TIME TO STAGGER WELFARE PAYOUTS

On 'Welfare Wednesday,' Food Is Forgotten And Drug Dealers Do Brisk
Business

The party starts early on Welfare Wednesday in Vancouver's Downtown
Eastside, thanks to a provincial initiative that gives
social-assistance recipients their money through direct deposit.

By 2 a.m. on the day dubbed Mardi Gras, people hooked on crack, heroin
and crystal meth are lined up at ATMs in the area.

Vancouver police Sgt. Fiona Wilson-Bates, lead author of a
ground-breaking study into social and policing issues in the Downtown
Eastside, came back this winter to the seedy streets after leaving in
2007 to work on sex-crime and gang teams. Upon her return, she noticed
the ATMs that had started popping up when the provincial government
introduced direct-deposit welfare payments shortly after she left.

In November 2009, 44 per cent of Downtown Eastside social-assistance
recipients -- 3,032 people -- received payments by direct deposit,
compared to 40 per cent -- 2,637 people -- in January 2008, according
to the B.C. Ministry of Housing and Social Development.

On a recent Welfare Wednesday, the last Wednesday of the month, when
welfare cheques are issued, Wilson-Bates saw the result of the
direct-deposit system.

In the run-up to midnight, all was calm, and few people were
around.

"Why is it so quiet?" she asked another officer.

"Just wait," she was told.

Then the queues started, and the ATMs began spewing taxpayers' money
into the hands of people with one thing on their minds: drugs.

"There were lineups at the ATMs up to 25 deep," Wilson-Bates says.
"There were dealers at every corner. By 3 a.m., there were dozens and
dozens of people on the street."

Liberty Market owner Mohammed Qureshi says 900 transactions a month
are conducted at his two ATMs, which run non-stop in the early hours
of Mardi Gras. Qureshi sees people take out their $200 daily limit,
then return the next night just after midnight to max out their daily
withdrawal again. Drug dealers loiter outside on the sidewalk.

"They finish, three or four days, all their money," says Qureshi, who
cut holes in the awning outside his shop so rain would discourage
dealers and addicts from congregating in front of his door.

Welfare Wednesday is also called "issue day" because cheques are
issued. It is followed by "tissue day" when the money is gone and the
regret kicks in.

Doling out the monthly sum all at once contributes to the misery of
addicted welfare recipients and to "mayhem" on the streets, says Sen.
Larry Campbell, former Vancouver mayor, chief provincial coroner and
drug-squad Mountie.

"It just [creates] from my point of view, the perfect storm of
difficulties for people who are already in a very difficult
situation," Campbell says.

In the days between Issue Day and Tissue Day, fallout from the
single-payment system changes the way the Union Gospel Mission
operates its dinner service. From that Wednesday through the Saturday,
the facility offers one dinner service instead of two, feeding 100
people instead of the usual 225.

"We actually adapt our services, knowing the cycle . . . and the
reality on the street," says Bruce Curtis, senior chaplain for the
Union Gospel Mission. Some of their clients are eating out during
those days, and some just aren't consuming much besides drugs, Curtis
says.

Campbell has been saying for years that welfare payments in the
Downtown Eastside should be staggered throughout the month to prevent
the crime and suffering that result from Mardi Gras, and which affect
all the area's residents.

"We sometimes lose sight of the fact that this is a tremendously
vibrant community and that not everyone is suffering from difficulties
such as mental illness, or addictions," Campbell says.

Downtown Eastside resident Ron Boos, 48, believes staggered payments
make sense.

"People would get a little bit wiser on how they spend their money,"
says Boos, who has a morphine addiction.

Those immersed in the partying often fall victim to predators who roll
them for their money or drugs, and drug-bingers often end up
hospitalized, Campbell says.

Staggered payments would not necessarily prevent addicts from blowing
all their money on drugs and liquor, Curtis notes.

"It just splits it up, the abuse, through the month," Curtis says. "I
don't think it's an easy solution."

I tried to get Minister of Housing and Social Development Rich Coleman
to talk about the issue of giving lump-sum payments to drug-addicted
British Columbians. The minister declined an interview, with a press
liaison providing a response by email, not to be attributed to a
specific person.

"When necessary, the ministry has the ability to issue funds on a
biweekly or bimonthly basis to clients who have shown difficulty in
managing funds," the email says.

That staggered-payment method, however, is optional.

Whether or not staggered payments can help stop people from spending
all their money in a few days, making it mandatory in the Downtown
Eastside would put an end to Mardi Gras -- an outcome clearly
beneficial to all Downtown Eastside residents.