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The Good Things We Could Do With Our Closed Prisons

We could save billions by transforming these shuttered monuments to mass incarceration into something far more useful, humane and fiscally responsible. What the military did decades ago offers a proven blueprint.

Black-and-white photo of an entrance to Northern Virginia’s Lorton Reformatory.
Northern Virginia’s Lorton Reformatory, originally the District of Columbia Workhouse, opened in 1910 and closed in 2001. Its buildings and grounds have been transformed with housing, retail and public space.
(Photo: Virginia Department of Historic Resources)
Growing up in Northern Virginia, I used to pass the Lorton Reformatory on family drives. Its looming brick walls and barbed wire warned us to fear whoever was inside. As one of the community's largest and most expensive building complexes, the prison spoke volumes about what our society valued: punishment over accountability, brutality over repair.

Twenty years later, as an activist designer and architect, I was invited to an artists' open-studios event near the old reformatory. As we drove up, I realized we weren't just near the prison — we were entering it. The same complex that had once filled me with childhood dread had been transformed into a vibrant community with affordable housing, retail and public space thanks to community advocacy and thoughtful reinvestment. It was an incredible moment of affirmation that we could transform these monuments to incarceration into something far more useful, humane and fiscally responsible.

As debates about government spending and efficiency dominate Washington, politicians at all levels of government are overlooking the most obvious target for enormous savings: mass incarceration. America continues wasting vast sums on its most spectacular policy failure, a system that fails communities while enriching private interests. The prison system represents more than wasteful spending — it's a profound physical, emotional and moral failure manifested in concrete and steel.

But the numbers reveal an unprecedented opportunity that no fiscal hawk should ignore: After peaking at 1.6 million in 2009, the nation’s prison population fell to 1.2 million by 2023 and is projected to drop to roughly 600,000 over the next decade. If we dare to seize it, this historic shift represents the most significant chance in generations to redirect the staggering $1 trillion annual economic burden that incarceration imposes on our society but that does little to keep us safe.

Our challenge is redirecting these massive resources toward building what actually works, and we have a proven blueprint: When the Department of Defense faced massive base closures in 1988, it created a model that should be our template today. Instead of letting 350 military installations become economic dead zones, the program systematically transformed them into thriving community assets — 92 of them became parks covering more than 18,000 acres, while others became airports, schools and housing developments, saving taxpayers an estimated $12 billion annually. This wasn't charity — it was smart policy that turned potential problems into solutions.

Today’s prison infrastructure challenge is urgent, and the stakes are rising. Almost 200 correctional facilities have closed in the past 20 years without impacting public safety. Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and New York state are advancing plans to close facilities that drain state budgets. In California, which incarcerates more people than any state except Texas, 12 facilities have closed, yet these empty buildings cost taxpayers $5 million annually just to maintain. Meanwhile, those in power propose expanding detention capacity, including reopening Alcatraz and building new prisons. Even progressive cities fall into this trap: While New York City plans to close the notorious Rikers Island jail complex, it simultaneously plans to build new borough-based jails. These new jails will perpetuate mass incarceration and fail to address the root causes of crime.

But the real danger lies in what happens to empty facilities. Without intentional redevelopment, these spaces become monuments to decay, creating urban blight and rural economic decline while exacerbating climate issues. Worse still, they become prime targets for repurposing into other forms of incarceration. President Donald Trump's new spending law makes this threat concrete: $45 billion allocated for Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facilities, security guards and administrative services over the next two years. We're not solving the problem — we're just reshuffling it.

What the Department of Defense did with its surplus bases wasn't charity — it was smart policy that turned potential problems into solutions. We must follow this same playbook for prisons. New York state is showing the way with its Prison Redevelopment Commission, established in 2022 and already transforming 12 closed facilities into thriving community assets.
A new apartment at the onetime Lorton Reformatory.
A new apartment at the onetime Lorton Reformatory.
(Photo: Liberty Crest Apartments)
This transformation isn't just possible; it's happening nationwide. Drawing on the lessons of Lorton's transformation, towns like Concord, Mass., are engaging residents, planners and systems-impacted people to reclaim prison sites and guide their redevelopment.

Such community engagement isn't just nice to have — it's essential for success. In Atlanta, an innovative public engagement process used board games, building blocks and models to help more than 600 residents from across the city envision repurposing the Atlanta City Detention Center into a Center for Wellness and Freedom. While that project has faced obstacles, the transparent, community-driven design process created toolkits and methodologies now being used by organizations like the National Council for Incarcerated and Formerly Incarcerated Women and Girls to guide prison closure efforts nationwide.

At an even larger scale, Los Angeles County demonstrates what becomes possible when advocates and communities successfully pressure leaders to act with courage. Years of organizing led to billions once earmarked for jail expansion being redirected toward Restorative Care Villages offering integrated health and housing services and Safe and Secure Healing Centers ending youth incarceration. This bold redirection addresses public safety more cost-effectively while creating spaces fostering healing and growth, reinvesting in the community rather than extracting people and resources from it.

We've been sold a lie: that warehousing people in concrete cages keeps us safe. The truth is that housing, health care, education and economic opportunity are what prevent violence and build thriving communities. Yet we continue pouring $80 billion annually into a failed system while starving the very programs that actually work. This is fiscal insanity.

The question isn't whether we can afford to transform this system — it's whether we can afford not to. The Lorton Reformatory I feared as a child became proof that transformation is possible. Now we must scale that vision nationwide.

Deanna Van Buren is the design director and co-founder of Designing Justice + Designing Spaces, a Bay Area-based architecture and real estate development social enterprise working to end mass incarceration by building the infrastructure that addresses its root causes: poverty, racism, unequal access to resources and the criminal justice system itself.



Governing’s opinion columns reflect the views of their authors and not necessarily those of Governing’s editors or management.