“No More Excuses”: Newsom Forces the Homelessness Conversation
Sunlight glints off the white tents lining a Los Angeles freeway underpass as a city-sanctioned crew quietly hauls away bags of debris. It’s a familiar scene, one that has played out thousands of times across California—as Governor Gavin Newsom is acutely aware. This summer, he’s pushing harder than ever, announcing a model ordinance calling on cities and counties to ban persistent homeless encampments from public spaces, with a seeming simplicity: move people every three days, offer shelter, keep sidewalks and parks clear.
“There are no more excuses,” Newsom declared in Sacramento, rolling out the proposal alongside $3.3 billion in new Proposition 1 funding for behavioral health housing and treatment. This isn’t a mandate, but the message is crystal clear: adopt the ordinance—or explain to your voters why you’re not playing ball. For an issue as visible and emotionally charged as street homelessness, nothing less than urgency seems politically palatable.
His plan—now turbocharged by a 2024 Supreme Court decision that green-lit stricter local bans—offers a toolkit: cities must give at least 48 hours’ notice before a sweep, make genuine attempts to provide shelter, and store people’s possessions for later retrieval. Wrongful removals, at least on paper, would be avoided. Yet as tents vanish, new camps emerge just blocks away, cyclical proof that something deeper is amiss.
Years of ambitious spending—more than $24 billion since 2019—have yielded little visible progress. According to the California State Auditor’s 2024 report, the state still leads the nation in both the sheer number and percentage of residents experiencing homelessness. “We keep shuffling people around, but we never seem to solve the core problem,” laments outreach veteran LaShawn Thompson of Sacramento Steps Forward.
The Legal Shift: Grants Pass and the Politics of Public Space
A closer look reveals Newsom’s proposal didn’t emerge in a vacuum. Just months earlier, the Supreme Court’s ruling in Grants Pass v. Johnson delivered sweeping new authority to local governments: communities can now legally enforce blanket encampment bans—even if there aren’t nearly enough shelter beds for everyone on the street. Conservative majorities hailed this as common sense. Homeless advocates, meanwhile, saw it as the dawn of a perilous new era. Constitutional protections, it turned out, had a clear expiration date.
For Newsom, this ruling was an inflection point. The new legal backing gave him cover to debut a tougher model ordinance, one that pre-empts critics by threading the needle between compassion and control. The text demands “all reasonable efforts” to offer shelter and care before forcibly removing camps. But cities get leeway on how tough to be, with penalties for those who refuse offers of shelter still left to local discretion. As UC Berkeley legal scholar Jeff Selbin notes, “It’s a carrot-and-stick approach, but there’s much more stick now than carrot.”
Why this change, and why now? Political realities can’t be ignored. As California readies for the global spotlight of the 2028 Olympics—and as Newsom’s national aspirations whisper in the background—the optics of sprawling encampments are more intolerable than ever. Moderate and even some liberal voters, weary from years of inaction, have signaled openness to measures once dismissed as punitive. In a 2023 Public Policy Institute of California poll, 64% of Californians listed homelessness as one of their top concerns, with a significant chunk supporting crackdowns if paired with expanded services.
“You cannot address homelessness by outlawing poverty, but aggressive sweeps won’t go away until we treat housing as a human right—not just a public relations problem.”
Newsom appears to recognize these dueling realities. The dollars released—backed by voter-approved bonds—are earmarked for the expansion of behavioral health beds, permanent supportive housing, and addiction treatment. The governor insists local officials retain discretion, but his administration has hinted that future state aid could be subtly conditioned on local compliance. As the Los Angeles Times reported, several city leaders privately admit the “voluntary” nature of the model ordinance is anything but optional when the political winds are howling.
Is Displacement Policy or Politics? The Liberal Dilemma
Out on the streets, the reality is heartbreakingly complex. Yes, encampments can be hazardous, both to inhabitants and the broader public. But as any outreach worker or housing advocate will tell you, displacement without a stable alternative just perpetuates the cycle. A Stanford researcher, Dr. Elizabeth Long, emphasizes, “Repeated camp clearings often increase trauma and mistrust, making it harder to engage people in long-term services.”
Audit after audit underscores this failure of follow-through. Despite California’s multi-billion-dollar investment, homelessness remains stubbornly high—especially in cities where housing costs have soared and affordable units are in short supply. According to Harvard economist Jason Furman, there is a direct correlation between housing scarcity and homelessness rates: “All else equal, if you don’t build enough homes, people will end up on the street, no matter how many tents you clear away.”
The National Alliance to End Homelessness recommends “housing first” models—prioritizing permanent supportive housing, with robust wraparound services, without preconditions. The evidence, from Houston to Salt Lake City, is clear: when implemented consistently, these programs work. Yet, Newsom’s approach prioritizes visible order, not durable solutions. As activists fear, the threat of encampment bans may paradoxically push some of the most vulnerable even further from services, into more dangerous, hidden spaces.
There’s also the risk of criminalization. If cities use the ordinance to fine, cite, or arrest unsheltered people who refuse inadequate shelter offers or are forced to move repeatedly, they risk embedding further inequity into a system already tilted against the poor. According to a recent American Civil Liberties Union analysis, such laws often “target Black, Indigenous, and disabled Californians at disproportionately high rates.”
Which brings us to the core question: Will this latest crackdown do anything but sweep the crisis under the rug ahead of the next big event—or worse, entrench a cycle of displacement and despair? As Newsom’s model law circulates through city halls, Californians are left with a choice. They can accept rhetoric about “urgency and dignity,” or demand policies that genuinely prioritize housing, equity, and lasting support over cosmetic order. The outcome will define not just neighborhoods, but the values of a state still searching for its soul.
