August Spotlight on Criminal Justice: The Alcatraz Revival No One Asked For
When President Donald J. Trump’s advisors recently floated the idea of reopening Alcatraz as a functioning prison, it was—as with many things in the administration these days—hard to tell whether they were serious or just trying to grab headlines. Reviving the infamous and dilapidated facility in the middle of the San Francisco Bay sounds more like a plot thought up in nearby Hollywood than a real-life criminal justice move.
However, in the weeks following, Attorney General Pam Bondi and Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum actually went and toured the site early one morning before the facility, now run by the U.S. National Park Service as a tourist destination, opened to the public. They touted its potential as part of the administration’s renewed focus on “law and order.” To be clear, this move would be both wildly unnecessary and deeply counterproductive to the idea of “law and order” that has long been central to Trump’s political message.
Reopening Alcatraz would cast aside decades of evidence about what works in criminal justice. It would redirect valuable time and resources away from system modernizations that actually enhance public safety, directing them instead toward outdated theories about crime and punishment that should not be replicated.
It would even disregard the compelling success of the First Step Act, a landmark victory for Trump during his first administration that helped redefine being “tough on crime” as supporting rehabilitation, second chances, and accountability.
Alcatraz was never designed to rehabilitate—it was built to isolate its prisoners from society. Operating from 1934 to 1963, the island prison was reserved for those deemed irredeemable, such as Al Capone and George “Machine Gun” Kelly, locking individuals away under notoriously harsh conditions. The prison was a symbol of punishment for punishment’s sake, which does little to deter future crime.
Today’s research consistently shows that excessively punitive environments and unreasonably long sentences do not deter crime nearly as well as proportionate, evidence-based strategies. If anything, they often increase the odds that an individual will reoffend upon release.
Given that 95 percent of currently incarcerated individuals will eventually return to their communities, it is critical to create policies that support their successful reentry into society. No matter what type of crime a person may have committed, if we are to prevent them from offending again in the future, it is in everyone’s best interest that they find suitable housing, employment, and social connections upon their release.
Contrast the Alcatraz reopening pitch from the administration with what is happening just across the San Francisco Bay at the state-run San Quentin carceral institution, where one of California’s oldest prisons has been transformed into a Scandinavian-inspired rehabilitation center. Instead of doubling down on harsh confinement and tight control, the new approach at San Quentin emphasizes education, job readiness, recidivism reduction programs, and restorative justice. Each of these mechanisms has been shown to reduce recidivism rates and improve outcomes for offenders and communities alike.
If the federal government is looking to make bold moves in criminal justice, the blueprint should look more like San Quentin than the cold, crumbling facility visible from the Fisherman’s Wharf.
However, as is par for the course with the administration’s most egregious agenda items, their blueprint is likely far more for optics than for outcomes. The posturing around Alcatraz fits the message of dramatizing crime, promoting fear, and positioning “law and order” at the center of discussion. But if the goal truly is lasting public safety, a better strategy is rooted in the principle of “swift, certain, and fair” punishment, which holds offenders accountable without resorting to performative and extreme incarceration tactics.
When proportionate sanctions are certain to come quickly after misconduct, individuals are more likely to change their behavior—or better yet, less likely to engage in misconduct in the first place. People respond better to fair and predictable consequences, but reopening Alcatraz would send the opposite message, making punishment more about the spectacle than a serious commitment to reducing crime.
Then there is the fiscal side of such a proposal. Refurbishing Alcatraz into a modern correctional facility would cost taxpayers immensely. Currently, the isolated island lacks infrastructure, staffing, and the security systems necessary to meet federal prison standards. It would be a logistical nightmare, and for little to no return. Incarceration rates have declined in recent years, as has violent crime in many major cities. New prison beds are simply not needed.
Other things within the prison system are needed, though. The Department of Justice should focus on court backlogs, correctional staffing shortages, and existing infrastructure issues within currently operating facilities—all matters more pressing than turning a national landmark into a political prop. Public safety is best served by building stronger reentry systems, investing in alternatives to incarceration, and fixing the parts of the system we know need modernization.
Reopening Alcatraz would be the wrong move. It signals a return to a bygone era of punishment-forward policy at a time when we should be moving ahead with cost-effective changes. Rather than pouring federal resources into a publicity stunt, the Trump administration should focus on improving outcomes for victims of crime, communities impacted by crime, and individuals who interact with the justice system—as the First Step Act proved works—in pursuit of real law and order for generations to come.