When Pasco’s city officials gather to debate stricter anti-camping laws, they’re not just discussing ordinances—they’re wrestling with a moral crisis that mirrors a national failure to address homelessness. The Supreme Court’s 2024 ruling in Grants Pass v. Johnson has handed cities a blunt legal tool, but Pasco’s deliberations reveal the hollow cruelty of treating poverty as a criminal offense. Let’s unpack why this approach is both shortsighted and tragically predictable.
The Illusion of Control
The Court’s decision claims to separate ‘conduct’ from ‘status,’ arguing that banning camping isn’t punishing homelessness itself. But this is semantic theater. When shelters are full or nonexistent, what choice exists beyond the sidewalk? Pasco’s existing rules already prohibit camping, yet enforcement has been suspended during shelter shortages—a humane nod to reality. Now, the city’s push to revive these penalties ignores the obvious: Criminalizing survival doesn’t solve homelessness. It merely shifts the burden to police and courts while deepening public cynicism.
The ACLU’s Warning: A Canary in the Coal Mine
The ACLU’s tally of 150 anti-encampment measures across Washington isn’t just a statistic—it’s a damning indictment of collective inaction. When organizations like the ACLU fight these laws, they’re not defending ‘lawlessness.’ They’re challenging a system that prioritizes optics over solutions. Cities like Pasco are doubling down on enforcement while neglecting the root causes: soaring housing costs, mental health care deserts, and a fraying social safety net. This isn’t governance; it’s theater masquerading as policy.
The Spokane Lawsuit: A Glimmer of Hope?
As Pasco watches the Currie v. Spokane case, the stakes couldn’t be higher. If Washington’s Constitution is interpreted to offer stronger protections than federal law, it could force a reckoning. But here’s the irony: Legal battles alone won’t house a single person. They might curb punitive measures, yet without investment in affordable housing and services, the cycle continues. The real question isn’t what courts allow—it’s what kind of society we’re willing to build.
The Cost of ‘Tough on Homelessness’ Politics
Pasco’s potential expenses—police hours, court fees, vehicle impoundments—are a fiscal black hole. Consider Seattle’s experience: Towing RVs used as homes creates a revolving door of displacement, not resolution. The Long decision rightly limits cities from profiting off desperation, but Pasco’s proposed ‘inventory of fines’ feels like a medieval poorhouse policy reboot. When did we decide that poverty should be a revenue stream?
A Deeper Moral Rot
What fascinates me most is the collective amnesia at play. Anti-camping laws are a proxy war against visibility. Elected officials know shelters are inadequate, yet they scapegoat the unhoused for their own political survival. This isn’t just about Pasco—it’s about every city that confuses enforcement with empathy. The real scandal isn’t the camping ban debate; it’s our inability to see people sleeping in parks as neighbors, not nuisances.
Toward What Future?
Imagine an alternate Pasco. What if the council redirected enforcement funds toward tiny home villages with wraparound services? Or partnered with landlords to subsidize rents for the precariously housed? The tools exist, but they require confronting uncomfortable truths: Homelessness isn’t a moral failing. It’s a policy choice—a choice we’ve made repeatedly by tolerating inequality. Until we treat housing as a right, not a privilege, Pasco’s parks will remain battlegrounds for a war we refuse to win.
The council’s July 27 workshop won’t just shape local ordinances. It’ll expose whether Pasco’s leaders see themselves as stewards of order or architects of community. Spoiler alert: You can’t jail your way out of a housing crisis. But that truth only matters if someone’s listening.
