WHY AMERICA'S PRISONERS ARE GETTING BLACKER AND BROWNER

"The drug war is a proxy for racism," says Andy Ko, project director of
ACLU-Washington's Drug Policy Reform Project. "Most modern politicians
wouldn't dream of explicitly advocating that society persecute or enslave
poor people or members of minority communities. But that is exactly what is
happening as a result of the 'get-tough-on-crime' drug war policies of the
past few decades."

Ten years ago, perspectives such as these might still have been viewed as
exaggerated, rhetorical stabs at trying to reverse the trend of
skyrocketing us incarceration rates.

But today, civil liberties attorneys like Ko are being joined by what
constitutes a nationwide chorus of drug war dissenters.

"It's impossible, in the [socio-historical] context that we're living in
now, to think about civil and human rights without looking at the impact of
the War on Drugs," says Sharda Sekaran, associate director of public policy
and community outreach for the Drug Policy Alliance (DPA) in New York. "We
now have the vantage point from which to examine the impact of decades of
failed drug policies on the nations most vulnerable communities."

A GROWING MOVEMENT

In late September, the reform-minded DPA hosted a first-ever national
conference to focus on the impact of punitive drug policies on communities
of color. "Breaking the Chains: People of Color and the War on Drugs"
brought together hundreds of religious leaders, civil rights advocates,
addiction treatment specialists, ex-offenders and elected officials to
discuss what the DPA has unabashedly referred to as America's
"apartheid-like" criminal justice system.

The time was right for the Los Angeles conference, says DPAs Sekaran,
because the inequities are now "glaringly obvious."

Citizen-supported initiatives favoring treatment over incarceration in
states including New Mexico, Arizona, California and Washington have
convinced some politicians that a shift away from incarceration toward the
treatment of drug addiction as a public health concern is no longer a
"third rail issue."

In addition to the nearly 600 attendees who traveled from across the US and
Europe to sit in on dozens of sessions and workshops, including California
Rep. Maxine Waters, Texas Rep. Ciro Rodriguez, Massachusetts Rep. Barney
Frank and many others " weighed in against the nation's "failed,
prohibitionist" drug policies. Those policies, said participants, included
mandatory minimum sentences, hard time in adult prisons for juvenile
offenders and three-strikes-you're-out legislation.

New Mexicans, including former Governor and Attorney General Toney Anaya
and Dine' (Navajo) drug and alcohol counselor Harrison Jim Sr., from the
Na'Nizhoozhi Center in Gallup, were represented at the conference.
Antoinette Tellez-Humble, director for the Albuquerque-based New Mexico
Drug Policy Project, facilitated one of the conference's most engaging
workshops on perceptions of morality and drug use. Other notable New
Mexicans in attendance included Dr. Peter Simonson, executive director of
the ACLU of New Mexico, who said that he shared the outrage of conference
attendees toward the war on drugs because "it is corrupting our communities
and families."

The conference built on the momentum generated in August 2001, when an
ad-hoc group of more than 100 celebrities, politicians, religious leaders
and drug policy reform activists (including Danny Glover, New Mexico
Governor Gary Johnson, NAACP Chair Julian Bond and former US Surgeon
General Jocelyn Elders) sent a letter to United Nations Secretary General
Kofi Annan urging recognition of the War on Drugs as a "de facto form of
racism."

Representatives of the group then took their message to the World
Conference Against Racism in Durban, South Africa, to try to affect
international pressure to reverse the high arrest and sentencing rates of
minorities in the US. But such a shift has been slow in coming, largely
because the national criminal justice trend over the past two decades has
overwhelmingly favored long, punitive prison sentences over comprehensive
strategies toward addressing drug addiction, alcoholism, poverty and mental
illness.

Beginning with the Sentencing Reform Act of 1984, the modern era of the War
on Drugs was ratcheted up by the Anti-Drug Abuse Acts of 1986 and 1988,
which imposed harsh sentences for the possession of crack cocaine. Parole
was essentially abolished for drug offenders in federal prisoners-and then
made difficult (if not impossible) for many state prisoners. In the years
to follow, many states followed suit with intensified mandatory minimum
sentencing guidelines and the jingoistic "three -strikes-you're-out
legislation" sealing the fate of hundreds of thousands of men and women
behind bars.

The results of this intensification of the drug war have been dramatic and
devastating. With two million Americans doing time behind bars, our country
now imprisons roughly 500,000 men and women on drug-related charges, at an
annual cost of $9.4 billion.

A report released last month by the Washington, DC -based Sentencing
Project (www.sentencingproject.org) entitled "Distorted Priorities: Drug
Offenders in State Prison, " four out of every five prisoners is either
African-American or Hispanic.

UNDENIABLE DISPARITIES

Of the men and women serving more than one year in state prisons for
drug-related offenses in 2001, over three-quarters were people of color.
According to government studies, approximately five times as many
Euro-Americans use drugs in the US as Mexican-Americans. But numbers mean
little in the face of specific practices in law enforcement and the
criminal justice system that have led to glaring disparities in
incarceration rates.

Indeed, racial profiling, buy-and-bust undercover operations and specially
funded gang task forces have all but guaranteed higher arrest rates with-in
communities of color. These policies and procedures have then, in turn,
been exacerbated by overzealous city prosecutors and judges who have little
or no wiggle room in meting out mandatory minimum sentences for
drug-related offenses.

African-Americans are, by and far, the most over-represented ethnic group
in the prison system: at just 12.3 percent of the national population,
African-Americans make up 58 percent of the state prison population in 2000
doing time for drug-related offenses. Euro-Americans, by comparison,
constitute 75 percent of the national population, but make up 23 percent of
men and women doing time for drug-related crimes in state prisons.

"For young black men born in 1966, they are more likely to have gone to
prison than to have graduated from a four-year college," says Professor
Bruce Western, a professor of sociology at

Princeton University. "Prison is now as common as any other life event."

The government's own Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that 10 percent
of African-American men nationwide between the ages of 25-29 were in prison
in 2001. And although men still far out-number women in state and federal
prisons (at 93.4 percent versus 6.6 per-cent), African-American women now
represent the single fastest growing segment of the prison population.

According to Human Rights Watch's "Punishment and Prejudice: Racial
Disparities in the War on Drugs" African-Americans in seven states actually
account for between 80 and 90 percent of all people sent to prison on drug
charges. The extreme end of the racial disparity continuum is represented
by states like Illinois, where African-American men are sent to prison on
drug charges at 57 times the rate of Euro-American men.

The extent to which African-Americans are incarcerated has led to a
political disenfranchisement unparalleled since the Jim Crow era: Today,
almost 1.4 million African-American men have been temporarily or
permanently stripped of the right to vote because of a felony conviction.

Latinos are similarly over-represented behind bars, particularly in the
federal prison system. In 1999, almost half of men and women charged with a
federal drug offense were Latino, according to the Bureau of Justice
Statistics. Nearly 30 percent were African-American, while 25 percent were
Euro-American. From 1985 to 1995, the presence of Latinos in prisons in the
US grew faster than any other ethnic group-by 219 percent.

Struggles relating to substance abuse and incarceration are often perceived
as being limited to the Latino and African-American communities, as
"Breaking the Chains" participant Beaver North Cloud from the Jemez Pueblo
pointed out. While the Bureau of Justice Statistics does not track the
proportions of Native Americans in prison, the rise in these populations
has been documented by correctional departments in such states as New
Mexico, Arizona, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Washington and California.

Furthermore, Indians who live on tribal lands are subject to the mandates
of federal-not state-law; those who are arrested for drug-related crimes
are processed through the federal court system. Indians now comprise almost
two-thirds of those prosecuted for criminal offenses in federal courts.

Even Asian-Americans, traditionally less represented in the criminal
justice system, now feel the brunt of incarceration policies; their
presence in the federal prison population increased fourfold from 1980 to 1999.

"The 'drug warriors' know perfectly well who they're after:
African-Americans, Latinos, Asian 'gang members' and, increasingly, poor
European-Americans," says Ko.

RUINED LIVES

The drug war arrest and sentencing trends in communities of color have not
been limited to adults. Youth of color convicted of drug-related offenses
are being sent to juvenile detention centers-and even to adult prisons in
states like New Mexico and Arizona-at rates that far surpass those of their
Euro-American counterparts.

A report released this past July by Building Blocks for Youth, for
instance, revealed that the average incarceration rate for Latino youth is
now 13 times the rate of Euro-American youth. Between 1983 and 1991, the
percentage of Hispanic youth in public detention facilities increased by 84
percent, compared with an 8 percent increase for Euro-American youth.

Because most juvenile detention facilities are geared toward the notion of
punishment rather than rehabilitation, youth emerge from the system
undereducated and emotionally ill equipped to deal with the pressures and
economic demands of life in the free world. In this sense, many youth of
color make a quick transition from juvenile detention facilities to adult
prisons, where their age, size and inexperience often makes them the target
of physical and sexual abuse.

Tellingly, two-thirds of state prisoners have less than a high school
education and one-third were unemployed at the time of their arrest.

Professor Western, who has studied the impact and cycle of joblessness and
incarceration on the lives of African American men, notes that ex-offenders
tend to do "poorly on the outside."

Employers, he points out, are very reluctant to hire people with criminal
backgrounds. And the ex-offender pool among African-American men, adds
Western, is "enormous and will only continue to exacerbate wage inequality."

In 2001, roughly 400,000 men and women, most of whom were people of color,
were released from prison or jail. And year after year, the same recidivism
trends play out. With limited employment and housing resources, roughly
two-thirds of people released from incarceration nationwide are re-arrested
within three years. Most of the arrests take place within the first six
months after release.

The reason for high recidivism rates among all former prisoners-and
particularly drug offenders-has everything to do with the host of problems
that they face in trying to reintegrate into society. Once released,
prisoners are often sicker, angrier and more alienated from their
communities. Outside of 12-step peer groups, drug treatment services and
programs are increasingly scarce in most prisons in the US.

Under the best of circumstances, ex-offenders are often confronted with the
reality that their old habits, coping mechanisms and temptations hold an
enormous amount of power over their lives, particularly when even the
lowest-paying jobs prove difficult to obtain with a prison record.
Ex-felons convicted of drug

offenses promptly lose their eligibility for federal assistance for both
higher education and public housing. (To worsen matters, the US Supreme
Court ruled earlier this year that even innocent family members of people
who used drugs can be evicted from public housing, regardless of whether
they had knowledge of such drug use.)

And because of a hastily tacked-on amendment to the 1996 Welfare Reform
Act, both food stamps and Temporary Aid to Needy Families are now denied to
most men and women convicted of drug felonies in the US.

Nothing about the nation's drug war strategy, adds Ko, indicates a genuine
desire to help people battle serious drug problems, particularly in light
of consistent cuts in state and federal funding for drug treatment.

Those cuts are only making a bad situation worse for all people in need of
treatment, including substance-addicted Native Americans, says Gayle
Zepeda, a community organizer with the Northern Circle Indian Housing
Authority in Ukiah, Calif.

"Our communities must do that healing ourselves," she explains of her work
with over 11 Indian tribes Northern California. "We can't enact a law that
we won't put something in our bodies or shoot something into our arms. For
us, it's a healing issue and connecting with our own spiritual power so
that we can arrive at a place of balance again."

"Treatment, harm reduction, education and regulation are the answers to
self-destructive drug use and the drug market," adds Ko emphatically. "But
our current drug policy depends on prison, deprivation of voting rights,
ineligibility for subsistence-level food and housing assistance and loss of
eligibility for educational loans, which only compound the misery that
often is at the root of compulsive drug use."