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If you don’t want to acquiesce to the president’s way of doing things, might it not finally be time to make eye contact with those neighbors of ours who are homeless?
The federal takeover of Washington, DC rightfully attracted extensive media coverage, but an executive order called “Ending Crime and Disorder on America’s Streets,” quietly issued on July 24, received remarkably little attention. Perhaps it didn’t make a splash because it wasn’t specifically about policing (or, for that matter, National Guarding), but more generally about how we should treat people who already exist on the outermost fringes of society, human beings who have long been reduced to labels like “addict” or “homeless.”
Indeed, the Trump administration is counting on us to renounce those living on the streets, while struggling with their mental health or the cost of housing (or both). And if history is any guide, that may be exactly what most of us do. While the current moment may feel shocking in so many ways, the president’s order to end what he’s labeled “disorder” represents a further development of norms that have been in place for all too long. They are also norms that we have the power to change.
Identifying a very real crisis, the president’s July 24 executive order noted that “the number of individuals living on the streets in the United States on a single night during the last year of the previous administration—274,224—was the highest ever recorded.” The order went on to state that the majority of those who are unhoused have a substance use disorder, with two-thirds reporting that they have used hard drugs at some point in their lives. What followed was the administration’s solution: “Shifting homeless individuals into long-term institutional settings… will restore public order.” Precisely which institutions was unclear.
One thing we know is that the use of substances is often connected to past trauma or current hardship, including oppression and poverty. Regardless of that reality, not just the president but all too many of us tend to believe that people who use drugs are undeserving of our compassion or support. In 2021, a national survey found that 7 of every 10 Americans believed that those who use drugs problematically are “outcasts” or “non-community members.” (And yes, those were the terms used.)
The president’s executive order fuses drug use and homelessness into a single issue without revealing that homelessness can cause or exacerbate substance use disorder—because people use drugs to cope with privation. As addiction expert Gabor Maté has said, “Don’t ask why the addiction, ask why the pain.” Much like those of us who reach for wine or social media in order to escape, when people who are unhoused use drugs, they are usually searching for a way to make life tolerable. At the same time, they come to be regarded by their peers as non-community members, making it so much less likely that this nation will fight the president on his plans to round them up and erase them from our world entirely.
Meanwhile, many of us with homes never pause to consider our common habit of avoiding unhoused people in every possible way. We cross the street, shift our gaze, anything to avoid the briefest glimpse of their humanity—perhaps terrified to see ourselves in them. Here’s a thought, though: If you don’t want to acquiesce to the president’s way of doing things, might it not finally be time to make eye contact with those neighbors of ours who are homeless? Might it not be time to acknowledge their humanity and, in doing so, recover some of our own?
The Los Angeles nonprofit LA Más helps residents build security through collective economic power and home ownership. As Helen Leung, its executive director, put it recently: “Families who’ve been in their neighborhoods for generations are getting priced out. Vendors who work multiple jobs are sleeping in their cars. Kids have classroom friends disappear mid-semester because rent went up again.” She noted that immigrants and working-class households in particular are experiencing acute displacement pressure, which ultimately pushes some to become houseless—and now they find themselves in the crosshairs of the president’s July executive order.
That order proposes the vast expansion of a practice that has been around for a very long time. In recent years, in fact, in states across this country, there has been an uptick in involuntary commitment, a trade term for the forced institutionalization of people who are unwell—or, now, simply unhoused.
Evidence suggests that rounding up masses of unwell people and institutionalizing them will do anything but benefit public safety, while endangering the individuals who are locked up.
Elected officials of all political stripes, including the current president, have claimed that involuntary commitment is an evidence-based way to treat mental illnesses, including addiction. Research does show that, in certain cases, involuntary commitment can be beneficial. But in all too many cases, it’s both ineffective and inhumane. A recent report by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York found that the institutionalization of individuals who were involuntarily hospitalized in “judgment call cases”—meaning cases where one physician might recommend hospitalization, while another would not—nearly doubled the risk of death by suicide or overdose. It also nearly doubled the likelihood of that person later being charged with a violent crime, perhaps because such institutionalization disrupted employment, subjecting people to still more dire economic circumstances. (Again, don’t ask why the addiction, ask why the pain.) Even a recent essay in the New York Times advocating forced treatment conceded that it must be well funded and thoughtfully carried out—conditions that are virtually certain to be unmet in the current climate.
In other words, evidence suggests that rounding up masses of unwell people and institutionalizing them will do anything but benefit public safety, while endangering the individuals who are locked up. On-the-ground data also indicates that, even before US President Donald Trump focused on that tactic, such commitment was unequally applied, with Black and Hispanic people more likely than White people to be institutionalized against their will.
“We’re not operating with an optimal treatment system, mandatory or voluntary,” according to Regina LaBelle, director of the Center on Addiction Policy at Georgetown University and the former acting director of the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy. “We’re starting from a really bad system. And so pushing people into a really bad system will end really badly.”
In response to the president’s executive order, the American Bar Association published a statement saying that it raises grave constitutional and civil rights issues and “paves the way for arbitrary and prolonged detention.”
A response to the president’s executive order, published in the Psychiatric Times, a journal for psychiatry professionals, noted that it “invokes fear of people with psychiatric illnesses, talks of indiscriminate incarceration of people who have not committed a crime, as well as collection and sharing of sensitive health information with law enforcement, and yet proposes no actual solutions.”
Unfortunately, the president and his crew undoubtedly do regard the involuntary commitment of unhoused people as an “actual solution.” Indeed, many people who have homes or apartments feel unhappy at the sight of human beings living on the streets of their neighborhood and want something done about it. But the underlying problem isn’t that people live on the street or use substances in public in order to tolerate despair. As Helen Leung put it, “When someone loses their housing, it’s not because they need to be institutionalized—it’s because we’ve allowed housing to become a commodity instead of a human right.”
“What works best is making sure that we have affordable housing for people,” says LaBelle. New research out of Philadelphia, for instance, found that a program of cash assistance for housing costs more than halved the odds of participants becoming homeless.
But our prevailing housing system—in which the purpose is less to provide shelter than to generate profits for those who own real estate—has resulted in rents or costs that are beyond reach for increasing numbers of Americans. And as if such a state of affairs weren’t bad enough, President Trump now plans to make “alternative” investment assets, including real estate, available to anyone with a 401(k). If he succeeds in doing so, far more people will compete to own real estate for the purposes of turning a profit, which will undoubtedly raise real estate prices yet more, driving rents higher still.
Notably, his July 24 executive order provides law enforcement with the vague instruction to institutionalize people who “cannot care for themselves,” which could result in a kind of real estate roulette. In essence, those who lack the cash to pay for housing at market rates—no matter how high those rates rise—could be deemed unable to care for themselves, and therefore would become eligible to be rounded up and taken… where?
On one matter there is widespread agreement: There’s already a distinct shortage of mental health services, especially for those who can’t pay for them.
“Our current system does not provide for long-term institutionalization,” noted the Psychiatric Times in its response to the president’s executive order, which itself does nothing to expand the inpatient capacity of treatment facilities or increase funding for mental health services. The administration actually slashed funding for such programs this spring and has approved cuts to Medicaid, a program that currently funds 24% of all mental-health and substance-use care in the United States.
It’s easy to blame Trump, but far harder to engage in self-reflection: How have I participated in the dehumanization of unhoused people or those who use drugs?
So where will people be taken? Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has proposed rural camps for addiction recovery, but that (controversial) policy would require substantial new funding, rather than cuts, to healthcare. The president and Congress do seem to have an appetite for increasing funding for military and enforcement programs. The hastily constructed immigration detention facility in Florida known as “Alligator Alcatraz” offers a nightmarish example of how this administration pursues the development of new carceral space.
Already, immigrants are being rounded up and institutionalized, a practice likely to be expanded to still more of our neighbors. While all of this may feel unprecedented, it’s all too precedented. This nation has a long history of institutionalizing people who have not committed a crime, including Indigenous people and those with mental health struggles. It’s easy to blame Trump for all that’s now happening, and he certainly bears enormous responsibility, but he’s not responsible for everything.
He is not, for example, responsible for the longstanding and pervasive stigma attached to people who are unhoused or mentally unwell or both, which has pushed all too many of us in the wealthiest nation on Earth to live in isolation and poverty and even to perish. It’s easy to blame Trump, but far harder to engage in self-reflection: How have I participated in the dehumanization of unhoused people or those who use drugs? Do I have the capacity to recognize the humanity in everyone without exception?
Perhaps it seems that acknowledging the humanity of those who have so long been dehumanized is far too little and too subtle to make a difference now. And it’s true that we need much more than that, including strong collective action to create housing that people can afford and that’s accessible to those who have experienced addiction and criminalization. But it’s also true that nonjudgmental support from peers makes a difference in the lives of those who are struggling, raising the odds that they may heal and go on to live fruitful and connected lives.
In the past half-year of Donald Trump’s second term as president, raids by masked US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents have become a fixture of American life. ICE now operates in the shadows—and that’s how stigma works, too. Stigma toward people who use drugs or who live without homes is a corrosive force that makes it acceptable to withhold compassion, care, and connection from certain of our neighbors. But unlike forces equipped with military-grade tactical gear, stigma can be overcome by any individual who chooses to witness and affirm the humanity of all our neighbors. And in our present American world, doing so is surely a revolutionary act.
The Trump administration and its theological apologists are working overtime, using Jesus’ name and the Bible’s contents in even more devastating rounds of immoral biblical (mis)references.
It was a moment somewhat like this, 30 years ago, that turned me into a biblical scholar. In the lead-up to the passage of the 1996 Welfare Reform Act, political and religious leaders quoted scripture to justify shutting down food programs and kicking mothers and their babies off public assistance. Those leaders, many of them self-described Christians, chose to ignore the majority of passages in the Bible that preached “good news” to the poor and promised freedom to those captive to injustice and oppression. Instead, they put forward unethical and ahistorical (mis)interpretations and (mis)appropriations of biblical texts to prop up American imperial power and punish the poor in the name of a warped morality.
Three decades later, the Trump administration and its theological apologists are working overtime, using Jesus’ name and the Bible’s contents in even more devastating rounds of immoral biblical (mis)references. In July, there was the viral video from the Department of Homeland Security, using the “Here I am, Lord. Send me” quotation from Isaiah—commonly cited when ordaining faith leaders and including explicit references to marginalized communities impacted by displacement and oppression—to recruit new agents for the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, or ICE, a job that now comes with a $50,000 signing bonus, thanks to US President Donald Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill.”
Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth’s former pastor went even further in marrying the Bible to anti-immigrant hatred by saying, “Is the Bible in favor of these ICE raids?… The answer is yes.” He then added: “The Bible does not require wealthy Christian nations to self-immolate for the horrible crime of having a flourishing economy and way of life, all right? The Bible does not permit the civil magistrate to steal money from its citizens to pay for foreign nationals to come destroy our culture.”
A month earlier, during a speech announcing the bombing of Iran, President Trump exhorted God to bless America’s bombs (being dropped on innocent families and children): “And in particular, God, I want to just say, we love you God, and we love our great military. Protect them. God bless the Middle East, God bless Israel, and God bless America. Thank you very much. Thank you.”
And in May, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson (R-La.) and Republican congressional representatives formed a prayer circle on the floor of the House as they prepared to codify the president’s Big Beautiful Bill. Of course, that very bill threatens to cut off millions of Americans from lifesaving food and healthcare. (Consider it a bizarre counterpoint to Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000 and providing free healthcare to lepers.)
And if that weren’t enough twisting of the Bible to bless the rich and admonish the poor, enter tech mogul Peter Thiel, cofounder of Palantir and the man behind the curtain of so much now going on in Washington. Though many Americans may be increasingly familiar with him, his various companies, and his political impact, many of us have missed the centrality of his version of Christianity and the enigmatic “religious” beliefs that go with it.
In Vanity Fair this spring, journalist Zoe Bernard emphasized the central role Thiel has already played in the Christianization of Silicon Valley: “I guarantee you,” one Christian entrepreneur told her, “there are people that are leveraging Christianity to get closer to Peter Thiel.”
Indeed, his theological beliefs grimly complement his political ones. “When you don’t have a transcendent religious belief,” he said, “you end up just looking around at other people. And that is the problem with our atheist liberal world. It is just the madness of crowds.” Remember, this is the same Thiel who, in a 2009 essay, openly questioned the compatibility of democracy and freedom, advocating for a system where power would be concentrated among those with the expertise to drive “progress”—a new version of the survival of the fittest in the information age. Such a worldview couldn’t contrast more strongly with the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus demonstrates his preferential option for the poor and his belief in bottom-up strategies rather than top down ones.
There is never a suggestion, of course, that the rich, who have functionally stolen people’s wages and engorged themselves by denying them healthcare, are in any way to blame.
More recently, Thiel has positioned himself “right” in the middle of the Republican Party. He served as Trump’s liaison to Silicon Valley in his first term. Since then, he has convened and supported a new cohort of conservatives (many of whom also claim a right-wing Christianity), including Vice President JD Vance, Trump’s Director of Policy Planning Michael Anton, AI and crypto czar billionaire David Sacks, and Elon Musk, who spent a quarter of a billion dollars getting Trump elected the second time around. Thiel is also close to Curtis Yarvin, the fellow who “jokingly” claimed that American society no longer needs poor people and believes they should instead be turned into biofuel. (A worldview that simply couldn’t be more incompatible with Christianity’s core tenets.)
Particularly relevant to recent political (and ideological) developments, especially the military occupation of Washington, DC, Thiel is also close to Joe Lonsdale, cofounder of Palantir and founder of the Cicero Institute, a right-wing think tank behind a coordinated attack on the homeless now sweeping the nation. That’s right, there’s a throughline from Peter Thiel to President Donald Trump’s demand that “the homeless have to move out immediately… FAR from the Capital.” In July, Trump produced an executive order facilitating the removal of housing encampments in Washington, a year after the Supreme Court upheld a law making it a crime, if you don’t have a home, to sleep or even breathe outside. And Thiel, Lonsdale, and the Cicero Institute aren’t just responsible for those attacks on unhoused people and “blue cities”; they also bear responsibility for faith leaders being arrested and fined for their support of unhoused communities and their opposition, on religious grounds, to the mistreatment of the poor.
On top of this troubling mix of Christianity and billionaires, however, I find myself particularly chagrined that Thiel is offering an oversold four-part lecture series on the “antichrist” through a nonprofit called ACTS 17 collective that is to start in September in San Francisco. News stories about the ACTS 17 collective tend to focus on Christians organizing in Silicon Valley and the desire to put salvation through Jesus above personal success or charity for the poor. That sounds all too ominous, especially for those of us who take seriously the biblical command to stop depriving the poor of rights, to end poverty on Earth (as it is in heaven), and defend the very people the Bible prioritizes.
For instance, Trae Stephens (who worked at Palantir and is partners with Thiel in a venture capital fund) is the husband of Michelle Stephens, the founder of the ACTS 17 collective. In an interview with Emma Goldberg of the New York Times, Michelle Stephens describes how “we are always taught as Christians to serve the meek, the lowly, the marginalized… I think we’ve realized that, if anything, the rich, the wealthy, the powerful need Jesus just as much.”
In an article at the Denison Forum, she’s even more specific about her biblical and theological interpretation of poverty and the need to care for those with more rather than the poor. She writes, “Those who see Christ’s message to the poor and needy as the central pillar of the gospel make a similar mistake. While social justice movements have done a great deal to point out our society’s longstanding sins and call believers to action, it can be tempting for that message to become more prominent than our innate need for Jesus to save us.” Such a statement reminds me of the decades-long theological pushback I lived through even before the passage of welfare reform and the continued juxtaposition of Jesus and justice since.
Of course, such a battle for the Bible is anything but new in America. It reaches back long before the rise of a new brand of Christianity in Silicon Valley. In the 1700s and 1800s, slaveholders quoted the book of Philemon and lines from St. Paul’s epistles to claim that slavery had been ordained by God, while ripping the pages of Exodus from bibles they gave to the enslaved. During the Gilded Age of the 19th century, churches and politicians alike preached what was called a “prosperity gospel” that extolled the virtues of industrial capitalism. Decades later, segregationists continued to use stray biblical verses to rubber-stamp Jim Crow practices, while the Moral Majority, founded in 1979 by Baptist minister Jerry Falwell, Sr., helped mainstream a new generation of Christian extremists in national politics.
Over the past decades, the use of the Bible to justify what passes for “law and order” (and the punishing of the poor) has only intensified. In Donald Trump’s first term, Attorney General Jeff Sessions defended the administration’s policy of separating immigrant children from their families at the border with a passage from the Apostle Paul’s epistle to the Romans: “I would cite you to the Apostle Paul and his clear and wise command in Romans 13, to obey the laws of the government because God has ordained them for the purpose of order. Orderly and lawful processes are good in themselves and protect the weak and lawful.”
White House Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders summed up the same idea soon after in this way: “It is very biblical to enforce the law.” And in his first speech as speaker of the House, Mike Johnson told his colleagues, “I believe that Scripture, the Bible, is very clear: that God is the one who raises up those in authority,” an echo of the New Testament’s Epistle to the Romans, in which Paul writes that “the authorities that exist are appointed by God.”
We must build the strength to make a theological and spiritual vision of everybody-in-nobody-out a reality and create the capacity, powered by faith, to make it so.
Over the past several years, Republican politicians and religious leaders have continued to use biblical references to punish the poor, quoting texts to justify cutting people off from healthcare and food assistance. A galling example came when Rep. Jodey Arrington (R-Texas), rebutting a Jewish activist who referenced a commandment in Leviticus to feed the hungry, quoted 2 Thessalonians to justify increasing work requirements for people qualifying for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). And that was just one of many Republican attacks on the low-income food assistance program amid myriad attempts to shred the social welfare system in the lead-up to President Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill,” the largest transfer of wealth from the bottom to the top in American history and a crowning achievement of Russell Vought’s Project 2025. Arrington said: “But there’s also, you know, in the Scripture, tells us in 2 Thessalonians chapter 3:10 he says, uh, ‘For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’ And then he goes on to say, ‘We hear that some among you are idle’… I think it’s a reasonable expectation that we have work requirements.”
And Arrington has been anything but alone. The same passage, in fact, had already been used by Reps Kevin Cramer (R-N.D.) and Stephen Lee Fincher (R-Tenn.) to justify cutting food stamps during a debate over an earlier farm bill. And Representative Mo Brooks (R-Ala.) used similarly religious language, categorizing people as deserving and undeserving, to argue against a healthcare plan that protects those of us with preexisting conditions. He insisted that only “people who lead good lives” and “have done the things to keep their bodies healthy” should receive reduced costs for healthcare.
Such “Christian” politicians regularly misuse Biblical passages to blame the impoverished for their poverty. There is never a suggestion, of course, that the rich, who have functionally stolen people’s wages and engorged themselves by denying them healthcare, are in any way to blame.
Such interpretations of biblical texts are damaging to everyone’s lives (except, of course, the superrich), but especially the poor. And—though you wouldn’t know it from such Republicans—they are counter to the main themes of the Bible’s texts. The whole of the Christian Bible, starting with Genesis and ending with the Book of Revelation, has an arc of justice to it. The historical equivalents of antipoverty programs run through it all.
That arc starts in the Book of Exodus with manna (bread) that shows up day after day, so no one has too much or too little. This is a likely response to the Egyptian Pharaoh setting up a system where a few religious and political leaders amassed great wealth at the expense of the people. God’s plan, on the other hand, was for society to be organized around meeting the needs of all people, including describing how political and religious leaders are supposed to release slaves, forgive debts, pay people what they deserve, and distribute funds to the needy. The biblical arc of justice then continues through the prophets who insist that the way to love and honor God is to promote programs that uplift the poor and marginalized, while decrying those with power who cloak oppression in religious terms and heretical versions of Christian theology.
My own political and moral roots are in the welfare rights and homeless union survival movements, efforts led by poor and dispossessed people organizing a “new underground railroad” and challenging Christianity to talk the talk and walk the walk of Christ. Such a conviction was captured by Reverend Yvonne Delk at the 1992 “Up and Out of Poverty Survival Summit,” when she declared that society, including the church, must move to the position that “poor people are not sinners, but poverty is a sin against God that could and should be ended.”
Delk’s words echo others from 20 years earlier. In 1972, Beulah Sanders, a leader of the National Welfare Rights Organization, the largest organization of poor people in the 1960s and 1970s, spoke to the National Council of Churches. “I represent all of those poor people who are on welfare and many who are not,” she said, “people who believe in the Christian way of life… people whose nickels and dimes and quarters have built the Christian churches of America. Because we believe in Christianity, we have continued to support the Christian churches… We call upon you… to join with us in the National Welfare Rights Organization. We ask for your moral, personal, and financial support in this battle for bread, dignity, and justice for all of our people. If we fail in our struggle, Christianity will have failed.”
In a Trumpian world, where Christian extremism is becoming the norm, we must not let the words of Beulah Sanders be forgotten or the worst fears of countless prophets and freedom fighters come true. Rather, we must build the strength to make a theological and spiritual vision of everybody-in-nobody-out a reality and create the capacity, powered by faith, to make it so. Now is the time. May we make it so.
Ratifying the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights would end the US’ back-and-forth dance with domestic poverty.
Our law school clinic’s weekly presence in eviction court, where we represent struggling renters, provides us with a front-row seat to a galling tragedy: widespread poverty in the richest nation in the world.
Sometimes, the biggest problem that our clients face is that their rental house or apartment is in unsafe or unhealthy condition, with mold and rodents running rampant and heat that does not work. There is a law to address this problem, and a government program to enforce that law.
Sometimes, the landlord’s ledger is wrong, and our clients made payments that are not accounted for. There is a government process for dealing with that, too.
But more often, our clients’ core problems are that they simply cannot afford the cost of survival. And our government usually has no answers for that.
For example, our client Sandra’s rent swallows well over half of her home healthcare worker salary, and she recently needed to pay for an expensive car repair because that is her only transportation to work. William’s disability check actually totals less than the rent he owes each month. The meals that Rochelle skips have not prevented her lights from being turned off for nonpayment, and she has been unable to afford her blood pressure medication.
Sandra, William, and Rochelle all qualify for government-subsidized housing. But they are among the 3 of every 4 eligible households who don’t receive it due to the programs being so underfunded. They and their families also struggle to get consistent access to food and healthcare.
Like Sandra and Rochelle, most of our clients in eviction court have jobs. But those jobs are in food service, home healthcare, and retail. Those industries, despite being some of the country’s top employers, don’t pay wages high enough for workers to be able to afford life necessities, especially with rents increasing far more quickly than wages.
The suffering we see in eviction court can be traced directly to the lack of enforceable economic rights in the US.
That is why, along with 3.6 million other US households that are sued for eviction every year, Sandra, William, and Rochelle face losing their homes. The Census Bureau says there are 17 million-plus people living in households that are currently behind on their rent. That means the number of Americans living on the verge of eviction equals the total populations of Michigan and Massachusetts combined. Over 43 million Americans live in poverty, a number that aligns with the number of Americans who are living with food insecurity. One in three adults each year skip getting healthcare, including filling prescriptions, because they can’t afford it.
There is no law that addresses this crisis.
Yet.
The United States should fill the gaping hole in our nation’s human rights structure by following the lead of the rest of the world and ratifying the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, aka the ICESCR.
As Sandra, William, and Rochelle can attest, the United States does not do enough to alleviate poverty. And when we do take positive action, it is routinely scaled back at a later date. We take one step forward; two steps back.
The ICESCR will fix that.
The ICESCR is a global treaty that requires all ratifying nations to fulfill economic rights, including the right to housing, the right to healthcare, and the right to an adequate standard of living. Essentially, the ICESCR protects the human right to survive in a decent and healthy manner. The ICESCR has been in force for nearly 50 years, and has been ratified by virtually every nation in the world, 172 nations in all, including all but one nation in North America or Europe.
That lone holdout is the United States.
The suffering we see in eviction court can be traced directly to the lack of enforceable economic rights in the US. Of course, the US does have some anti-poverty government programs like Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP aka Food Stamps), Temporary Assistance to Needy Families, and subsidized housing. But, as we saw this summer with the passage of the devastating so-called Big, Beautiful Bill, which will strip healthcare and food assistance from millions, the essential needs these programs address are funded at the whim of the current Congress and administration.
This is not a new phenomenon. The historic and lifesaving New Deal social programs of the 1930s and 1940s were slashed during the Reagan era of the early 1980s and then again in the 1990s by the Clinton “end welfare as we know it” legislation. During the first years of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2021 and 2022, we took a significant step forward, expanding social programs that reduced poverty to historic lows. Then, this summer, Republicans in Congress and President Donald Trump lurched backward, pushing through the largest safety net cuts in history.
Someday, domestic political power will shift. When that happens, we will likely restore some of the program cuts. But those gains will merely set the stage for the programs to be scaled back in years to come.
Unless US progressives commit to a post-Trump agenda that includes ratifying the ICESCR. Then, the challenge of meeting basic needs will be transformed from a political and budgetary wrestling match into a question of human rights. The next time basic healthcare and food and shelter are under attack, there will be a legal foundation from which to push back. We will stop this toxic one-step forward, two-steps backward anti-poverty dance, once and for all.
The US is often characterized as possessing an individualist, free market-favoring political culture, which cuts against the widespread adoption of the economic rights contained in the ICESCR. Yet many economic rights are already deeply woven into the fabric of US society. Consider the overwhelming popularity of our nation’s Social Security program, and the well-established roots of our nation’s system of free primary and secondary education, which align with the ICESCR Articles 9 and 13.
In addition to the right to education, fully half of state constitutions contain provisions that address welfare, poverty, or public health. A number of states and cities have adopted some version of a Homeless Bill of Rights or similar legal commitments to the right to housing. The rights to clean water and air, sometimes known as “Green Amendments,” are recognized in the state constitutions or statutes of California, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Hawaii, Montana, and in several municipal ordinances. In 2021, the state of Maine enshrined the right to food in its constitution.
When we take the step to full ratification, the ICESCR will bring a new and much-needed level of national enforceability for the rights that the US public already supports.
Americans are ready to make these rights nationwide and enforceable. Public opinion polls in recent years show strong majorities in support of recognizing and enforcing housing and healthcare as human rights, and insisting that the government should do more to address food insecurity. These views pair with deep popular concern about the US’ wealth inequality and support for raising taxes on the wealthy and corporations. Americans similarly endorse a government jobs guarantee that lines up with the ICESCR Articles 6 and 7.
Given religion’s powerful influence on US culture and values and the commitment to economic justice that is shared among all major religions, the support for economic rights among the US public should not be surprising. When we take the step to full ratification, the ICESCR will bring a new and much-needed level of national enforceability for the rights that the US public already supports.
Since the first moment of its existence, the US has affirmed the importance of economic rights. The inalienable rights held to be self-evident in the Declaration of Independence include “life” and “the pursuit of happiness,” both of which are obviously unattainable without shelter, food, healthcare, etc.
Founding father Thomas Paine called for the redistribution of land and wealth via progressive taxation, social security-style old-age pensions, support for families with young children, full employment, and a basic income. Alexander Hamilton interpreted the Taxing and Spending Clause in Article I, Section 8 of the US Constitution (“The Congress shall have Power to lay and collect taxes... to provide for the General Welfare of the United States”) broadly enough to fulfill Paine’s vision of a government that meets unmet economic needs. Hamilton’s fellow Constitution framer James Madison stated that the new nation needed laws to “raise extreme indigence toward a state of comfort.”
The US’ most consequential step taking the US toward a comprehensive set of enforceable economic rights was the New Deal of the mid-1930s, which featured social security, unemployment insurance, public housing, and the federal backing of home purchases, along with multiple programs that provided government-paid employment to millions. President Franklin Roosevelt followed up on the New Deal by articulating a historic vision for fully enforceable economic rights for all. In 1944, Roosevelt used the occasion of his annual State of the Union address to call for a “Second Bill of Rights” to supplement the civil and political rights already protected by the US Constitution. Roosevelt outlined multiple distinct economic rights, including living-wage employment, housing, healthcare, and education.
Roosevelt’s declaration served as the blueprint for the post-World War II international human rights structure. That structure’s foundation is the United Nations Charter, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and the International Covenants on Civil and Political Rights and Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, all of which explicitly or implicitly reference Roosevelt’s human rights language.
Regrettably, the post-war US backed away from international recognition of economic rights: In 1977, President Jimmy Carter signed the ICESCR and submitted it to the US Senate for consent to ratification, but the Senate has never acted on it. Still, the domestic legacy of Roosevelt’s economic rights vision lived on. The 1960s’ Great Society and War on Poverty programs of President Lyndon B. Johnson established the Medicare and Medicaid programs, along with Food Stamps, now known as Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, SNAP. Those lifesaving programs endure, along with widespread government-imposed price controls on human necessities like rental housing, electricity, water, and healthcare.
In his book, The Ends of Freedom: Reclaiming America’s Lost Promise of Economic Rights , Rutgers University economist Mark Paul lays out the economic rights that together would create what he calls the “well-being state,” including access to housing, healthcare, and a basic income. Given the outsize power held by wealthy individuals and corporations, Paul does not minimize the political challenge of enshrining these rights in US law. But he is unconcerned about the process of paying for economic rights. “The financing?” Paul asks. “That’s the easy part.”
That may seem glib, but Paul stands on solid ground. “Anything we can actually do, we can afford,” insisted John Maynard Keynes. Other nations’ success at ensuring economic rights have proved Keynes correct, as did the US’ economic boon period in the mid-20th century, a time of deficit spending and marginal income tax rates as high as 90%.
By shifting the conversation on housing, healthcare, and income needs from the language of charity or budgetary choices to that of enforceable rights, advocates will widen the window of political possibility to include full realization of all basic human needs.
Tax policy reform is one of several avenues that Paul and others cite as the source for funding a historic expansion of economic rights in the US. Elected officials like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) and Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and economists like Thomas Piketty, Peter Diamond, and Emmanuel Saez have proposed back-to-the-future top marginal tax rates of 70% or more, still lower than the 1950s’ US rate—when we also had significantly higher government spending. As Sanders says, “I’m not much of a socialist compared to Eisenhower.” Or Franklin Roosevelt, for that matter, who proposed a top tax rate of 100%, essentially capping annual income at the equivalent of $500,000 in current dollars.
Economists like Piketty and Nobel Prize laureate Joseph Stiglitz and US politicians like Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) call for significant wealth taxes that would raise billions annually. We can also free up funding to fulfill economic rights by slashing US war spending, which at over $1 trillion annually is more than the next nine countries combined.
If the US does ratify the ICESCR, how do we know it will comply with the promises contained in the treaty? That is a legitimate question, since signing off on a covenant does not necessarily translate into compliance with its terms.
But a system of ICESCR-specific accountability exists in the international arena. Robust reporting requirements are placed on ICESCR countries, which means a ratifying United States will be expected to quickly present a plan to achieve full realization of the promised economic rights and then to demonstrate tangible steps toward completion of that plan.
Of course, plans don’t feed or house people. But the ICESCR’s terms and compliance process would provide US anti-poverty advocates with a platform for using the treaty review process and the national legislative systems to enforce its promises. And it adds in the power of the courts. US litigation to enforce the ICESCR would follow existing US precedent, including rulings that reinforced their states’ constitutional rights to education and structural injunctions targeting the need for shelter for unhoused persons, healthcare access, and nutrition benefits.
The prospects are enticing. We caught a glimpse of what could be during the early years of the Covid-19 pandemic, when the US responded to the crisis with Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act stimulus checks, extended unemployment benefits, an expanded child tax credit, rental assistance, maximized food stamps, expanded Medicaid coverage, increased childcare support, and a national eviction moratorium. Economic support programs did the unthinkable: Poverty rates actually dropped to a record low during a pandemic.
By ratifying the ICESCR, we can make those temporary improvements permanent—and then improve on them. The language that became the 14th and 15th Amendments and the Civil Rights Act helped frame the abolitionist and civil rights movements and their goals. ICESCR can do the same for anti-poverty advocacy in the US. By shifting the conversation on housing, healthcare, and income needs from the language of charity or budgetary choices to that of enforceable rights, advocates will widen the window of political possibility to include full realization of all basic human needs.
Those legally enforceable rights would change the lives of our clients Sandra, William, Rochelle, and the millions of others who struggle alongside them.