As the nation marks its 250th anniversary, political candidates will tout freedom, safety, and accountability. But the state of America's correctional systems rarely makes the campaign trail. That's a mistake, argues Brian Koehn, a former Marine and warden who now runs Social Purpose Corrections.
With over 1.25 million people incarcerated in state and federal prisons, corrections is a state responsibility that governors cannot ignore. These systems consume billions in public funds, employ thousands, and shape whether offenders return to society better or worse. Koehn insists that the central question isn't who manages the prison, but what outcomes governors demand from the system.
The current approach, he says, is reactive: a suicide triggers tighter policy, contraband leads to restricted family contact, violence cuts programming, lawsuits curb discretion, and an escape tightens everything further. After decades of this 'tightening the same screws,' the result is exhausted staff, warehoused inmates, and leaders rewarded for avoiding scandals rather than achieving results. This culture of avoidance, Koehn argues, is not a public safety strategy—it's a survival tactic.
Koehn is candid about the culture inside corrections. Some professionals treat people with dignity under tough conditions; others become hardened or accept poor treatment. He has seen good people worn down by a broken system. But he believes the solution lies in what governors measure. If they pay only for custody, they get custody. If success is defined by passing inspections and staying out of headlines, that's what the system chases.
Governors should require more than descriptive reports. They should track and reward reductions in violence, improvements in staff retention, expansion of treatment and education, stronger family connections, and better preparation for housing, work, and medical care before release. Measuring culture is also crucial, says Koehn. Culture determines whether officers feel supported, whether rules are fair, and whether facilities are calm or chaotic.
He recalls taking over a facility with four different populations. By listening to staff and inmates, changing routines, and treating safety and humanity as partners, he achieved three years without needing a new academy class. That wasn't a miracle, he says—it was management. Humanity is not a security risk; its absence makes prisons more dangerous. Custody without better outcomes is just expensive crime postponement.
Koehn advises governors to launch outcome-based pilots, whether through state-run facilities, nonprofit or private partnerships, or hybrid models that keep public authority with the state. These pilots should be measured by independent research and real-time data. If a model reduces violence and improves reentry, scale it; if not, fix or end it.
With roughly 600,000 people released from prison each year, the question is whether they return more isolated and dangerous or better prepared to live responsibly. That's a public safety issue, not a soft-on-crime one. As voters listen to candidates talk about freedom and safety, they should ask what those candidates will do about the correctional systems under their control. More of the same, Koehn warns, will yield more of the same.
States are also grappling with broader policy challenges, including Puerto Rican statehood debates and leadership questions in Congress. But corrections remains a pressing, if unglamorous, responsibility for governors.
