I am still astounded from time to time by the filthy language I hear every day in prison, although sadly, I've been desensitized to much of it. But there is one word I don't hear enough of--that is the F-word.
No, I'm not talking about the four letter F-word. I'm talking about the eleven letter F-word: Forgiveness.
How ironic is it that the apostle Peter who asked Jesus how often he should forgive an offender was the same man that Jesus graciously forgave and restored after Peter had denied even knowing Jesus in His greatest hour of need.
This struggle, of wanting forgiveness when we have offended or harmed someone else, yet resisting offering forgiveness to another, often for a much lesser offense, is a problem common to human nature. But it is especially evident among those of us in prison.
Maybe it is because prisoners struggle so much with attitudes of entitlement, or maybe it's just more evident because of the closeness of this community. Either way, forgiveness is a choice each of us must make daily.
You might wonder what prisoners have to forgive. After all, aren't WE the ones greatly in need of forgiveness? Yes, that's true. We have much to be forgiven, and some of us may go a lifetime without ever hearing the words "I forgive you." But if we are to hope for forgiveness from those we have harmed, we too much be willing to extend forgiveness and grace to those who have wronged us.
For some prisoners that may include an overzealous prosecutor or a lying witness. For others it may be another prisoner who has harmed us, or a family who has abandoned us. It may even include corrections officers or staff who have disrespected us or treated us as less than human. Whatever the case, as Jesus also said, "To whom much is given, much is required."
Rather than waiting for the ones we have harmed to forgive us, we can begin to extend that same grace we long for to others who have harmed us. For most of us the grievance we may have against another doesn't even compare to the harm we have caused.
Forgiveness is a vital part of restorative justice, and prisoners who long to take part in restorative justice practices can begin by forgiving and attempting to reconcile with those who have offended us. We must practice what we wish to have from others.
For more information on the aspect of forgiveness in restorative justice, and to read compelling stories of forgiveness, check out The Forgiveness Project. (www.TheForgivenessProject.com)
Monday, September 26, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
United Behind a Common Enemy
Early in our nation's history the citizens of this country were united against a common enemy: the tyrannical King of England. We coalesced together and went to war against an enemy that threatened our way of life. We won that war, and thus began in this country a trend that has been common to civilizations throughout time: the need for a common enemy behind whom we can unite.
Americans have united against British loyalists, French revolutionaries, and ruthless world dominators. We have joined in fighting against alcohol (during prohibition), slavery, communism, and illicit drugs. Even now our nation is united in its war on terrorism. ISIS has become the face of evil that serves as more than a talking point for politicians. ISIS galvanizes the fears of the common public who has little power to do anything to assuage those fears.
Whenever and wherever fear exists so too does the opportunist who capitalizes on those fears. Take, for example, the politicians who seized on the terror of a grieving nation in the wake of the terror attacks on 9/11 to pass an over-reaching law, the so called Patriot Act, which stripped Americans of Constitutionally protected First Amendment rights to privacy.
Despite this grievous violation of the Constitution, political idealogues defended this law by posing an unrealistic scenario: either throw out the Constitution or suffer terror attacks.
Politicians and opportunists have likewise tricked the unwary public into believing that longer prison sentences and tough on crime laws will lower crime rates and keep the public safe. But rather than leading to lower crime rates and safer communities, these measures have only served to fill the war chests of savvy prison profiteers while bankrupting communities and schools who have their budgets cut while prison budgets explode.
Shrewd politicians know that, even in the face of evidence that lengthy prison sentences do not lead to lower crime rates, to appear soft on crime would be political suicide. But the mounting evidence against the failed policies of the last quarter century is beginning to gain the attention of the public and in turn of some courageous leaders.
A few leaders in Michigan have begun to recognize, for example, that a two billion dollar prison budget is not sustainable. As the outraged public begins to hold these politicians accountable for failing schools and crumbling infrastructure, these leaders have been forced to consider the fact that their war on crime has not worked.
While it is too early to tell if these leaders will follow through on true reforms of the excessively harsh and ineffective laws of the past, the signs of change are encouraging.
Perhaps it is too much to hope for though, that the next common enemy behind which Americans may unite are arrogant politicians who ignore the evidence of failures in order to continue pacifying special interest groups who fund the politicians' re-elections. But one could hope.
Americans have united against British loyalists, French revolutionaries, and ruthless world dominators. We have joined in fighting against alcohol (during prohibition), slavery, communism, and illicit drugs. Even now our nation is united in its war on terrorism. ISIS has become the face of evil that serves as more than a talking point for politicians. ISIS galvanizes the fears of the common public who has little power to do anything to assuage those fears.
Whenever and wherever fear exists so too does the opportunist who capitalizes on those fears. Take, for example, the politicians who seized on the terror of a grieving nation in the wake of the terror attacks on 9/11 to pass an over-reaching law, the so called Patriot Act, which stripped Americans of Constitutionally protected First Amendment rights to privacy.
Despite this grievous violation of the Constitution, political idealogues defended this law by posing an unrealistic scenario: either throw out the Constitution or suffer terror attacks.
Politicians and opportunists have likewise tricked the unwary public into believing that longer prison sentences and tough on crime laws will lower crime rates and keep the public safe. But rather than leading to lower crime rates and safer communities, these measures have only served to fill the war chests of savvy prison profiteers while bankrupting communities and schools who have their budgets cut while prison budgets explode.
Shrewd politicians know that, even in the face of evidence that lengthy prison sentences do not lead to lower crime rates, to appear soft on crime would be political suicide. But the mounting evidence against the failed policies of the last quarter century is beginning to gain the attention of the public and in turn of some courageous leaders.
A few leaders in Michigan have begun to recognize, for example, that a two billion dollar prison budget is not sustainable. As the outraged public begins to hold these politicians accountable for failing schools and crumbling infrastructure, these leaders have been forced to consider the fact that their war on crime has not worked.
While it is too early to tell if these leaders will follow through on true reforms of the excessively harsh and ineffective laws of the past, the signs of change are encouraging.
Perhaps it is too much to hope for though, that the next common enemy behind which Americans may unite are arrogant politicians who ignore the evidence of failures in order to continue pacifying special interest groups who fund the politicians' re-elections. But one could hope.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Skeptics Beware: Change is Coming
Recently as I came back from a visit I overheard a conversation between two officers who were very critical of the new educational focus at the prison where I am housed. The conversation went something like this (some language has been changed to make it suitable for my blog):
Officer #1: "I don't know why the Warden thinks these programs are going to do any good."
Officer #2: "Yeah, these prisoners won't change."
Officer #1: "I am just waiting for one of these guys from the Vocational Village to get his parole and go out and rob, rape, or murder someone so people can see that they are wasting their money educating these prisoners."
I wasn't surprised to hear that these officers held this view, yet it's a sad reality that many officers and prison officials do not believe that criminals can change their thinking and behavior.
Another sad reality is that even with vocational training or higher education, some prisoners will be released and commit more crimes. But as studies have shown, vocational and college education does reduce reoffense rates, even if it doesn't entirely eliminate repeated crimes.
According to a study conducted by the RAND Corporation in 2014*, prisoners who participated in remedial, vocational, and post-secondary education while incarcerated are 43% less likely to reoffend within 3 years. That's a pretty significant reduction in reoffense rates. This reduction means 43% fewer victims of crimes, 43% fewer arrests for law enforcement to make, 43% fewer cases for the courts to handle, and 43% fewer prisoners the law abiding taxpayers must pay to keep locked up.
Perhaps the criticism and skepticism expressed by these officers is driven by a fear of losing their jobs; yet, if you ask the children of prisoners who have their fathers back and the mother who have their sons back, they would say it was worth a few lost jobs. If you were able to ask those who would have been victims of crimes were these prisoners not educated they would thank those who were courageous enough to go against the criticism of the opposition.
I know those of us who are benefiting by this education, and who face a brighter future because of it, are grateful.
Regardless of what statistics may say, some skeptics, like these officers I overheard, will always oppose anything that may improve a prisoner's life, because they don't believe we are valuable enough to invest in. For people who see value in those of us who failed to make the right choices in the past, we prisoners now have a duty to not only stay out of prison, but also to give back to the communities we offended.
* RAND Corporation, "How Effective is Correctional Education, and Where Do We Go From Here?" (2014)
Officer #1: "I don't know why the Warden thinks these programs are going to do any good."
Officer #2: "Yeah, these prisoners won't change."
Officer #1: "I am just waiting for one of these guys from the Vocational Village to get his parole and go out and rob, rape, or murder someone so people can see that they are wasting their money educating these prisoners."
I wasn't surprised to hear that these officers held this view, yet it's a sad reality that many officers and prison officials do not believe that criminals can change their thinking and behavior.
Another sad reality is that even with vocational training or higher education, some prisoners will be released and commit more crimes. But as studies have shown, vocational and college education does reduce reoffense rates, even if it doesn't entirely eliminate repeated crimes.
According to a study conducted by the RAND Corporation in 2014*, prisoners who participated in remedial, vocational, and post-secondary education while incarcerated are 43% less likely to reoffend within 3 years. That's a pretty significant reduction in reoffense rates. This reduction means 43% fewer victims of crimes, 43% fewer arrests for law enforcement to make, 43% fewer cases for the courts to handle, and 43% fewer prisoners the law abiding taxpayers must pay to keep locked up.
Perhaps the criticism and skepticism expressed by these officers is driven by a fear of losing their jobs; yet, if you ask the children of prisoners who have their fathers back and the mother who have their sons back, they would say it was worth a few lost jobs. If you were able to ask those who would have been victims of crimes were these prisoners not educated they would thank those who were courageous enough to go against the criticism of the opposition.
I know those of us who are benefiting by this education, and who face a brighter future because of it, are grateful.
Regardless of what statistics may say, some skeptics, like these officers I overheard, will always oppose anything that may improve a prisoner's life, because they don't believe we are valuable enough to invest in. For people who see value in those of us who failed to make the right choices in the past, we prisoners now have a duty to not only stay out of prison, but also to give back to the communities we offended.
* RAND Corporation, "How Effective is Correctional Education, and Where Do We Go From Here?" (2014)
Comfortably Numb
As I ran the track the other day during yard time I had my radio tuned to classic rock. Pink Floyd's classic song "Comfortably Numb" began playing, and soon I was thinking about the many applications the song had to prisoners. Besides the obvious connection between the song and many prisoners' past drug and alcohol abuse, I thought also about the numbness many prisoners develop in prison after years of repressed emotions.
Prison is intended to provide separation between the offender and the society whose laws he broke. But prison also ends up separating offenders from their family and community connections that provide a sense of belonging and connectedness.
Over time family and friends get busy and drift away. Letters and visits become less frequent, and the prisoner soon acutely feels a sense of being forgotten. Instead of being a part of family decisions, significant family events, and sharing real time in the family's joys and sorrows, the prisoner is informed (if at all) as an afterthought.
To be fair, the prisoner put himself in this position and much of the burden to keep the relationship going lies on the family. It is not a fair situation for anyone.
I have seen prisoners who remain stoic and unmoved, even shrugging and saying things like, "such is life" when a family member dies. I never understood this before, but now I see that shared grief within a community is a part of healthy grief. Prisoners don't have the freedom to participate in collective grief. Funerals, wakes, and gatherings of family and friends provide the community where healthy grief (and joy) takes place.
Prisoners, who are isolated from communal grief and communal joy, repress their emotions hardening themselves to these natural human responses. The very segment of society who needs to develop empathy the most ends up building walls to protect themselves from the pain of unexpressed grief and unshared joy.
Many prisoners feel that expressing these emotions in prison is not safe, that somehow it makes them appear weak. Though this is simply not the case, perception wins and many prisoners harden themselves anyway.
Studies have shown that community and family connections are essential for a prisoner's success on release from prison. So if families and communities want emotionally healthy men to return to them, these connections need to be cultivated and cared for. Some men may resist these connections, but the vast majority of men in prison long for meaningful relationships. We want to share in our families' joy and sorrow and have a part in what makes our family a community. No one wants to become comfortably numb.
Prison is intended to provide separation between the offender and the society whose laws he broke. But prison also ends up separating offenders from their family and community connections that provide a sense of belonging and connectedness.
Over time family and friends get busy and drift away. Letters and visits become less frequent, and the prisoner soon acutely feels a sense of being forgotten. Instead of being a part of family decisions, significant family events, and sharing real time in the family's joys and sorrows, the prisoner is informed (if at all) as an afterthought.
To be fair, the prisoner put himself in this position and much of the burden to keep the relationship going lies on the family. It is not a fair situation for anyone.
I have seen prisoners who remain stoic and unmoved, even shrugging and saying things like, "such is life" when a family member dies. I never understood this before, but now I see that shared grief within a community is a part of healthy grief. Prisoners don't have the freedom to participate in collective grief. Funerals, wakes, and gatherings of family and friends provide the community where healthy grief (and joy) takes place.
Prisoners, who are isolated from communal grief and communal joy, repress their emotions hardening themselves to these natural human responses. The very segment of society who needs to develop empathy the most ends up building walls to protect themselves from the pain of unexpressed grief and unshared joy.
Many prisoners feel that expressing these emotions in prison is not safe, that somehow it makes them appear weak. Though this is simply not the case, perception wins and many prisoners harden themselves anyway.
Studies have shown that community and family connections are essential for a prisoner's success on release from prison. So if families and communities want emotionally healthy men to return to them, these connections need to be cultivated and cared for. Some men may resist these connections, but the vast majority of men in prison long for meaningful relationships. We want to share in our families' joy and sorrow and have a part in what makes our family a community. No one wants to become comfortably numb.
Friday, September 2, 2016
How Fear of a Putdown Damages Relationships
The other day I was walking back from chow with another inmate, and this prisoner used the opportunity to tell me that he felt a mutual friend of ours was very negative and put him down a lot. He then reinforced his grievance by telling me that a whole group of us treated him this way, and he felt like we did not respect him.
I was a little confused that this prisoner, who has a very negative outlook on life himself, would accuse someone else of being negative. But after listening to him I suggested that perhaps he was internalizing and personalizing things that were not meant to be a personal attack. This prisoner immediately assumed a victim role and said, "You're right. It's all my problem. I'm always the problem; it's never anyone else."
While I did suggest that his interpretation of other people's behavior might be inaccurate, my intention was simply to have him consider the power he had in his own response. That suggestion did not go over well.
Since that time I have been trying to figure out how to respond in situations like this. I want to be empathetic towards people and be a safe place for people to go when they need a listening ear. But I don't want to empower or reinforce criminal thinking patterns such as this prisoner's. I also don't want to surround myself with people who can only see life through a negative filter and who refuse to assume responsibility for their own reactions and responses.
In his book The Criminal Personality, renowned criminologist Dr. Stanton Samenow lists one criminal thinking pattern as "fear of a putdown." Samenow states, "The criminal is hypersensitive when it comes to interpreting others' attitudes toward him" (260).
Nobody likes to be put down, but just like my friend who interprets nearly everything other people say as a criticism of him, this excessive fear of a putdown is pervasive through prison. It doesn't always involve actual criticism though. According to Samenow, "For a criminal, a putdown occurs when someone else fails to meet his every desire, bend to his will, [or] fulfill his every expectation' (262).
This sort of attitude leaves the family and friends of such a prisoner in an impossible bind: either coddle this criminal thinking or distance oneself from the prisoner. This fear of a putdown is like a security blanket an insecure prisoner holds onto as a way to shield himself from assuming responsibility for his actual failures. These failures, then, are always someone else's fault.
I don't yet know how my understanding of this prisoner's behavior will change the dynamic of our friendship. It is abundantly clear to me that he does not want another perspective on his interpretation of others' behavior. Yet, I refuse to be a dumping ground for another prisoner's insecurity.
For now, I will continue to hold space for him without sacrificing my truth shared in love. How he responds will simply be his own responsibility.
I was a little confused that this prisoner, who has a very negative outlook on life himself, would accuse someone else of being negative. But after listening to him I suggested that perhaps he was internalizing and personalizing things that were not meant to be a personal attack. This prisoner immediately assumed a victim role and said, "You're right. It's all my problem. I'm always the problem; it's never anyone else."
While I did suggest that his interpretation of other people's behavior might be inaccurate, my intention was simply to have him consider the power he had in his own response. That suggestion did not go over well.
Since that time I have been trying to figure out how to respond in situations like this. I want to be empathetic towards people and be a safe place for people to go when they need a listening ear. But I don't want to empower or reinforce criminal thinking patterns such as this prisoner's. I also don't want to surround myself with people who can only see life through a negative filter and who refuse to assume responsibility for their own reactions and responses.
In his book The Criminal Personality, renowned criminologist Dr. Stanton Samenow lists one criminal thinking pattern as "fear of a putdown." Samenow states, "The criminal is hypersensitive when it comes to interpreting others' attitudes toward him" (260).
Nobody likes to be put down, but just like my friend who interprets nearly everything other people say as a criticism of him, this excessive fear of a putdown is pervasive through prison. It doesn't always involve actual criticism though. According to Samenow, "For a criminal, a putdown occurs when someone else fails to meet his every desire, bend to his will, [or] fulfill his every expectation' (262).
This sort of attitude leaves the family and friends of such a prisoner in an impossible bind: either coddle this criminal thinking or distance oneself from the prisoner. This fear of a putdown is like a security blanket an insecure prisoner holds onto as a way to shield himself from assuming responsibility for his actual failures. These failures, then, are always someone else's fault.
I don't yet know how my understanding of this prisoner's behavior will change the dynamic of our friendship. It is abundantly clear to me that he does not want another perspective on his interpretation of others' behavior. Yet, I refuse to be a dumping ground for another prisoner's insecurity.
For now, I will continue to hold space for him without sacrificing my truth shared in love. How he responds will simply be his own responsibility.
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