Homelessness

Critics of Dallas’s approach to homelessness argue that despite millions in spending, flashy programs, and promises of progress, the city is stuck in a cycle of futility. They point to persistent encampments, rising costs, and a lack of tangible improvement in quality of life as proof that the system is broken.

Wasted Money, Little Results

Opponents, including Mayor Eric Johnson, who opposed the $2.5 million Street-to-Home funding in 2024, contend that the city is throwing money at a problem without solving it. The Dallas R.E.A.L. Time Rapid Rehousing initiative, costing $72 million since 2021, has housed over 2,700 people, but critics ask: where’s the visible change? Downtown streets still feature tents near the library and I-30, and the 2024 cleanup of 170 encampments cost $650,000—only for many to reappear weeks later. “We’re funding a revolving door,” one X user griped, echoing a sentiment that taxpayer dollars are propping up temporary fixes rather than ending homelessness.

The opposition highlights that the $11 million annual cost of rapid rehousing, now straining the city budget as federal relief dries up, doesn’t address why people end up back on the streets. They argue the 99% retention rate after 12 months is meaningless if people relapse into homelessness once subsidies end, a data point the city doesn’t widely track or share.

A vocal critique is that programs like “Housing First”—prioritizing shelter without mandating treatment—enable addiction and mental illness rather than tackle them. With 40% of Dallas’s homeless population reporting mental health issues and 32% struggling with substance abuse, opponents say handing out apartments without forced intervention is a Band-Aid. “You can’t just give keys to someone shooting up and call it progress,” an X post quipped in 2024, reflecting a belief that the city coddles rather than cures.

Encampment clearances, meanwhile, are derided as theater. The city spends hundreds of thousands to dismantle sites, only to see them pop up elsewhere. Critics call it “whack-a-mole policing” and argue it harasses the homeless without offering real alternatives, especially since shelters like The Bridge are often full or avoided due to strict rules.

The opposition slams the city for not addressing structural failures—like the affordable housing crisis—head-on. With just 17 affordable units per 100 low-income renters and median rent at $1,200, they argue Dallas is a landlord’s paradise, not a worker’s. The 2024 eviction rate, 20% above the national average, proves the city isn’t serious about keeping people housed, they say. Instead of building more low-cost units or cracking down on rent gouging, Dallas pumps money into short-term rehousing that doesn’t scale.

Racial disparities—Black residents, 24% of the population, comprising over half the homeless—get lip service but no bold action, critics claim. “It’s systemic neglect dressed up as compassion,” one downtown resident told local media in 2024.

For many residents, especially downtown, homelessness isn’t a statistic—it’s a daily irritation. Over 75% of downtown dwellers surveyed in 2024 called it a serious issue, citing panhandling, litter, and petty crime tied to encampments. The opposition argues that the city prioritizes optics (like clearing tents before events) over safety, leaving taxpayers to foot the bill for a problem that never shrinks. “I pay taxes for parks, not tent cities,” an X user vented, capturing a frustration that quality of life is sacrificed for feel-good stats like a 24% drop in unsheltered numbers since 2021—a decline skeptics say is exaggerated or temporary.

To the opposition, Dallas’s homelessness strategy is a costly mirage: stats tout progress (e.g., 1,000 housed in 2023), but the streets tell a different story. They demand accountability—stop spending on endless rehousing, enforce treatment for addiction and mental illness, and build actual affordable housing instead of leaning on nonprofits and federal handouts. They see “functional zero” as a pipe dream under current leadership, with Mayor Johnson’s dissent signaling a broader rift: the city’s approach is either naive or deliberately soft, and residents are left with the mess.

We can't deny some successes but they’re overshadowed by inefficiency and a refusal to confront hard truths.