
Housing, nonprofits, police, and city staff. Ten people around a table.
We met every week for 5 months and the Mayor held us accountable
for bringing our particular part of the solution to the table, week in,
week out. And together, we found housing, shelter and health
supports for nearly 700 people who had been living rough in our
parks and streets.
At the start, many said it was impossible. But by the end, it was
done. Why? Because we set aside politics, egos, territorialism and
focused on solutions for the common good. And, crucially, the
government invested the necessary resources.
Where there is will, there really is a way.
And, finally, we need prevention.
Too often, we support folk off the streets only to see others take
their place. The cycle repeats. Prevention means intervening before
crisis becomes entrenched. As soon as the first tent goes up, we act.
As soon as the first person slips, we catch them. That is how we stop
managing crisis and start solving it.
Street disorder is not inevitable. It is the result of choices. And that
means we can make different choices.
We can choose to put health first for the most unwell.
We can choose to restore balance between compassion and
accountability.
We can choose to focus not only on the symptoms on our streets, but
on the causes beneath them.
We can choose collaboration — because only all the parts of the
solution working together can solve this.
And we can also choose not to demonize the people we see suffering
on our streets and see them, instead, as our fellow human beings ,
desperately unwell, needing our help.
If we make these choices then we can build communities where
everyone — housed and unhoused, struggling and thriving alike —
has a chance to live well and live safely.
This may be optimistic but it is not naïve. I have seen it happen
before. And I believe we can do it again.
Thank you.