This past spring, Ben Rayner, a former Toronto Star reporter and music critic, found himself homeless. A combination of depression, separation from his partner and prioritizing time with his young daughter had lowered his income. Then, a sudden $650-a-month rent increase dealt the final blow. Rayner was formally evicted and began couch-surfing. At his hearing before the Landlord and Tenant Board, he was told that it’s not a landlord’s job to be moral.

Rayner’s story is a stark illustration of how acute Canada’s housing crisis has become. At the top, housing has partly become an investment, making it harder for younger professionals to buy homes. At the same time, middle-and lower-income people struggle to find affordable rent, and those at the lowest end are being pushed out of housing altogether. While home ownership may seem disconnected from street homelessness, Alison Smith, an associate professor of political science at U of T Mississauga, says all levels of housing are interconnected: “It’s a system.”

Addressing this long-running crisis requires bold action. One place to start, says Carolyn Whitzman, a senior housing researcher and adjunct professor at U of T’s School of Cities, is a substantial public investment in non-market housing. She believes Canada should ensure that 20 per cent of the national housing stock falls into this category – roughly matching the share of Canadians who cannot realistically be served by market housing.

Such a target would bring Canada more in line with its international peers who have successfully addressed housing shortages and homelessness. In France, for example, in 2000, the national government set a mandate that 20 per cent of housing in most urban municipalities be non-market by 2020 – and in 2013 raised the target to 25 per cent by this year. The plan was supported through measures such as land purchases, savings bonds and payroll taxes. “So, it can happen,” says Whitzman. “It has happened.”

In Canada, by contrast, about 3.5 per cent of housing is non-market. Achieving 20 per cent would require a huge push from both governments and non-profits.

Whitzman traces the problem back decades. In the 1990s, the federal government passed responsibility for housing to provinces and territories. But most jurisdictions built little or nothing. A prevailing view at the time was that the market would solve our housing woes. It didn’t. Investors were not interested in building low-rent homes, and the proportion of non-market housing declined, pricing many out of a place to live. “We need to accept that low-income people will never be served by the market,” says Whitzman.

In her recent book, Home Truths: Fixing Canada’s Housing Crisis, she argues that affordable housing should be regarded as critical infrastructure, no less vital than hospitals, schools, libraries, sewers and bridges. When we invest in housing, the focus should not be only on financial returns, but also on how much society can be improved. She notes that non-market housing can reduce substance abuse and violence, lower demand for child protection and emergency health care, and keep people out of the justice system. In short, affordable housing supports community health.

Canada already has good precedents. Whitzman points to the St Lawrence neighbourhood in downtown Toronto, an innovative, high-density, socially mixed community of more than 4,300 homes built beginning in the 1970s. About one-third of the units are market-rate, while two-thirds are co-ops and public housing. A three-bedroom apartment still rents for as little as $1,800 a month. “That is the difference that non-market makes,” says Whitzman. “It maintains affordability in a way that market housing simply doesn’t.” She calls non-market housing “perpetually affordable.”

Edmonton provides another model. City leaders there adopted the principle that everyone deserves a home and set a target of 16 per cent non-market housing in every neighbourhood. Revised zoning allows three-storey buildings almost anywhere, and laneway and garden suites can be severed into separate properties. “Edmonton is a poster child for zoning reform,” says Whitzman.

Even Toronto, one of Canada’s densest cities, needs to allow greater intensification, Whitzman says. “Up to four storeys should be permitted in every residential area, without limits on the number of units. We need apartment buildings, we need a new generation of rooming houses, and we need seniors’ housing. We need everything.” The most important step municipal governments can take, Whitzman adds, is to create an enabling environment for small-scale intensification: “Legalize the housing that’s most needed.”

Ensuring inclusion

We also need to keep an eye on affordability, she says – and by affordable, she means housing within reach of people who earn less than half of the median income. A decade ago, the federal government announced it was getting back into the business of building housing and pledged to assist with financing, land procurement and construction. But Whitzman points out that $55 billion of the $88 billion earmarked under the National Housing Strategy between 2018 and 2028 has gone toward an apartment construction loan program where only three per cent of the units are affordable to those most in need. “They forgot to look at what affordable means,” she says.

In September, the federal government unveiled Build Canada Homes, a new agency to accelerate affordable housing construction. Whitzman calls it a welcome “restart,” noting that the approach is right but that the program needs to be expanded to meet demand.

While long-term structural change is critical, Alison Smith says urgent solutions are also needed for those experiencing homelessness right now. She believes that quick-to-construct, low-cost, and well-designed and maintained tiny homes, supported by social services, offer an immediate, innovative solution that more small municipalities and suburbs should consider.

What Canada should do is say that we’re going to end homelessness. We haven’t really said that yet.”

She has studied “The Village,” a community in Duncan, B.C., where one-person sleeping cabins are arranged in three circles, with a communal space including washrooms at the centre. Many residents had previously spent years living on the street. Some didn’t feel safe in shelters and existing supportive housing was full. Smith says the tiny home community “filled a pretty big gap.”

Each unit contains just a bed, a desk and a dresser. All meals are brought to the site, and other supports, such as mental and physical health care, addiction services, skills training and referrals to specialty organizations, are provided for residents, some of them around the clock. The entire project – 40 sleeping cabins and one staffroom cabin, plus two washrooms – cost just under $1 million to set up. Community opposition was strong at first. But organizers held public meetings to address concerns, and resistance gave way to support. Smith notes that crime in the area has dropped 18 per cent, emergency medical calls have decreased and there have been no fires or floods.

Similar tiny house communities have been built in Manitoba, Ontario, New Brunswick and elsewhere. A limiting factor, says Smith, is land. Funding and arranging the needed services can also be a challenge. Providing the physical home may be the most obvious part of solving homelessness, Smith observes, but there’s so much more that goes into a home: “It’s about safety, it’s about care.”

Canada now faces a choice. The country could decide to become a place where one in five homes is perpetually affordable and where no one is left without a place to live. “What Canada should do,” says Whitzman, “is say that we’re going to end homelessness. We haven’t really said that yet.”

This story is one of a six-part feature on big, bold Canadian ideas.