PORTLAND, Ore. -- House arrest might seem like a good alternative to incarceration, especially during a pandemic, but it comes with its own costs.

Ankle shackles are outfitted for electronic monitoring, which concerns advocates for people who are detained. Babatunde Azubuike, programs coordinator for the Portland-based organization Freedom to Thrive, said technology like this can be a Trojan horse.

"It looks really nice on the outside and really great," Azubuike said. "But when you open it up and get inside, it's white supremacy, it's capitalism and patriarchy, and state control."

Azubuike said some law enforcement agencies are using the pandemic as justification to expand this kind of incarceration. Freedom to Thrive, along with the Queer Detainee Empowerment Project, Media Justice and the YaYa Network, are jointly hosting a webinar today (Wednesday) at noon (Pacific Time), to educate people about the use of electronic monitoring.

A Pew study found about 125,000 people were supervised with electronic devices in 2015, up 140% from a decade earlier.

Azubuike pointed out there are penalties people might not think about when choosing house arrest over incarceration, such as paying for the monitor, which can cost up to $400 a month.

"If you miss those payments, you're out of compliance and then, that can be cause for you to go right back into jail or prison," Azubuike said. "It puts you in this position where, again, people are being penalized for being poor."

Azubuike said decisions on electronic monitoring and how it's implemented happen on the local level.

"I think the best way to push back is to definitely get involved in a lot of these budget fights around how the police budgets are spent, and where your local money is going for these technologies," Azubuike added.

Despite a heavily conservative shift in voter turnout at the ballot box in Iowa, results of a new post-midterm poll showed Iowans strongly support social justice causes.

In the poll, jobs and the economy, the cost of living and restoring funding for abortion rights topped the list of Iowans' most important issues.

Katy Siddall, messaging director for the advocacy group Progress Iowa, which released the poll, said Iowans care deeply about protecting and promoting those causes, and the poll numbers bear it out.

"Twenty-nine percent of Iowans ranked jobs and the economy as number one; 19% ranked cost of living as number one; and then, 16% ranked abortion as their top issue," Siddall outlined.

The three top issues were what Siddall called the "heavy hitters," but responsible gun ownership, learning the good and bad parts of American history, and health care were also among Iowans' top priorities in the poll. Siddall noted health care fell down the list from previous polling, but not out of the top five.

Some 44% of the voter turnout in Iowa was Republican this year, compared to 33% Democrat, and 23% independent.

Matt Sinovic, executive director of Progress Iowa, said partisanship and frustration with political leaders set the tone for many of this year's voters. And even though the electorate was more conservative, he pointed to the poll results as confirmation Iowans still believe in progressive values.

"We believe there is a fight to be had here for our shared values as Iowans," Sinovic asserted. "We will continue doing our work to advocate for what we believe in, and giving folks the tools and resources that they need to stand up for their families and their communities."

He said Progress Iowa will also continue its research into people's opinions on social issues. The poll surveyed 621 Iowans and was conducted Nov. 7-8.

Illinois lawmakers are hoping to adjust the state's problem-plagued recreational marijuana law designed to award dispensary licenses on a fair and equitable basis.

Only three "social equity" marijuana dispensaries are expected to be open by 2023. Statistics show almost all the other 110 dispensaries operating in Illinois were opened by wealthy, mostly white, entrepreneurs. The state has awarded 185 social-equity licenses, but until recently, a court injunction blocked them from opening.

Mike Fourcher, editor of the cannabis trade publication Grown In, said the program remains bogged down in red tape.

"There were a number of loopholes that were put into the application process that allowed people that were clearly not social-equity applicants to apply," Fourcher explained. "And actually, a very large number of the winning applications went to those people."

The social-equity program was designed to allow people from marginalized communities and people formerly convicted of low-level marijuana offenses an opportunity to enter the business. Critics argued the state has failed to live up to its promise.

On Tuesday, the General Assembly gaveled in its 2022 veto session, a two-week opportunity to amend, update and pass legislation before the end of the year. Fourcher pointed out proponents of the law hope to replace cumbersome legislative oversight with a more flexible system.

"Other states, like New Jersey and New York and California, have created cannabis commissions," Fourcher noted. "Which have tremendous power and responsibility on determining what kind of licenses go out and when, and how those licenses can be changed."

The social-equity process became bogged down in lawsuits filed after businesses with ready capital hired minorities or others who met the requirements to qualify and "jumped the line" to get a license. Fourcher added it created a lot of hard feelings.

"That loophole -- allowing people to hire staff that were from disproportionately impacted areas -- is a loophole to allow non-social equity applicants to obtain licenses," Fourcher observed. "That has really caused a lot of acrimony in the state.

The majority of atomic veterans who participated in America's nuclear bomb testing program between 1945 and 1962 are now gone, but one from Massachusetts is working to ensure that those who remain get the recognition they deserve.

The Atomic Veterans Commemorative Service Medal was created this year after veterans had worked for decades to lift the veil of secrecy surrounding their work at nuclear test sites in the United States and South Pacific.

More than 400,000 servicemen were exposed to high levels of radiation, and many died of cancer.

Retired Army First Lt. Joe Mondelleo of Shrewsbury, an atomic veteran, said the service medal is just a commemorative coin - and without a ribbon attached, atomic veterans can't pin it to their uniforms.

"For being at that site and those explosions, we should have all received a medal," he said. "You know, it's a disgrace."

Mondello said he thinks the remaining atomic veterans deserve a full medal ceremony in Washington, D.C., for the bravery they've shown and the sacrifices they and their families have made.

U.S. Rep. Jim McGovern, D-Mass., is working to arrange just that. For nearly a decade, McGovern worked to secure the money needed to create and distribute the commemorative service medal. Many people like to thank veterans for their service, he said - but for atomic veterans, who for decades were not allowed to talk about their service to their families or even their doctors, 'thank you' isn't enough.

"We need to follow up some of those wonderful compliments with real action, including making sure our veterans have good health care, making sure they have the support and the services they need," he said, "and in this case, making sure that the atomic veterans are rightfully recognized for their service to this country."

It's estimated more than 80% of the atomic veterans already have died, but their families are still eligible to receive the commemorative service medal on their behalf, and an application is available online. McGovern said the medals should be made available by the end of the year, and he has requested a ceremony at that time.

For 90-year-old Joe Mondello and his fellow atomic vets, it can't happen soon enough.