Most of us have grown accustomed to seeing certain faces repeatedly around the Square, especially those of the homeless. Our regular encounters with “the Spare Change guy” or “the guy with the dog and the cat” are perhaps better anticipated than between-class run-ins with friends, exes or entrywaymates. Maybe we drop a coin or two in the cup every time we walk by. Sometimes we may pass with only a polite smile and nod, or, if we’re in a really dank mood, we might look down and fiddle aimlessly with some cell phone buttons.

I wasn’t surprised last month when the man who often holds the door for me outside CVS noticed my new haircut. This acquaintance had become enough of a visible presence in my life—and vice versa—that he picked up on a detail that had eluded even my roommate. But in the midst of such familiarity, even cordiality, it’s sometimes easy to forget that winter is much harsher on some than others. The cold, rainy walk from Winthrop to Boylston is unsavory enough; imagine sleeping that same night on the ground near the Coop.

We may have gotten used to homelessness, but that doesn’t mean that Cambridge doesn’t still have a serious homeless problem. We need look no further than Cambridge Common playground, where outraged parents and pre-school teachers have recently discovered hypodermic needles, human waste and condoms, thought to be discarded by homeless individuals. Unlike other municipalities, Cambridge allows the belongings of the homeless to remain unattended in public parks for two days before forced removal—a well-intentioned policy with dismal results. Advocates for the homeless have offered a reasonable, compassionate solution that should be adopted: create a lost-and-found and/or provide indoor lockers for storage.

Homeless individuals make up 0.5 percent of the Cambridge population, but they account for roughly 1 in 10 arrests. Offenses committed by the homeless—assault, shoplifting, disorderly conduct, harassment and crimes against police officers—substantially affect the city’s quality of life.

Meanwhile, the current situation is a catastrophe for the homeless themselves. In March 2004, a group of volunteers conducted the Cambridge Homeless census, (conservatively) counting just under 500 individuals in the city. The warmer months find roughly 1 in 3 homeless people sleeping unsheltered; in the winter, the number remains in the dozens. In the Boston area in 2000, 44 percent of homeless people were working paying jobs in a given month—many supporting children—while only 11 percent received Supplemental Security Income from the federal government.

Almost 4 in 10 of Boston’s homeless are plagued by mental health issues, and nearly the same number report problems with alcohol abuse. An appalling 92 percent of homeless women have experienced some form of physical and/or sexual assault at some point in their lives. The homeless community is wildly skewed in the direction of blacks and Hispanics. And while the incomes of homeless individuals remain stagnant at a fraction of the poverty level, Cambridge housing costs continue to skyrocket—the average one-bedroom apartment rents for an astounding $1,400.

In opinion columns, finger-pointing is de rigueur. So I sat down and scoured Cambridge records, trying to figure out who was responsible for this mess. The City of Cambridge? A 1999 City report on homelessness argued that “Cambridge offers a continuum of care through a coordinated-but-decentralized network of diverse programs and services operated by local government agencies, private non-profit organizations, churches, and homeless-led organizations.” And the City and its non-profit allies do seem to know a lot and care a lot about the local homeless community.

Maybe Harvard was to blame. Have we been giving homelessness in our city the attention it deserves? Speaking to Mary Power, Harvard’s Senior Director of Community Relations, I was inclined to believe that Harvard isn’t the villain either. From the well-oiled, entirely student-run Harvard Square Homeless Shelter to staff and faculty contributions to local homeless charities, the University is definitely not turning a blind eye to the homeless community. Especially noteworthy is the 20/20/2000 program, which appropriated $20 million in interest-free loans to Cambridge and Boston for affordable housing projects.

So, where do we ultimately pin the blame?

Like a grim Choose Your Own Adventure book, I’ll provide two alternate endings, neither particularly cheery, I’m afraid:

Blame national politics. The current administration recently proposed slashing $1 billion from Section 8, the nation’s affordable housing program. Similarly, if adequate resources were actually being allocated to mental health issues and rehabilitation programs—not squandered on unnecessary tax cuts—maybe we wouldn’t have such a shameful pandemic on our hands.

Or, Blame no one. Could also read: “Blame everyone.” The problems associated with homelessness are institutionally embedded in our society. Whatever remedial programs we institute on a micro level can’t possibly overcome the fact that this is a tremendous, historical macro problem. Our inability to eliminate homelessness (like our inability to tackle poverty in general) isn’t a failure of American society; it is a fixture of American society.

At least there’s always localism: a charitable university, a city willing to alleviate homelessness on its own turf, a group of students willing to lend a hand. It’s certainly not perfect, but it may be the best we’ve got.

Jared M. Seeger ’05 is a government concentrator in Pforzheimer House. His column appears on alternate Thursdays.