Opinion: As Californians Struggle to Afford Housing, Democrats Wage War against Themselves

Californians are struggling to afford housing at levels not seen in generations—even families earning over $150,000 a year are being shut out of homeownership. But instead of rallying to address the crisis, Democrats in the California Legislature are fighting each other, waging a bitter internal war over Governor Gavin Newsom’s late-session push to streamline housing development.

What should have been an opportunity to deliver urgent relief has instead become a flashpoint for ideological infighting, union resistance, and rhetorical overreach that threatens to paralyze meaningful action.

Newsom’s proposal, tied to the state budget, aims to accelerate housing and infrastructure development by slashing bureaucratic red tape, modernizing permitting, and overriding local obstructionism. The governor hoped to use the budget as leverage to get long-stalled reforms passed.

But rather than uniting around the need for swift action, many Democrats lashed out—some in ways that bordered on theatrical. In a series of hearings and public comments, lawmakers denounced the proposal in almost apocalyptic terms, comparing it to Jim Crow laws, slavery, and immigration raids.

“To have legislation that is this large and this significant be forced through at the 11th hour … seems pretty absurd to me,” said state Sen. Sasha Renée Pérez. “I just cannot begin to explain how incredibly inappropriate and hurtful this is.”

But what’s truly inappropriate—and deeply hurtful—is the housing market status quo that California lawmakers have allowed to fester. The consequences are not limited to the working class or unhoused residents sleeping in tents under freeways. Today, even many high-income earners—professionals with steady jobs, no debt, and dual incomes—are being priced out of the very communities they serve.

A recent CNN article captured the new face of housing insecurity: a couple in Denver earning $150,000, with no loans and a solid credit profile, unable to afford even a modest home. While their story is set in Colorado, it mirrors experiences across California’s major metros.

Rising mortgage rates, investor speculation, restrictive zoning laws, and years of underbuilding have created a perfect storm. People who followed the rules—worked hard, saved, avoided debt—now find themselves stuck in a rental cycle, watching home prices rise out of reach.

It’s a nationwide trend, and it’s hitting California especially hard. According to Bank of America, one in five U.S. households earning more than $150,000 a year now live paycheck to paycheck, spending over 95 percent of their income on essentials like food, child care, gas, and housing.

A Bankrate survey found that 45 percent of Americans believe they need to earn at least $100,000 a year to feel financially secure, with 26 percent putting the figure at $150,000 or more. In places like Los Angeles, San Jose, and San Francisco, even that may not be enough.

And yet, California Democrats—who hold supermajorities in both chambers and control every statewide office—cannot agree on how or even whether to build more housing. Instead of crafting a forward-looking compromise, the party has been consumed by old fault lines.

Environmental advocates oppose streamlining because it threatens to bypass California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) reviews. Construction unions fear the erosion of prevailing wage guarantees. And cities, loath to give up local control, resist any move that limits their zoning authority.

These aren’t new tensions. Labor, environmental, and local government factions have long held sway in Sacramento. But what’s changed is the urgency of the crisis.

Newsom’s proposal—while imperfect—was a bold attempt to break the logjam. It would consolidate authority, cut red tape, and allow more housing to be built faster, especially along transit corridors and underused state-owned land. And by tying it to the state budget, Newsom tried to force the issue past the usual procedural bottlenecks.

Instead, he walked into a political buzzsaw.

Todd David, a San Francisco political consultant and housing advocate who has worked for Sen. Scott Wiener, was blunt: “Anyone who believed this would not cause a giant explosion — they were living in la-la-land.”

Newsom’s critics argue that the process has been rushed, opaque, and exclusionary. And to some extent, they have a point—major legislation deserves public scrutiny. But there’s a difference between demanding deliberation and using procedural arguments as a fig leaf for obstructionism.

Far too often, California’s housing policies are stymied not by good-faith disagreement, but by powerful interest groups clinging to the status quo.

Construction unions and the California Labor Federation, for example, have repeatedly packed legislative hearings to block housing bills they see as undermining union standards. Environmental organizations argue that CEQA reviews are essential to protect vulnerable communities, even when they’re invoked to kill infill development or affordable housing near transit. And local governments invoke “neighborhood character” as a pretext for exclusionary zoning, blocking multifamily housing in the name of “community input.”

What unites these factions is not ideology, but control—over wages, environmental reviews, and land use authority. And in a state where the cost of that control is 40-year-old teachers living with roommates and tech workers commuting two hours each way, the moral high ground is increasingly hard to defend.

There is also a broader political risk in this internal Democratic gridlock. If progressives fail to offer credible solutions to the housing crisis, they open the door to far more dangerous alternatives.

Consider Utah Senator Mike Lee’s recently proposed legislation to sell off more than 3,200 square miles of federal land to states or private developers. The justification? Building more homes. The reality? A massive handover of public land with no affordability requirements, environmental protections, or community safeguards.

Lee’s proposal didn’t pass, thanks to a Senate parliamentarian ruling. But it reflects a growing conservative appetite to exploit housing frustration for deregulatory ends.

The ghosts of Proposition 13 still haunt California. In 1978, after years of housing and tax pressure, voters passed Prop 13, slashing property taxes and kneecapping local government funding.

What followed was a cascade of unintended consequences—disinvestment in public services, entrenched NIMBYism, and skyrocketing housing costs.

If Democrats don’t act now, they risk igniting the next Prop 13—this time not as a tax revolt, but a backlash against the very regulatory and procedural tools progressives have spent decades building. And this time, the backlash could come from within their own ranks: middle- and upper-middle-class voters who see no future in California’s housing market and begin demanding radical deregulation.

That’s why it’s crucial for California Democrats to find a way forward. Streamlining doesn’t have to mean sacrificing labor standards or environmental goals. Thoughtful reform can include project labor agreements, carve-outs for sensitive ecosystems, and mandates for affordable units. What it cannot include is the continued paralysis that has left the state building fewer homes per capita than almost any other in the nation.

There are examples of progress. Newsom’s Excess Sites program, which converts surplus state land into affordable housing, has broken ground on projects in Stockton, Oakland, and San Diego. The builder’s remedy, a provision in state law that allows developers to override local zoning in cities out of compliance with housing goals, has begun to show real teeth. But these gains are fragile—and they depend on sustained political will.

That will is now in jeopardy. The choice facing Democrats is stark: either unite around a credible housing agenda that prioritizes building more homes across income levels, or continue tearing each other apart while Californians of all incomes pay the price.

Housing is not a zero-sum game. It is the foundation of economic security, educational opportunity, and family stability. When middle-class earners making $150,000 can’t afford a home, and when renters dedicate more than half their income just to stay afloat, something is deeply broken. And if Democrats can’t fix it, voters may turn to those who promise they will—no matter the cost.

In the end, the question isn’t whether California will build more housing. The question is who will do the building—and under whose rules. If Democrats don’t answer that call with clarity and courage, someone else will.

Categories:

Tags: