From Arrogant Self-Righteousness to Ardent Defender of Justice

 Before I was convicted of a crime and sent to prison, I had a self-righteous attitude towards "convicts." They committed the crime, let them do the time. Who cares about the conditions in prison? They should have thought about that before committing their crimes. Today, I hear these same sentiments from some prison guards and administrators. 

As someone who holds the U.S. Constitution in high regard, I'm now surprised at my formerly ignorant and arrogant view towards accused and even convicted people. The Constitution certainly provides protections even to the "reprobates" in society. The Founders recognized that how we treat the least in society reflects on society's moral character. But for those whose only desire is revenge and retribution, Constitutional rights matter very little. 

For those with this strict retributive view, when people commit crimes, they surrender their rights. For all intents and purposes, they cease to be people. Such were the sentiments of those who justified slavery as a moral institution. Dehumanization in the mind allows for justifying all sorts of injustice. 

Perhaps it's unfair to compare modern retributivists with slavers. But the parallels are hard to ignore. For a society to be a just society, it must punish crime, and that punishment should not be pleasant. However, a person's removal and isolation from society, and his or her loss of freedom are punishment enough. Progressively stricter isolation and restriction might be necessary for uncontrollable prisoners, but even this practice can be carried out with dignity. 

Whether deterrence, incapacitation, reform, punishment, or balanced scales is the driving prison philosophy, it can be carried out humanely. But any of these philosophies that fail to honor the dignity of human life, even the life of prisoners, do not hold the U.S. Constitution in high regard. It's easy to hold such views when you're on the free side of the fences. 

The factor that revealed my own duplicity and self-righteous attitude was my own incarceration. Sure, I want to personally be treated with dignity, but I have also developed a strong opposition to oppression in general. That includes the oppression prisoners experience in a broken and often unjust prison system, but it starts with the oppression and harm our victims have experienced. 

I write a lot about prison issues on this blog because I am experiencing the daily frustrations of prison life. But highlighting these issues in no way reduces the burden I feel for those we prisoners harmed, both directly and indirectly. It's a heavy weight I carry with me daily. It's also a driving factor in what I fill my time with every day. I have much damage to repair, and though I can't do so directly at this time, I can work to help others leave prison compelled and empowered to never harm anyone again. 

I make no apologies for speaking out against oppression and abuse, of prisoners or any other people group in America. I know the moral harm experienced as both an abuser and now as a prisoner who experiences abuse of power. I'd rather be a defender of vulnerable and oppressed populations of people than the self-righteous, duplicitous abuser I used to be.

Are Prisons Places of Reform or Punishment?

Public debate about how prisons should operate, and how prisoners should be treated, have often centered on whether or not prisons should do more for prisoners, or do more to prisoners. In other words, should prisons be more of a place of reform, or a place of punishment? 

The goal of reforming prisoners is fairly new in penal philosophy. New as in within the last 250 years. The philosophy of making prisons places of moral and behavioral reformation began around 1779, but it really picked up steam when the English Quakers got involved in prison reform. 

Quakers believed that religion could reform people, but also that it was the only thing that could produce true alterations in aberrant character. In fact, this belief in the power of faith led them to spearhead reforms in how prisoners were treated in English prisons. They believed that in addition to faith, kindness would produce reforms where misery would not. 

Today's progressive prison reformers are less concerned with faith based reformation and more focused on education as a means of change. But their focus is still on what prisons should do for prisoners, not to them. For these reformers, separation from society and loss of freedom is punishment enough for one's crimes. 

Scattered throughout Michigan's prison system, one might find a handful of prison administrators who espouse this philosophy of reform, to varying degrees. Yet, the vast majority of administrators and corrections officers demonstrate their belief in the opposing philosophy - prisons ought to emphasize punishment over reform. 

Legislative mandates give the appearance of a reform-based philosophy. Prisoners are often mandated to take behavior modifying classes. But in practice, these classes often have very little affect on prisoners, especially on their underlying character. Most character transformation takes place only when a person is ready to change. Moral transformation cannot be coerced. 

Even when prisoners do demonstrate moral transformation, corrections staff, including officers, often view it suspiciously. Instead, many view us as irrevocably corrupt. Programs and classes with reform as their aim usually devolve into meeting legislative objectives on paper. They become sources of funding and job security without much conviction in prisoners' ability or willingness to change. 

To be fair, many prisoners confirm this bias that prisoners cannot change. But many more prove otherwise. 

I don't believe prisoners should be coerced to reform their character, but I do believe that programs, classes, and policies that encourage and facilitate reform should be offered to prisoners. When a prisoner demonstrates a willingness and readiness to reform, those efforts should receive every bit of encouragement and support. 

Prison itself is a punishment, but prisons can also be a place that encourages and supports true change. While we prisoners experience the punishment of prison, we can also learn how to reform our character and behavior. 

(source referenced for history of reforms: The Oxford History of Prison, eds. Norval Morris and David J. Rothman, 1998) 

Committed to Criminality - Another Statistic Leaves Prison

In the nearly fourteen years that I've been incarcerated, I've heard hundreds of men say the phrase, with sincerity, "I'm never coming back to prison." Some have included, "They'll have to kill me first." Others have insisted they've learned their lesson, that they are done with crime, with addiction, with whatever sent them to prison in the first place. 

Only one man, in the past fourteen years, has ever said to me, "I know I'm coming back to prison. I'm just not done with this life yet." It shocked me to hear it, but I was impressed with his honesty. Too many of the other men who had claimed they'd never be back - they knew deep down they weren't done with their criminal ways, they just couldn't admit it to themselves. 

To be fair, many of the men I've seen leave prison actually did have good intentions to live crime-free lives. They were determined to do the right thing. But then, many of them made a compromising choice, "just one hit," or "just one beer," or "just one night." A single compromise sent them down a path of decision making they never meant to follow again. 

Both addiction and criminal thinking patterns are deeply embedded in some people's minds. It's difficult to root out. Others are simply enamoured with the criminal lifestyle and have no intention, no desire even, to change. 

This past week, I saw another prisoner leave prison on parole. It actually happens very frequently in a level one prison where I am now housed. But this prisoner had been attending Jackson Community College, working towards an associates degree. I respected his desire to do something positive. 

I observed this prisoner in the housing unit, and it was clear that he wasn't quite done with the criminal lifestyle. It wasn't obvious to everyone, but it was clear to me. He still thought like a criminal, but I hoped that his college classes would give him hope for a different life. 

Sadly, this man left prison still determined to live a criminal life. The day before he left prison, he told me a little about the plans he had. He even self-justified. "They can't send me to prison for that," he claimed. Huh. So self-justifying AND delusional. 

It's frustrating to spend more than a decade in prison, hope for freedom and a new beginning filling my heart, only to see men leaving prison who are actively making plans to continue their criminality. It's these prisoners who give returning citizens a bad name. Why should society trust us when some prisoners leave prison fully intending to take advantage of people, to steal, to rob, to sell illegal substances? 

The reality is that most prisoners who parole do not have active plans to commit more crimes like this man did. Most never intend to return to crime. Many do, but they do so because they haven't learned how to change their impulsive behavior. They haven't learned how to pursue their values instead of violating them. They haven't learned how to manage their lives. 

Prison itself does little to teach these skills, so most prisoners are left to their own devices. They have to figure this stuff out on their own, often impeded even by the prison systems itself. Only those who really want to change will find a way. The rest, well, they simply hope they've changed, or like the idiot who left this week, they never intend to. 

Education, character development, addiction recovery...these are all critical to changing prisoners' mindsets and behavior. But none of these will do any good unless a person wants to change. And you simply cannot force a person to want that. 

Administrative Errors Threaten to Delay Parole

A couple of months ago, a guy I met in prison prepared to leave prison, after spending the last 30 years of his life here. He is now in his 50s, has no contact with his extended family, is blind in one eye, and is deaf. Despite his challenges, he's not fully disabled. He can work, though after 30 years in prison he still had not earned his GED. 

This man had no family or friends to whom he could parole, so he was sent to public placement. Public placement can be as simple as a hotel room paid for by the state, or it can be a program, like the one this man was sent to that has staff to help with transitioning back to society. He definitely needed the help. 

Because I know sign language and he requested my help, I was able to interpret for this man in his critical pre-parole meetings. We met with his parole agent and other corrections staff whose job it was to meet with him before he paroled. It was rewarding to help him, but frustrating too. With all the help he needed, and with the department as disorganized and uncommunicative as it is, the man didn't even get to speak to his parole agent until the day before leaving prison. That meeting was supposed to happen weeks before. 

As it turned out, the parole agent believed that an error had been made in this man's parole designation (simply a code on his parole paperwork). So, just a dozen hours before he was scheduled to leave prison, the resource agent told him he was not going to be able to leave as scheduled. His parole would be delayed. Again. It'd been delayed by over a year already because of some court proceedings. 

It was very difficult for me to interpret the bad news. "He said, 'You will probably not be able to leave tomorrow because of an error in the paperwork." I was crushed for him as I read the total dejection on his face. 

Fortunately, just 10 minutes later, the confusion was cleared up and the parole agent reversed his statement. "Oh, now he says you WILL be able to leave tomorrow morning. He said he's sorry for the confusion." Talk about rollercoaster of emotions! 

I have to imagine that it's a logistics nightmare trying to organize all the prisoners who leave on parole, making sure they have all the resources they need when they leave. This man I interpreted for did leave prison the next morning, but I have no idea how he's doing. I don't know if he ended up in a place that connected him with what he needed to thrive on parole. I hope so. 

The closer I get to my own parole date, the more I think about the challenges returning citizens face. It's tough to start over, especially when you've been gone for a while. So much has changed, and most of what we had in the past is long gone. 

Starting over doesn't scare me that much (okay, maybe a little) because I'm resourceful. I'm also still healthy, able, and more than willing to work. Many other prisoners aren't so fortunate. 

Whatever the challenges, I know that leaving prison will be a beautiful thing. I just hope that when my time comes, things go a bit smoother than they did for the deaf prisoner I interpreted for. 

Constant Suspicion Discourages Positive Behavior Changes in Prisoners

"Hey!" the officer said, pointing at me. "Come here and get a shakedown." I pulled my prison ID out as I said, "I have a name, and it's not 'Hey.'" The officer responded that she did not normally work my housing unit, so she didn't know who I was. I assured her I was simply giving her a hard time. 

After my routine shakedown, the officer looked at my ID and said, "Huh. Noonan. I've heard that name before. What are you into? Drugs? Spud juice?" 

"No," I responded. "I've had one class-three ticket in over thirteen years." My misconduct ticket was for cutting another prisoner's hair, which is prohibited in the housing units, though it is regularly done. 

"Well, I recognize your name," she insisted, as if she could only have heard my name in connection to something negative. 

"Maybe you've heard my name for good reasons," I replied, taking my ID back from the officer. I turned and left, shaking my head. No matter what I do, no matter how positive my behavior is in prison, as long as I'm wearing prison clothing, and likely long after, some people will only view me negatively. 

In the officer's defense, custody staff are routinely alerted to disciplinary problems. They rarely hear about the good things prisoners do. Naturally, she would think her familiarity with my name was because of a negative behavior. But this reality is a symptom of a systemic problem in prison administration. 

Prison administration, particularly custody, is so focused on "corrections," that is managing security problems, that it fails to acknowledge, or even notice, the positive behavior of some of its charges. Positive behavior is not only ignored, but it's not even expected or encouraged! We set the bar far, far too low in corrections. 

Behaviorists often claim that past behavior is a good indicator of future likely behavior. While true, this truism fails to acknowledge the caveat built into this truth. Change is an interrupter. Changed thinking often changes behavior. Yet, while the Michigan Department of Corrections requires prisoners to take "thinking modification" classes (including some prisoners taking a class titled, "Thinking for a Change"), administrators and especially corrections officers are slow to acknowledge that some prisoners change. 

It's difficult living under constant suspicion. I don't like being seen as just another prisoner looking to get one over on the administration. Yes, that's common for many prisoners, but it's not my aim. I've worked hard to change my thinking, and subsequently my behavior, and that work continues. It'd be nice to have those efforts at least acknowledged, even though the results are a reward in themselves.

The officer who shook me down didn't know anything about me, so she gets a pass. But the corrections industry (and the Michigan legislature!) could learn a few things from behavioral science. Positive reinforcement, which means reinforcing positive behavior, is much more effective at affecting changed behaviors than is punishment. Even something as simple as a word of praise or encouragement, instead of being treated with suspicion, goes a long way 

Hope is Central to Plans, Goals, and Changes - Even in Prison

 The New Year is just a few days away as I write this, and as usual, I'm thinking about the year ahead. I suppose it's normal for people to think about the coming year, every New Year. Some people make resolutions or set goals (I'll be setting goals), and many people have a spark of hope for something new in the coming year. 

In prison, it's difficult to think that anything will change. Every year in prison feels a bit like Groundhog Day (the movie). I wake up, and open my eyes to the same old routine, same old chow hall menu that hasn't changed in years, same old cinder block walls, bars, and razor wire, same officers jingling their keys loudly as they make their rounds. And every afternoon and evening (and sometimes morning), I can count on the same prisoners being unreasonably loud as they play chess, or spades, or simply sit and practically shout their conversations with the person sitting just a foot or two away. 

I can count on the same result of turning in my laundry - it'll come back dingier and sometimes dirtier than it went out. I can count on having to wait in lines for nearly everything - using the phone or email kiosk, taking a shower, using the weight pit, eating three meals a day, and processing into and out of work each morning. 

Free people, those outside of prison, find themselves in ruts too at times. Maybe their diet isn't the same old prison food every day, and they don't have to wait for nearly everything they do, but they're in a rut anyway. I know some people hate their lives that feel pointless and repetitive. It's not just prisoners.

This reality is probably why so many people use the New Year as a time to reset their lives. They evaluate their choices, make resolutions, make changes. I don't have the statistics to prove it, but I'd venture to guess that divorce rates and job resignations jump in January. I'm just sayin'. 

I've been skeptical in the past about resolutions because their success rate is so dismal. I suppose it's splitting hairs to say I'm more of a goal guy, but they do seem different to me. Either way, as I think about change, about attempting to make one's year better, one's self better, it occurs to me that whether it's resolutions or goals, both are really about hope. Hope is central to change because it's a forward looking desire for something different, something better. 

As the years in prison pile up, disappointments pile up too, and my hope feels a little dimmer each year. But I really am a hopeful person at heart. So, I can't help but feel a little spark of hope when I think about setting goals, or even just about the new year in general. Perhaps, just perhaps, this year will be a bit different. 

Some of my hopes for the future remain the same as they were years ago. Some have dimmed a bit, softened to something that seems a little more attainable. Other hopes have changed altogether. But the thing about looking into the future is that we can't anticipate too well. Obstacles appear where we thought there would be none, but blessings do too. 

The reality is that I don't know what this year will bring, but I'm hopeful that the blessings will outweigh the hardships. And while I hope, I'll set my goals and make my plans, all the while being aware that God often laughs at our plans. But that's okay, because while I plan, I also have hope that God's plans are better than mine.