When former New York State Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver’s corruption convictions and prison sentence were reversed by a federal appeals court last week, many howled at the injustice — another victory for political corruption at a time when our nation is drowning in it.
Having spent a year digging through Albany’s scandalous campaign and lobbying practices while serving as special counsel to the Moreland Commission to Investigate Public Corruption, I was also dismayed at the court’s ruling. But today as manager of the #CLOSERIKERS campaign, I know that incarceration is rarely the best solution. Silver must face justice, but prison is not the answer.
During 2015, Silver was arrested, indicted, tried and convicted on seven counts of corruption and ultimately sentenced to 12 years in prison. Now, due to a dubious U.S. Supreme Court decision that narrowed the definition of political corruption, federal prosecutors will have to make their case again — and, if they win, an aging Silver could die in prison. But what do New Yorkers get out of it besides a bill for nearly a million dollars to incarcerate him? Instead, why not sentence Silver to 12 years of community service?
For those who think community service would be too lenient, hear me out.
As an anti-corruption investigator, I am disgusted by Silver’s behavior. As a New Yorker, I believe he should never hold elected office again. As an attorney, I support his disbarment — and think he should be prohibited from lobbying for profit. But as someone committed to reforming our broken criminal justice system, I cannot countenance sending him to prison for the rest of his life.
At the time of Silver’s original sentencing, I felt the same way and considered speaking out. But the campaign to #CLOSERIKERS had just launched, and going to bat for a powerful politician when our city was cycling 60,000 admissions through Rikers every year seemed like a poor use of energy. Now, I feel that we can learn something from Silver’s privilege.
For example, Silver was arrested on January 22, 2015, and sentenced on May 3, 2016. Imagine if he had spent that time on Rikers, like so many who cannot afford bail. If not for the expensive lawyers who kept him out pending his case’s appeal, he also would have spent the last year in prison prior to the appellate court’s decision.
Silver’s privilege had a predictable result. Research shows better outcomes for people who are able to fight their cases from home; Silver was cleared by a federal court. Why not extend the presumption of innocence that we claim to value to the thousands of New Yorkers at Rikers and elsewhere waiting for their own days in court?
Silver should pay penance for his crimes, but why not put his decades of experience to use and require him to provide pro-bono counsel to community-based nonprofits, helping them navigate the state government bureaucracy? He could dispense the same advice currently enjoyed solely by our state’s well-funded special interest groups. Qualified organizations could apply via a lottery overseen by a federal judge. If Silver violated these terms, he’d be resentenced and sent to prison.
As we work for criminal justice reform, our society is still too easily moved to vengeance. This is sometimes true even of progressives normally critical of mass incarceration. Sure, the crooked pol, bankster and rogue cop all deserve justice, but how often will a long prison sentence repair the harm they caused?
Likewise, Silver’s imprisonment is a bad deal for taxpayers. Sending someone to prison costs New Yorkers nearly $70,000 per year — less than the $247,000 per bed per year we spend on Rikers Island, but still the most expensive prison system in the United States, if not the world. Rather than allocate those resources to locking someone behind bars, we should be investing in communities. Studies show our prisons are growing older, and thus more expensive, increasingly filled with people who pose no danger to society. Prison is a brutal place for anyone. Now imagine an aging loved one enduring its conditions.
Prison is a cruel place in need of reform that should be reserved for the rare instances when someone is too dangerous to remain among us. Surely we can do better for most of the 2.3 million people in our jails and prisons, whether they are the fallen powerful like Sheldon Silver or the dispossessed locked away on Rikers Island.
We must reimagine a criminal justice system that rehabilitates people while protecting and renewing our communities.
Marton is director of policy and campaigns for JustLeadershipUSA and served as special counsel on the Moreland Commission.
