By Amelia McKeon
The federal government’s proposal to expand guardianship for homeless veterans is being framed as compassionate. It is anything but. It is a dangerous shift toward using one of the most restrictive legal tools we have as a substitute for real solutions — and it risks turning guardianship into a mechanism for forced institutionalization.
In Colorado, we already have a system designed for exactly that purpose. It is called civil commitment. And that distinction matters.
But that is not what this proposal risks creating.
Consider a different scenario — one that is already playing out in systems across the country. A man experiencing homelessness cycles in and out of emergency rooms. He has untreated mental illness and often leaves against medical advice. He is difficult to engage. Under an expanded guardianship approach, he could be deemed incapacitated and placed under guardianship — not because all alternatives were exhausted, but because the system does not have the resources to support him in the community.
Once under guardianship, the path of least resistance becomes clear: placement in an institutional setting whe
This is where Colorado offers a critical lesson.
If someone truly cannot make decisions due to mental illness and poses a risk to themselves or others, Colorado law already provides a structured, rights-protective process: a mental health hold, followed by short-term certification, and, if necessary, longer-term commitment.
Guardianship is one of the most serious interventions a court can impose. It transfers decision-making authority from an individual to another person because the court has determined that the individual cannot safely make certain decisions on their own. But even under guardianship, the person does not disappear. A guardian does not override a person’s life — they support it. They honor the individual’s preferences and values, use the least restrictive options available, and make decisions with the person, not for them.
I have worked with individuals under guardianship who refused certain medications but were open to therapy and stable housing. Instead of forcing compliance, we built a plan around what they would accept. Over time, their stability improved — not because we overrode them, but because we respected them. That is what good guardianship looks like.
Let’s be clear: guardianship itself is not the problem. The misuse of it is.
That process includes medical evaluation, legal standards, court oversight, and defined timelines. It is designed specifically for involuntary treatment and placement.
Guardianship is not.
When guardianship is used to force people into institutional care — especially in systems that have historically been costly, restrictive, and misaligned with individual preference — it stops being protective and starts being coercive. We have seen this before. Institutional systems have long prioritized placement over people, efficiency over autonomy, and liability reduction over dignity. Guardianship should never be the legal justification that makes that easier.
I have seen individuals placed in higher levels of care simply because there was nowhere else for them to go — despite clearly expressing that they wanted something different. In those moments, guardianship was not empowering. It was a legal pathway to override preference in the name of system convenience.
There is a fundamental principle in guardianship practice that every good guardian understands: you do not substitute your judgment for the person’s life — you carry it forward. That means respecting expressed wishes, even when they are complicated. It means balancing safety with autonomy, not replacing one with the other. It means avoiding unnecessary institutionalization at all costs. This is first and most important in the National Guardianship Association’s Standards of Practice.
The proposal also risks conflating homelessness with incapacity. A person can be unhoused, struggling, and still capable of making decisions about their life. I have seen individuals stabilize once given access to housing and consistent support without ever needing guardianship. What they lacked was not capacity. It was access.
If guardianship becomes the entry point to services, rather than the last resort after all else fails, we have inverted the system.
And that is what this is really about. We need improved access to supportive housing. We need support and access for behavioral health resources. We do not have enough community-based services. So instead of building those systems, we are reaching for control. Guardianship becomes the workaround.
But in a state like Colorado, where a legal pathway for involuntary care already exists, using guardianship this way is not just inappropriate — it is redundant and dangerous. It blurs legal standards, attempts to bypass safeguards, and expands a tool that was never meant to carry that weight.
If guardianship is expanded in any context, the standard must be unwavering: it must remain a true last resort, it must be individualized, it must prioritize the person’s will and preferences, and it must never be used to justify unnecessary institutionalization. Anything less is not guardianship — it is control disguised as care.
We owe veterans more than safety at any cost. We owe them dignity, autonomy, and real options — not forced ones.
Guardianship has a role to play. But it cannot — and must not — become a shortcut to manage people when we have failed to support them. Because the moment we use it that way, we are no longer protecting rights.
We are taking them.
Full Article & Source:
Guardianship is not a homelessness policy | OPINION
See Also:
VA-DOJ Memorandum of Understanding on Guardianship Threatens to Strip Rights from Homeless Veterans
A New Push to Put Homeless Veterans Under Legal Guardianship
V.A. Begins Drive to Put Homeless Veterans Into Guardianship
