One of the core beliefs of our country is that everyone has a right to vote. But what about the people who break our nation’s laws? Does committing a crime nullify their right to vote? Well that depends on what state you live in. For example, if you committed a felony in Alabama, you could permanently lose your right to vote, whereas if you committed the crime in Maine, you could vote absentee from prison. A very interesting website, Procon.org, has compiled a table of all of the states and their felon voting laws.

Another curious thing to note is not just how much voting restrictions change from state to state, but the level of the felonies. It’s one of the few times where the consequences of drug possession carry the same weight as murdering someone. Other crimes you can commit to lose voting rights include distributing pornography (Alabama), timber larceny (Mississippi), and arson (Florida). News21 points out a flaw in this system, as it seems to be part of a policy that singles out minorities.

“Across the country, racial minorities are more likely to be barred from voting because of felony convictions, reform advocates say. Blacks made up 12.6 percent of the U.S. population in 2010, but 37.9 percent of the more than 1.5 million people in federal and state prisons, according to data from the Census and the federal Bureau of Justice Statistics.”

It’s estimated that these restrictions keep 5.85 million Americans off voting rolls. Whether good or bad, that’s a significant number in a country that prides itself on freedom. Below, you’ll find a table with each state and their policy.

Alabama	X
Alaska		X
Arizona	X
Arkansas		X
California			X
Colorado			X
Connecticut			X
Delaware	X
District of Columbia				X
Florida	X
Georgia		X
Hawaii				X
Idaho		X
Illinois				X
Indiana				X
Iowa	X
Kansas		X
Kentucky	X
Louisiana		X
Maine
Maryland		X
Massachusetts				X
Michigan				X
Minnesota		X
Mississippi	X
Missouri		X
Montana			X
Nebraska	X
Nevada	X
New Hampshire				X
New Jersey		X
New Mexico		X
New York			X
North Carolina		X
North Dakota				X
Ohio				X
Oklahoma		X
Oregon				X
Pennsylvania				X
Rhode Island				X
South Carolina		X
South Dakota		X
Tennessee	X
Texas		X
Utah				X
Vermont
Virginia	X
Washington		X
West Virginia		X
Wisconsin		X
Wyoming	X

Maine and Vermont allow felons to vote absentee from prison.

The post Can felons vote in your state? You got a problem with that? appeared first on Occasional Planet.

Illinois prisons have a worsening problem, with a ratio of inmates to guards that is producing conditions dangerous to guards, inmates and the citizens outside of prison. The “John Howard Association” is reporting that Menard prison is experiencing a growing number of assaults and serious injuries as a direct result of this trend. Menard has the worst prisoner-to-guard ratio for maximum security facilities, and is the second oldest prison in Illinois. The prison is currently at 117% of capacity, with prisoners spending 21 to 22 hours a day in their cells with little to no access to rehabilitative, medical or psychiatric services. State budget constraints and problems with the state budget are causing continuing difficulties in keeping the prison adequately staffed. Menard has been on lockdown for roughly half of this year.

Menard prison has a larger than average number of inmates who suffer from a variety of mental illnesses, but there is little to no access to psychiatric assistance. Instead, pre-existing conditions are being aggravated through prolonged isolation from normal human interactivity and exposure to situations likely to cause further trauma. With 3,614 inmates, there are less than six full-time mental health professionals at Menard prison.

The psychiatric damage to the prisoners is aggravated by the stress placed on the understaffed guards, who must attempt to manage the situation. Inmates and their families report that guards assault prisoners with little or no provocation. Although the administration attempts to maintain proper discipline among the guards, the inability to find replacements in a timely manner aggravates the problem.

The problems at Menard are indicative of the statewide problem with prisons that began after Governor Quinn ended an early release program for political reasons. Much was made during the last gubernatorial elections of early release being “soft on crime.” The Governor made the political calculation that continuing early release programs would put his political future in jeopardy and therefore ended not just the new program that caused the problem, but also an early release program that had been operating for more than 30 years. This move resulted in prison populations jumping, as inmates continue to enter the system at much the same rate, but are now staying in the system longer.

As state budgets are being slashed in apparently vain attempts to balance them, prisons represent the second greatest increaser of expenditures after Medicaid. There is little evidence that holding prisoners for longer periods makes the general public safer, with 69% of prisoners being incarcerated for drug related and other non-violent crimes. In 2003. the cost to incarcerate an individual in the prison system was $22,000. This works out to $246 million each year to lock up non-violent offenders in the Illinois prison system. State prisons offer very little in the way of substance abuse treatment, a known effective measure at reducing recidivism, so the expenditure is basically to warehouse people until their time is up and then release them unchanged (other than trauma, etc. caused by the prison experience) into the same environment with no new coping mechanisms. It is no surprise that recidivism rates are in excess of 51%. In fact, it is surprising they are not even higher.

In comparison, substance abuse treatment for an individual costs $2,900,  which is calculated to produce an average savings to the taxpayer of $9,100 per person. This leads to the conclusion that throwing people in prison for prolonged periods is not just morally questionable (jailing people for harming themselves) but downright wasteful also.

Some Illinois counties are experimenting with sentencing alternatives, such as Madison County’s drug court.  Charges are dropped if an individual successfully completes substance abuse treatment and a period of court supervision under, relieving pressure from the legal system and prisons. Other states are successfully making use of halfway houses, electronic monitoring and intensive probation to relieve pressure on state prisons.

Illinois is witnessing a buildup in pressure at the prisons due to political posturing by both political parties wishing to either to play “gotcha” or to avoid being “got.” This situation is resulting in physical harm to prisoners and guards, as well as huge expenditures to support the misguided political maneuvering. The state is currently looking at extreme slashes to social safety net programs (35% to TANF alone), while sentencing people to prison terms that destroy future ability to get jobs, pay taxes and lift themselves and their families out of poverty. The cost of the prisons is just the starting point; the long range costs to the state are enormous.

The post Illinois prison overcrowding is dangerous for everyone appeared first on Occasional Planet.

No, I wasn’t sentenced; despite a handful of speeding tickets, I have managed to avoid the caprices of the criminal justice system.  I went to visit a friend, who is now beginning his 30th year as a guest of the State of Missouri, courtesy of its taxpaying citizens.  For the purposes of this essay, I will refer to him as my “friend” and I’ll call the person who accompanied me on the trip my “companion.”

Following are a few reflections on the visit, a couple of helpful hints for those who might undertake such a trip in the future, and some thoughts about the way we administer justice in this country.

First, be aware of your underwear.  I had been warned that underwire bras will frequently set off the prison security system, so I selected another undergarment that day.  My companion had been warned, too, but she forgot.  This resulted in a mini striptease in the front seat of the car on the interstate; fortunately, my companion was not behind the wheel.  Despite her contortionist efforts, she still set off the security alarm, thanks to either her watch or earrings.  But it’s easier to remove your jewelry than your bra in the visitors’ center.

Second, be aware that some rules just don’t make sense.  For example, cell phones are not allowed in prisons.  That means just what it says.  You can’t even have a cell phone in your purse, which is secured in a locker in the visitors’ anteroom.  You can’t have anything on your body other than your clothes, and the fewer of those the better (see previous reference to bras).  You can’t wear a jacket or a sweater. You can’t have a tissue in your pocket, even if your nose is dripping.  You can’t have a pencil or a piece of paper to make a note.  The only thing you can have is a small plastic bag filled with quarters, which can be used to purchase drinks or snacks from the vending machines in the visiting room.  Prisoners are not allowed to insert quarters into the vending machines; a bright yellow line on the floor indicates that they must stand about two feet away from the machines.  My friend told us what he wanted to drink; we had to put the quarters into the machine for him.

My friend had requested a “food visit.”  Twice a year, family members or friends are permitted to bring in a limited amount of food, which the prisoner must consume during the course of the visit.  There are very specific rules concerning the number and size of the containers as well as the kinds of foods that are allowed and how they must be  prepared.  My friend had requested fried chicken, mangoes and watermelon.  Fortunately, the prison does provide a microwave oven (also behind the yellow line), so food can be re-heated.  Plastic forks and spoons were also available, but no paper plates.

When we entered the visiting room (yes, the doors really do clang shut), we were directed to a numbered table where we were told to wait for our friend.  There were three red chairs and one gray chair at each table; we were instructed to sit in the red chairs and our friend would have to sit in the gray chair.  I was tempted to make a snarky reference to kindergarten, but thought it might not be a good idea.

When my friend arrived, he was permitted to give my companion and me a quick hug before sitting down in his gray chair.

And here’s where my heart broke.

I was in the rest room when my friend arrived (only visitors are permitted to use the rest room; the guard unlocks the door when you need it and you are locked in while you’re using it).  When I returned to the table (number 24), my friend rose, gave me the permitted hug, and then…he pulled out my red chair for me so I could sit down.  I’m not sure where he learned manners like this, but I doubt that it was in prison.

My heart broke a second time just a few seconds later, when my friend asked us if he could hold our hands.  He sat between us at table number 24 and held our hands for the longest time…at least 45 minutes…before the lure of chicken, mangoes and watermelon became too strong.  It dawned on me that among the things prisoners probably miss most, some kind of human touch, warm physical contact,  must be near the top of the list.  I’m not talking about sex, although I am sure they miss that acutely.  I’m talking about a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, a pat on the back.  Few prisoners receive this on any regular basis.  For most, family visits are limited, as most facilities are located in small towns in rural areas and visiting opportunities are restricted to three days per week.

My companion and I spent more than three hours at the prison, talking and holding hands with my friend.  At one point there was roll call.  All the prisoners had to stand in a row in front of the yellow line and a guard came through with a checklist to make sure they were all there.

And then, it was time to go.  My companion and I gathered up the uneaten food and said our goodbyes.  When we left, my friend, and all the other prisoners, were sitting in their specified gray chairs.  They all looked hunched over, beaten down, and lonely.

The drive back seemed long.  My companion and I talked about our feelings of extreme sadness.  We commented that the guards had been friendly and accommodating to two old ladies who were paying their first visit to prison.  We remarked that the visiting room had a nice play area for children.  We talked about the necessity for some of the rules.  Why can’t prisoners sit in a red chair?  Why can’t they put a quarter in the soda machine?  Why did I have to blow my nose on a paper towel?

There must be some reasons for these rules that we are not aware of, since we have no experience in the criminal justice system.  And we know that people are in prison for a reason:  they have committed a crime.  We don’t expect, and would not tolerate, a prison that resembled a country club.  But still, we wonder:  can’t we figure out a way to punish and rehabilitate people without treating them like misbehaving youngsters?  Wouldn’t they have more dignity if they were treated in a dignified manner?

My friend has been in prison more than half his life.  He has more dignity, self-respect and manners than most people I run into on the “outside.”  Maybe this is proof that prison works, at least in his case.  But I have a hard time believing that he, or anyone else, will be rehabilitated by sitting in a gray chair.

The post In August I went to prison appeared first on Occasional Planet.

There are currently 14.9 million unemployed Americans. Now imagine if there were a cache of jobs out there, unskilled jobs that anyone needing work could just pick up and do. Jobs like assembling office furniture, making mattresses, sewing work uniforms together, and screen printing tee shirts. Jobs that created tangible things and would have that “Made in America” sticker. What if I told you these jobs existed, but you couldn’t have them? It’s true. Unless you’re incarcerated, these jobs are off limits.

Meet UNICOR, the federally owned, corporation friendly, American inmate employing, manufacturing hub. Using slogans like “Factories with fences” and “When the prisoners work, so does the system”, UNICOR has the mission to “employ and provide job skills training to the greatest number of inmates confined and to contribute to the safety of prisons by keeping its inhabitants constructively occupied.” Which it does by running about 100 factories in at least 30 states.

Corporations love UNICOR. Businesses like McDonalds (uniforms), Victoria’s Secret (lingerie), Eddie Bauer (wooden rocking horse assembly), Kmart (jeans), Dell (computer recycling), Honda (car parts until the United Auto Workers intervened), and even the U.S. Army (body armor, F-16 jet parts) have all used inmate factories. Where else in America can you legally pay workers $0.23- $1.15 per hour? Most factories also run 24 hours a day to deal with lower productivity levels. (The inmates just aren’t as highly motivated as other factory employees.) Inmate employees of UNICOR are also exempt from the Fair Labor Standards Act and as an added bonus you don’t have to worry about OSHA stepping in. Until 2004, there were no OSHA factory inspections. Even now because the factories are located in prisons OSHA can’t just pop by for surprise inspections. (Due to a string of lawsuits involving UNICOR’s recycling programs, that may be changing.) It’s no wonder that in 2010 net sales for UNICOR was $889 million.

UNICOR isn’t without its critics though. Last year the Army recalled 44,000 protective helmets manufactured by UNICOR for shoddy quality. (In response, they stopped making helmets.) Despite this the U.S. Army still (sometimes using no bid contracts) buys protective gear from them and then turns around and distributes it to other countries like Kuwait and Pakistan. Other quality control problems have been found with electrical wire, hazardous waste recycling, desks, chairs, laundry services, industrial metal bolts, and electrical switches.

Other complaints include:

• The U.S. Chamber of Commerce has tried to repeal UNICOR’s mandatory source status with claims that it infringes on private sector’s opportunities to compete for government contracts
• Studies show that UNICOR costs on average 13% more for goods & services than regular retailers
• Unlike other businesses, UNICOR doesn’t have to pay state, federal, or employee taxes
• Prisoners make complicated weapon parts and safety supplies for law enforcement

Despite all of this UNICOR is thriving. Thanks to an ever-increasing influx of inmates, there’s never a shortage of willing labor. Which is part of the real issue. Unemployment leads to crime. The lack of manufacturing jobs (combined with job loss due to unfair labor practices) causes unemployment, which helps fuel this cycle where UNICOR ends up being the only real winner. We need to find a balance between sustainable employment for inmates and something that is fair for the rest of the job market. Until then we’re being forced to settle for government run sweatshops.

The post Where are the manufacturing jobs in America? Try our prisons appeared first on Occasional Planet.