Affordability Has a Prison Problem: New York Refusing to Confront It.

New York debates affordability as if money is the problem—while spending well over

$100,000 a year to incarcerate people who no longer pose a public safety risk. This

contradiction exposes how excessive sentencing drains public resources, stalls real

reform, and undermines affordability, public safety, and basic human dignity.

Affordability is at the heart of politics today. New Yorkers are struggling to make ends

meet and to afford basic necessities. Zohran Mamdani seized on this deeply personal

issue and won one of the most powerful municipal offices in the United States: Mayor of

New York City. He did so on a platform that stands well to the left of Governor Kathy

Hochul and in direct conflict with state legislators who have ignored the will of the

people for decades—costing taxpayers billions of dollars in the process.

The argument against many of Mamdani’s proposals is cost. But a clear financial

remedy is hiding in plain sight: reducing New York’s prison population and redirecting

the enormous tax dollars currently funding over-incarceration toward policies that

actually, make life affordable— through healthcare, housing, education, and infrastructure.

Do New York taxpayers truly understand the cost of incarceration?

Even as the prison population steadily declines, the cost of incarceration continues to

rise, revealing a system plagued by inefficiency and misplaced priorities. In 2020, New

York spent roughly $70,000 per incarcerated person per year. Today, independent

analyses place that figure well above $100,000 annually, making New York one of the

most expensive prison systems in the nation. These rising costs are driven by staffing

levels, overtime, healthcare expenses for an aging prison population, and long-term

pension obligations.

The state budget reflects this dysfunction. In Fiscal Year 2020, the Department of

Corrections and Community Supervision (DOCCS) received approximately $3.38 billion.

By Fiscal Year 2025, that figure rose to nearly $3.6 billion—even though the

incarcerated population has fallen to roughly half of what it was two decades ago.

Prison healthcare costs alone now consume hundreds of millions of dollars annually

and continue to grow.

The result is a system that spends more to incarcerate fewer people, without

measurable improvements in safety, rehabilitation, or outcomes. While New York is

among the highest-spending states on education, it still spends far more per person on

incarceration than on the social investments proven to prevent crime. This is not public

safety. It is fiscal mismanagement on a massive scale.

If New York were a country, it would rank among those with the highest incarceration

rates in the world. Our sentencing laws stand out globally for their cruelty and excess. In

most European countries, sentences longer than twenty years are rare, and many do

not permit life sentences at all. Belgium requires parole review after ten years; Germany

after fifteen. In Latin America, only six of nineteen countries allow life sentences.

Against this global backdrop, New York’s self-image as a model of justice rings hollow.

In February 2025, Governor Hochul declared her desire for New York’s criminal justice

system to be “a model for the nation.” Yet after the highly publicized deaths of

incarcerated men at the hands of correction officers, the state’s response amounted to a

hollow omnibus bill mandating autopsies and fixed cameras—measures that should

have existed decades ago. Missing were meaningful reforms offering sentence review

or second chances. Once again, New York failed the incarcerated and embarrassed

itself when compared to other states, Republican-led states included.

People grow and change. Continued incarceration of individuals who no longer pose a

public safety risk serves no one. Yet New York offers almost no meaningful mechanism

to review excessive sentences, despite the impossibility of predicting at sentencing who

a person will become decades later.

New York’s reliance on determinate sentencing fuels this crisis. Individuals must serve

86 percent of their sentence before release is even possible. The proposed Earned

Time Act would reduce that threshold to 50 percent, bringing New York in line with

states such as Indiana, Arkansas, Texas, and Florida. Yes—red states. While

Republicans often campaign on fear, they frequently govern with fiscal pragmatism,

reforming prisons to save taxpayer money and promote second chances.

Research consistently shows that people age out of crime, including those convicted of

serious offenses, that age is the strongest predictor of recidivism. The Elder Parole Bill,

paired with the Fair and Timely Act, reflects this reality by allowing review for individuals

over 55 who have served at least 15 years. In New York, only five percent of people

released between ages 50 and 64 return to prison for new offenses. New York’s own Department of Corrections confirms these trends. Commissioner Daniel F. Martuscello III reports statewide recidivism at a historic low of 18 percent. Education produces even better outcomes. Mercy University’s college program inside New York prisons reports a recidivism rate of just 2 percent. Union Theological Seminary’s program reports an extraordinary 1 percent. These are not anomalies; they are proof that rehabilitation works. Yet New York continues to incarcerate thousands of people who have taken responsibility for their actions, completed every mandated program, earned degrees, and demonstrably changed—at staggering public expense. This is not caution. It is waste. It is cruelty disguised as prudence.

Zohran Mamdani’s inauguration speech called for supporting all New Yorkers. If that

vision is sincere, it must include incarcerated men and women who have done the hard

work of accountability and transformation.

I write this not as an abstraction, but as one of those people. After earning a Master’s

degree in Urban Ministry from New York Theological Seminary while incarcerated, I

remain imprisoned awaiting an opportunity for redemption and continued service.

Shame and regret for the harm caused do not disappear. But neither does the capacity

for growth, contribution, and repair.

Until New York confronts this prison problem honestly, affordability will remain a slogan

rather than a reality—and justice will remain deferred for those who have already done

everything the system asked of them.

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Bernard Grucza is an incarcerated writer and criminal justice reform advocate. He

graduated from Canisius College in Buffalo, New York, earning bachelor’s degrees in

Criminal Justice, Sociology, and Anthropology, and earned a Master of Professional

Studies in Urban Ministry from New York Theological Seminary (now Union Theological

Seminary) while incarcerated at Sing Sing Correctional Facility.

During his incarceration, Grucza completed all required rehabilitative programming and served as a Peer Facilitator with the Alliance for Positive Health, providing HIV, STD, and hepatitis C education. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he worked extended shifts producing hand sanitizer for statewide distribution at Great Meadow Correctional Facility. For this service, he received a formal letter of appreciation from then–Department of Corrections and Community Supervision Commissioner Anthony J. Annucci, who noted that “countless New Yorkers have benefited from your efforts, and some of them may in fact owe their lives to those efforts.”

Over more than thirteen years of incarceration, Grucza has received only one

disciplinary infraction.