Articles

In an age of increasing political polarization, consensus is hard to come by. But sometimes when a problem is so glaring and so damaging on multiple fronts, all of us see the same thing no matter what ideological lens we are peering through. In Oklahoma, criminal justice is one of those issues.

Merriam-Webster’s dictionary defines “pinnacle” as the point of greatest success or achievement. Pinnacle is the word used to describe the aspirations of Oklahoma’s child welfare system as published in the “Pinnacle Plan” by the Oklahoma Department of Human Services (OKDHS). The Pinnacle Plan is the response to a federal lawsuit against the State of Oklahoma alleging chronic maltreatment of the more than 10,000 children in state custody in the child welfare system. The settlement agreement to end the lawsuit required the state to undertake extensive reforms to improve the child welfare system.

It started with a tug on our heartstrings. A few years ago, my wife and I began to feel called to foster after being challenged by our pastor, Craig Groeschel, and his wife, Amy. Life.Church consistently reminds its members that we’re called not to be spiritual consumers, but spiritual contributors. Stings a little, doesn’t it? Good. We saw a need, the tug was there, and it was time to act. The way to get started is to quit talking and start doing. So (after a lot of talking) that’s what we did.

This was a great year in Oklahoma for criminal justice reforms. Not since the passage of Justice Reinvestment legislation in 2012 have we seen such significant measures make it through the legislative process.

Governor Mary Fallin signed HB 3052 at a public ceremony in 2012 with a great deal of fanfare. The bill created the Justice Reinvestment Initiative, or JRI. The event was supposed to signal the end of one era—a “lock ‘em up and throw away the key” philosophy on criminal justice—and the beginning of a smarter approach that emphasized rehabilitation for nonviolent offenders, especially those with mental health or addiction issues.

At a private school in a secluded, somewhat upscale backstreet in northwest Oklahoma City, children are arriving to begin their day. Class sizes are small; there are about 16 children in each class. This school is exclusive; its daily capacity is 58 students. It has turned away hundreds more in the last few years.

Conservatives, as the readers of this magazine well know, emphasize the principles of individual liberty and personal responsibility over those of collective well-being and communal responsibility. Where there is a problem or a societal ill, we do not reflexively look first to government agencies for a solution.

Great levels of scrutiny have been placed on the Tobacco Settlement Endowment Trust’s recent attempt to hire an additional administrator at a salary of $250,000 a year. At a time when nearly 20,000 Oklahomans have lost their jobs due to the price declines in the oil and gas industry and state spending is being cut, TSET’s decision has been met with outrage. But Oklahoman’s should be aware that TSET’s recent decision is by no means the most egregious and TSET is not the only governmental entity in Oklahoma that creates positions for the politically connected.

Oklahoma’s education blob—school unions, education schools, and their allies—is becoming unusually shameless in its determination to vote itself another taxpayer bailout. Of course the blob is always on the lookout for another hustle. But in Oklahoma this year, things are getting to a point that might make even Donald Trump blush.

Critics of school choice policies – such as vouchers, tax credits and education savings accounts – love to claim that school choice is for the rich. But what about an ordinary child for whom changing schools could literally mean the difference between life and death? That’s the case with some parents in Oklahoma City who have chosen to enroll their children at Mission Academy High School, operated by the nonprofit Teen Recovery Solutions.