Two years ago, I spent a week in the Kakaako homeless camp. Since then, I’ve continued spending time on Oahu’s streets each week. My goal has been to understand why homelessness persists and what we can do about it. My experience convinces me that “sweeping” homeless can exacerbate the problem in costly and dangerous ways.

The intent of “compassionate disruption” — sit-lie bans and sweeps — is to make street life unpleasant enough to force homeless into shelters and discourage more homelessness. Yet despite intensifying sweeps over the past five years, “sheltered” homelessness has declined and “unsheltered” homelessness has risen on Oahu, though shelters often have space.

Most people on Oahu streets have already been through shelters. Even after sweeps, many now avoid them. Why?

Moving in and out of a shelter can leave you worse off. Due to a shortage of permanent housing, many max-out their time in shelters (typically 90 days) or are discharged for violating rules. On the street, friends keep you safe. Entering a shelter sacrifices this support. Privacy rules make it hard to keep in touch with people outside, and there’s no telling where friends will be when you exit. When you’re discharged, relationships that previously kept you safe are gone.

Some report negative experiences at shelters including abuses of power, demeaning treatment, and selective enforcement of rules or fees. While some shelters have good reputations, negative stories about others erode faith in shelters generally.

So, many stay on the street trying to build camps that can keep them secure and help them safeguard critical possessions like ID, medications, proof of eligibility for food stamps or Medicaid.

Sweeps sever these relationships, scattering people to new places, where they are reluctant to leave their tent for fear or theft or violence. They miss doctor’s appointments and lose medications, resulting in more visits to the ER. They lose paperwork, meaning human services agencies work overtime to re-establish client eligibility. Citations mean fines they cannot pay, clogging courts and turning jails into de facto shelters at huge taxpayer expense.

Sweeping one area also destabilizes camps elsewhere. I witnessed this when people in Chinatown were swept in 2015, and directed to Kakaako, where I was camped. As new people flooded our block, violence rose, order and sanitation declined. Soon after Kakaako, too, was swept.

After a sweep, wherever a person goes next, they’re less hopeful and healthy; more stressed and unstable; more likely to harm themselves or others.

Sweeps are necessary in some cases, but we should recognize the harm they do, and stop pretending that they help solve homelessness. Where people have built stable street communities, we should work hard to support them.

One example is Pu‘uhonua O Wai‘anae, a “village” of 200-plus at the Waianae Boat Harbor. Resident Twinkle Borge leads it. With a handful of camp residents, she has created a stable environment where many work, keiki and kupuna are looked after, and residents care for the surrounding area. Twinkle’s team organizes holiday events, securing donations to ensure there’s food for everyone and a gift at Christmas for every child. Village youth go door-to-door in the neighboring subdivision to give away surplus donations.

Because “compassionate disruption” isn’t working as hoped, and many homeless people actively avoid shelters, we must consider alternatives. If a self-organized camp can achieve a level safety and cleanliness, then allowing them to stay in place and supporting their efforts may be a better solution than sweeping.

Leaders like Twinkle and camps like Pu‘uhonua O Wai‘anae are assets to build upon. Those trying to address homelessness may learn something valuable by engaging them as partners. And all of us struggling to maintain lives and communities of aloha through financial strain and political strife might learn something, too, houseless and housed alike.

James Koshiba is a local policy researcher, consultant and social entrepreneur.