Looking beyond Fernald

CHANGE is hard. It isn't always bad.

That's true for all human beings, including the 185 who call the Fernald Development Center home.

This week, US District Judge Joseph L. Tauro stopped the state's plan to close this institution for individuals with mental retardation and transfer them to community-based homes. The ruling is a victory for the families of Fernald residents who have long battled to keep the institution open.

Their goal is ripe with irony. Once Fernald was the target of a class action lawsuit brought by families who charged that conditions there were so deplorable, the place was unfit for humans. After the courts stepped in, the state signed a consent decree pledging more money for Fernald. Tauro was the judge who oversaw the improvements.

Now, Fernald families cling to their relatives' right to reside in the nation's oldest public institution -- at the same time most other families fight for as much mainstream inclusion as possible for their loved ones.

This is a philosophical disagreement. But it's also a fight over resources. Fernald's budget is $42 million, providing $250,000 per person per year. Renovations to the physical plant could cost another $40 million. If Fernald closes, the money could be better used for better services for more people, advocates argue.

No compassionate human being wants to see Fernald residents hurt by a move that reduces their care or harms their quality of life. But why is that outcome accepted as a given every time Fernald's closing is on the table?

There is research that shows that moving people from a narrow institutional world does not harm them; it can help them, if the community setting is appropriate and the level of care is adequate. There are people with more challenges than some Fernald residents who are successfully living in the real world versus the institutional world.

Massachusetts currently cares for 32,000 people with mental retardation. About two-thirds live in their own home. Most of the rest are in community-based group or individual living arrangements. Fewer than 1,000 live in the six state facilities still open.

Across the country, states have adopted policies to encourage deinstitutionalization and institution closure. According to a brief published by the Research and Training Center on Community Living at the University of Minnesota, this is seen not only as a way to consolidate resources, but as a way to improve people's lives. Institutions remain open in states that "lack the political will to close or downsize them," the authors of the policy brief concluded.

Massachusetts should never be Scrooge-like when it comes to society's most vulnerable citizens. But that does not mean it should simply accept the equation presented by the Fernald families and guardians -- that closing this institution is bad for their loved ones because it means they must relocate.

The Arc of Massachusetts, an advocacy group for the mentally retarded that supports Fernald's closing, is urging Governor Deval Patrick to appeal Tauro's order.

To his credit, the judge rescued Fernald residents from deplorable living conditions that should never exist in a civilized society. Over the years, he stood up for their rights.

Now his latest order focuses on something different -- "transfer trauma" for the remaining residents. Those who support Fernald's closing believe the ruling will make it difficult to eliminate any state institution.

What about the bigger picture, represented by the 32,000 people with mental retardation who are currently served by the state? Tauro's decision ties the hands of state policy makers who must weigh the needs of all stakeholders, said Leo V. Sarkissian, The Arc's executive director.

Fernald creates a situation of haves and have-nots in the world of mental retardation. In all worlds, this leads to bitterness. If Fernald were the only place that could adequately serve its current population, the bitterness could be easily dismissed as mean-spirited and petty, and it could just as easily be ignored.

But the opposite could actually be true.

Fernald's current residents might have a better life elsewhere. The "elsewhere" must be carefully thought-out, well-defined, and well-funded. But the state should have the right to come up with modern alternatives to institutional settings, which represent the oldest way of dealing with this most vulnerable population. The state should aim for the best possible service for every vulnerable citizen.

Fear should not drive state policy, especially fear of change.

Joan Vennochi's e-mail address is vennochi@globe.com.