(Photo courtesy of Breakstone, White & Gluck) “Lowell, Massachusetts faces a homelessness crisis that seems to care little for those in need.”
Collin Gallagher
Connector Staff
On the night of Nov. 12, 2024, the City of Lowell passed Ordinance 222.22, a policy that criminalizes camping on public property. For many, it marked not only the end of an era but the beginning of a darker chapter in American governance. This ordinance passed with cold efficiency, serves as a stark reminder of how our nation’s constitutional values have been reshaped, not by progress, but by regression.
This wasn’t an isolated event. Just a week prior, Salem, Massachusetts, passed a nearly identical ordinance, and on the same night as Lowell, Brockton followed suit. The timing and similarities between these actions are too glaring to ignore. It feels less like individual cities responding to local challenges and more like a coordinated statewide effort to criminalize homelessness under the radar. This pattern raises serious questions about the motives behind these ordinances and whether they are the result of shared pressure from powerful statewide interests prioritizing optics over humanity.
The roots of this transformation trace back to the judicial appointments made during the Trump administration. The ideological shift within the Supreme Court has redefined the boundaries of empathy, paving the way for local governments to strip compassion from policymaking under the guise of legal pragmatism. The Constitution, once a living document capable of evolving to protect the vulnerable, is now read through a lens that prioritizes order over humanity.
In Lowell, this shift was apparent. The ordinance was passed despite widespread dissent and without regard for its poorly structured framework. At the Nov. 18 meeting of the Lifting Lowellians: Assistance and Mutual Aid (LLAMA), attendees, many of whom were present at the council session, voiced their frustrations and disbelief. Community organizers, activists, and unhoused individuals alike recognized the ordinance for what it was: a performance of governance, not a solution.
LLAMA’s meeting was a reflection of grassroots frustration. Activists described how council members dismissed their concerns, painted dissenters as radicals, and ignored pleas for empathy.
The ordinance was labeled premature and poorly designed by those who opposed it. But it wasn’t simply a matter of poor governance—it was a demonstration of power. Activists noted how the city of Lowell relied on intimidation tactics, with police officers stationed as a silent reminder of authority. Business owners and nonprofits privately opposed the measure but hesitated to speak publicly for fear of retribution.
The dangers of Ordinance 222.22 are multifaceted. Activists warned that criminalizing homelessness would deepen the cycle of poverty, push individuals further from stability, and lead to more overdoses and preventable deaths.
At its core, the ordinance is not about addressing homelessness; it’s about erasing it from the public view. As one LLAMA attendee put it, “The council doesn’t care about the unhoused; it’s about visibility.” The true victims—the unhoused individuals—are left to bear the brunt of a policy designed to placate the discomfort of the housed.
The passage of Ordinance 222.22 is a sobering reminder of the challenges ahead. It marks the beginning of a new era where empathy is increasingly absent from public policy. But as LLAMA and its allies demonstrate, the fight is far from over.
This is not just a Lowell issue; it is a symptom of a broader national trend. Blue states like Massachusetts, typically seen as bastions of progressivism, are passing similar ordinances in cities like Salem and Brockton. This is not a failure of individual cities but a reflection of a systematic shift—a shift that must be met with systemic resistance.
