These programs work, and they want them to last.
Across more than a hundred American cities, a social experiment is reaching a crossroads: the federal pandemic relief that seeded guaranteed income pilots is expiring, and local leaders must now decide whether these programs were a moment or a movement. From Evanston to Newark to Salem, mayors are lobbying state capitals and Congress, seeking to transform temporary cash transfers into permanent policy — even as legal challenges in Texas remind us that the question of what government owes its most vulnerable citizens remains deeply contested. The urgency is practical, but the stakes are philosophical: whether a society chooses to trust its struggling members with direct resources, or not.
- Federal ARPA funds must be fully spent by the end of 2024, forcing cities into a frantic sprint to distribute remaining cash before it vanishes entirely.
- Programs that quietly improved lives — stabilizing families, helping children, easing the grind of poverty — now face extinction simply because their funding source was never designed to last.
- Mayors in Evanston, Newark, and Salem are pivoting from administrators into advocates, lobbying state legislatures and Congress to make guaranteed income a permanent fixture of American social policy.
- Private donors, local budgets, and nonprofit partnerships are being stitched together as improvised lifelines where federal money once flowed freely.
- In Texas, Attorney General Ken Paxton's lawsuit against Harris County's program has cast a legal shadow over the entire state, effectively freezing expansion even where political will exists.
- The movement is neither collapsing nor consolidating — it is fracturing along the fault lines of law, politics, and local will, with some cities pressing forward and others finding the road blocked.
Across more than a hundred American cities, the federal money that launched guaranteed income experiments is running out — and mayors are scrambling to decide what comes next.
In Evanston, Illinois, officials moved quickly to spend down their remaining federal allotment before the deadline, holding registration sessions citywide to distribute $300,000 in remaining funds. Within the first week, roughly 150 residents applied. The city will select 102 low-income households by lottery to receive $500 monthly for six months. Neighboring Cook County, after its own pilot ended in 2022, chose a different path — allocating $7.5 million from its local budget to make guaranteed income permanent policy.
Evanston Mayor Daniel Biss, now running for Congress, has pledged to fight for these programs at the federal level. His ambition mirrors a broader movement: mayors aren't just trying to keep their own pilots alive — they're trying to rewrite national policy. In Newark, Mayor Ras Baraka launched a statewide advocacy coalition after his city's two-year pilot, which gave 400 residents $6,000 annually, showed measurable improvements in financial stability and child outcomes. Leading the lobbying effort is Michael Tubbs, president of Mayors for a Guaranteed Income, who argues that regular cash is essential for low-income Americans to afford basic necessities.
In Salem, Massachusetts, a 12-month pilot called Uplift Salem concluded with strong reviews from an independent university study. Mayor Dominick Pangallo called the results clear — more employment, stronger families, better outcomes for children — and committed to pushing the conversation forward at the state and national level.
Elsewhere, cities are improvising. Boulder is soliciting private donations to sustain its program. Austin became the first Texas city to fully fund its own pilot with taxpayer money. But Texas also offers a warning: Attorney General Ken Paxton sued Harris County over its $20.5 million program, calling it unconstitutional, and the resulting legal uncertainty has effectively stalled expansion across the state. The path forward for guaranteed income is neither clear nor uniform — it is being negotiated city by city, lawsuit by lawsuit, budget vote by budget vote.
Across more than a hundred American cities, a quiet scramble is underway. The federal money that seeded guaranteed income experiments is running out, and mayors are racing to decide what happens next.
In Evanston, Illinois, a Chicago suburb, officials recently announced they would expand their guaranteed income program to spend down the last of their federal allotment before the deadline hits. The American Rescue Plan Act, the pandemic relief legislation that funded these pilots, imposed a hard constraint: money had to be legally committed by the end of 2024 and fully spent by December of that year. Evanston held registration sessions across the city to distribute $300,000 in remaining funds. In the first week alone, roughly 150 residents applied. The city will select 102 low-income households through lottery to receive $500 monthly payments over six months. To qualify, applicants had to live at or below 185 percent of the federal poverty line and either be 55 or older or have a child in second grade or younger.
Evanston is one of many cities now facing a choice: let the programs die when the federal money runs out, or find another way to keep them going. Cook County, the second-largest county in the nation and Evanston's neighbor, already made that choice. After its initial pilot ended in 2022, the Cook County Board of Commissioners allocated $7.5 million from the local budget to sustain guaranteed income as permanent policy. The shift signals a broader instinct among local leaders: these programs work, and they want them to last.
Mayor Daniel Biss of Evanston, who recently won the Democratic primary for Illinois' 9th Congressional District, has made his position clear. After the city council voted to expand the program, he posted on social media that guaranteed income provides critical support to families while boosting the local economy. He promised to fight for these programs in Congress if elected to the House. His ambition reflects a larger movement: mayors are not just trying to sustain their own pilots. They are trying to turn them into permanent policy at the state and federal level.
In Newark, New Jersey, Mayor Ras Baraka launched an advocacy coalition to push the state government toward adopting guaranteed income statewide. Newark's pilot, run in partnership with the advocacy group Mayors for a Guaranteed Income, provided 400 low-income residents with $6,000 per year over two years, funded by a mix of ARPA money and corporate donations. Baraka cited the results: the program demonstrated that cash payments boosted financial stability and improved outcomes for children. The newly formed New Jersey Cash Alliance is now actively lobbying state lawmakers in Trenton. Leading the effort is Michael D. Tubbs, president of Mayors for a Guaranteed Income and the former mayor of Stockton, California, who popularized the municipal cash-handout movement by launching a pilot in his own city. Tubbs has argued publicly that the federal government should implement a nationwide guaranteed income program, contending that regular cash infusions are necessary for low-income Americans to afford rent, groceries, and gasoline.
In Salem, Massachusetts, officials concluded a 12-month pilot called Uplift Salem, which gave 100 eligible residents $500 monthly payments for a year. The $685,000 project was structured as a public-private partnership, combining ARPA funds with private contributions from the nonprofit UpTogether. An impact study conducted by Salem State University found high praise from recipients. Mayor Dominick Pangallo said the program increases employment, strengthens the economy, and helps children thrive in school. He committed to advancing the conversation at the state and national level.
Other cities are taking different approaches. Boulder, Colorado, launched Elevate Boulder with $3 million in ARPA funds and is now actively soliciting private donations to keep it running. Austin, Texas, became the first major city in the state to fully fund its own pilot, using $1.1 million in taxpayer funds alongside $500,000 in philanthropic donations. But Texas presents a cautionary tale. Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton filed a lawsuit against a $20.5 million guaranteed income program in Harris County, calling it the Harris Handout and declaring it an unconstitutional abuse of public funds. While Austin's initial pilot concluded without direct intervention, the state-level litigation has effectively stalled local expansions across Texas. The legal uncertainty in the nation's second-largest state suggests that even as some cities find ways to sustain their programs, others may find the path blocked entirely.
Citas Notables
Guaranteed income programs provide critical support to families while boosting the local economy. We're leading the way in Evanston, and I'm ready to fight for these programs in Congress.— Mayor Daniel Biss of Evanston, Illinois
The Newark Movement for Economic Equity pilot definitively demonstrated that cash payments boosted financial stability and improved child outcomes. We must turn these pilots into policy across New Jersey.— Mayor Ras Baraka of Newark, New Jersey
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why are these mayors pushing so hard to keep programs that were only ever meant to be temporary?
Because the data from their pilots suggested the programs actually worked. When you give people cash with no strings attached, they use it to stabilize their lives—pay rent, buy food, stay employed. That's hard to walk away from once you've seen it.
But if the federal money is gone, where does the money come from?
That's the real question. Some cities are putting it in their local budgets, like Cook County did with $7.5 million. Others are chasing private donations. A few are asking their state governments to fund it. And some, like the mayors in Newark and Evanston, are trying to convince Congress to make it federal policy.
Is that realistic? Getting Congress to fund guaranteed income nationwide?
Probably not in the near term. But these mayors aren't thinking short-term. They're building a coalition, gathering evidence, and making the case that this works. Tubbs, who started the whole movement in Stockton, is now leading advocacy efforts across multiple states.
What about the legal challenges? The Texas lawsuit seems like a real threat.
It is. Paxton's lawsuit against Harris County's program signals that some state officials see guaranteed income as wasteful or unconstitutional. That could spread. Cities in Texas are already being cautious because of it.
So some programs will survive and some won't?
Almost certainly. The ones with strong local political support and alternative funding sources—like Cook County and Salem—will probably continue. The ones in states with hostile attorneys general or tight budgets will struggle. It's becoming a patchwork.