In defense of the voucher

By Eli Kintisch

It was a hazy Sunday morning last April as I walked towards the library. Sitting outside Pierson College on a bench was Rachel, a homeless woman in sweats. She called to me for change. I gave her the few coins I had, and told her to have a good day. A simple act of giving, I thought. The traffic passed, I crossed Elm and began to worry about Orgo.

Later I returned for dinner, and a small crowd had surrounded the bench. Rachel was sprawled forward on the ground in front of me. Sirens blared over her erratic wheezes.

Paramedics elbowed in through the circle of on-lookers. "Hello Captain Smirnoff," a burly EMT muttered, noting the plastic bottleneck peeking out from a paper bag. Rachel's face was smeared with dust, her neck twisted awkwardly around. They were strapping her in. Addiction is powerful, I thought. I felt guilty. My change had financed her spree.

I no longer give money to the homeless. Instead of reaching for change, I hand out only New Haven Cares Vouchers. These 25-cent coupons are not redeemable for drugs, alcohol, tobacco or cash. They can be purchased at Store 24, Krautzers, GranCentral, and local coffee shops and convenience stores. These businesses, as well as the city's homeless shelters, accept vouchers.

Many feel that vouchers are paternalistic. Respect the poor, they say, let them decide how to help themselves. Somehow, charity becomes insulting and disrespectful when you specify how exactly you want to help. Is it paternalistic to give a blanket or a sandwich to a hungry person?

Vouchers, a liberating substitute for a certain food or item, should not be condemned. As Decia Toll, LAW '99, director of New Haven Cares, says, "Its an alternative to giving people a can of string beans. With vouchers, they can go to the supermarket and buy what they want for dinner."

I disagree that inherent in handing a voucher to a panhandler is the assertion that they cannot decide for themselves how to spend the money. The reality of poverty is that addiction is a ubiquitous force among the vast majority of New Haven's poorest. In offering vouchers, you are helping individuals beat addiction.

Every little bit can help the needy. I am not advocating against the giving of change. Personally, my conscience will not allow me to just hand a homeless person money. Vouchers present a creative solution to a common dilemma of charity on the streets

Beggars brighten as I reach for my back pocket, thinking I'm about to give them a bill or two. When I hand them a twenty-five cent voucher they often sour, sometimes angrily refusing. But after seeing Rachel's dilated pupils last spring, I cannot do otherwise. People are cold and hungry in New Haven, and we should help in whatever way we feel best.

Eli Kintisch is a junior in Ezra Stiles.

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