I am referring to the Utah State Developmental Center that was built in 1931 with the intention to lodge 1,000 people as part of a vocational training program. We need to talk about what we want to do with a center that presently houses 235 people at a cost that would support at least triple that number of people in the community.

We need only to look back at the institution's early history to better understand why this discussion is terribly overdue.

The Utah State Training School, as it was called originally, was following a trend popular at that time in the United States and Utah became the 46th out of the 48 states to build an institution for what were termed feebleminded citizens. Alaska and Hawaii had not yet achieved statehood.

The Relief Society of the LDS Church rallied hard for the institution. This was the moral hygiene period in United States history and members of the Relief Society, most notably First Counselor Amy Brown Lyman, pushed the building of an institution for the developmentally disabled in their zeal for state-controlled social services. The Relief Society circulated speakers and petitions both declaring that all "feebleminded" people deserved a facility that would help them become "part of the most complex civilization that the world has seen," according to the editorial "The Care of the Feebleminded" in the February 1929 issue of the Relief Society Magazine.

It wasn't as nice as that. The national moral hygiene movement wanted to cleanse society of people it believed on the fringe of crime and delinquency. The first superintendent of the Utah State Training School, Dr. H.H. Ramsay, said as much in his 1931 presidential address to the American Association for the Study of the Feebleminded:

"We can safely conclude that by far the larger number of our citizenship failures, including criminals, delinquents, prostitutes and dependents come from the vast army of children who have failed to profit by instructions in the schools. Furthermore, it is safe to assume that a child who does not make progress in academic instruction will also be under the standard with reference to his moral aptitude and other characteristics of the good citizen."

So, what better plan than to segregate these offending citizens and, as was approved by state law, sterilize them to control their future numbers. The plan not only safeguarded society but it guaranteed jobs to members of the American Association for the Study of the Feebleminded and incomes to those from the community finding work at the various institutions scattered around the country.

The building of an institution also freed the public school system from assuming the responsibility of equal access to education, and in Utah this was despite legislation passed in 1921 that called for the establishment of special schools and classes in all school districts for the "feebleminded student" (again, the contemporary term). The mandate went unfunded.

Over the years, the training agenda lost out to other social and economic upheavals like the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War and civil rights movements that up until recent decades neglected those with developmental disabilities. Institutions became warehouses and, notwithstanding improvements to these facilities, still keep people from becoming part of that most complex civilization noted in the Relief Society article of more than 75 years ago.

I don't care how attractively you wrap the institutional package because by its very nature an institution does not contribute to the well-being of an individual. In fact, I'd argue that institutions are actually contrary to development. A place that isolates people due to characteristics judged outside the norm suggests that society doesn't really want them around. Secondly, cutting off people from society precludes their inclusion.

The doors are shut and no one from the outside is learning more about living next door to the person behind those closed doors. I can't pretend to know what goes on at the Developmental Center in American Fork. Whenever I visit for research purposes, the administration is cordial. I get limited material of historical significance for my research, but they are polite and I find it fascinating to imagine this piece of history when walking the grounds.

I don't want to jeopardize anybody's job or the safety and well-being of the people some believe the institution protects. I simply can't understand why our society spends so much money to support places that segregate people. I don't understand why we pay more in tax money to cover the cost of running an institution than we do in helping people to live independently within the larger community.

The 2007 fiscal year budget for the Utah Division of Services for People with Disabilities shows the disparity: The 235 people at the Developmental Center will receive $37.6 million for services, or about $400 per day per person, while the 3,835 people with developmental disabilities living within the community will share $112.8 million, or about $75 per person per day. And let's not forget about the 2,000 people who live in the community but are on the waiting list for services. They will receive nothing toward living expenses, housing or job training.

I think we need to talk about this. We need to discuss equity in spending, and we need to talk about spending our money wisely for the benefit of everyone.

And that doesn't mean the construction of more parking garages.

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Chris Fraizer is an editor for a Salt Lake City medical coding company and a board member of the Disability Law Center, although the opinions expressed in this article are her own. She has a 19-year-old son with a developmental disability who lives at home and is currently enrolled in the Murray School District transitional school-to-work program.