In 2020, after the tragic killing of George Floyd, there was a moment when America, including California, seemed poised to reform its broken and discriminatory criminal justice system.

In 2024, the California Legislature returns from vacation and criminal justice is once again at the forefront. But now the proverbial pendulum has swung wide open, and a new era of tough on crime seems to be creeping through the cracks of our good intentions.

Proposition 47, which helped reduce California's prison population by changing certain nonviolent crimes from felonies to misdemeanors, is likely to be repealed, if not repealed this year.

California Highway Patrol was dispatched. Stop theft in retail storesDespite the fact that no one is entirely sure how big a problem it is.

Drug dealers have been charged with murder Fentanyl overdoses continue to skyrocketIt's a new tactic in a new war on drugs, a tactic that led to the over-incarceration of black and brown people during the crack epidemic of the '80s, which claimed it could block their way out of poverty and addiction. Almost no change.

This is a troubling reversal of both attitudes and reform that, as history has proven, will not lead to the safer communities we all desire.

But what is about to happen inside San Quentin State Prison has the potential to fundamentally change crime and punishment in the Golden State and beyond.

Because while we would like to believe that a single law, more police, and harsher penalties will protect us, the truth is that the best way to reduce crime is to stop it from happening in the first place. It is to do. Decades of punishment inflicted upon us have kept us in prison, with over a third of us returning within a few years of our release.

But instead, by helping people find other paths and giving them a chance to survive in a way that uplifts rather than preys on our communities, this approach is the same as the one decades ago in prison. and has proven results both in the United States and other countries where reintegration is not an accepted option. But it is mandatory.

Last year, Gov. Gavin Newsom announced that he wanted to transform San Quentin, California's oldest and most famous prison, into a new kind of prison modeled on Scandinavian rehabilitation principles, where life-changing obligations are legally mandated. It is written in

He named it the California Model, after his favorite catchphrase, and left the details for later.The long-awaited explanation will be held on Friday. What the California model will actually look like has been releasedprovides both an ideal and a blueprint for what a fundamental, disruptive, and important change in what it means to be in prison is.

“This is a big deal,” Darrell Steinberg told me. He chaired the committee that created the recommendations and is the mayor of Sacramento, which, like other cities, is plagued by drug addiction, mental illness and homelessness, which are largely responsible for the change in thinking about crime. So he knows better than anyone that voters want results, not experiments.

“This enhances public safety for the obvious reason that when people have the tools to succeed outside, they have a better life and are far less likely to commit new crimes. “The body,” he said.

It's visionary, but also doable, he said.

At the heart of the transition is changing the job of prison officers from enforcers and adversaries to participants in rehabilitation, a change that unions representing prison officers support. Under the plan, officers would be expected to take college-level classes in trauma-informed practices and interact with inmates as mentors and guides.

San Quentin itself will undergo a major makeover, albeit one that will be curtailed by current economic realities. The cramped cells, which currently house two people in 46 square feet, about half the size of a decent bathroom, allow for one person's space, which Steinberg said is a minimal requirement of dignity. It is scheduled to be removed.

Prison officers will also receive upgrades. Housing prices in Marin County, where San Quentin is located, are so high that many people can't live close enough to work a day job (averaging over $3,000 a month for a two-bedroom) or spend hours commuting to work. It will take a while.

As a result, some officers resort to “dry camping” in trailers, in homeless-like conditions without running water, electricity or even sewerage. They cram a week's worth of work into a few days just to get by. The new plan would provide prison officers with campgrounds with basic amenities, access to showers and safe relaxation spaces, possibly making the job less stressful.

For people who are incarcerated, this change means efforts will be made to coordinate services such as mental health care, education, job training, and substance abuse treatment from day one of incarceration. And that there are people to implement and support those plans.

That seems basic, but it's not right now. People are left largely to their own devices to navigate a system that is highly outdated, partially non-computerized, opaque and inefficient. Waiting lists are long and information can be difficult to obtain.

If the ideas laid out in this plan can survive the upcoming budget negotiations (in a year with an unexpectedly large deficit), the culture behind some of the most notorious prisons in the nation's second-largest state prison system It would be transformative (Texas is the only state with a large incarceration population).

Although it will take years to translate the California model from paper to practice, San Quentin's proposal has the potential to be the largest and most meaningful criminal justice reform in decades – If it's right, of course it's always a “what if” story, but it concerns the government.

But this is a big change with the potential for real rewards, not just a moment of anger or fear over a proposal that would water down Prop. 47 and do nothing more than repeat the mistakes of the past.

There will always be looters, there will always be crime. And, sure, it's all sensitive and vague, as if you're going to spend a lot of money to hold the criminal's hand while he talks about his childhood and gets his GED. It sounds like

To be honest, it's a part that shouldn't be ignored.

At the heart of the California model is dignity and compassion, and we base our policies on the belief that healing is not just for the innocent or kind.

Fixing a human being, especially one who is broken enough to hurt others, is the most difficult task.

But it's possible.

And if California makes San Quentin a place where things like that happen, we'll all be safer.