Civilization is at war

Homelessness is part of a worldwide problem. Civilization is at war, though it’s a very different war from the one against Hitler in 1939. Our present-day war is mainly non-military—against the worldwide pandemic, against widespread poverty, against widespread displacement of people, against the hugeness of climate change.

When we go to war, our brain goes with us, sliding into “protection mode,” where the organism closes against a perceived threat. What scientists call “protection mode” we call the fight-or-flight state. In that state, the brain operates in a stripped-down mode driven by vigilance and distrust.

That, I believe, is where we are now. A militant mindset is driving our perceptions and distorting our perspectives. We are frightened and angry. Many of us aren’t sleeping well. We’re ready for a fight.

In this context, we may not have much patience with the homeless. Our reserves of sympathy may be empty. We may see the homeless as weak or thuggish—or both.

As a retired psychologist, I want to see the homeless as they are. There are many reasons why people become homeless. But persons with toxic attachment experiences may be over-represented among the homeless in Canada.

Some people don’t get a fair chance at life. Each of us is born with a need to form a deep attachment to our caregivers. When the attachment process goes well, the result is a child who is trusting and emotionally stable.

But what happens when the attachment process goes badly—when a child is physically beaten, emotionally battered, or severely neglected? Such a child may get imprisoned in the fight-or-flight state for so many months or even years that normal mental development is slowed down.

When mental development is slowed, we can suffer from various deficits. We can be poor at understanding how other people think. We can be poor at understanding our own thoughts. We can be poor at forming an appraisal of everyday risks, so that we trust the wrong people. We can be lacking in the deep emotional reserves needed to say no to drugs.

Such persons may strike us as different and alien. We may ask ourselves, What’s wrong with them? Why can’t they be like us? Why can’t they shape up?

Can we, in the current state of the world, replenish our reserves of sympathy? Can we learn to see the homeless with compassion—even the ones whose problems may have started years before they became homeless?

Gary Willis, Kelowna, Ph.D. Clinical (Community) Psychology — retired psychologist