Alexandria’s City Council recently voted to repeal some restrictions on panhandling, noting the regulations violated federal court rulings involving free speech. Other localities around Virginia have taken similar actions over the past decade.

The unanimous council vote in Alexandria, a city of 155,000, evinces compassion for people often struggling to find food, shelter – and a dose of humanity.

The bigger issue, though, is this: What are communities doing to transform panhandlers’ lives so they achieve stability – and won’t shuffle along streets with a proverbial tin cup? Also, do we actually harm supplicants when donating spare bills?

I get the impression, based on news reports, the official response is mixed. Some officeholders wish beggars would just disappear and leave residents alone. Others actively direct panhandlers – who are often homeless – to services ranging from mental health counseling to job seeking.

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“We try to encourage people not to give” to panhandlers but donate instead “to one of the many organizations that serve the homeless,” Mary Riley, community programs administrator in Chesapeake’s Human Services Department, told me. Signs around the city, for example, urge people to “contribute to the solution” by donating to local charities and directing the homeless population to a housing crisis hotline.

A few years ago, Chesapeake opened a resource center where homeless individuals can take showers, wash their clothes, get a meal and receive help landing a job. Some 25 to 30 people visit the center each day, Riley said.

Fairfax County goes even further: It runs a program called “Operation Stream Shield” in which homeless persons are paid to pick up litter, landscape and remove invasive plants in waterways. It started as a pilot project in 2019 and now includes nonprofit organizations that partner with the county.

The locality copied the idea from a program that began in 2015 in Albuquerque, New Mexico, called “There’s A Better Way.” That city wanted to reduce panhandling, remove litter and provide dignity through work. (The city has since overhauled the program using a “a holistic approach to do case management and other supportive services,” Heidi Shultz, Albuquerque homeless program division manager, told me this week.)

Several communities around the country – including Philadelphia and Oklahoma City – have adopted components of Albuquerque’s original model, tailoring it to their own circumstances and goals.

In Philadelphia, for example, the program uses a lottery to select who “won” the chance to work that day. The lucky few earn $50 for a half-day’s work cleaning up streets around the City of Brotherly Love.

Pat Herrity is Springfield’s longtime representative on the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors. He said ending panhandling is a public safety issue, too. People begging on roadways put themselves and motorists at risk – the latter as they slow down while being generous. They could get rear-ended.

“We’ve all seen close calls,” Herrity told me Wednesday.

The county’s clean-up program last year collected 270 tons of litter and 373 bags of invasive plants, he said. Some 30 participants garnered full-time employment, too.

That’s impressive. Maybe even life-changing.

If you’re like me, you probably go through a range of emotions when encountering panhandlers: Many look vulnerable, especially elderly women and adults who bring children with them. They pull at our heartstrings.

Or they may be on a never-ending grift, taking advantage of our sympathy – and naiveté. Some may look intimidating. “I’ve had businesses tell me that employees have left to go panhandle” because it’s more lucrative, Herrity said.

Riley, from Chesapeake, calls some beggars “professionals” who raise a lot of money but aren’t homeless. That’s not always the case, however.

Is giving a couple of bucks, or even a couple of Lincolns, so bad? Or does such generosity do more harm than good, allowing people to use the cash for drugs or alcohol?

I remember a column I wrote for The Virginian-Pilot in 2017, in which I’d interviewed a frequent panhandler who was begging along an interstate exit in Virginia Beach. He was well known to local police.

Give panhandlers a new task

The same day the column ran, a guy called me claiming to know the panhandler and his family. He said the panhandler was playing on the goodwill of people, had a home to live in and wasn’t destitute.

My takeaway? We simply don’t know all the circumstances when we encounter folks begging for help – and looking like they need it.

That’s why the responses in places like Chesapeake and Fairfax County are laudable. Some people will always try to get over. Others, though, would jump at a chance to put away their tin cups.