>From restore-L:

Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 23:54:14 -0400
From: "KayLee" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: "Joe Hart" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: MOST PROFITABLE INDUSTRY IN U.S.:  AMERICA'S PRIVATE GULAG
Message-ID: <222e01bfc922$5b949b40$0300a8c0@kaylee>

America's Private Gulag
by Ken Silverstein
© 1997 by KenSilverstein

What is the most profitable industry in America? Weapons, oil and
computer technology all offer high rates of return, but there is
probably no sector of the economy so abloom with money as the
privately-run prison industry.

Consider the growth of the Corrections Corporation of America, the
industry leader whose stock price has climbed from $8 a share in 1992
to about $30 today and whose revenue rose by 81 percent in 1995 alone.

Investors in Wackenhut Corrections Corp. have enjoyed an average
return
of 18 per cent during the past five years and the
company is rated by Forbes as one of the top 200 small businesses in
the
country. At Esmor, another big private prison contractor,
revenues have soared from $4.6 million in 1990 to more than $25
million
in 1995.

Ten years ago there were just five privately-run prisons in the
country,
housing a population of 2,000. Today nearly a score of private
firms run more than 100 prisons with about 62,000 beds. Thatâs still
less than five per cent of the total market but the industry is
expanding fast, with the number of private prison beds expected to
grow
to 360,000 during the next decade.

The exhilaration among leaders and observers of the private prison
sector was cheerfully summed up by the headline in USA Today:
"Everybody's doing the jailhouse stock." An equally upbeat mood imbued
a
conference on private prisons held last December at the
Four Seasons Resort in Dallas. The brochure of the conference,
organized
by the World Research Group, a New York-based
investment firm, called the corporate takeover of correctional
facilities the "newest trend in the area of privatizing previously
government-run programs... While arrests and convictions are steadily
on
the rise, profits are to be made, profits from crime. Get in
on the ground floor of this booming industry now!"

A hundred years ago private prisons were a familiar feature of
American
life, with disastrous consequences. Prisoners were farmed
out as slave labor. They were routinely beaten and abused, fed slop
and
kept in horribly overcrowded cells. Conditions were so
wretched that by the end of the nineteenth century private prisons
were
outlawed in most states.

During the past decade, private prisons have made a comeback. Already
28
states have passed legislation making it legal for private
contractors to run correctional facilities and many more states are
expected to follow suit.

The reasons for the rapid expansion include the post-1980s free-market
ideological fervor, large budget deficits for the federal and
state governments and the discovery and creation of vast new reserves
of
"raw materials", prisoners. The rate for most serious crimes
has been dropping or stagnant for the past 15 years, but during the
same
period severe repeat offender provisions and a racist
"get-tough" policy on drugs have helped push the US prison population
up
from 300,000 to about 1.5 million. This has produced a
corresponding boom in prison construction and costs, with the federal
government's annual expenditures in the area of $17 billion. In
California, passage of the infamous "three strikes" bill will result
in
the construction of an additional 20 prisons during the next few
years.

The private prison business is most entrenched at the state level but
is
expanding into the federal prison system as well. Last year
Attorney General Janet Reno announced that five of seven new federal
prisons being built will be run by the private sector. Almost all
of the prisons run by private firms are low or medium security, but
the
companies are trying to break into the high-security field. They
have also begun taking charge of management in INS detention centers,
boot camps for juvenile offenders and substance abuse
programs.

Roughly half of the industry is controlled by the Nashville-based
Corrections Corporation of America, which runs 46 penal
institutions in 11 states. It took ten years for the company to reach
10,000 beds; it is now growing by the same number every year.

CCA's chief competitor is Wackenhut, which was founded in 1954 by
George
Wackenhut, a former FBI official. Over the years its
board and staff have included such veterans of the US national
security
state as Frank Carlucci, Bobby Ray Inman and William
Casey, as well as Jorge Mas Canosa, leader of the fanatic Cuban
American
National Foundation. The company also
provides security services to private corporations. It has provided
strikebreakers at the Pittston mine strike in Kentucky, hired
unlicensed investigators to ferret out whistle blowers at Alyeska, the
company that controls the Alaskan oil pipeline, and beaten
anti-nuclear demonstrators at facilities it guards for the Department
of
Energy.

Wackenhut has a third of the private prison market with 24 contracts,
nine of which were signed during the past two years. In a major
coup, the company was chosen to run a 2,200 capacity prison in Hobbs,
New Mexico, which will become the largest private prison in
the US when it opens late this year.

Esmor, the No. 3 firm in the field, was founded only a few years ago
and
already operates ten corrections or detention facilities. The
company's board includes William Barrett, a director of Frederick's of
Hollywood, and CEO James Slattery, whose previous
experience was investing in and managing hotels.

US companies also have been expanding abroad. The big three have
facilities in Australia, England and Puerto Rico and are now
looking at opportunities in Europe, Canada, Brazil, Mexico and China.

The companies that dominate the private prison business claim that
they
offer the taxpayers a bargain because they operate far more
cheaply than do state firms. As one industry report put it. "CEOs of
privatized companies... are leaner and more motivated than their
public-sector counterparts."

But even if privatization does save money, and the evidence here is
contradictory , there is, in the words of Jenni Gainsborough of the
ACLU's National Prison Project, "a basic philosophical problem when
you
begin turning over administration of prisons to people who
have an interest in keeping people locked up."

To be profitable, private prison firms must ensure that prisons are
not
only built but also filled. Industry experts say a 90 to 95 per
cent capacity rate is needed to guarantee the hefty rates of return
needed to lure investors. Prudential Securities issued a wildly
bullish report on CCA a few years ago but cautioned, "It takes time to
bring inmate population levels up to where they cover costs.
Low occupancy is a drag on profits." Still, said the report, company
earnings would be strong if CCA succeeded in "ramp[ing] up
population levels in its new facilities at an acceptable rate."

A 1993 report from the State Department of Corrections in New Mexico
found that CCA prisons issued more disciplinary reports, with
harsher sanctions imposed, including the loss of time off for good
behavior,  than did those run by the state. A prisoner at a CCA
prison said, "State run facilities are overcrowded and there's no
incentive to keep inmates as long as possible... CCA on the other
hand reluctantly awards good time. They give it because they have to
but
they take it every opportunity they get... Parole packets are
constantly getting lost or misfiled. Many of us are stuck here beyond
our release dates."

Private prison companies have also begun to push, even if discreetly,
for the type of get-tough policies needed to ensure their
continued growth. All the major firms in the field have hired big-time
lobbyists. When it was seeking a contract to run a halfway house
in New York City, Esmor hired a onetime aide to state Rep. Edolphus
Towns to lobby on its behalf. The aide succeeded in winning
the contract and also the vote of his former boss, who had been an
opponent of the project. In 1995, Wackenhut Chairman Tim
Cole testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee to urge support
for
amendments to the Violent Crime Control Act,  which
subsequently passed, that authorized the expenditure of $10 billion to
construct and repair state prisons.

CCA has been especially adept at expansion via political payoffs. The
first prison the company managed was the Silverdale
Workhouse in Hamilton County, Tennessee. After Commissioner Bob Long
voted to accept CCA's bid for the project, the
company awarded Long's pest control firm a lucrative contract. When
Long
decided the time was right to quit public life, CCA hired
him to lobby on its behalf. CCA has been a major financial supporter
of
Lamar Alexander, the former Tennessee governor and failed
presidential candidate. In one of a number of sweetheart deals,
Lamar's
wife, Honey Alexander, made more than $130,000 on a
$5,000 investment in CCA. Tennessee Governor Ned McWherter is another
CCA stockholder and is quoted in the company's
1995 annual report as saying that "the federal government would be
well
served to privatize all of their corrections."

The prison industry has also made generous use of the junket as a
public
relations technique. Wackenhut recently flew a New
York-based reporter from Switzerland,  where the company is fishing
for
business,  to Florida for a tour of one of its prisons. The
reporter was driven around by limousine, had all her expenses covered
and was otherwise treated royally.

In another ominous development, the revolving door between the public
and private sector has led to the type of company boards that
are typical of those found in the military-industrial complex. CCA
co-founders were T. Don Hutto, an ex-corrections commissioner in
Virginia, and Tom Beasley, a former Chairman of the Tennessee
Republican
Party. A top company official is Michael Quinlan, once director of the
Federal Bureau of Prisons. The board of Wackenhut is graced by a
former Marine Corps commander, two retired Air Force generals and a
former under secretary to the Air Force, as well as by James Thompson,
ex-governor of Illinois, Stuart Gerson, a former assistant US attorney
general and Richard Staley, who previously worked with the INS.

Because they are private firms that answer to shareholders, prison
companies have been predictably vigorous in seeking ways to cut
costs. In 1985, a private firm tried to site a prison on a toxic waste
dump in Pennsylvania, which it had bought at the bargain rate of
$1. Fortunately, that plan was rejected.

Many states pay private contractors a per diem rate, as low as $31 a
prisoner in Texas. A federal investigation traced a 1994 riot at
an Esmor immigration detention center to the company's having skimped
on food, building repairs and guard salaries. At an Esmor-run halfway
house in Manhattan, inspectors turned up leaky plumbing, exposed
electrical wires, vermin and inadequate food.

To ratchet up profit margins, companies have cut corners on drug
rehabilitation, counseling and literacy programs. In 1995,
Wackenhut was investigated for diverting $700,000 intended for drug
treatment programs at a Texas prison. In Florida the US
Corrections Corporation was found to be in violation of a provision in
its state contract that requires prisoners to be placed in
meaningful work or educational assignments. The company had assigned
235 prisoners to be dorm orderlies when no more than 48
were needed and enrollment in education programs was well below what
the contract called for. Such incidents led a prisoner at a
CCA facility in Tennessee to conclude, "There is something inherently
sinister about making money from the incarceration of
prisoners, and in putting CCA's bottom line (money) before society's
bottom line (rehabilitation)."

The companies try to cut costs by offering less training and pay to
staff. Almost all workers at state prisons get union-scale pay but
salaries for private prison guards range from about $7 to $10 per
hour.
Of course the companies are anti-union. When workers
attempted to organize at Tennessee's South Central prison, CCA sent
officials down from Nashville to quash the effort.

Poor pay and work conditions have led to huge turnover rates at
private
prisons. A report by the Florida auditor's office found that
turnover at the Gadsden Correctional Facility for women, run by the US
Corrections Corporation, was 200 per cent, ten times the rate
at state prisons. Minutes from an administrative meeting at a CCA
prison
in Tennessee have the "chief" recorded as saying, "We all
know that we have lots of new staff and are constantly in the training
mode... Many employees [are] totally lost and had never worked
in corrections."

Private companies also try to nickel and dime prisoners in the effort
to
boost revenue. A prisoner at a Florida prison run by CCA has
sued the company for charging a $2.50 fee per phone call and 50 cents
per minute thereafter. The lawsuit also charges that it can
take a prisoner more than a month to see a doctor.

A number of prisoners complain about exorbitant prices. "Canteen
prices
are outrageous," wrote a prisoner at the Gadsden facility in
Florida. "[We] pay more for a pack of cigarettes than in the free
world." Neither do private firms provide prisoners with soap,
toothpaste, tooth brushes or writing paper. One female prisoner at a
CCA
prison in New Mexico said: "The state gives five free
postage paid envelopes per month to prisoners, nothing at CCA. State
provides new coats, jeans, shirts, underwear and replaces
them as needed. CCA rarely buys new clothing and inmates are often
issued tattered and stained clothing. Same goes for linens.
Also ration toilet paper and paper towels. If you run out, too bad, 3
rolls every two weeks."

General conditions at private prisons appear in some respects to be
somewhat better than those found at state institutions, a fact
possibly linked to the negative business impact that a prison
disturbance can cause private firms. For example, the share price of
stock in Esmor plunged from $20 to $7 after a 1994 revolt at the
company's detention center for immigrants in Elizabeth, New Jersey.

Nevertheless a number of serious problems at prisons run by private
interests still exist. Back in the mid-1980s, a visiting group of
professional guards from England toured the CCA's 360-bed state prison
in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and reported that inmates were
"cruelly treated" and "problem" prisoners had been gagged with sticky
tape. The warden regaled his guests with graphic descriptions
of strip shows performed by female inmates for male guards.

Investigators at a CCA jail in New Mexico found that guards had
inflicted injuries on prisoners ranging from cuts and scrapes to
broken bones. Riots have erupted at various private facilities. In one
of the worst, guards at CCA's West Tennessee Detentional
Center fired pepper gas canisters into two dormitories to quell a riot
after prisoners shipped from North Carolina revolted over being
sent far from their families.

In addition to the companies that directly manage America's prisons,
many other firms are getting a piece of the private prison action.
American Express has invested millions of dollars in private prison
construction in Oklahoma and General Electric has helped
finance construction in Tennessee. Goldman Sachs & Co., Merrill Lynch,
Smith Barney, among other Wall Street firms, have
made huge sums by underwriting prison construction with the sale of
tax-exempt bonds, this now a thriving $2.3 billion industry.

Weapons manufacturers see both public and private prisons as a new
outlet for "defense" technology, such as electronic bracelets
and stun guns. Private transport companies have lucrative contracts to
move prisoners within and across state lines; health care
companies supply jails with doctors and nurses; food service firms
provide prisoners with meals.

High-tech firms are also moving into the field; the Que-Tel Corp.
hopes
for vigorous sales of its new system whereby prisoners are
bar coded and guards carry scanners to monitor their movements. Phone
companies such as AT&T chase after the enormously
lucrative prison business.

About three-quarters of new admissions to American jails and prisons
are
now African-American and Hispanic men. This trend,
combined with an increasingly privatized and profitable prison system
run largely by whites, makes for what Jerome Miller, a former
youth corrections officer in Pennsylvania and Massachusetts, calls the
emerging Gulag State.

Miller predicts that the Gulag State will be in place within 15 years.
He expects three to five million people to be behind bars,
including an absolute majority of African-American men. It's
comparable,
he says, to the post-Civil War period, when authorities
came to view the prison system as a cheaper, more efficient substitute
for slavery. Of the state's current approach to crime and law
enforcement, Miller says, "The race card has changed the whole playing
field. Because the prison system doesn't affect a significant
percentage of young white men we'll increasingly see prisoners treated
as commodities. For now the situation is a bit more benign
than it was back in the nineteenth century but Iâm not sure it will
stay
that way for long."

Side Bar

Private prison companies have been predictably enthusiastic about the
booming market for convict labor. Between 1980 and 1994,
the value of goods produced by prisoners rose from $392 million to
$1.31
billion. Prisoners now make articles such as clothes, car
parts, computer components, shoes, golf balls, soap, furniture and
mattresses, in addition to staffing jailhouse telemar-keting data
entry and print shop operations. Some states have even begun assigning
prisoners to institutions after matching up their job skills
with a prison's labor needs.

Prisoners at state-run institutions generally receive the minimum
wage,
though in some states, such as Colorado, wages fall to as
low at $2 per hour (workers receive only about 20 per cent of that
amount, with the rest going to pay room and board, victims
compensation programs and other fees). As an added bonus, companies
that
employ prison labor have no need to offer benefits,
vacation days or sick time to employees and many states offer such
firms
tax breaks and other advantages as well.

Lured by such enticements, many big firms have moved eagerly into the
prison-industrial complex. Trans World Airlines pays
prison workers $5 per hour to book reservations by phone, less than a
third of the rate it previously paid to its own employees. The
EAU succeeded in shutting down a program at an Ohio prison where the
Waste corporation was paying prisoners $2.05 per hour to
assemble parts for Honda cars.

For businesses, the deal is even sweeter at private prisons where pay
rates can be as low as 17 cents per hour for a six hour
maximum day, which translates into a monthly pay check of about $20.
The
maximum pay scale at a CCA prison in Tennessee is
50 cents an hour for what are classified as "highly skilled
positions."
Given such rates it's not surprising that a prisoner there
complained about the relative generosity of publicly-run programs,
saying, "At federal prisons you can take home $1.25 per hour and
work eight hours a day, sometimes even double shifts. A two, three or
four hundred dollars a month check isnât unusual in the feds."

Thanks to prison labor, America is again attracting the sorts of jobs
that were formerly available only to workers of the Third World. A
US company operating in Mexico's maquiladora zone shut down its data
processing shop and moved it to the San Quentin State
Prison in California. A Texas factory booted 150 workers and set up
shop
at a privately-run prison in Lockhart, Texas, where
worker/inmates assemble circuit boards for companies including IBM and
Compaq. Oregon State Rep. Kevin Mannix has even
encouraged Nike to shift production from Indonesia to his home state,
saying the shoemaker should "take a look at transportation
and labor costs. We could offer competitive prison labor (here).

The following article originally appeared in CounterPunch, a
Washington,
DC-based political newsletter (CounterPunch, PO Box
18675, Washington, DC 20036.)

Strange Bedfellows
CCA's Political Connections
by Alex Friedmann

CCA's connection with local politics began when the Nashville-based
company was formed during Governor Lamar Alexander's
administration. When CCA made a bid to operate Tennessee's entire
prison
system in 1985, the governor's wife, Honey Alexander,
was criticized for owning $5,000 of CCA stock. She realized a
substantial profit ($100,000) when she converted the stock to a blind
trust in order to avoid an apparent conflict of interest.

CCA chairman emeritus Thomas Beasley, who co-founded the company in
1983, was previously a chairman of the Tennessee
Republican Party.

Among CCA's board members is Clayton McWhorter, an unsuccessful
Democratic candidate for Tennessee governor in 1994.

>From 1994-96, Doctor Crants, CCA's chief executive officer, and CCA's
chairman emeritus Thomas Beasley donated at least
$60,491 to Tennessee lawmakers, including $38,500 to Sundquist's
re-election campaign (this includes donations from Beasley's
wife, Wendy). In 1996 alone, Crants donated $22,450 to 46 state
political candidates, including $2,000 to Rep. Randy Rinks,
House Democratic Caucus chairman; and $1,350 to Senator Jim Kyle,
chairman of the Select Oversight Committee on Corrections.
CCA has seven registered political lobbyists in Tennessee.

In 1995, Governor Sundquist endorsed a controversial arrangement
whereby
CCA could contract with Hardeman County, TN, to
construct and operate a 1,540-bed "jail," funded with $47 million in
municipal bonds guaranteed by the state, to house state
prisoners. This arrangement circumvented a TN state statute that
allows
only one privately-managed state prison to operate in
Tennessee at a time.

State Senator Robert Rochelle, who received at least $1,000 in
campaign
contributions from CCA board members, sponsored a
bill to permit privatization of any newly-built state prisons. He has
sponsored other legislation on behalf of CCA.

Peaches Simkins, Governor Sundquist's former Chief of Staff,
reportedly
owned CCA stock while she was advising the governor on
prison privatization.

The Speaker of the House in Tennessee's General Assembly, Jimmy
Naifeh,
is married to CCA political lobbyist Betty Anderson.

In terms of connections on a U.S. Congressional level, CCA employs
several former high-ranking members of the Federal Bureau of
Prisons, as well as Dr. Tyree Tanner, the brother of U.S.
Representative
John S. Tanner.

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