In a slick propaganda push reminiscent of old-school political sleight-of-hand, proponents of the Mid-States Corridor are flooding southern Indiana with misleading fliers and websites, desperately trying to sell a unnecessary highway project that stands to alienate small towns, devastate family farms, and line the pockets of a select few construction moguls and land-hungry elites. The flier in question, circulated by the anti-corridor Property Rights Alliance, rightly calls out the deception: phony images of "congestion" lifted from unrelated locations, half-baked claims about traffic woes on US 231, and a glaring omission of their own studies showing the existing road functions just fine through 2050. But let's dig deeper—this isn't just misinformation; it's a calculated cash grab masquerading as progress, pushed by powerful interests who stand to profit while small communities like Jasper, Huntingburg, and Loogootee pay the price.
The Mid-States Corridor, a proposed 54-mile, four-lane expressway snaking from I-64 near Dale to I-69 near Crane Naval Depot, is billed by its backers as a vital link to boost connectivity and economic growth in southern Indiana. Yet, comprehensive traffic studies—conveniently downplayed by project boosters—reveal that US 231 is operating adequately, with only minor segments showing peak-hour deficiencies that could be fixed with simple passing lanes, saving taxpayers up to $3 billion and sparing countless homes, farms, businesses, and churches from the bulldozer. Proponents claim it will ease congestion and enhance safety, but real data shows otherwise: I-231 isn't the traffic nightmare they portray, and adding lanes to existing routes would achieve similar results without carving up the landscape.
Peeling back the layers reveals the true drivers behind this fiasco: a cabal of business elites, construction firms, and politicians eyeing personal gain. At the helm is the Mid-States Corridor Regional Development Authority (RDA), an unelected body formed through legislation authored by then-State Representative Mike Braun in 2017. Braun, now Indiana's governor, has made this his "pet project," pushing it forward despite decades of community rejection and rebranding—from the failed I-67 idea to its current iteration. Critics aren't mincing words: this is Braun's vanity road, designed to funnel state funds into his home turf in Dubois County, where his family and allies stand to benefit from a real estate boom and easier trucking for local industries.
The RDA's board reads like a who's who of vested interests. Members include Ken Mulzer Jr., CEO of Mulzer Crushed Stone—a major construction materials supplier poised to rake in contracts for gravel, asphalt, and aggregates if the project proceeds. Other board figures, like Sue Ellspermann (former Lt. Governor) and Mark Schroeder, are tied to regional business networks that would profit from development along the route. Then there's the freshly minted "Hoosiers for the Corridor," a pro-project group backed by the Mid-States Next Alliance, parroting claims of economic nirvana while conveniently ignoring the project's ballooning costs and environmental toll. Their website touts reduced congestion and better air quality, but it's smoke and mirrors—bypasses around Jasper and Huntingburg would siphon traffic away from downtowns, starving local shops and eateries of customers.
Business heavyweights like OFS CEO Hank Menke are also in the mix, advocating for the corridor to streamline freight for furniture manufacturing and other industries. These aren't altruistic visionaries; they're opportunists eyeing land grabs. The project would trigger secondary development, paving over thousands of acres of prime farmland and forests, creating windfalls for speculators who snap up adjacent properties at bargain prices before values skyrocket. As one opposition letter bluntly puts it, after 35 years of rigged studies funded by taxpayers—including $7 million for the latest environmental review—this is still a bad idea, prioritizing speculative gains for a handful of millionaires over the livelihoods of farmers and small-town residents.
The alienation of small towns is perhaps the most insidious fallout. Bypassing communities like Jasper, Huntingburg, and Loogootee means less foot traffic for mom-and-pop stores, diners, and service stations that rely on through-travelers. Dubois County, a top agricultural producer in Indiana, would see its rural charm eroded as floodplains are filled, wetlands destroyed, and wildlife habitats fragmented—all for a road that saves mere minutes on truck routes. Opposition groups like the Property Rights Alliance, Indiana Forest Alliance, Hoosier Environmental Council, and Sierra Club warn of irreversible damage: endangered species like the Indiana bat and lake sturgeon displaced, karst ecosystems ravaged, and family legacies shattered through eminent domain seizures. These aren't abstract concerns; over 1,000 written comments and 95% of verbal feedback during public hearings opposed the project, yet it plods on, fueled by insider influence.
Make no mistake: the Mid-States Corridor isn't about public need—it's a taxpayer-funded giveaway to construction barons like Mulzer and land-speculating elites tied to Braun's circle. Small towns will be left isolated, their economies hollowed out as traffic zooms past without stopping, while billion-dollar contracts flow to the connected few. Hoosiers deserve better than this brazen cash grab. It's time to heed the flier's call: Stop the Mid-States Corridor before it bulldozes Indiana's soul. Contact your legislators, join groups like Stop the Mid-States Corridor on Facebook, and demand an end to this folly. The heartland's future depends on it.
