By gutting Prop. 47 and funneling more people into the state’s jails and prisons, the Legislative Analyst estimates the proposed ballot measure would eat away at those savings and increase criminal justice costs by as much as tens of millions of dollars per year. That could mean less money for mental health services and addiction treatment.
Reisig dismissed that worry, saying, at least in Yolo County, where he is district attorney, Prop. 47 savings haven’t made much difference. “There’s literally nothing that I fear losing through this program,” he said.
There is some new money available from other pots. In March, California voters approved a $6.4 billion bond to pay for 6,800 beds in facilities treating mental illness and addiction, and as many as 4,350 housing units for people who need those services. The state is set to start awarding that money in the spring and summer of 2025, Newsom said this month.
But at the same time, to plug a yawning budget deficit, Newsom has proposed cutting funds from the Behavioral Health Bridge Housing Program, which provides beds for people who need mental health and addiction services.
Currie said he is “skeptical” of the lack of funding mechanisms for treatment programs and other services to ensure homeless people stay off the streets post-treatment. That, he said, could burden counties that already struggle with insufficient funding for such services — one in five homeless people surveyed by UCSF researchers said they sought substance abuse treatment but failed to get it.
“You can’t just say, ‘Ok, you counties. Since you are swimming in so much money after all … we are going to mandate drug treatment for some people on top of the existing number of clients,’” Currie said.
The politics of homelessness
Some political strategists say the measure’s tie to homelessness represents the campaign’s attempt to capitalize on public concern about the problem. Homelessness is a top issue on California voters’ minds, according to a February 2024 statewide survey by the Public Policy Institute of California.
“This notion somehow that it addresses homelessness is deceptive and downright farcical,” said Garry South, a longtime Democratic consultant who has worked on ballot measures for more than 20 years.
Homelessness is ultimately due to a lack of housing, he argued, and measures aiming to address the problem without providing housing are “disingenuous.”
“You’ve heard the old saying ‘Putting lipstick on a pig,’” South said. “I’m not saying that this measure is a pig, but what I’m saying is it’s a standard procedure … to try to gussy it up with some reference or some provision that really strikes a responsive chord with voters when that’s not really what the initiative is about.”
If the measure appears before voters in November, “homelessness” won’t be in the title they see on their ballots. The official title of the measure, chosen by the state attorney general, is: “Allows felony charges and increases sentences for certain drug and theft crimes.”
A lot of thought, politics, and sometimes even litigation goes into drafting the title and summary of a ballot measure. While proponents of a proposition want to entice voters with their description, it’s ultimately the state attorney general’s job to make sure the language is fair.
Even without mentioning homelessness, South said the ballot measure could still “pass on its own merits.” He, for one, would likely vote for it as a way to decrease crime.
Drugs and homelessness
Tom Wolf, who has experienced both homelessness and addiction first hand in San Francisco, said the proposed ballot measure has great potential to help people who were like him.
An opioid addiction cost Wolf his job and his home, and landed him on the streets of San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood in 2018. He said he worked as a “holder” for nearby drug dealers, safeguarding their stash of narcotics in case they were busted by the police. Sometimes he stole razor blades from a nearby Target and sold them for money to buy heroin.
Wolf says he was arrested on drug charges five times within three months, and was released back to the street each time. The sixth time he was arrested, the judge let him sit in jail for three months, where he got sober. Wolf finally called his brother, who said he would bail him out if Wolf went to drug treatment. Wolf agreed. He says that if he had been given the choice between jail and treatment the last time he was picked up, he would have chosen treatment.
In June, Wolf will have six years sober. He’s now an advocate for drug policy reform, and works as director of West Coast initiatives for the Foundation for Drug Policy Solutions.
“That accountability piece was the key to me getting off the street,” he said, “getting sober, becoming willing to accept an opportunity to go to treatment and give recovery an honest try.”
