Two stories on a common theme appeared Monday morning on VTDigger. The first was about a “spate” (their term) of deaths in Vermont’s prison system, mainly at the Springfield facility. The second was about another rise in opioid-related deaths that puts us on track to break the all-time record set in 2022.

In both, I heard echoes of the lamentable deal struck by the Legislature and Scott administration for a partial extension of the motel voucher program — an extension loaded with poison pills. Not only does the program leave 800 or so households without shelter, it also makes the voucher experience as unpleasant as possible for its clients from now on. Who are, just a reminder, some of Vermont’s most vulnerable. You know, the ones Gov. Phil Scott likes to say he’s committed to protecting. Echoes also of a fundamental approach toward human services programs for the poor: Make the experience difficult and unpleasant so recipients are incentivized to GTFO, one way or another.

It’s like a soup kitchen that dumps vinegar into its food because if it tastes good, people won’t be incentivized to get their own damn dinner. Mind you, not enough vinegar to make anyone sick; just enough to discourage them from partaking unless they’re truly desperate.

This approach is all too common in our social programs. It’s a lousy way to meet the needs of our most vulnerable. It’s morally questionable, and if you’re not into the “morality” stuff, it’s also counterproductive in terms of financials and outcomes. People suffer needlessly and face tougher barriers to achieving self-sufficiency, which I think is what we’re supposedly aiming for.

With the voucher program, it’s not only the lousy deal aimed at minimizing participation no matter how great the need; it’s also the months of foot-dragging by Our Political Betters while voucher recipients were left wondering where the hell they were going to sleep at night. The program was no great shakes, but it did offer a measure of stability that allowed many to seek and obtain jobs, mental and physical health care, and substance use treatment. There were warnings aplenty about the chaos that would hit in June and July, but Our Betters blithely ignored the alarms and drove on toward the edge of the cliff.

The prison deaths are due, at least in part, to the vagaries of the for-profit contractor providing inmate health care. Per Digger, the vendor’s bid was insufficient to meet the demands of the Covid pandemic so it resorted to cutting corners. This would be unacceptable in a just world, but we unconsciously think of inmates as disposable. But we have involuntarily remanded them into our care. They are dependent on us, and we are obliged to deliver. Plus, you know, if the word “corrections” has any meaning at all, the intent of imprisonment is to produce human beings capable of becoming productive members of society. As opposed, say, to corpses.

Brief reminder that the Department of Corrections is part of the Agency of Human Services, where the attitude that its clientele are flawed and unworthy seems to permeate much of the agency’s work.

The tide of opioid-related deaths continues to rise as new substances have added fresh dangers to the mix and Our Betters have failed to adapt strategies and tactics in response. The governor in particular is wedded to old ideas and actively resistant to new ones. Meanwhile, we’re losing an awful lot of people whose lives could have been saved. But eh, you know, they’re druggies, so whatcha gonna do?

How about we try something different? How about we treat our most vulnerable as if they are valued members of society instead of a burden to be borne under duress? It would cost a bit more in the short run but the net result would be positive, both morally and financially.

It’s the right thing to do, for those who care about such things.