Forgiveness is Hard, But is it Ever Deserved?

Forgiveness is hard. Shoot, it's hard enough when the offense is personal but no lasting harm has been done. I think it's just human nature to find forgiveness difficult. First, we want the offender to be sorry, but not just sorry. We also want true acceptance of responsibility. Then, if we're honest, we also want the offender to feel a little of the pain we felt--at least until the scales have been balanced a little. Sometimes we also want a little public airing of the harm we experienced and the offender's acknowledgement of guilt in causing that harm. We feel somehow vindicated by the offender's shame. Not in a smug kind of way, necessarily, but in a "just" sort of way--or at least that's what we tell ourselves. Forgiveness is good for one's soul. In fact, if the adage is true, forgiveness isn't even for the offender; it's for the offended, to release him or her from the further harm that comes from unforgiveness eating away at one's soul. But I disagree. Forgiveness does help to free the offended from the destroying effects of bitterness, but forgiveness that also fails to seek the good, the restoration, the healing of the offender, is incomplete. No, forgiveness is not easy. It requires grit, grace, and generosity in levels that we are generally very uncomfortable with. In a recent meeting of our Restorative Justice Club, the discussion of forgiveness was raised, and the painful baring of souls ensued. Many of the men expressed the reality that they have had trouble forgiving themselves for the crimes they committed. One man, clearly tortured by deep regret, declared that he didn't have the right to forgive himself until he was forgiven by his dead victim's family--a scenario he admitted was unlikely. So, in a form of self-inflicted penance, he tortures himself under the belief that he must remain unforgiven and condemned until he meets the family in eternity. As he gave us a glimpse into his tortured soul, I couldn't help but wonder if the family hadn't already forgiven him, yet for their own healing, not for his. Perhaps he doesn't deserve their forgiveness for his own healing--after all, who actually deserves forgiveness? No amount of prison time, or other form of punishment, will ever bring a life back. As a matter of fact, how can anyone quantify the necessary amount of time or punishment one must endure to make up for a harm done to another person? It seems to me that minor infractions may be easy to quantify, but the big ones? Those scales can never be balanced. Even a lifetime of doing good can never undo some harms. That's why forgiveness, and even the chance at redemption--including a chance at freedom--is purely an act of grace. Some people will believe that those who commit the biggest crimes, who cause the greatest harms don't deserve that grace, and they are right. But grace, by definition, is not deserved. It is really hard to forgive others when they harm us, but when you've done terrible things, and come to understand the gravity of the pain you've caused, it's almost impossible to forgive yourself. Even the thought of forgiving oneself is weighed down by the guilt that by doing so it might seem like minimizing the impact of one's crime. How can one balance taking full responsibility and forgiving oneself? I would argue that forgiving oneself brings freedom to make the biggest gains in taking full responsibility, for this new freedom allows one to begin seeking to heal others. That's why extending forgiveness to the offender, for his own sake, is such an important part of forgiveness--and that includes forgiving oneself. It is not always possible to directly address the harms one caused one's own victim, but by becoming a healer rather than a destroyer, the power of forgiveness begins to work its way out through the offender's life. This may or may not result in a restored relationship between offender and victim (or victim's family), but by choosing forgiveness that also seeks the good of the offender, restoring broken relationships becomes possible. That's the greatest, and most gracious power of forgiveness.

Insanity, Meet the Insane--Enter the "Goon Squad"

This past week I had to sit for several hours in prison medical services because of a strained wrist (a softball injury), simply so I could have permission to wear an ace bandage. Without a "medical detail" to wear an ace bandage, which I could have easily applied myself, the corrections officers are liable to take the wrap from me, regardless of my injury. While I'm not particularly excited about having to wait nearly two hours to see a nurse for five minutes, I understand that this is not a phenomenon exclusive to prison. Most walk-in clinics also have long wait times. However, what is exclusive to prison is watching both medical staff and corrections officers preparing for an "extraction" in the temporary segregation hallway next to medical. 

Apparently, a prisoner, who has been locked up for over thirty years, decided he didn't want to keep "doing time." As a result, he refused to come out of his cell, even to shower, and he required an intervention. This prisoner, who also has a fairly severe mental illness, refused to follow officer orders, so they decided to extract him forcefully from his cell. As the officers walked back and forth past medical's waiting room, those of us waiting observed officers and medical staff alike gleefully commenting on the use of pepper spray and combat gear to extract a mentally ill, elderly prisoner from his cell. 

I understand the complexity and difficulty of this situation, and I applaud any officer who is able to show any empathy and understanding, while still enforcing the rules. But what I can't understand is the clear disregard for this man's mental illness and severe depressive state. Rather than forcing an extraction using a highly irritating spray and full tactical gear, perhaps another less excessive method could have been used. I'm no expert when it comes to dealing with mentally ill people, and undoubtedly some responses may appear inhumane at times. However, from the viewpoint of another (healthy-minded) prisoner who, like other prisoners, feels the daily dehumanization of how we are sometimes treated, I have to imagine that there is a better way to humanely deal with these difficult scenarios. 

Prison is dehumanizing to everyone involved. It is dehumanizing to prisoners who experience abuses of power from some officers and staff and live in an oppressive environment; it is dehumanizing to officers and staff who experience the daily disrespect of prisoners and who work in an oppressive environment; and I imagine it is also dehumanizing to medical staff who often see prisoners who they are not allowed to give proper medical help to because of demands for profit increasing cuts to care. It is also frustrating to see abuses of power and dehumanizing treatment and yet be powerless to do anything about it.

I'm grateful that, despite the wait, my own experience in medical services was good this time. My condition didn't require a medical visit as I could have wrapped my own wrist, but if sitting for several hours to get a piece of paper giving me permission to have a wrap on my arm is the worst I experienced that day, I guess I can deal with it. It's better than being pepper sprayed and forcefully extracted by the "good squad" to take a shower.

One Down, Thousands to Go

On May 30, 2018, Alice Johnson was released from federal prison after serving over twenty years for drug trafficking charges. It took a clemency order from President Donald Trump, after months-long advocacy by pseudo-celebrity Kim Kardashian West, to end Ms Johnson's sentence of life in prison--a sentence imposed for a serious, but non-fatal crime. Now, this grandmother is back home with her family where she belongs, working to rebuild her life after only recently seeing nothing but concrete walls and steel razor wire in the rest of her future.

Drug trafficking and other drug related crimes are serious. People who contribute to the drug epidemic that has a strangle-hold on our nation ought to be held responsible for the crimes they commit. Those that are committed to wreaking havoc on their communities by perpetuating addictions that lead to other crimes need to be held accountable. But, as has clearly been shown by nearly a half-century of failed "war on drugs" policies, what America has been doing to address the problem has not worked. Instead, hundreds of thousands of families are torn apart when drug dealers and traffickers are imprisoned with long sentences (sometimes even for life), worsening deeply rooted systemic inequalities that lead many young people, and sometimes older people, to choose the only thing they know--the drug game the streets have taught them.

Most people who deal drugs do so because they choose to. However, we often fail to recognize that many who make that choice have very few options from which to choose. Drug trafficking and sales, while not exclusive to urban areas, is largely centralized in areas of abject poverty, high unemployment and school dropout rates, and high parental incarceration rates. When the parents of children, especially in these urban areas, are incarcerated, it vastly increases the likelihood that the children will follow in their footsteps. Yet, the criminal justice system has failed to address the destruction their own war on drugs policies have inflicted on generations of poor Americans.

Some recent changes have begun to address the overly harsh sentences many drug related crimes have earned over the years, especially within the federal criminal justice system. Even some changes to Michigan laws have reduced mandatory sentences for some drug crimes, but it is not enough. While I'm pleased that Ms. Johnson was granted a Presidential clemency, nearly every other prisoner in a similar situation as her, some having served far more time, lack a celebrity advocate who has the President's ear. One Michigan prisoner I know, Rafael DeJesus, was sentenced to serve consecutive sentences that totaled a minimum of 60 years for non-violent drug related charges. Although law changes have made him eligible for parole after 30 years, he's served over 26 so far, I'm left questioning why he was ever sentenced to anywhere near that time. Having read documents from his case, it is clear to me that keeping DeJesus in prison for 30 years is a colossal waste of taxpayer dollars. Nevertheless, despite the tireless advocacy of his only remaining living immediate family member (his sister), DeJesus continues to be held by a system bent on solving America's drug problem with a failed tough-on-crime approach.

We cannot simply stop holding drug offenders accountable for their crimes, but lengthy sentences do not increase rehabilitation; they only lead to broken families, and generational poverty, unemployment, and illiteracy, not to mention a criminal waste of taxpayer dollars. It is time for a generation of fresh, insightful, and courageous political leaders to rise up and reform our criminal justice system that has, itself, become criminal and unjust.

(If you'd like to find out more about DeJesus' situation, go to www.FreeRafaelDeJesus.com)

A Culture of Conspiracy in Prison

"I swear, they turn the water temperature down in the winter and up in the summer! They know exactly what they are doing, and they do it deliberately to mess with us, to keep us off-balance."

I nodded my head in agreement as the other prisoner continued his rant in the shower. The water was awfully hot, almost too hot to stand in, which is a problem we didn't have during the winter months. As if punctuating my own thoughts, a large drop of condensation fell from the ceiling and landed on my head. Reflexively, I looked up in disgust through the thick steam at the drops pooling across the ceiling. Whatever dirt and grime had accumulated on the ceiling of the YMCA-style shower room had just splashed on my head--I forced the thought from my mind before it turned my stomach. Hurriedly, I rinsed off, dried off, and got dressed so I could leave what had turned into a sauna with the exhaust fans not working properly. Longing for showers with adjustable temperatures, I silently grumbled that I was sweatier now than I was before I even entered the shower. As I left the shower room, I glanced up and noticed the black mold growing on the ceiling outside where the steam had escaped the room. Oh great! I thought, that's probably just what they want--for us to get sick from this black mold now.

Back in my room, and sitting in front of my small six-inch fan to cool off, I reflected back on the shower conversation and my thoughts that followed. It occurred to me that another, more likely explanation existed for the temperature disparity between winter and summer shower temperatures. Later, I confirmed that my thoughts were right. The warmer ground temperatures failed to cool the water coming into the building at the same rate it did in the winter months. 

This series of events and the conclusions I myself formed concerning them caused me to reflect on the pervasive culture of conspiracy in prison. It is certainly true that, at times, corrections officers and prison administrators behave in ways that are antagonistic towards prisoners. A prime example is the frequency with which officers in the control center at the facility where I am housed either intentionally stop a movie right in the middle or fail to start it at all. (The Prisoner Benefit Fund--funded by prisoners--pays for Warden-approved movies at this facility.) This issue has repeatedly been addressed by prisoner representatives in their monthly meetings with the Warden, but the officers' behavior continues. But many prisoners, myself included at times, have a tendency to generalize specific conduct. Not all officers are antagonistic towards prisoners, and events are often simply coincidental. We even tend to personalize perceived slights among each other. 

For example, if I had a dollar for every time I have heard another prisoner remark that the chow hall server gave him the "white portion" (a racial expression meaning a black inmate intentionally served a white inmate a smaller portion), I'd be rich man. The sad fact is that this really happens, by both white and black prisoners. However, the vast majority of the time, perceived (or real) small servings are completely random occurrences with no hidden or personal agendas. I suspect that the same is true for most of the times we prisoners feel like "they" are out to get us. 

And anyway, who is "they"? It's so much easier to cultivate a culture of conspiracy if we can get away with failing to name the conspirator. I suspect that if we tried, our conspiracies would unravel, and we'd be left with nothing but a sense that perhaps life is just not always how we would like it to be--and rather than someone being out to get us, we ourselves would be responsible for how we respond to life's difficulties.