the prioritization of the prisoner community versus...
TRANSCRIPT
CLOSUP Student Working Paper Series Number 39
April 2018
The Prioritization of the Prisoner Community Versus the Host-Community in the Relocation of Utah’s
Draper State Prison
Anna Silver, University of Michigan
This paper is available online at http://closup.umich.edu
Papers in the CLOSUP Student Working Paper Series are written by students at the University of Michigan. This paper was submitted as part of the Winter 2018 course PubPol 495 Energy and Environmental Policy Research,
that is part of the CLOSUP in the Classroom Initiative.
Any opinions, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the view of the Center for Local, State, and Urban Policy or any sponsoring agency
Center for Local, State, and Urban Policy Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy
University of Michigan
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Anna Silver
PUBPOL 495 003
Mills
25 April 2018
The Prioritization of the Prisoner Community versus the Host-Community in the
Relocation of Utah’s Draper State Prison
Abstract
A sea of carceral facilities has quietly seeped across the U.S. in the past several decades,
yet almost no peer-reviewed research documenting the effect of a prison’s location on
prisoners exists. To begin reversing this silence, this paper realizes a case study of the
siting process used to relocate Utah’s Draper State Prison to Salt Lake City in 2015.
Using official reports and audio from deliberation meetings, the analysis seeks to
determine whether the siting process prioritized the wellbeing of the “outside”
community—defined as the local natural ecology and the host-community residents—
over that of the “inside” community—defined as the prisoners—in consideration of
environmental factors. Ultimately, the study finds no evidence of a clear prioritization
of either group by the commission—the state legislators tasked with the siting
decision—who primarily discussed how environmental factors would hinder
construction. Furthermore, the high poverty rates of the host-community complicate the
initial assumption that prisoners would be vastly less politically enfranchised than those
on the outside. As the first study to explore the effects of prison siting on prisoners
themselves, this research exposes the need of continued research regarding America’s
urban prisons and the intersection of the environment and incarceration.
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I. Introduction
Prisons, jails, and immigrant detention centers, all of which fall under the
umbrella term of “correctional facility,” punctuate the landscape of the United States in
an ever-growing constellation of confinement. As the number one carceral state in the
world, the U.S. relies on these facilities to house the more than 2.3 million people who
have all been deemed criminal (Wagner & Sawyer, 2018). Despite a 400% increase in
those housed within the criminal justice system in the past few decades, and the
corresponding boom in the construction of correctional facilities, little peer-reviewed
research details the political processes that determine the geographic location of new
correctional facilities (Kirchhoff, 2010).
In these processes, known as “prison siting,” politicians and community
members consider a myriad of social, economic, and political factors. Ultimately, the
location of new prisons affects both the host-community and all those who walk within
the prison halls: staff, volunteers, and the prisoners themselves. While host-community
members may have the opportunity to voice their opinions on proposed facilities, and
thus have some autonomy in constructing their daily lived environments, the fates of the
incarcerated are left to the whims of the criminal justice system. Therefore, an analysis
of the prison siting process can help ascertain how the interests and rights of those often
denied a political voice are either protected or ignored when new facilities take root.
Study of the relationship between prison location and prisoner welfare highlights
the environmental and racial injustices systematically woven into the criminal justice
system. Often, new prisons rest atop or near to environmental “brown sites,” toxic areas
such as abandoned coal mines or defunct landfills (Loftus-Farren, 2017). These areas
diminish the health of those living and working nearby, who, in the case of prisons, may
have little power to choose their “homes” or workplaces. Because correctional facilities
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disproportionately house low-income people of color—40% of those incarcerated are
black despite African Americans making up only 13% of the national population—
prison locations most acutely affect already disadvantaged groups (Wagner & Sawyer,
2018). At the Rikers Island Jail complex in New York, for instance, 90% of those
incarcerated are black or Latino. The jail was built on top of a landfill, and, as one
former inmate who attempted suicide more than eight times while there described, “‘the
smell alone would torture you… it smells like sewer, mixed with fertilizer, mixed with
death’” (Rakia 2016). Others recount the effects of particulate pollution from a nearby
waste transfer station that left window screens “‘caked with dust’” and left one inmate
“‘coughing and spitting up blood’” (Rakia, 2016). Nicknamed “the oven,” much of the
jail is without air conditioning, and the concrete floors, steel doors, and cinder block
walls combine with the outside heat, driving one former inmate to “‘feel like I’m dying
in the cell,’” and inciting another to riot (Rakia, 2016). As Rikers so clearly illustrates,
the natural environment surrounding a carceral facility, as well as the built structure of
the facility itself, both fundamentally influence the violence and pain of incarceration.
To better track this phenomenon, human rights organizations have begun to
study how prison locations affect the incarcerated. The EPA’s environmental justice
mapping tool, complete with a “Prison Locations” option, aims to “advance the struggle
to recognize the environmental rights of prisoners” (Loftus-Farren, 2017). Similarly, in
its Prison Ecology Project, the Human Rights Defense Center maps “the intersections of
mass incarceration and environmental degradation” (“Prison Ecology,” 2016). Such
work demands recognition of the constant interplay between the environment and
incarceration, a relationship seldom acknowledged prior to the twenty-first century. In
doing so, the maps shed light on the carceral facilities tucked away in America’s corners
“completely out of sight for many Americans” (Gutierrez, 2016). Indeed, the urban
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setting of Rikers is the exception; from 1992 to 1994, 83 of the 138 prisons built rose up
in small-town America. Acting as the purported “anchor for development in rural areas”
such facilities remained conveniently out of sight for most citizens (Gutierrez, 2016).
Running parallel to the effect the environment might have on those on the inside,
so too does a new prison affect the surrounding world outside of the facility walls,
including the natural ecology and the human residents of the host-community. Host-
community residents often raise concerns about proposed prisons through the
framework of NIMBYism, or the “not in my backyard” syndrome, in which they
disparage the changes a prison might bring to their local landscape and identity.
Ecologically, the huge industrial endeavor of prison construction runs the gamut of
concerns. Development of large tracts of lands often infringes upon the habitats of local
plants and animals. The construction of the network of roads and utility lines that form
the vital organs of daily facility operations may spread pre-existing contamination. The
burden of supplying drinking water to large, and growing, prison populations might
further saddle areas already grappling with water scarcity concerns. Beyond the natural
environment, the residents of a host-community likely also feel the prison’s effects on
their daily lives, even if they do not have any regular interaction with the facility.
Prisons change the fundamental character of a community, challenging existing
perceptions of local identity, community safety, and quality of life. In short, prison
siting is no one-way street. Just as the location carries consequences for the health and
wellbeing of inside populations, new prisons likewise bring change to the local natural
environment and residents of the outside host-community.
In the 2015 siting process that determined the relocation of Draper, a state prison
in Utah, this duality becomes clear. In this case, a myriad of stakeholders discussed over
twenty potential sites for the relocation, ultimately settling on a site in western Salt Lake
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City, the largest metropolitan area in the state. Throughout the decision-making process,
people opined on how the new prison location would either enhance or implicate
prisoner safety and wellbeing. Likewise, stakeholders discussed how the new prison
would affect the local ecology and the lives of community residents on the outside.
While concerns pertaining to both the inside and outside of the new facility
found light in the case of the Draper siting process, the way and frequency with which
such factors were incorporated into the discussion underscores how a siting process may
function to prioritize the interests of some groups over others. Because such little peer-
reviewed research exists detailing how prison location and siting processes affect the
inside community, this paper sets out to explore how the rights of this group—the
prisoners—were either protected or ignored in the siting of Draper. To do so, this paper
analyzes how concerns pertaining to both the built and natural environment factor into
the siting process as affecting the prisoners and the outside host-community.
II. Literature Review
Existing academic literature exclusively explores the dynamics of the host-
community in the prison siting process, omitting any study of how prison inmates, staff,
and volunteers are affected by prison locations. Investigation of the host-communities
takes a variety of forms. Some studies, such as those by Che (2008) and Hooks (2004)
analyze the effect a prison has or might have on a community after its construction and
opening, typically quantified in economic terms. Hoyman’s (2006) and Martin’s (2000)
studies, meanwhile, explore the community demographics and perceptions that help
determine whether a prison is approved or rejected before the actual construction and
opening of the facility. Still other studies, namely those by Armstrong (2014) and
Farkas (1999) explore the dynamic interplay between political authorities and
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community members in the siting process, investigating how an unfavorable
relationship between these two actors tempers the overall success of the siting process
In a case study of the varied reactions to a proposed prison in a rural
Pennsylvanian community, Che (2008) examines “the discursive struggle initiated” in
choosing to use rural land as either an amenity or an economic base (p. 809). Che
studies the nuances in community member’s personal connections to their Appalachian
homeland, their opinions on in-migration spurred by the rich landscape, and the varied
effects such in-migration might have depending on the use of land for amenity—namely
hunting or fishing—or for economy: constructing a prison in an economically desperate
area. Using primary and secondary sources including local newspaper articles,
ethnographic research of residents, interviews with local officials, and observation of
the county Planning Commission board meetings, Che ultimately finds that while the
proposed prison does not garner unanimous support, an effective opposition is not
mobilized due to a scarcity of financial resources and effective mobilization tactics. Che
also concludes that such towns benefit less from prisons than commonly believed,
because an influx of workers from other areas ultimately fill many of the employment
opportunities created by new prisons (2008, p. 824). She suggests that small-scale
projects tailored to “indigenous natural resources,” such as lumber harvesting and
recycling programs in forested areas, stand a better chance of boosting local economies
(Che, 2008, p. 827). The article explores how the interconnectedness of identity and
environment plays out in the siting process, shedding light on a subtle form of
NIMBYism at play in prison siting.
Following up on Che’s (2008) analysis of economic factors, Hooks et. al (2004),
likewise examine how a prison might affect the economy of host-communities. Noting
that prisons have become integral parts of many economic development plans, the
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authors study whether prisons typically boost local economic health, and thus act as a
form of economic “innovation.” Using a longitudinal assessment, the authors analyze
how existing and new prisons in counties across the U.S. affected public, private, and
total economic growth between 1969-1994, looking heavily at employment rates to
measure growth. Much like Che (2008), the study finds that prisons create no positive
economic growth, and in fact may impede economic growth in already slowly
developing rural areas. The study warns against a policy of prison construction as an
effective economic planning tool, and calls into question the validity of economic-based
arguments in favor of prison development (Hooks et al, 2004).
In a study that utilizes a less ethnographic, and a more quantitative approach,
Hoyman and Weinberg (2006) examine the demographic characteristics that might
influence a community’s support of a proposed prison. The authors analyze seventy-
nine rural North Carolina counties that considered siting a prison between 1970-2000,
studying the effect factors such as education level, mobilization of a NIMBY mentality,
and racial diversity had on the ultimate passage or repeal of the proposed prisons.
Unlike Che (2008), Hoyman and Weinberg do not investigate how the addition of a
prison consequently affects the community in question, but rather how the make-up of
the community itself influences the birth or death of the nascent prison. Using a
proportional hazards regression model, the study finds that home-ownership and class
are more significant predictors of prison placement than is race. This finding suggests
that a class, in addition to a race, -based interpretation of the environmental justice
aspects of prison siting may be warranted.
Revisiting the idea of NIMBYism, Martin (2000) examines community
perceptions of proposed prisons, attempting to fill a hole in pre-existing peer-reviewed
research about prison host-communities. The study employs a Community Attitude
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Survey (CAS) to analyze the pre- and post-attitudes and perceptions of community
members impacted by the prisons. Martin anticipates uncovering overwhelmingly
negative community perceptions of new prisons, and is therefore surprised to find that
such perceptions are not entirely negative. Depending on the strategy employed to
“ease” a prison into a host-community, Martin concludes that negative sentiments can
be quelled and local backlash minimized, though not extinguished completely. Given
the current overcrowding of prisons and the salience of national discussion regarding
the construction of new facilities, this study and its findings could shape policy by
laying out tangible steps that could be taken to mitigate community backlash regarding
new prison construction. While the study explores the dynamic interplay between a new
prison and its host-community, the paper provides no insight on how incarcerated
communities are influenced by prison location. The paper also focuses on community
frustrations with the structure of the siting process itself, rather than on concerns about
potential changes to the host-community due to the proposed prison.
Taking a different approach, Armstrong (2014) explores prison siting in an
international context. Though this case study details a prison proposed for a former
mining village in Scotland, the methodology and theoretical framework used can easily
be translated to domestic cases. The article deconstructs the planning process for the
Scottish prison, seeking to understand the three principle discursive spaces of objection
in emotional, temporal, and spatial terms. Armstrong employs the analytical tool of the
“stranger, as the outsider who comes to stay,” to understand how the addition of the
prison contributes to “a constantly evolving sense of the local” (2014, p. 1). Utilizing
documentary analysis of meeting minutes, planning submissions, environmental
statements, and formal objection letters, she analyzes the discursive space of objection
and the use of policy language as both a “form and source of policy power” (Armstrong,
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2014, p. 5). Armstrong concludes that the meaning of place is always in flux, and that
this flux includes a dynamic relationship between the incoming stranger and the local
community. This interplay becomes evident when local authorities attempt to
incorporate community concerns into the siting process, and, in doing so imperfectly,
distort those concerns. Though the actual stages of the planning process analyzed in this
article may not be congruent with those in the U.S., the theoretical dimension of this
analysis can still be used to better understand domestic processes of prison placement.
A content analysis by Farkas (1999) likewise touches on the interplay between
local political leaders and community members in the siting process. The study focuses
on a proposed prison in a Wisconsin community, examining the relationship between
community members’ interests and the concerns of prominent authority figures charged
with making the siting decision. Unlike the other articles included in this literature
review, this article ties in the role of the media in defining and shaping the events that
lead up to the prison siting, as well as the role of the media in providing a public forum
for the articulation of various concerns. Farkas employs a qualitative content analysis of
local newspaper articles, legislative reports, environmental impact statements, and
interviews of locals. She finds that local officials utilized an authoritative, rather than a
collaborative, approach to bring about the new prison, and recommended a more
egalitarian siting process to enhance “successful siting and long-term acceptance” of the
prison within the community (Farkas, 1999, p. 95).
Though this literature captures only one side of the prison siting “equation,” that
of the host community, the analytical tools presented in these studies help guide the
analysis realized in this paper. A wide array of factors contributes to the ultimate
construction of a new prison, including the race and class demographics of a host-
community, perceptions of the economic promise of the facility, and the complex
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politics of local identity as inevitably changed—either positively or negatively—by the
addition of a prison. An awareness of these myriad variables allows for a more nuanced
analysis of the documents and statements regarding the relocation of the Draper prison.
Going forward, this paper attempts to bridge an analysis of host-communities and
incarcerated communities by comparing what consideration, if any, is given to the
wellbeing of the communities on the inside versus those on the outside in the context of
prison siting. To do so, the paper sets out to answer this fundamental question: how
does the framing of environmental concerns as pertaining either to the prisoners or to
the ecology and residents of the host-community shed light on the priorities of the 2015
siting process that determine the relocation of Utah’s Draper Prison to Salt Lake City?
III. Methods
Answering this question hinges upon first establishing a general overview of the
Draper Prison Relocation, outlined by the Timeline of Milestone Events in Figure 1.
The siting process begins in June 2013, when Utah Governor Gary Herbert creates the
Prison Relocation Commission (PRC), referred to hereafter as “the commission.”
Herbert tasks this group of state legislatures with determining the location of a new state
prison to replace the outdated and overcrowded Draper State Prison that lies just twenty
miles south of Salt Lake City (Price, 2013). The commission identifies twenty-six
preliminary sites for consideration, all scattered throughout the state. In evaluating the
proposed sites, the state contracts a consulting team to conduct technical evaluations of
each of the sites according to a set of weighted criteria established by the commission
members (Final Report, 2015). Through several rounds of site evaluations, and
discussion between the commission and consulting team, the list of twenty-six potential
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sites slowly dwindles to a final three. A December 2014 commission meeting
establishes these finalist sites as the following:
• I-80 / 7200 West (Salt Lake County)
• SR 112 / Depot Boundary Road (Tooele County)
• Lake Mountains West (Utah County)
At this point, the commission opens the floor to public comment, holding a
hearing in June 2015. Residents of the three host-communities under consideration
speak out in favor or against the proposed prison. A month later, the consulting team
presents final technical evaluations detailing the pros, cons, and overall costs of
developing the three sites. Finally, in August 2015, the commission unanimously votes
to recommend the I-80/7200 West Site, referred to subsequently as the Salt Lake City
(SLC) site for Gov. Herbert’s approval (Winslow, 2015). Herbert approves the site, and
in 2017 construction of the new Salt Lake City prison begins (Hanson, 2017).
Figure 1: Timeline of Milestone Events in Siting Process
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This timeline and overview represent just one unique example of prison siting.
Across the nation, prison siting operates within differently-structured political
processes. The nature of the process depends on the level of government at which the
proposed facility will operate—be it state or federal—as well as the local community
concerns that factors into the siting deliberations. Because such little congruency exists
within prison siting, a case study best facilitates this study of how attention to outside
versus inside communities played out in the siting of Utah’s new prison. Due to the
ultimate approval of the SLC site and the unique environmental concerns presented at
this location, this paper focuses its analysis exclusively on siting as pertaining to SLC.
Official documents comprise a significant part of the analysis, as summarized in
Figure 2. A “Final Report” from the commission, targeted at “improving our criminal
justice system by building a leading-edge correctional facility” details the motivations,
timeline, and site-evaluation criteria used in the siting (Final Report, 2015, p. 1). The
report offers the most thorough description of the commission and its activities as told
by the commission members themselves. A Site Screening Assessment Report, referred
to as the “Site Assessment,” visually displays how each site fairs in the technical
evaluations according to the pre-determined criteria (Site Assessment, 2015). Though
the commission published this report, the consulting companies contracted by the state
conduct the evaluations and compile the report data. Finally, “Salt Lake City’s
Response on Proposed Sites for Prison Relocation,” referred to as the “Official
Response,” provides an official host-community perspective. The document includes
several reports: a memorandum from the SLC mayor, a transportation division review, a
summary of concern from the public utilities department, and a memorandum detailing
wetlands permitting requirements. This bundle of documents explains the myriad
concerns held by the local SLC government authorities (Official Response, 2014).
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Figure 2: Key Written Documents Used in Analysis
Document Publisher Date Shorthand Final Report of the Prison Relocation Commission PRC Aug 17, 2015 Final Report Utah State Prison Siting Program Site Screening Assessment Report — Round 2 PRC March 27, 2015 Site Assessment Salt Lake City's Response on Proposed Sites for Prison Relocation SLC Nov – Dec 2014 Official Response
Complementing the written documents, audio recordings of three key
commission meetings contribute a human element to the analysis. SLC citizens find
their voice in the public comment hearing that took place in June. In the audio, SLC
citizens, interest groups spokespeople, and local politicians speak their minds to the
commission members (June). Though members of other proposed host-communities
also speak, the analysis does not include those who speak about these other sites. The
next commission meeting in July focuses on the technical findings of the finalist sites
that the state-contracted consulting firm, the Louis Berger Group (LBG), presents to the
commission. The legislatures ask the firm spokesperson, Senior Vice President Robert
Nardi, questions about each of the sites, but do not partake in debate or discussion
amongst themselves (July). In the final meeting in August, Nardi re-iterates the key
takeaways of the finalist sites. The commission members ask final questions about the
sites. Nearly all the questions asked pertain to the SLC site. A commission member then
motions to vote to recommend the SLC site for approval, and the site passes
unanimously (August). Figure 3 summarizes the actors and key developments of the
meetings, which provide insight into the framing of the concern factors raised during
the siting process. While the written documents offer the most detail, the audio provides
clarity as to what concern factors contributed most consistently to the deliberations.
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Figure 3: Key Commission Meetings Used in Analysis
Meeting Date Actors Key Development Shorthand
June 16, 2015 Commission members, Citizens
Public comments re: finalist sites, including SLC site June
July 16, 2015 Commission members, Louis Berger Group
LBG presents technical site evaluations; Q&A with LBG and legislators July
Aug 11, 2015 Commission members, Louis Berger Group
LBG presents key takeaways; unanimous vote to recommend SLC site August
In reviewing the documents and meetings of interest, this paper adopts an
analytical framework that analyzes how concerns regarding (1) the built environment
and (2) the natural environment in relation to either the inside or outside community
factor into the siting process. Within this framework, the prisoners represent the inside
community, while the natural environment and residents of the host-community
together represent the outside community. The division of the outside community
category into the subgroups of the environment and the residents allows for a more
nuanced understanding of the different forms of NIMBYism at play. Each concern
raised is analyzed according to the specific factor in question, the framing of the factor,
and the stakeholder or actor who gives voice to the concern. The dimensions of this
analysis can be visually summarized in a matrix, as outlined in Figure 4.
Figure 4: Natural and Built Environment Matrix of Analysis
Factor Framing Stakeholder Prisoners Environment Residents
Though the sources used in this analysis provide a full-bodied understanding of
the commission proceedings and a detailed overview of the siting process, the
limitations of the methodology warrant acknowledgement. Most significantly, the
analysis heavily favors the official government voice. The consulting firm, as a state-
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financed entity, represents an extension of the state. Citizens and independent interest
groups only factor into the analysis via the public comment hearing, which allowed
speakers mere two-minute time slots. Furthermore, the hearing likely only attracted
speakers who are politically informed and had the time and financial resources to attend
the lengthy meeting. No currently incarcerated people could attend the hearing,
although a handful of formerly incarcerated people and family of current prisoners do
attend and speak. In a study focused on the protection prisoner rights, the lack of voices
from this group presents a significant shortcoming of the paper.
Beyond prisoners and ordinary citizens, official interest groups and NGOs that
participate in the Draper debate also fall beyond the scope of this paper’s analysis. The
League of Women’s Voters in Utah, for instance, published an extensive review of the
organization’s concerns regarding the relocation of Draper (Relocation, 2014). No
members of the League speak at the hearing, and thus the analysis does not include
insight on the group’s official opinion. Likely, other interest groups that do not attend
the public comment hearing also shape the siting debate. The risk of introducing bias in
locating such interest group reports and the overall lack of time and resources available
to realize this study force the exclusion of these voices.
Finally, the analysis makes no use of the countless newspaper articles published
about the relocation of Draper. While inclusion of media sources would introduce
distortion into the analysis, news articles would also incorporate a wider range of
voices. Rather than just studying those able to be physically present at state legislature
buildings, the paper might have included all those with access to a journalist, who have
a much wider range. Even so, the lack of knowledge regarding the relative prominence
of various Utah newspapers and the media politics of the local areas in question render a
journalistic study too ambitious an endeavor to pursue in this analysis.
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IV. Results
1. On the Inside: Prisoners and the Natural Environment
The environmental concerns related to the inside prisoner population come in
two forms: the natural environment and the built environment. Turning first to issues of
the natural environment, we find that only Salt Lake City officials are represented in
this section of the matrix. Reports from SLC Mayor Becker and the SLC Utilities
Department in the city’s Official Response detail these concerns. Becker speaks to the
dangers of potential seismic activity, reminding the commission that a 1909 earthquake
“whipped the Great Salt Lake into 12-foot waves” (Official Response, 2014, p. 4). The
mayor warns that, in the event of a similar earthquake, “tsunami-type waves” generated
from the fault lines that “crisscross the lake” could “pose a particular safety risk to the
inhabitants of the prison, especially because the inmates would be unable to self-rescue
and easily relocate after a natural disaster” (Official Response, 2014, p. 4). Directly
referencing the prisoners’ uniquely vulnerable living situation, the mayor frames the
issue of seismically generated events as a direct threat to prisoner safety. Following suit,
the Department of Utilities report outlines the risk of the facility’s liquefaction in the
event of an earthquake. The report frames discussion of this danger with similar regard
to the prison community, explaining that the “higher liquefaction potential” of the SLC
site as compared to other sites “increases the risk to people who may be occupying
buildings” (Official Response, 2014, p. 33). From liquefaction to tsunami-type waves,
the SLC authorities point out how site-specific concerns of the natural environment
could jeopardize the well-being of those incarcerated.
2. On the Inside: Prisoners and the Built Environment
While Salt Lake City officials discuss natural phenomena, SLC citizens and state
commission members shed light on concerns pertaining to the prisoners’ built
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environment. Interest group spokespeople, former prisoners, and family members of
current prisoners all give voice to the dire need of a new facility via public comment.
Setting the tone, a member of Salt Lake City’s branch of the American Civil Liberties
Union emphasizes that to “keep [the prison] in Draper essentially means keep [Draper
Prison] … ineffective, falling apart, dangerous, and intolerable” (June, 40:20). She
frames the reconstruction of Draper as an opportunity to “do the right thing for some of
the most vulnerable people in our community,” and notes that the SLC site would
increase access to the prison for visitors and volunteers (June, 40:37). Echoing her
concerns, the Public Policy Advocate for the Disability Law Center describes how the
“horrifying” built environment of Draper exacerbates disabled prisoners’ mental
illnesses, often initiating an unending cycle of sickness, misbehavior, and punishment
(June, 1:40:32). Such punishment typically lands inmates in solitary confinement in the
maximum-security wing, where cells are so small that a “not very tall” person “couldn’t
even lie across [them]” (June, 1:40:36). In both examples, spokespeople of human
rights-minded public interest groups underscore the merit of relocating Draper in terms
of improving the daily built environment for some of society’s most vulnerable.
Alongside public interest groups, citizens with direct ties to incarceration
recount first-hand how the abysmal physical conditions at Draper warrant a new facility.
Two former prisoners explain the ineffectiveness of Draper’s current architectural
model “in facilitating rehabilitative opportunities… to heal and grow,” and thus enhance
the “welfare of everyone in prison” (June, 1:03:20). One recounts an archaic cell that
“looked like a submarine tank” complete with a broken light, and argues for a new
facility solely “from a brick and mortar perspective” (June, 55:37). The other urges all
those “who don’t want [the prison] in their backyard or who wish to disregard the needs
of incarcerated people” to empathize with prisoners and consider how improvements in
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the physical structure of a prison could facilitate rehabilitation (June, 1:03:15). Finally,
the wife of a current prisoner at Draper highlights the physical and psychological
benefits of a better prison, speaking to “the desperate need for a new facility to help the
offenders’ health, safety, and self-worth” (June, 58:32). At Draper, her husband endures
the chill of snow entering his cell through missing vents, as the lacking infrastructure
exposes him to weather conditions to which most would not even subject their “cats and
dogs” (June, 59:10). Painting grisly pictures of small, dark, and cold prison cells, all
those with a personal stake in prison-life invoke empathy in their demands for an
improved built environment to reflect the oft-overlooked humanity of prisoners.
Without venturing into the reality of life at Draper, the state commission
members mirror the message of the above actors. In its Final Report, the commission
paints the reconstruction of Draper not as an opportunity to build a bigger facility to
house more inmates, but rather as a chance to construct a facility better-equipped to
provide the “programming and training that will help [prisoners] avoid returning… after
their release” (Final Report, 2015, p. 10). The report posits that a “state-of-the-art
[facility] and highly efficient design,” would not only help lower recidivism, but also
“better serve the needs of staff, volunteers, inmate families, and visitors” (Final Report,
2015, p. 7). Thus, the commission frames concerns of the prisoners’ built environment
through a humanistic lens. The Final Report touches on how a better-constructed facility
would enhance the daily wellbeing of all those who come to know the belly of a prison.
3. On the Outside: The Environment
Inverting the arguments explored thus far, Salt Lake City officials and one SLC
resident delve into the consequences a new prison would have on local ecology. The
city’s Official Response notes that thirteen vulnerable plant and animal species listed as
“threatened, endangered, and sensitive (TES)” on the federal and state level inhabit the
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site (Official Response, 2014, p. 35). Of these thirteen TES species, eleven, or 85%,
have elevated status, and are listed as “vulnerable, imperiled, or critically imperiled” by
the National Heritage Ranking (Official Response, 2014, p. 35). In addition to
vulnerable species, the Official Response includes National Wetland Inventory maps
that illustrate the proximity of fragile wetlands to the development site. SLC authorities
point out that such land represents “known critical habitats for multiple bird species
with national and international significance” (Official Response, 2014, p. 21). Echoing
these concerns, a SLC citizen recounts the dangers of developing wetland that is
“critically important” for the millions of migratory birds that take annual refuge at and
nearby the site (June, 1:06:10). She frames a rejection of the SLC site as the “most
environmentally… responsible” choice for the area’s “irreplaceable” land and her
family’s ranch (June, 1:06:45). Connecting the animals and the wetlands to the prison,
this citizen’s NIMBYism speaks to potential disruptions in the area’s natural equilibria.
The SLC Official Response also points to potential contamination from a nearby
landfill as further implicating the health of the local habitat. The landfill sits
“immediately adjacent” to the site, and has a known leachate1 plume (Official
Response, 2014, p. 21). The installation of buried utilities to power the facility and the
“excavation or dewatering” needed to remedy high groundwater levels at the site would
“draw water and environmental contaminants from the old landfill property onto the
West Site” (Official Response, 2014, p. 21). Further spread of the plume could
contaminate two nearby wetlands sites, further implicating the health of migratory birds
(Official Response, 2014, p. 21). The city’s Official Response identifies the plumes
1Leachate is a combination of liquid and solid waste that drains from landfills, often containing a “diverse of mixture of chemicals” (“Landfill Leachate,” n.d.).
20
snaking from the landfill as an added risk to the area’s critical species and habitats
already threatened by the mere development of the site.
4. On the Outside: Host-Community Residents
The new facility would also affect the people of Salt Lake City, who fear the
psychological effects a new prison might bring to an area facing disproportionately high
poverty rates. At the public comment hearing, one resident of SLC’s West Side, the
home of the proposed site, notes that the area’s poverty rate of 31.4% is much higher
than the city’s overall rate of 19.9% and the state’s rate of 12.7% (June, 1:55:20). With
four halfway houses, a hospice for the homeless, and a shelter for homeless youth, he
posits that the West Side is already doing “more than [its] share,” and urges other areas
to share the responsibility of providing social services (June, 1:54:44). The proposed
prison, he submits, challenges his already waning belief “that the West Side is not being
taken advantage of” by the state (June, 1:55:15). Following suit, the state representative
of the West Side, Rep. Sandra Hollins, expresses her concern for the “environmental
impact that [the prison] would have on our community” (June, 2:08:21). While
sympathetic to the need to rebuild Draper, she challenges the proposed addition of yet
another social service to her district by noting that everyone has a part to play “in the
rehabilitation process of our citizens,” and the West Side is already doing its part (June,
2:07:29). The West Side “is not a NIMBY community, but we are not a just in my
backyard community,” she summarizes (June, 2:07:14). The councilmember of the
district, James Robins, echoes Hollins, criticizing “the redlining” of the district (June,
1:37:20). Here, Robins refers to the Federal Housing Association’s policy of explicitly
denying housing loans to African Americans and other people of color from 1934 to
1968, a practice known as redlining (Madrigal, 2014). In all three examples, residents of
the West Side decry the prison’s added burden on an already strained community.
21
Two other West Side residents, both spokespeople for Latino interest groups,
condemn the psychological effects the new prison would bring to their community. To
the President of the Utah Hispanic Latino Group, moving the prison to his
neighborhood would “send a clear signal” to the “mostly minority” residents, that the
only capital investment policymakers see as fit for the area is a “five-hundred-million-
dollar prison” (June, 1:22:14). The association of living near a prison would, in turn,
make the area “known for the prison, [and] not the amazing communities that reside
there” (June, 1:23:10). For a member of the League of United Latino Citizens and an
employee at a local high school, the prison would practically invite students to begin
their march down the school-to-prison pipeline in an area where education is already
underfunded (June, 1:32:25). Both speakers drive home the negative psychological
effects a new prison has in store for the West Side residents.
Only one SLC resident speaks to the effect the prison would have on outsiders’
perceptions of the community. She comments that many “tout Utah as one of the most
glorious places in the world,” and posits that the prison and the “don’t pick up
hitchhiker signs” installed alongside highways, would tarnish the city’s appearance to
tourists and members of the business community who pass by (June, 2:16:10).
The commission’s Site Assessment initially includes a “Community
Acceptance” criterion, which is assigned a weight of 15 points out of 100. However,
this criterion is later removed because of the expectation that all “potential host
communities will rate equally low” in the category (Site Assessment, 2015, p. 6). The
Site Assessment also notes that the criterion is removed due to “the negative reaction of
community leaders and the public to the prospect of hosting the proposed correctional
facility within the Salt Lake City Metropolitan area” (Site Assessment, 2015, p. 6).
22
Thus, it seems that though the commission remains aware of the host-community
residents’ disapproval, they do not explicitly factor this sentiment into their reports.
5. The Exception: The Environment and Development
Throughout the siting deliberations, stakeholders mention environmental
concerns that do not factor into the matrix of analysis. These issues exist within a
separate dimension: the development process. Though not included in the matrix of
analysis, discussion of the implications environmental factors carry for construction
represents an important component of this case study. Within this realm, the
commission members, and thus the state, find their voice. Of note, some of the speaking
points highlighted in this section come not from commission legislators, but rather from
spokespeople of LBG. Because the state contracts LBG and provides the company with
the criteria employed during the technical site evaluations, this paper analyzes the
comments of LBG spokespeople as an extension and representation of the state’s voice.
The interplay of the environment and development centers around the issues of
soil remediation, liquefaction risk, and landfill management. During the penultimate
commission meeting, Chair Wilson expresses concern about the potential 18-month
delay to development resulting from “expansive soil and liquefaction issues” (July,
1:44:20). He frames the delay as “significant” for financial reasons, noting that “time is
money” (July, 1:44:20). Wilson also worries about the impact of the “landfill issue,” on
construction, describing the landfill as “expensive [and] complicated” (August, 31:30).
Rep. Wheatley likewise questions the difficulty of circumventing landfill-related issues.
In a question and answer session with Nardi, the LBG spokesperson, Wheatley asks
about potential “issues with contamination” and notes the need to give the landfill “wide
berth during construction” (August, 26:05). In all cases, the commission members make
no mention of prisoner safety, ecological health, or resident psychology. The legislators
23
either explicitly frame their questions in terms of development setbacks, or do so
implicitly by directing their concerns to Nardi, the expert on the construction process.
In his briefing to the commission, Nardi touches on the issue of the wetlands and
on endangered animal species surrounding the site. He notes that the Endangered
Species Act and Migratory Bird Act protect some species in the area, and the wetlands
and navigable waterways nearby would need to be documented according to federal law
(July, 36:50). Nardi frames these issues from a development standpoint, noting that they
would add steps to the development process, but does mention the effect development
might have on vulnerable species and critical wetlands themselves.
V. Analysis
Analysis of the framing of the environmental factors at play, and of the various
stakeholders responsible for bringing each factor to light provides insight into the
priorities of the siting process. The Completed Matrix of Analysis, as shown in Figure
5, displays these concerns. In the matrix, “SLC” represents the SLC authorities written
into the city’s Official Response, “Citizens” represents those who offer public comment,
and “State” represents the commission members and LBG spokespeople.
Figure 5: Completed Matrix of Analysis
Factor Framing Stakeholder Tsunami Waves Prisoner Safety SLC Prisoners Liquefaction Prisoner Safety SLC Physical Facility Recidivism/Welfare Citizens, State TES Species Local Ecology SLC Environment Wetlands Local Ecology SLC, Citizen Landfill Plume Local Ecology SLC
Unfair Burden High Poverty Citizens Residents Psychological Prison Pipeline Citizens Appearance Tourist Attraction Citizen
24
1. Prisoners
Findings concerning the prisoners’ safety and wellbeing are perhaps the most
novel in this paper, as this area represents the only dimension of the analysis not
represented by existing literature. Concerning the natural environment’s effects on
prisoner safety, we find that only SLC officials raise concerns, while the state
commission members remain silent. Perhaps this might seem logical, as local
authorities likely know more about the area’s environment. Still, the commission
members bring up liquefaction as a concern in their technical evaluations, where they
frame the issue as an obstacle to development, and not as a risk to prisoner safety.
This juxtaposition shows that those spearheading the siting process are aware of
natural environment concerns that may jeopardize prisoner welfare, but choose not to
factor safety into their deliberations. The language with which the politicians explore
the issue of liquefaction, framing the concern in terms of construction complications,
demonstrates a manifestation of Armstrong’s (2014) concept of policy language as both
a “form and source of power” (p. 5). The commission not only uses language, manifest
in both written documents and meeting deliberations, to direct attention away from this
aspect of prisoner safety, but also successfully does so by drawing upon its power as the
ultimate decision-makers in the siting process.
Within the built environment, citizens—and specifically those with a direct tie to
incarceration—dominate the conversation. Those who speak do not distinguish between
any of the finalist sites in their comments; their priority is simple: rebuild Draper, no
matter where. Thus, this category represents the only section of the matrix that does not
pertain exclusively to SLC, but rather to all of the finalist sites. The overwhelming
concentration of comments addressing the lived daily experience of prisoners as a
function of their built environment demonstrates that, at least for the former prisoners
25
who speak at the public comment meeting, concerns of the built environment far
outweigh concerns of the natural environment. Perhaps prisoners feel their built
environment most acutely, or perhaps this group of prisoners simply was not exposed to
noticeable toxins or other environmental concerns while incarcerated in Utah.
No matter the reason, the important takeaway here stems from the relative
infrequency with which the commission members address this issue in comparison to
the concerned citizens. The commission only links prison infrastructure to prisoner
welfare in its written report, and never in verbal deliberations. This relative silence may
stem from the fact that the decision to improve the prisoners’ built environment has
already been made; indeed, the commission owes its very existence to this decision.
Thus, it seems that concerns of the prisoners’ built environment, though acknowledged
by the commission, do not play a central role in the siting process. Rather, this issue
likely factors more prominently into the political steps that initiate the siting and into
the eventual architectural planning of the new facility.
2. Environment
The first form of NIMBYism concerns the effects of the prison on the natural
environment, a prioritization of local ecology that demonstrates the fusion of identity
and nature. Both SLC officials and an SLC resident speak to the inherent value of bird
species “of significance” and critical wetland habitats, entities that give the area an
irreplaceable meaning. Just as the residents of Appalachian Pennsylvania that Che
(2008) observes see their natural surroundings as fundamental to their personal identity,
so too do some of those in SLC. Yet, the state clearly does not reflect this concern,
speaking only about the wetlands and endangered animal species in terms of the legal
roadblocks they contribute to development. Here, the discussion of legality highlights
an important distinction between SLC and rural Pennsylvania. While the Appalachians
26
turn to small-scale projects that utilize indigenous natural resources, such as hunting
tourism or timber harvesting, to combat the need for a prison, SLC can make no
economic use of its migratory birds or wetlands (Che, 2008, p. 809) Thus, the SLC
officials turn to state- and federal-level laws and policies that grant these natural entities
official protection. It seems that in considering how best to protect natural resources
during prison siting, a community’s strategy must first consider whether such resources
can be sustainably utilized for economic gain or whether they have elevated legal status.
3. Residents
The second form of NIMBYism at play differs from those discussed in existing
literature, in which studies tie NIMBYism to protection of the natural world, to
community safety, or to potential effects on tourism and outsider perspectives of a
community. The West Siders’ profound denouncement of the new prison represents a
stark shift away from conventional NIMBY notions of preserving nature, instead filling
a new discursive space in which class, race, and the environment intersect. Their public
comments paint a picture of the West Side not as home to pristine wetlands and flocks
of birds, but rather as a “red-lined” swath of urbanity dense with an ever-growing
concentration of social services. They frame their opposition in terms of psychological
health and self-esteem, both housed within the emotional “geography of objection” that
Armstrong (2014) defines (p. 550) Yet, this opposition extends beyond mere emotion,
connecting to a deeper conversation of racial and environmental justice. While siting the
prison in an area already home to social services may seem logical, the West Siders
view the new prison as an exploitation and further condemnation of their poverty.
In a sea of literature that analyzes prisons as potential economic boosts in rural
America, this case highlights how a prison might instead act as an oppressive tool—a
block to economic development and a perceived “slap in the face” from state officials—
27
when sited in a low-income, urban area. The West Siders seem to already understand
the finding that Hooks et. al (2004) posit: a new prison generates no positive economic
growth in a community, and may even impede such growth. Some also speak to racial
demographics, speaking as representatives of Latino voters or referencing historic racist
policies. Yet, acknowledgement of race pales in comparison to discussions of class,
lending weight to Hoyman’s (2006) observations that socio-economic status, rather than
race, may factor more prominently into prison siting. While arguments of class receive
more overall “air-time,” an environmental justice lens would suggest that the two are
inherently intertwined. Perhaps in this siting process, class acts as a proxy for race,
providing a more tangible argumentative base from which to denounce the prison.
An overwhelming majority of SLC residents give voice to this form of
NIMBYism, arguing that just as a bird species should be seen as vulnerable and
wetlands as critical, so too should an impoverished community be seen as vulnerable,
and their budding high school students seen as critical. The new constellation of
concerns that comes with siting a prison in “red-lined” urbanity, rather than in a pristine
rural community, warrants renewed study on prison siting. A new form of NIMBYism,
that described by Rep. Hollins as “not just in my backyard” NIMBYism, has emerged
and merits analysis. After decades of siting prisons with an “out of sight, out of mind”
mentality, this case prompts inquiry into whether a new era of prison siting has begun
(Gutierrez, 2016). The relocation of Draper to a city may not be a unique case, but
rather a single data point in an emerging national phenomenon of urban prisons.
Finally, it may seem surprising that, at least in this realm, the commission
members prioritize the inside community over the outside host-community. By
relocating Draper in SLC, the commission betters the prisoners’ built environment at the
expense of local residents. Yet, after accounting for the class and racial makeup of the
28
West Side, referenced by neither state nor local authorities, this finding may seem less
shocking. In short, the initial assumption that sparked this study, that the prisoner
community would be vastly more disadvantaged and politically disenfranchised than the
host-community does not hold; siting prisons is a much more nuanced endeavor.
4. Development
Overall, the state seems to prioritize neither the outside nor inside community in
the siting process, almost exclusively considering how environmental factors affect the
timeline and cost of the development process. The state only factors into the matrix of
analysis in a single category—prisoners and the built environment—highlighting a vast
discrepancy between the appointed authorities of the siting process and all other
stakeholders: the citizens and officials of SLC. Though not the focus of this analysis,
countless citizens voice frustration with the structure of the siting process itself. Many
feel that the public comment meeting cannot sufficiently capture citizen concerns, and
criticize the commission for not adequately listening to residents when they do speak.
The residents’ frustration suggests that the siting process used to relocate Draper
utilizes an authoritative, rather than a collaborative approach, just as Farkas (1999)
observes in her study of a Wisconsin community. Farkas’ recommendation that a more
egalitarian approach be used to better ensure the “successful siting and long-term
acceptance” of the host-community seems to apply to Draper as well, in which
prospects of long-term acceptance in the West Side seem dim at best (Farkas, 1999, p.
95). This similarity suggests a need for further study on the structure of prison siting
processes to determine how they might better incorporate community concerns while
minimizing tension between host-community residents and siting officials.
29
VI. Conclusion
Overall, this analysis strikes upon a surprising discovery: the siting process that
determines the new location of Utah’s Draper State Prison prioritizes the environmental
concerns of the prisoner community over the environmental concerns of the host-
community. This result hinges upon the fact that the prisoner community
overwhelmingly speaks out in favor of improving their built, rather than their natural,
environment, a decision inherent in the creation of the commission. The demographics
of the host-community and the relative lack of conversation regarding the natural
environment raise questions about current prison siting trends tending towards more
urban locations than in the past. Going forward, future researchers should recognize that
host-communities may view new prisons as oppressive tools depending on their
demographics, a divergence from traditional views of prisons as economic sparks in
rural America. To do so, researchers should look to analyze prison siting using a racial
or environmental justice framework, rather than a cost-benefit lens. An inventory of the
urbanity of all recently constructed prisons would help establish whether this new,
justice-oriented discursive space applies to new prisons in general, or just to Draper.
In future siting processes, practitioners should consider how siting might better
incorporate the concerns of host-community residents. A single public comment
meeting with two-minute speaking slots does not give residents adequate opportunity to
voice their opinions; indeed, many of the citizens who spoke feel compelled to devote
their entire two minutes to express their anger at the structure of the siting process itself.
Future practitioners would be well-advised to center less of their deliberations around
the technicalities of the development process, and adopt a more holistic view that
incorporates the demographics of the communities under consideration. The fact that
only the residents of the West Side speak to the area’s poverty rate and racial makeup
30
underscores the disregard for this community displayed, either subconsciously or not,
by the commissioners. Though replacing decrepit, aging prisons fulfills a noble and
necessary cause, politicians must take care not to metaphorically step on communities
of people who, though not incarcerated themselves, may still feel trapped by the lack of
viable economic opportunities located near to them.
These findings might differ had Draper not been a state prison, but rather a
federal prison, immigration detention center, or jail. Likewise, had Draper not been such
a high-profile case, perhaps the siting process would have been realized differently.
Given the lack of related research, we find little clarity as to whether Draper represents
other prison siting cases, or rather exemplifies a deviant case. Perhaps other siting
processes include host-community voices to a greater degree, easing the collective
anxiety and frustration that permeate the West Side. While the lack of voice given to the
West Siders and the socio-economic positioning of the community raise serious
concerns about the urban geographies of new prisons, this somewhat disheartening
example prompts two hopeful insights. First, in overriding the West Siders’ objections,
the commission does at least recognize the importance of improving Draper, a change
wholly endorsed by former members of the incarcerated community. Whether building
better prisons is enough to reverse skyrocketing incarceration trends seems doubtful;
still, the recognition of prisoners’ inherent humanity in the push for a new facility is at
least a step in the right direction. Secondly, though ultimately overridden, the West
Siders’ near unanimous rejection of the prison signals a hopeful change in the national
imaginary. If every American community rejects new prisons, perhaps the nation will
be forced to reckon with a growing public distaste for carceral facilities. The plight of
the West Side may thus be a harbinger of prison alternatives, a grassroots-level rejection
of the inclination towards incarceration that affects those on both sides of prison walls.
31
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