Police, prison and abolition

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blindpig
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Re: Police, prison and abolition

Post by blindpig » Thu Sep 18, 2025 1:28 pm

Prison Labor: The Last Stronghold of Slavery in the US
Posted on September 18, 2025 by Yves Smith

Yves here. This post not only provides some facts about the history and present state of prison labor in America, but also the costs that incarceration imposes on families.

And let us not forget:

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Kamala locked up so many people, the Supreme Court ruled her prisons were unconstitutionally overcrowded.

She not only refused to release folks, she argued that her prison labor (legal slavery, by definition), was too profitable to give up. 6/


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Harris was remarkably open about her priorities. But as you will see, she has plenty of company.

By Bianca Tylek, the author of The Prison Industry: How It Works and Who Profits, and the Founder and Executive Director of Worth Rises, a national non-profit dismantling the prison industry and ending the exploitation of those it touches Originally published at openDemcracy

In the United States, freedom has never been free. For Black Americans, in particular, the price of freedom has been immense, paid through generations of impossible decisions and forced compromises with the loss of history, family unity, financial stability, and privacy.

Costs that emerged in efforts to escape chattel slavery now continue as many fight to escape its legacy in our carceral system, revealing an ongoing scheme of racialised community destabilisation and economic extraction. In this context, efforts to establish a universal basic income in the United States must not be seen as charity or even policy innovation, but as necessary reparations and redress.

The 13th Amendment did not abolish slavery – it revised it and shrouded it in secrecy. By including an exception clause allowing slavery “as punishment for a crime”, Congress preserved the legal grounds for forced labor. In the aftermath of emancipation, Southern lawmakers used the clause to criminalise everyday Black life through Black Codes and funnel newly freed people into profitable “convict leasing” programmes.

The US prison population quickly went from predominantly white to predominantly Black, with labor exploitation at the system’s core. This laid the groundwork for today’s carceral state, a brutal system that now cages over two million people. They remain unprotected from slavery, and Black Americans are incarcerated at five times the rate of white Americans.

Slavery is not just the carceral system’s history. It is its present.

Slavery Behind Prison Walls

Behind the cover of prison walls, people are forced to work in unsafe conditions for little to no pay under the threat of further punishment, including the loss of family visits – a common antebellum punishment for disobedience. Incarcerated people toil on farms, fight wildfires, sew uniforms, clean public buildings, manufacture state furniture and more, all while being denied basic labor rights and protections.

Organising is reframed as rioting to justify violent retorts that demand obedience. Just as enslaved people were reduced to tools of labor, incarcerated people are treated as disposable assets of the state – valuable only to the extent that they demonstrate compliance and generate returns.

The language used throughout our carceral system reinforces these dynamics and pays homage to the system’s roots in slavery, intentionally. Uniforms read “Sheriff’s Inmate” and paperwork labels people “Property of the State”. Solitary confinement, another common punishment for refusing to work in prison, is commonly referred to by incarcerated people and staff alike as “the hole” or “the box” – both plantation-era references to similar punishments during chattel slavery.

Even when incarcerated people are paid for their labor, they typically earn less than a dollar per hour, rates that amount to a systemic theft of labor value. A recent cost-benefit analysis estimated that between $11.6 billion and $18.8 billion is stolen from incarcerated workers in wages every year. These stolen wages represent not only lost income for incarcerated individuals, but also lost support for their children, families, and communities – further entrenching financial instability, undermining rehabilitation, and perpetuating cycles of poverty and incarceration.

The Human Cost

The cost of this centuries-long institutional racism has been devastating to Black Americans. As detailed in a new report by FWD.us, We Can’t Afford It, incarceration is costing families with incarcerated loved ones almost $350 billion each year in lost earnings and new costs, like those for phone calls, commissary goods, and medical care.

Today, nearly 50% of adults in the US have had an immediate family member incarcerated. Among Black Americans, that number is even higher: 63% have had a family member imprisoned. Black families also spend two-and-a-half times more than white families supporting incarcerated loved ones. Little changes upon release, as the over 600,000 people that return home each year in the US often find themselves burdened with debt, stripped of income, and locked out of jobs and housing.

As a result, these families are routinely forced to choose between providing for their own basic needs and supporting incarcerated loved ones. Mothers, who often serve as the primary financial and emotional support system for families impacted by incarceration, go into debt trying to do both.

One in three families with an incarcerated loved one takes on debt to pay for calls and visits alone. Children suffer the fallout in the form of housing instability, food insecurity, and eventually lost parental guidance. Nearly half of Black children in the US have had a parent incarcerated – a figure that reflects deliberate state design and intergenerational economic warfare.

The Long Road to Repair

To confront the unfinished business of abolition, Worth Rises launched the #EndTheException campaign, calling for an end to the exception in the 13th Amendment that has fuelled forced prison labor and mass incarceration more broadly since the formal abolition of chattel slavery. By demanding that the Constitution reflect a true and final end to slavery, #EndTheException lays the groundwork for broader reparative policies.

Repairing this most enduring form of racialised harm in the US requires more than acknowledgment; it demands redistribution. Reparations are the minimum, and a targeted basic income – regular, unconditional cash payments to people most impacted by incarceration – is an obvious and effective vehicle. These payments would represent a historic reversal, with public funds finally flowing into the hands of people whose wealth has been systematically stolen by state violence for generations.

The legacy of slavery cannot be separated from the institutions that followed it: convict leasing,

Redlining (the denial of services to specific neighbourhoods), Jim Crow segregation, and mass incarceration. These are not isolated chapters of history – they represent a continuous process of exploitation, extraction, and control.

Through that lens, it is easy to see that the carceral system is not broken, but functioning precisely as it was meticulously designed. Ending the exception in the 13th Amendment and providing a basic income to those impacted by it are two ways we can begin to stop and repair its harm, past and present.

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/09 ... he-us.html
"There is great chaos under heaven; the situation is excellent."

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Re: Police, prison and abolition

Post by blindpig » Sat Sep 27, 2025 1:32 pm

Lawyers Report Disappearance of Hundreds of Alligator Alcatraz Detainees From ICE Database: ‘It’s a Black Hole’
September 26, 2025

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The entrance to the state-managed immigration detention center dubbed Alligator Alcatraz, located at the Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport in the Florida Everglades on August 03, 2025 in Ochopee, Florida. Photo: Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

By Pedro Camacho – Sep 18, 2025

The Miami Herald reported that by late August about 800 detainees no longer appeared in ICE’s database, while another 450 were listed with no location

Hundreds of people once held at the Alligator Alcatraz immigration processing center in Florida have vanished from federal records, prompting lawyers to accuse U.S. authorities of running a detention “black hole,” as a new sprawling report from El País has revealed.

Immigrant advocacy groups told the news site that detainees formerly at the facility west of Miami disappeared from Immigration and Customs Enforcement‘s online locator and searches now yield the message: “Call the Florida Department of Corrections for details.” Luis Sorto of Sanctuary of the South, which has challenged restrictions on attorney access at the site, said plaintiffs in a lawsuit were moved elsewhere but never appeared in ICE’s tracking system.

The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), which filed the case, described the center to El Pais as a “black hole,” noting that some people were “missing,” effectively “off the radar” of the immigration system, and “their lawyers and families often don’t know where they are or how to contact them.”

Eunice Cho, senior staff attorney at the ACLU’s National Prison Project, told the site that ICE’s “persistent refusal” to update detainee locations “is a significant obstacle to effective attorney-client communication, undermines due process, and is yet another hallmark of the detention system’s cruelty.”

The Miami Herald on Tuesday reported that by late August about 800 detainees no longer appeared in ICE’s database, while another 450 were listed with no location, only the instruction “Call ICE for details.” Attorneys said this vague notation could mean transfer, deportation, or continued detention without transparency.

The Herald described one particular case of a Guatemalan man deported before his bond hearing and a Cuban man who vanished for more than a week after ICE told his family he was in California, only to turn up deported to Mexico. “This is like psychological torture,” his mother told the news site.

Alligator Alcatraz, constructed in just over a week on a former airstrip in the Everglades, began operating in July with President Donald Trump’s endorsement. Allegations of poor conditions surfaced almost immediately. A judge ordered the camp dismantled in August, but an appeals court has allowed it to remain open while litigation continues.

https://orinocotribune.com/lawyers-repo ... lack-hole/
"There is great chaos under heaven; the situation is excellent."

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Re: Police, prison and abolition

Post by blindpig » Thu Oct 09, 2025 2:17 pm

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Protesters line the highway in the Florida Everglades to oppose the construction of “Alligator Alcatraz,” June 2025. (Photo: Carlos Ochoa/Shutterstock/Progressive Magazine)

Iced Out
Originally published: The Progressive Magazine on October 6, 2025 by Anna Lekas Miller (more by The Progressive Magazine) | (Posted Oct 09, 2025)

An Indigenous nation of fewer than 1,000 people in South Florida, the Miccosukee Tribe doesn’t often get involved in local politics. But then private contractors showed up to an abandoned airport and started erecting a detention center in the middle of the Everglades. The Miccosukee leapt into action, realizing that the behemoth structure would drastically change the fragile wetlands that they call home.

It didn’t take long for the so-called Alligator Alcatraz to also develop a reputation for egregious human rights abuses. Billed as an immigration detention center for the “most dangerous criminals,” reports started quickly circulating that detainees were experiencing medical neglect and didn’t have access to basic hygiene. More than thirty men were detained in a single cage, with only three toilets to share. Immigration lawyers reported that they could not communicate with their clients, with some detainees even disappearing within the system.

“We found out that Friends of the Everglades and the Center for Biological Diversity were putting together a lawsuit,” says Curtis Esteban Osceola, an attorney and senior policy adviser to the chair of the Miccosukee Tribe. The tribe joined this environmentally focused suit a few weeks later.

While the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) had organized a lawsuit that outlined civil rights abuses at Alligator Alcatraz, the environmental lawsuit focused on the ecological impact of the detention center. The groups pointed out that the private contractors that Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) hired to build the facility had started construction without the necessary environmental reviews mandated by the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) and could jeopardize already endangered species. When the Miccosukee Tribe joined, they added that the barbed wire fences around the facility cut them off from ancient burial grounds, and that the construction had gone ahead without consultation with tribal leaders.

Faced with this evidence, U.S. District Judge Kathleen M. Williams issued a temporary restraining order and then a ruling, which halted construction on the facility, including an immediate shutdown of the sewage and waste management system, which was deemed unfit for use.

“It effectively shuts the facility down because without sewage management and waste receptacles, the facility can’t operate,” Osceola explains.

Since then, Alligator Alcatraz has been steadily dismantled, marking a major blow to one of the Trump Administration’s most hostile experiments in immigration detention. However, Trump’s assault on immigrant communities has continued with an unprecedented number of ICE raids sweeping cities across the nation, forcing families to stay home out of fear of being picked up and becoming a part of the record number of 61,226 people currently in immigration detention across the country.

“People aren’t going to doctors’ appointments,” says Kathleen Bush-Joseph, an attorney and policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute. “When immigration raids happen, they aren’t sending their kids to school.”

Already, communities like the heavily immigrant-populated Boyle Heights in Los Angeles are experiencing the economic fallout of Trump’s raids as shoppers stay home and street vendors and other local businesses lose customers. Even the Las Vegas Strip has experienced a downturn as hospitality workers stay home, citing fears of similar raids.

If Alligator Alcatraz is any indication, local communities and interest groups can come together to challenge Trump’s aggressive immigration enforcement agenda, bringing together environmental, economic, and local interests to chip away at his deportation machine.

“Local advocates have spent a lot of time preparing for the second Trump Administration, even before he took office,” Bush-Joseph says. In some cases, she explains, this means understanding decision-making hierarchies in local politics and forging relationships with key decision-makers, such as sheriffs and local politicians.

One of the ways that this federal crackdown is being carried out on a local level is through 287(g) agreements, which enable ICE to train and deputize local police forces to carry out immigration enforcement. While these agreements have technically been around since the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act, Trump’s Department of Homeland Security has capitalized on them as a means to supercharge immigration enforcement, pressuring jurisdictions across the country to enter into them. Under Trump, the number of these agreements has ballooned from just 135 at the beginning of 2025 to almost 900 by mid-August, with states like Florida and Texas leading the nation in approving such partnerships.

“In the past, these agreements have meant that there are fewer resources for local public safety efforts and that communities will be afraid of reporting crimes to the police,” Bush-Joseph says, citing a 2018 study from the libertarian Cato Institute that found these agreements had no impact on crime statistics. Conversely, they might hinder local law enforcement’s ability to fight crime.

“Opportunity costs might be one of the most important,” Bush-Joseph continues, explaining that along with eroding trust with immigrant communities, a lot of time will be spent on immigration enforcement when it could be spent on other law enforcement needs.

While there are three kinds of 287(g) agreements, the most prominent is the Task Force Model, which enables local police officers to inquire about someone’s immigration status and call ICE during routine enforcement duties.

Since the passage of H.R. 1, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, in July—which earmarks more than $170 billion for immigration and border control—and the DHS announcement in August of generous signing bonuses for new ICE recruits, a number of sheriffs have spoken out against these agreements, accusing immigration enforcement of betraying partnerships and now poaching their best officers.

Given that these agreements are made on a local level, community members are able to push back at town hall meetings and with local decision-makers—including sheriffs and city council members. While the Trump Administration has made an aggressive push for counties to adopt these agreements, some communities have successfully stopped them from going forward. In Maine, the town of Wells paused its agreement with ICE while the state considers legislation to ban these kinds of contracts. Camden’s police department in Delaware rescinded its agreement with ICE after backlash from residents. Even in Florida’s Key West, residents were able to suspend the program, although it was recently reinstated following pressure from the state attorney general.

“There are so many resources being poured into immigration that we have to ask about inertia,” Bush-Joseph says. “What happens when this ramp-up occurs and we have so much more funding going toward immigration detention that it becomes harder to roll back?”

This inertia can be seen in the sheer number of immigration detention centers being built—or in some cases, repurposed. When Alligator Alcatraz became a legal target, Republican Florida Governor Ron DeSantis turned his attention to another shuttered facility with plans to reopen as an immigrant detention center outside of Jacksonville, a former state prison now dubbed “Deportation Depot.” An Indiana state complex near the venue for the Indianapolis 500 has been nicknamed the “Speedway Slammer” as it prepares to allocate one-third of its beds to immigrant detainees. A similar facility in Nebraska has been named the “Cornhusker Clink.” Most recently, the Trump Administration opened a tent camp for immigrant detainees at the Fort Bliss military base in El Paso, Texas, which Trump hopes will someday be the largest immigration detention center in the country.

Some cities—such as Elizabeth, New Jersey—have successfully resisted ICE building prisons in their neighborhoods.

“You have to organize with people,” says Nedia Morsy, the executive director of Make the Road New Jersey, who helped mobilize a local push to keep Elizabeth’s Union County Jail from contracting with ICE and other private prisons.

“It’s not like county officials came to us and told us that they were thinking about [contracting with ICE],” she laughs. “We found out because we have a strong base that feels confident in our leadership and shared what they heard swirling around the city.”

By the time Morsy and her team were able to confirm the rumors, the vote to put up a bid for the jail was happening within the next ninety-six hours. Still, the community was able to organize a mass mobilization of more than 200 people that turned out to protest the vote, with thirty people offering testimony at the meeting.

Even then, the vote passed, which allowed the county to advance to the next stage and put the jail up for auction. Instead of backing down, Morsy and her team continued mobilizing to keep the pressure on by organizing meetings and op-eds in the local newspapers, coupled with calls to the county commissioner’s office. “We had an election coming up, so we wanted to make a connection about how important the jail was to the voters,” she says, explaining that the jail is right in the middle of Elizabeth’s downtown. “We also wrote up a legal memo to explain to the county how it was totally feasible for them to edit their bid so that ICE or a federal prison could not be considered.”

One of the most compelling pieces of evidence was the ongoing abuses of detainees being documented at Delaney Hall, another federal immigration detention facility in nearby Newark. During a Congressional visit to Delaney Hall in May, Newark Mayor Ras Baraka was arrested and charged with trespassing. While the charges were eventually dropped, the arrest showed just how brazen ICE could be.

“We leveraged this moment to draw attention to the fact that there are no rules or regulations when it comes to working with ICE,” Morsy explains. The outrage generated support for the mayor and solidarity across the city.

Many local officials started to testify alongside other community members at the monthly meetings, and the tide started to turn. By the time of the next vote, there was broad support for refusing to contract with ICE or any other private prison.

For anyone trying to organize against ICE building or repurposing an existing prison as an immigration detention center, Morsy recommends becoming very clear about the objective.

“Our goal is not just to shut down the Union County Jail or shut down detentions,” she explains. “Our goal is to make it untenable for ICE detentions and ICE jails and ICE camps to operate here.”

That requires understanding the various ways different community members can participate.

“Everybody has a role to play, right?” she says. Some of the more affluent members of the community, for example, have personal relationships with the commissioner.

“For the working class, we have to recognize the power of our testimonies and think about the ways that local communities are impacted by these decisions,” she continues. “We need to get these people in a room with elected officials.”

If there is a structure being built, “you have to look at the land that you’re on,” Osceola suggests, explaining that depending on where you are, there might be different state, federal, or environmental laws that can help make the case. In the case of Alligator Alcatraz, contractors started constructing fences without permits in a fragile ecosystem with no review of the environmental impact.

“Everything was on the record,” he says, noting that these violations were what ultimately swayed the judge in their favor. “The state didn’t do anything. The feds didn’t do anything. They just decided that they were going to build a detention center in the middle of this fragile ecosystem.”

Meanwhile, Morsy recommends keeping an eye on buildings that could be repurposed.

“If you know of any abandoned buildings, you should contact your local elected officials to understand what is happening with them,” she adds. “I can guarantee you that the administration is looking at buildings that can easily be converted into a jail.”

https://mronline.org/2025/10/09/iced-out/
"There is great chaos under heaven; the situation is excellent."

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