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Trump's new executive order on homelessness is not a departure from policy failure. It is the logical continuation of a governance model that confuses erasure with resolution.
There are words that live quietly in the margins of law, waiting for the right conditions to become instruments of control. Vagrancy is one of them. It does not name a crime so much as a condition—a presence deemed out of place, a body detached from property, purpose, or permission. It has always been a word that grants the state an elastic mandate: to sweep, to detain, to erase.
Its history is older than this country. In 14th-century England, following the Black Death, the ruling class faced a labor shortage that briefly shifted the balance of power toward the working poor. Rather than negotiate, they legislated. A series of statutes criminalized idleness and movement, branding those who wandered without employer or land as enemies of order. The offense was not what they did—it was that they could not be accounted for. Vagrancy became a pretext for containment, a tool to bind the body to power, and a signal that survival outside sanctioned structures would not be tolerated.
The word arrived in the Americas with that logic intact and found new utility in a country built on hierarchy and extraction. Across centuries, it was used to arrest freed Black men for walking without proof of employment, to justify the confinement of Indigenous people who had refused removal, to expel Chinese workers labeled as moral contagions, to target queer youth and disabled residents whose lives defied social norms. It appeared on signs and statutes alike, a vague but potent summons of disorder, always defined from above. It did not require action. It required only that someone be seen.
Now, the word has returned—not as metaphor or memory, but as mandate. On July 24, 2025, President Trump signed an executive order titled “Ending Crime and Disorder on America's Streets”—a sweeping directive that promises to fight “vagrancy” and reframes homelessness, addiction, and mental illness not as public health crises or systemic failures, but as threats to civic peace.
The order offers no new housing, no expanded care infrastructure, no commitment to addressing the material conditions that produce displacement. Instead, it offers a rubric for removal. Under its provisions, federal grants from Housing and Urban Development, Health and Human Service, the Department of Justice, and the Department of Transportation will prioritize jurisdictions that criminalize public presence—cities that ban urban camping, prohibit loitering, penalize “urban squatting,” and track individuals deemed out of bounds. Programs that offer harm reduction, low-barrier shelters, or evidence-based treatment models face new restrictions or disqualification. Legal safeguards against involuntary psychiatric commitment are to be rolled back, consent decrees reversed, and behavioral nonconformity redefined as detainable.
Vagrancy persists because it works—not in reducing harm, but in reallocating blame. It shifts public anxiety about inequality, addiction, and disorder away from the systems that produce them and toward the individuals who cannot hide them.
This is not a departure from policy failure. It is the logical continuation of a governance model that confuses erasure with resolution. The language remains soft—beautification, humane treatment, restoration—but the infrastructure it supports is hard: surveillance in place of service, confinement in place of care, disappearance in place of dignity. It teaches agencies to measure success not by outcomes but by optics: How many tents are gone? How few bodies remain visible? How fully have we restored the image of control?
Vagrancy persists because it works—not in reducing harm, but in reallocating blame. It shifts public anxiety about inequality, addiction, and disorder away from the systems that produce them and toward the individuals who cannot hide them. It casts the existence of suffering as a provocation and conditions civic belonging on legibility, order, and stillness. In doing so, it grants governments a new kind of authority: the power not simply to punish what people do, but to penalize who they are when no performance is possible.
This order does not restore order. It reinstates a hierarchy of visibility. It tells those without shelter, treatment, or family that the problem is not what they lack—but that they can still be seen. And in doing so, it signals to the rest of us that our security lies in distance, that the absence of suffering from view is proof that it has been addressed. It invites the public to mistake silence for peace, stillness for stability, emptiness for care.
But the history of vagrancy tells a different story. It is a word that rises not in response to crisis, but in response to fear: the fear that the margins might speak, might move, might disrupt the fictions we tell about what this country is and who it serves. When the powerful feel that their order is slipping, they do not ask what has failed. They ask who can be removed.
If there is any hope in this moment, it lies in refusing the comfort of euphemism. This is not about restoration. It is about removal. Not about care, but control. Not about safety, but sightlines.
We do not have to accept the return of vagrancy into our political vocabulary. We can name it for what it is: a centuries-old code for managing the inconvenient poor, repackaged as policy. We can refuse to let language do the work of violence. And we can insist—still, again—that visibility is not disorder, and that survival, even unkempt, even unsanctioned, is not a threat to be eliminated.
It is a truth to be answered. With housing. With care. With courage. And with clarity
The FBI now apparently decides, not only what is or isn’t “terrorism,” but what is or isn’t evil. Why? Because its power and autonomy grow when the public is fearful of “the Other.”
On New Years’ Eve, two men reportedly committed public acts of violence: a mass murder in New Orleans and an explosion in Las Vegas. Both alleged perpetrators served in the military. Both had troubled personal lives. Both issued makeshift “manifestos”; one through video recordings, the other through emails and social media. And both fit the federal government’s definition of a “terrorist.” But one was white and seemingly Christian by background; the other was Black and Muslim. Therein hangs a tale.
The discourse regarding these two men can be read as a “third manifesto”—a subtle but fiercely ideological statement from a cabal of overlapping interests seeking to manipulate public opinion.
Shamsud-Din Jabbar reportedly stated that the Bourbon Street attack, which left a horrifying toll of dead and injured, was motivated by extremism. “I joined ISIS,” Jabbar reportedly said. For that reason, Jabbar’s alleged crimes match the FBI’s definition of “international terrorism”:
Violent, criminal acts committed by individuals and/or groups who are inspired by, or associated with, designated foreign terrorist organizations or nations...
Matthew Livelsberger allegedly exploded a Tesla truck outside a Trump hotel in Las Vegas, injuring seven people. His weapon was a “moving vehicle improvised explosive device” (MVIED). Thankfully, no one was killed, but they certainly could have been.
Since Livelsberger provided a political motive for his action, it matches the FBI’s definition of what it calls “domestic terrorism”:
Violent, criminal acts… to further ideological goals stemming from domestic influences, such as those of a political, religious, social, racial, or environmental nature.
And yet, only one of these two men was called a terrorist in the media.
Here are two New York Times “human interest” headlines about Jabbar:
Both articles take it as a given that Jabbar is a terrorist.
Here are two Times headlines about Livelsberger:
The contrast couldn’t be plainer. The human-interest angle on Jabbar is, “What made him a terrorist?” For Livelsberger it’s, “What suffering caused him to do such a thing?”
The subheader for the Times’ “secret radicalization” article cites “Jabbar’s growing discontent with American society and increasing isolation even within his local Muslim community.” (Italics mine.) One relative told the Times that Jabbar and his brothers lived largely secular lives. “I don’t think I ever heard the word Allah said,” the relative said.
The word “even” is doing a lot of work here, suggesting that Jabbar’s pathology is linked to his Muslim-ness. But the article describes Jabbar as an “outcast” among “fellow believers.”
Nobody the Times interviewed had ever seen him praying in congregation, even after he reportedly became radical. That raises a question: How Muslim was Jabbar, exactly? Congregational prayer is obligatory for practicing Muslims. Its absence should have raised a question: Was he really motived by his religious beliefs, as they suggest? Or, was he driven by something else, like stress, mental illness, or other factors—the forces that the media used to explain Livelsberger’s actions?
Financial crimes kill. But that kind of terror doesn’t get much headline coverage,
“Increasing isolation, even in the Muslim community,” they wrote. It’s not clear, however, how much he even belonged to that community.
Coverage of Jabbar hints at other motives, if you look hard enough. CNN reports that Jabbar’s videos expressed rage over his recent divorce. He had financial woes, declaring in court that he couldn’t keep up his mortgage payments. He reportedly said he’d planned to kill his family before deciding to stage an attack in ISIS’ name instead. That sounds less like ideology and more like pathology.
It also seems like a relatively recent development. A friend of Jabbar’s told The Associated Press:
I did anti-terrorism in the military. And if any red flags would have popped off, I would have caught them and I would have contacted the proper authorities.
It is confirmed that Jabbar belonged to at least one criminal organization. He was a former employee of Deloitte, the international finance and consulting conglomerate. Deloitte has paid more than a quarter-billion dollars ($283,797,673) for government-contracting, financial fraud, and employment-related offenses since the year 2000.
Financial stress causes physical harm to millions of Americans every year. People with money problems are up to 20 times likelier to attempt suicide.
Financial crimes kill. But that kind of terror doesn’t get much headline coverage.
Livelsberger got the benefit of doubt that was denied to Jabbar. Law enforcement set the tone, as when the local sheriff told reporters:
Am I comfortable calling it a suicide mission? I’m comfortable calling it a suicide, with a bombing that occurred immediately thereafter.
The next day, FBI Special Agent In Charge Spencer Evans explicitly denied that Livelsberger’s act was political. Rather, Evans said, the explosion “ultimately appears to be a tragic case of suicide involving a heavily decorated combat veteran who was struggling with PTSD and other issues.”
That’s nothing short of bizarre. The FBI already had communications from Livelsberger calling for an armed uprising against the United States government. They included explicit instructions for a violent right-wing revolt:
But law enforcement chose the message: Livelsberger was a suffering hero, not a terrorist. Contrast that with its treatment of Jabbar, who a senior FBI official said was “100% inspired” by ISIS. “This was an act of terrorism,” he said. “It was premeditated and an evil act.”
The FBI now apparently decides, not only what is or isn’t “terrorism,” but what is or isn’t evil. Why? Because its power and autonomy grow when the public is fearful of “the Other”—a definition that, in today’s society, matches Jabbar’s profile but not Livelsberger’s.
The media follow its lead, but why? To appease government sources, especially under a new administration? Because they don’t dare describe right-wing violence as “terrorism”? Because the “hero” angle makes better copy? Because America idolizes its highly-trained killers? Because Livelsberger was white and not Muslim?
Perhaps it was all of the above.
“I have joined ISIS,” Jabbar reportedly said. “Purge,” ”fight,” “ “by any means necessary,” Livelsberger reportedly said. If Jabbar was “secretly radicalized,” so was Livelsberger.
Matthew Livelsberger served in Afghanistan under traumatizing circumstances. He deserved the best care his nation could provide. Know who else served in Afghanistan? Shamsud-Din Jabbar. Don’t feel badly if you didn’t know; it hasn’t gotten much coverage.
Were these men terrorists, damaged souls, or both?
The fact that both alleged perpetrators were ex-military is important. Service in the United States military is the single greatest predictor of extremist, mass-casualty violence.
Not mental illness. Not “Islamism.” Not previous criminal history. U.S. military service is the greatest predictor—and it’s getting worse.
That’s something we’re really not supposed to think about. But we should—not to judge or condemn those who serve, but to understand them, to provide better care, and to minimize the chance of more violence in the future.
“Terrorism” is an ideologically freighted word. If we must use it, we must be consistent. Its selective application here serves as an invisible “manifesto,” one that’s scrawled across our public discourse in invisible ink. It declares that Muslims are the enemy while White right-wing extremists are safe, comfortable, “us.”
Were these men terrorists, damaged souls, or both? I’m not wise enough to judge. But I do know that a just society would judge them fairly, and that a free society needs an honest media—one that provides its citizens with more information and less manipulation.
That Mr. Trump persists in deploying the politics of hate and bigotry is a bad sign for the U.S. Even if Jabbar had been a immigrant, his actions would have said nothing about immigrants.
I love New Orleans, and have been known to hit the jazz clubs on Bourbon Street into the wee hours myself. So what happened there is a gut punch, and I want to express my condolences to the families of the victims and to the community there for its trauma.
U.S. President-elect Donald Trump jumped to the conclusion that the New Orleans attacker, who killed 15 people and wounded three dozen more was a career criminal and recent immigrant. In fact, he was an African-American veteran, born and bred in Beaumont, Texas. His conversion to Islam must have happened before 2004, when he tried to enlist in the Navy under that name. Instead, he ended up in the army, and deployed for a year to Afghanistan (2009-2010), as well as getting the training to become an IT specialist. He remained a reservist after his honorable discharge.
He was, in short, a patriotic American who did his part in fighting the war on terror. He was not an immigrant or a member of a foreign criminal gang.
I do know that if a white guy lost his family and his business, went tens of thousands of dollars into debt, and ended up living in a trailer home with livestock in his yard, and then went postal, sympathetic white reporters would be eliciting regrets from his white parents that he was suffering from mental problems.
That Mr. Trump persists in deploying the politics of hate and bigotry is a bad sign for the U.S. Even if Jabbar had been a immigrant, his actions would have said nothing about immigrants, who have low rates of criminality compared to the native-born population and whose productivity has been one key to American economic success. They don’t take jobs from the native-born on the whole, but do jobs that the latter typically won’t do.
Nor is Jabbar’s religion a reason to engage in Muslim-hatred. The NY Post‘s insidious and Islamophobic reporting ominously says that one of his neighbors in the trailer park in which he ended up only spoke Urdu. If that were true it would be because poor people live in trailer parks, including immigrants with limited English. However, it sounds fishy to me, since even poor Pakistanis of the sort who come to the United States tend to know English. It was the colonial language and still an essential language, like French in Tunisia. Then they say ominously that there was a mosque in the area. So what? Mosques are houses of worship where people go for solace when facing rough times.
The Post says ominously that Jabbar referenced the Qur’an, the Muslim scripture. D’oh. He was a Muslim. He also referenced the Qur’an when he was in Afghanistan as part of the U.S. army’s fight against the Taliban.
The Qur’an forbids murder and urges believers to forgive and do good to their enemies. See my study of these peace themes in the Muslim holy book at academia.edu.
If this guy had been a white Proud Boy found with guns and explosives, would the newspapers imply that it is suspicious that he quoted the Bible and that there is a Baptist church near his house? It is 2024, New York Post. Islamophobia is a disgusting form of racism. (Yes, Muslims are racialized in this country.)
I admire the hell out of veterans. I grew up in an army family, just as Jabbar’s children did. Most veterans are admirable citizens who come back and contribute to their communities, building businesses and providing key services. But the job undeniably can lead to trauma and stresses that a small minority deal with in dysfunctional ways. The suicide rate is tragically high. I’ve lost people I knew that way. Some end up homeless. Some are radicalized. It is not an accident that the leadership of the Proud Boys, convicted of sedition, were disproportionately veterans.
Jacqueline Sweet was able to screenshot some of Jabbar’s postings at Twitter / X.
In the first posting, from 2021, he says that a “scarcity mindset” is unhealthy in an environment of abundance, and that if you can’t turn off that scarcity mindset it becomes a kind of trauma. In the second, from the same year, he complains about the lack of Black protagonists in films after Marvel’s The Black Panther (2018) who are not “submissive, immoral or immature/ silly.”
Then in 2022, everything went to hell. His wife divorced him, he went deeply into debt, and the Post says he ended up living in a trailer home with chickens and sheep in the lawn.
Everybody goes postal in their own way. White nationalists try to invade the capitol and hang the vice president. Kahanaist Jews in Israel shoot up mosques and commit atrocities in the Occupied Territories. A handful of Muslim Americans have declared themselves ISIL (ISIS, Daesh), even though that organization barely exists and has no command and control. It is like a white supremacist declaring that he is acting in the name of Adolf Hitler even though the Nazi army was long ago defeated and Adolf died in his bunker.
It should go without saying that the fact that a tiny number of disturbed individuals act this way does not reflect on the 4 or 5 million Muslim Americans, who are our physicians, accountants, and local business people. Tarring a whole group with the actions of a few is the definition of prejudice. Likewise, the Proud Boys don’t reflect on all white people.
I’m not a psychiatrist and don’t play one on television. I therefore cannot pronounce on Jabbar’s state of mind. But I do know that if a white guy lost his family and his business, went tens of thousands of dollars into debt, and ended up living in a trailer home with livestock in his yard, and then went postal, sympathetic white reporters would be eliciting regrets from his white parents that he was suffering from mental problems. As I pointed out over a decade ago, however, the U.S. media treat white terrorists differently.
As a reminder, here are my Top 10 Differences between White Terrorists and Others: