Farewell to the Social Conscience – How Trump’s Housing Policy Is Failing More Than a Million Children

It begins with a sentence as laconic as it is devastating: "HUD assistance is not supposed to be permanent." It is June 2025 when Scott Turner, Secretary of Housing under Donald Trump, utters this sentence before the US Congress. A sentence that calls into question the decades-long social mission of the American state. A sentence that declares more than a million children to be collateral damage in an ideological campaign. And a sentence that, in its plain diction, marks a political turning point: away from protection, toward punishment. What Turner presented during the budget hearing was not an economic necessity but a declaration of intent. Government housing assistance, he demanded, should be limited to two years. After that: done. No extension, no case-by-case review, no support for those who, during this time, have not managed to establish themselves in the private housing market. A deadline like a verdict. Yet the numbers tell a different story. The United States is in the midst of an escalating housing crisis. Rents are rising, public housing is disappearing, entire regions have barely any affordable homes left. For millions of families, government support is the last safeguard against homelessness. And now, of all things, this lifeline is at risk of being cut. Affected would not only be urban hotspots but also rural areas, suburbs, former industrial centers. Affected would not only be adults, but above all, children. Anyone who wants to understand what is at stake must look at the life of Havalah Hopkins. She lives in the state of Washington, working various jobs at corporate events, church caterings, whenever something comes up. She can only afford her apartment thanks to HUD support. She pays 450 dollars a month, which is about 30 percent of her income. The market price in the area is over 2,400 dollars. For Hopkins, her home is not a luxury, but a stronghold – against the violence of the past, against the arbitrariness of the present. And now, even this last refuge is at risk of falling.

Scott Turner tries to portray the planned reform as a necessary correction. The system has derailed, he claims, it is being abused. But a closer look reveals: it is not the system that has derailed, but the political logic. Aid is no longer seen as an act of solidarity but as a problem. Those who need it are viewed with suspicion. Those who need it longer are deemed deficient. A comprehensive study by New York University shows that about 1.4 million households would be directly affected by the proposed time limit. Three-quarters of these households already receive assistance for more than two years. And the vast majority are people who work but still earn too little to get by without help. The working poor. People who keep the system running and yet fall through every crack. The narrative Turner is serving is not new. Already in the 1990s, attempts were made in the US to push welfare recipients into time limits. The effect: more insecurity, more poverty, more children in precarious conditions. In Keene, New Hampshire, such a model has already been discontinued because it simply drove too many people into homelessness. In California, a local housing authority still maintains a time limit – but only with accompanying education and support programs. And even there, the rate of those who manage to transition is sobering.

Turner’s plan fits into a broader strategy: the dismantling of social welfare structures. Those who examine Medicaid coverage or the SNAP food assistance program see a pattern. Help is portrayed as a burden. Its recipients are morally devalued. The political economy of compassion is being replaced by an economy of discipline. For private landlords who work with HUD, the reform could also mean the end. Many of them value the stability the program offers. In the future, they would have to deal with new tenants every two years, shoulder more administrative burden, endure uncertain income. Between 2010 and 2020, around 50,000 providers already left the program. With the reform, this development could accelerate dramatically. Particularly insidious is the way Turner rhetorically reframes the issue. He speaks of "cheaters," of "dependency," of "personal responsibility." But behind this are people like Aaliyah Barnes from Louisville. She lives with her son in a program for single mothers, studying nursing. Her training takes three years. The government’s time limit: two. "I would be so close – and yet so far away," she says.

Barnes is not an isolated case. She is the face of a generation trying to work its way out of poverty – and being sabotaged by the very policies that claim to help. The proposed reform is, in truth, a tool of selection. It does not distinguish between the willing and the unwilling but between winners and losers in a system increasingly driven by exclusion instead of integration. So far, nothing about this time limit appears in the US House of Representatives. But the danger remains real. Pressure from the White House is growing. The budget committee is already negotiating with the Senate. A feather-light clause in the final bill – and the experiment begins. An experiment on human lives. For many in civil society, one thing is clear: this is not about money. It is about morality. About the self-image of a nation that likes to see itself as the land of equal opportunity. But what kind of opportunity is that if children no longer have a safe place to live? If educational dreams fail because of deadlines? If poverty is politically sanctioned instead of alleviated?

Scott Turner is not just a minister. He is a symptom. An expression of the ideological radicalization that does not want to reform the welfare state but abolish it. That despises "Good Trouble" because it causes disruption. That tolerates John Lewis only as a historical figure but no longer as a moral role model. The consequences of this policy are foreseeable. A new generation of homeless children. An escalation of social tensions. And a democracy that loses the trust of those most in need of protection. "It is dehumanizing," says Havalah Hopkins. "It tells us: You are only human for two years." It is no coincidence that the Trump administration is pushing for time limits right now. In a public sphere overwhelmed by wars, tariff debates, and scandals, social cruelty is easier to hide. But that is precisely why attention is so important. Because what appears today as reform could cost millions their homes tomorrow. And a society that abandons its children loses more than just votes. It loses its conscience. Perhaps it is time to remember what John Lewis said: "If you see something that is not right, say something. Do something." Now would be the moment.

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