CRIMINALS ARE JUST WHAT PRISON COMMUNITIES NEED

Most of us have heard the rhetoric about prisons. For years, activists have
railed against the prison building boom. Even staunch law and order types
have a difficult time veiling contempt for a criminal justice system that
has locked up hundreds of thousands of minorities in the ongoing drug war.

But the group that really needs to hear these concerns isn't listening.

Despite warnings about where they are going to end up if they don't
straighten up, young men and women have lined up to take the trip Downstate.

In some communities, doing time seems like a rite of passage. Scores of
young men are either fighting a case, being cut loose from a case or
serving time on a case. If they go to prison, they return home uneducated,
unskilled and stigmatized.

Female convicts, many of whom are mothers, face a similar fate. While they
are in prison, their children are often farmed out to relatives. These
mothers are lucky. A lot of single mothers have no one who can take their
children, so siblings often are separated and sent to strangers. Some kids
land in nurturing foster homes while others might as well have been given a
jail sentence, too.

Because of the drug war, we now have a class of citizens that seems doomed
to live at the bottom of the heap.

Meanwhile, Downstate communities have kept out the welcome mat. People in
these communities know there will always be bodies filing through the
prison's doors. And they are right. As long as envy, hatred and greed exist
in the world, there will always be prisons.

So don't misread where I'm going. I'm not blaming workers in Downstate
communities where most prisons are located for making money off of the
criminal justice system.

Yet, it is a chilling dynamic.

It doesn't surprise me that when Ryan announced plans to close Vienna
minimum security prison Downstate and the Valley View juvenile detention
center in Kane County, panic set in.

While there is fallout from administrators at hospitals and mental health
facilities over state budget cuts, those complaints are understandable.
There is a real need to provide medical care in areas of Illinois that have
been historically underserved.

Even if we don't think we will ever be old and feeble, sick and uninsured,
mentally ill or emotionally disturbed, it is easy to work up indignation on
behalf of people who can't help themselves.

But there is no empathy for criminals. Nor should we feel sorry for people
who break our laws. Still, it is creepy to see people getting upset because
a prison is closing down.

Isn't that what should happen?

When we lock people away for decades, don't we hope that by the time they
get out they will be too old to create havoc, and that their stooped frame
will send a warning to younger people?

What has been so troubling about the exploding prison population, which is
primarily driven by a high recidivism rate, is that there is little
incentive to change things.

At Vienna, hundreds of families depend on these criminals for their living.
We may not like to look at it this way, but the criminal justice system is
probably the biggest employer in the state.

Displaced workers in former coal mining towns welcomed prisons because it
was the only way to put food on their tables. If the prisons close, how are
they going to pay their mortgages and send their children to college?

Last weekend, prison workers held a "Save our Prison" rally in Vienna, and
Downstate legislators are probably getting an earful from angry
constituents. I wouldn't be surprised if the threat of closing down that
facility isn't enough to get stubborn legislative leaders to compromise on
other budget cuts.

The prison industry is a business. That's what young people need to understand.

When they break the law and go to jail, their incarceration creates wealth
for other families. Every time a juvenile gets sent to a place like Valley
View Youth Center, he or she is helping to put money in someone else's bank
account.

While illiterate criminals languish behind bars, the community outside is
thriving. Because of crime, the same guard who jangles the keys can go home
comfortably knowing his or her job is secure.

I'm sure most young people have heard all of this before. Civil rights
activists have been issuing the clarion call for years.

But maybe it didn't hit home. Hopefully, the terrible consequences of
criminal behavior will become clearer when they see images of folks
rallying to keep prisons open. In essence, these people need criminals to
keep their communities vibrant.

Ironically, the drug war has destroyed the hopes of a lot of families in
urban areas while boosting the hopes of families Downstate.

The very thought ought to be enough to set young people straight.