Rewarding Positive Behavior Promotes Reform in Prisoners

We have heard it from childhood: If you do the right thing, you are rewarded. If you do the wrong thing, you are punished. We are further socialized in this thinking when we earn college scholarships for good grades, lower insurance rates for good driving, and higher wages for good work, to name a few examples. We also receive failing grades when we don't study, get tickets for speeding, and lose jobs for poor performance. 

Most people appreciate positive reinforcement and try to avoid punishments. If we make poor choices, well, we pick ourselves up and work hard for the positive reinforcement again. Few people would argue against this system--reward good behavior with positive things, and deter bad behavior with negative things. 

Prison is a negative thing meant to deter bad behavior. People who end up in prison are here because we did something that the law required to be punished. Prison itself is the punishment, but ought that punishment continue within prison? Shouldn't prison be used as a place of reform by encouraging good behavior using positive reinforcement and discouraging bad behavior with punishments? Unfortunately, people who come to prison continue to be punished for their crime once they are here, and positive reinforcement is scantily used. 

Take, for example, my friend who received five days' loss of privilege (LOP) for having a single tomato on his windowsill last summer. This was a very minor infraction that required nothing more than corrective instruction, or if he refused to correct the behavior, something more; however, he received nearly the maximum allowable punishment for the least severe class of misconduct--after going ticket-free for five years. This gross disparity for a minor infraction is a classic example of corrections staff using large "sticks" for correction--it's an abuse of power. These same staff members also complain or antagonize prisoners when they receive positive reinforcement, such as being allowed to take part in college programs or vocational training, two excellent examples of positive reinforcement for prisoners who have shown they can follow the rules. 

Prison as a punishment for crime ought to be used as a deterrent. But behavior is best changed through the use of positive reinforcement. This includes positive reinforcement within prison--praise, extra privileges, and looser restrictions, for example. The strongest incentive Michigan's prisoners had to behave well was eliminated by referrendum when good time was abolished and by legislative action when disciplinary credits were done away with. 

If prison is to be more than simply punishment, if it is to be a place of rehabilitation as well, Michigan must (re)introduce more positive reinforcements for positive behavior changes. Bringing back PELL grants (even provisionally) is a good start, but Michigan can do more to reduce its corrections budget by bringing back good time and disciplinary credits. Studies have shown that longer prison terms do nothing to lower re-offense rates, and those who show positive changes in their behavior should have that transformation reinforced with reductions in prison sentences. 

Let's keep deterring crime, but let's also reinforce positive changes prisoners make to become productive, contributing members of a free society. 

For more information about a current package of bills in the Michigan House of Representatives to reinstate good time credits, contact your state representative and ask about House Bills 5665, 5666, and 5667. You may also search these bills at www.legislature.mi.gov

Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave!

Perhaps you have heard the colloquialism, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when at first we practice to deceive." It may be a pithy saying, but it has teeth in prison.. Some prison relationships are built on deception, and it is these deceptive and harmful relationships that cause many prisoners to fear running into someone later in their prison "bit." You should not be surprised to hear that, often, many prisoners have long histories of manipulation, deception, and weaving webs of lies. For many prisoners, lying was a way of life before prison, so why should it be any different upon coming to prison? Some prisoners continue to weave webs of lies by misrepresenting who they were before prison. I have heard many men claim to have been drug kingpins, or drug lords, moving massive quantities of drugs. Others claim to have money stacked high outside of prison, but they have to borrow a noodle or bum a shot of coffee from someone else. When I first came to prison, I had someone tell me that he went to school with my former father-in-law, that he grew up in the same neighborhood and visited his house often. His lies fell apart when he claimed to have gone bowling in my father-in-law's basement--which was impossible. Later, I heard him claim he had a gold-plated helicopter and had bought his niece an eighty thousand dollar "Benz" while he was in prison. These webs of lies served no purpose, other than to make himself out to be someone he was not. They were his attempts to be someone, to stand out. Some prisoners weave webs of lies about their crimes, some because they want to be seen as important, and others because they fear others finding out why they are in prison. While it is normally taboo to ask another prisoner why he is in prison, some prisoners have their family look up other prisoners, and the rumor mill spreads the information. It's hard to keep these webs of lies intact. It's far better to be authentic, even when it's ugly, and to show remorse for one's bad behavior. Prisoners that choose to lie about their crimes often find it catches up to them. Other prisoners weave webs of lies by borrowing commissary items or running up gambling debts and promising to pay the debt back with interest when they know they cannot. Then, when the payment is due, the prisoner locks up, telling the officers he feels threatened. He leaves debts and angry debtors behind, hoping against hope that he'll never run into them again. The problem is, even in Michigan with some thirty prisons and nearly 40,000 prisoners, it's surprisingly easy to run into people you've known from other prisons. These lock-up artists, as they are called, can't hide forever, so they end up in a cycle of locking up to avoid repercussions for their lies. Running into someone you've known at other prisons doesn't have to be a matter of fear though. I have been housed in four different prisons, and at each of the last three I've run into men I knew at another prison (at the first I ran into men I met in jail). Sometimes it is a tentative, "Weren't you at such and such a prison?" Other times, it is a person whom I have a friendship with, and it's a happy reunion. Such was the case this week when the newest cohort of the Calvin Prison Initiative arrived at Handlon Correctional Facility. Of the twenty new students, I knew three from previous prisons and was happy to see them. The same week, someone whom I didn't remember recognized me from seven years before at a previous prison. (He only knew me in passing.) I have nothing to fear in these reunions, for they are webs of friendship and positive relationships, not connections obscured by webs of lies.

Separating Children from Their Parents is Not a New Phenomenon

Recently, news stories have dominated the media regarding the tragic separation of children from their parents who entered the United States illegally. I would guess that most people, regardless of political affiliation, find these stories heartbreaking and feel deep compassion for the children, at the very least. Some might contend that the parents broke the law by entering the U.S. illegally and, therefore, must be held accountable. Others, many of whom would not disagree with holding lawbreakers accountable, argue that separating immigrant children (even illegal ones) from their parents is heartless. I find the subject complex, but I am moved with compassion for the children who are most affected and yet who have no culpability in their parents' decision to migrate illegally. I also can't help but think of the parallel stories that have existed in this country for several decades without any media outcry against the practice. Ever since the prison industrial complex has taken off in the U.S., it has led to more than 2.4 million incarcerated people in this country alone (25% of the world's incarcerated population in a country with only 5% of the world's population). The population of incarcerated women in the U.S., by itself, has skyrocketed by more than 700% in the last three decades. This has left more than 2 million children without at least one parent due to incarceration. Half of these children are under ten years old, and more than a third will become adults while their parent is in prison. Among minority groups, the statistics are much worse. For example, one in fifteen black children have an incarcerated parent compared to one out of one hundred eleven white children. The consequences for children of incarcerated parents are numerous, including increased school dropout rates, more adverse home conditions (and risks), increased poverty and obesity rates (and all the health consequences to go with it), lower college graduation rates (by half!), and a greatly increased risk of incarceration themselves, to name a few. Parents of both genders are being imprisoned further and further from their homes, leading to fewer contact opportunities with their children, and prison visiting rooms are not designed to cultivate parent-child relationships. Additionally, many incarcerated fathers have no contact with their children, even if they want to and they still have parental rights, because these rights are rarely enforced for prisoners. Whether or not an incarcerated father can remain in his children's lives depends on the whims of the children's mother or guardian. Increasingly, both the mother and father of many children are incarcerated, leaving those children vulnerable to the often corrupt and dangerous foster care system. This problem is not new, but it has not grabbed the media attention that has been focused on the recent tragedy of children separated from their parents at the border. These are both disastrous problems that need to be urgently addressed; it requires courage, creativity, and compassion to find solutions that keep the public safe while reducing the many risks and consequences the children of incarcerated parents face. When children are involved in their parents' lives, even parents who have made choices terrible enough to land them in prison, they are able to be known and cared for by their parents. Even a parent who is unable to meet a child's physical needs can provide emotional support and love that children need to thrive. It's time to rethink how we punish crime in America. It's time to start using solutions that focus on healing and restoring victims of crime, including unintended victims like the many children who are forcibly kept apart from their parents in prison.

Learning How to Relax in a Muddle of Noise

"Ticket-free field house!" the unit officer called out over the loudspeaker. I stepped into the hallway, joining the crowd streaming from the dayroom and bathroom where they had congregated, anticipating the call. We merged into a tentatively shuffling herd of people, bottle-necked as we exited the building, but bursting into an exaggerated speed-walk (running isn't allowed on the walks) as we emerged from the building, heading towards our one-hour gym time right after eating chow. I joined up with my yoga partners on the walk, but pulled ahead so I could grab the few mats available before other (hardened, criminal!) yogis grabbed them. We carefully laid out our four mats next to the benches against the wall, and after wiping them down with disinfectant, we removed our shoes and stood toward the front of the mats in "Mountain pose." Meanwhile, small groups of other prisoners claimed their small spaces in the gym to do their calisthenics and other workouts, all trying to expend some pent-up energy and stay in shape. A basketball game also formed, and teams clad in state-issued orange shorts and t-shirts were quickly chosen. Each of our exercise groups operated independently, but the crowded gym made it almost feel like a carefully orchestrated school of fish zig-zagging through the ocean. At first, it looks like chaos, but if you pay close attention, you can see the underlying symphony of movement. I carefully concentrated as I held my mountain pose, part of me searching for the inner Zen characteristic in a yoga routine. Walkers strutted past me, just a foot or two from my tranquil pose, and a few runners risked dodging in, out, and around the walkers in the five-foot strip of space between our exercise groups and the full-court basketball game. "Warrior One," our self-appointed yoga leader said, trying to maintain a Zen voice in the din of noise flooding the gym. Although I am right next to him, I can barely hear what he is saying, so I watch his moves and mimic them--I'm familiar with the routines by now. We move gracefully (or not, depending on experience) through the moves until we end up in my favorite, and very relaxing position, Child's pose. As I lay my forehead on the mat, my arms outstretched in front of me (hopefully nobody steps on my fingers) and my rear end sitting on my heels, I am drawn into the world of sound around me. "Flip, flip, flip," goes the quick sound of a jump rope on my right. "Phwap, phwap, phwap," a louder weighted jump rope calls out on my left, authoritatively striking the wooden floor with each revolution. The solid, less-rhythmic beat of the basketball thumps ten feet from my resting head as the team moves across the court towards the basket--"thump...thump, thump." As the sound of the bouncing basketball shuttles by my head, it is accompanied by the pounding of feet and the "squeakity, squeakity, squeak" of tennis shoes lunging and stopping, twisting and turning with each play. "AHHHHHHHH!" a player shouts, the sound echoing from wall to wall as he celebrates his basket, loudly pounding his chest in a display of primal pride. We've moved into Tree pose now, and with my back to the room I concentrate on a spot on the wall, tuning out the sounds around me, but remaining vigilant at the same time for the sounds of danger heading in my direction. At other prisons I might worry about rogue fights, stabbings, or other violence--I'd never put my head on a mat just feet from such raucous activity--but here, I'm able to relax enough to at least hold the poses, even if I can't quite relax while I'm doing so. We move through several more poses, stretching and holding each, long ago giving up trying to hear the quiet instructions given by our leader. I see him moving into Shavasana ("Dead Man's pose), and I sit up, putting my shoes and and socks back on--I'm on guard duty from stray basketballs and players who chase them while the other yogis stretch out in a final attempt at ending our yoga session in a relaxing, healing pose. It's not perfect, but it's another successful session of yoga in prison.