When Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»crime rate statistics were released late last year, many were surprised to see several categories flat or down. But when asked, your average Vancouverite will likely tell you they feel less safe than ever. Why does this schism exist?
As a downtown Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»resident for most of my adult life, someone who loves good data, and the son of a (retired) VPD Homicide Detective, I've given a lot of thought to why the data doesn't match people's feelings. I'm also one of those people that finds downtown far less safe than anytime I've lived here in the past three decades.
So why does it "feel" less safe even if recent crime stats are reported to show the opposite?
The answer to this has made itself known to me countless times over the last year or two. My fear is reinforced every time I see someone (or me) have a scary interaction with someone else on the street.
Multiple times on any given walk with my kids I pass people who are out of their mind, shouting graphically violent threats, and swearing. They've lost control of their brain or body in a way that would certainly be a threat to us, if we remained in their path.
Add to that stepping over open drug use right in front of our corner store or actively avoiding piles of human feces in front of the door of our building, and there's no reason to think a police report about someone threatening us on the street would be acted upon.
I recall having to threaten to smash a wine bottle over the head of someone who ran up behind me in Crosstown, screaming and apparently prepared to jump me for the alcohol I'd just bought.
He never made contact but we both shouted at each other in a tense standoff. No police report.
My apartment's resident manager recently told me he's never seen so many people try to break into our building. He watches the security cameras and every day sees people trying all the locks and doors, waiting to scamper in the underground gate, and so on.
These attempts don't warrant police reports.
Another time, walking in Olympic Village, I saw a dishevelled man lurch toward a young Asian woman walking alone, swinging a bike's U-lock above his head and screaming at her. She dodged him and bolted away, he didn't pursue.
I'm guessing she didn't file a police report either.
Add to this the COVID-era twist of far fewer people being out downtown (and likely more people suffering from mental health issues) and the streets suddenly feel more dangerous and there's no one around to help you.
Never mind the fact that many of us already feel as though the City has abandoned even basic maintenance like crosswalk paint. We've acclimated ourselves to feeling we’re on our own and under siege just walking through the city.
But all these incidents aren't worthy of police reports, are they? I mean, who has the time? I'd be filing at least a police report every week, maybe more, if that's all it took.
And you could argue, "None of these incidents resulted in you being hurt, so things aren't actually worse!"
But that's ignoring how it feels to defend against this every day.
Measuring safety is a tricky business. But using 'filed police reports' as our only metric doesn't capture the very real, justified reasons why many Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»residents feel less safe than ever.
Adrian Crook is a father of five and long-time advocate for temporary modular housing for the homeless. He's a vocal supporter of safe injection sites and has volunteered in the DTES providing clothing and food. He believes an inclusive Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»can care for all its residents, in the unique way each requires.
