The state Legislature has carved out the money but none of the details for what it intends for “ohana zones,” the upgraded version of what’s otherwise called “safe zones” for the homeless.

That said, the $30 million could be deployed in a way that provides a safe refuge for some of those swept from street encampments. Whatever its current limitations, it’s crucial that policymakers develop this option, adding it to the toolkit for addressing homelessness.

It won’t be easy, that’s for sure. One of the missing details is the most critical element: locations for the zones, which could number up to six. Alloting the money is easy; filling in the site blanks will be the hard part.

At least the enterprise is being described in Senate Bill 2401 as a “pilot program,” given the lack of any favorable prototype.

Gov. David Ige and his administration have not found any locations and in general have resisted the notion of safe zones, arguing that the focus should be on finding permanent housing through programs and subsidies such as “Housing First,” paired with wrap-around services. That, officials have said, is what works, long-term.

They may be correct in that theory, but in reality, there are simply too few places into which to move a homeless individual or family. Meanwhile, even as social service contractors with the state and counties have made some progress re-housing many homeless clients, there are more people every day who, living on the financial brink for months or years, finally lose their home and are shunted out to the streets.

The result is that there is little perceptible improvement in what’s described as Hawaii’s homelessness crisis.

The “ohana zones” mission should be to produce a model as soon as possible, and to get on with implementation. There seems to be a renewed emphasis on “sweeping” homeless encampments — in Kakaako and elsewhere in the urban core — so there must be more places for those on the streets to relocate.

What lawmakers do know is that they don’t want anything like Camp Kikaha, the now-closed safe zone that operated for seven months in Kailua-Kona. This was a makeshift site more like the “tent cities” that have sprung up wherever homelessness reaches crisis stage.

Provided with basic sanitation and some level of security, the Hawaii County camp did not effectively provide a waystation back to stable housing. Instead, many ended up right where they started; fire hazards and other problems plagued those who remained. The Big Island, too, is seeking more permanent solutions.

SB 2401 describes ohana zones as occupying public land equipped to address people’s basic needs but also paired with the intensive services, including health care and transportation, that could help them get back on their feet again.

Nice aspirations. But as yet unsolved, in addition to sites, is the decision about the housing itself, described only as “secure dwelling spaces that may be private or communal.” In the committee review of the bill, legislators spoke admiringly of Kahauiki Village, the public-private development off Nimitz Highway for homeless families.

But those structures were donated, a level of largesse that can’t be replicated often. There will need to be a relatively affordable alternative selected, perhaps something akin to the shipping containers rehabilitated for the Hale Mauliola project at Sand Island, a small-scale, short-term “housing navigation service center” the city developed on a state-owned parcel.

The hope is that ohana zones will be decent stopping-off points for the homeless, places that give those now on the streets a pathway back to secure housing.

For this experiment to work, these will have to be much better than rebranded, chaotic tent cities. The zones must become acceptable to the community at large, and the sense of “ohana” must apply more than superficially.