New Prison Healthcare Contract Won't Solve Budget Crisis

 I have written recently that Michigan is one of six states offering no form of good time for prisoners, and it is the only state to offer no time off sentences for any reason. This is, in part, because of a state-wide referendum that led to the unfortunate "Truth in Sentencing" law. While the title, Truth in Sentencing, sounds appealing to the general public, it has resulted in Michigan having the longest average sentence in the United States. 

Combined with Michigan's onerous mandatory minimum statutes, Truth in Sentencing ensures that people who commit crimes in Michigan will spend more time in prison than in any other state in the Union. For some of the public, that's justice, despite scientific evidence that longer sentences do not make communities safer. 

Another critical consequence of Michigan's over-incarceration mindset is that Michigan now also holds the distinction as the state with the oldest prison population in the country. Despite having reduced its prison population in recent years, Michigan's prison budget continues to grow. As most people know, healthcare is one of the largest expenses for anyone, and this is true for the Michigan Department of Corrections as well. 

Healthcare is expensive, but it is especially expensive the older one gets. As Michigan's prison population ages, its healthcare costs will continue to rise, and to rise at alarming rates. In an attempt to reduce the costs of healthcare, Michigan has recently changed its health care provider. 

Its new contract with Grand Prairie Healthcare Services aims to save the MDOC 20% on its healthcare costs. As prisoners well know, not much can be trimmed from the department's already bare bones medical care. Since the standard of care is already abysmally low, and denial of care is the norm, it's difficult to understand how a new contract will save any money, let alone 20%. As history demonstrated with the failed privatization experiment for food service, promised savings are rarely realized. 

One area the new company claims they can save the department money is in "medication practices." This wording is code for "denial of necessary medication." I personally have already experienced denial of much needed medication related to allergies. When the medical provider can claim a medication is "non-formulary" and, therefore, they don't need to provide it, a new contract promising to save money on medications does not provide much hope for those needing medication.

Since the department has recently lost over $200 million in judgments, some stemming from denial of or substandard medical care, it's astonishing to me that the department believes it will save any money, let alone 20%, with a new contract. If Michigan REALLY wants to save money on medical costs, it will enact legislation that releases elderly prisoners. Elderly, medically frail or infirm prisoners do not pose a serious risk to society. Keeping them in prison only emphasizes Michigan's determination to carry out retribution to its utmost degree. 

Justice is not served by holding medically frail and infirm prisoners simply because draconian sentencing practices demand they die in prison. Communities are paying on both ends. They suffer the consequences of crime, and then because of Michigan's severe sentencing schemes, they suffer by paying for pointlessly lengthy incarceration. Especially today, communities need funds for schools, road repair, replacing crumbling infrastructure and leaded piping, and investing in job creation. 

The people of Michigan demanded Truth in Sentencing by voting it in through a referendum. If the legislature won't act through a super-majority to overturn this well-intentioned but bad legislation, the people must overturn it themselves. It's time to overturn Truth in Sentencing and to bring Michigan into line with states who believe the science of incarceration. Failing to act will only continue to cost the state millions of unnecessary dollars, regardless of empty promises made through new contracts for services.

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Prison

 Prison is not an ideal setting for giving thanks. Or at least one would think so. Thanksgiving is normally a time when families come together to eat a large turkey meal, and to play board games or watch football. The holiday centers around family, and prisoners are away from their families, their loved ones. The reminder only worsens the sense of isolation and loneliness many of us feel at holiday times. 

Even in prison, though, we have much to be thankful for. No, we don't get a special turkey meal (unless you count turkey loaf, a half cup of "stuffing" and a tablespoon of cranberry sauce as special), and we're surrounded by other prisoners rather than our families. But we do have three meals a day and a warm, if uncomfortable, bed to sleep in each night. That's more than could be said for the hundreds of thousands of refugees, political and otherwise, who have been uprooted from their homes this year. 

We are also surrounded by people who, in some cases, have become closer than family members who choose to remain distant or absent from our lives. Some choose their families from among friends rather than suffer the rejection of their birth families. Often, those friends are also in prison. They share in the same isolating experiences, they understand the same struggles, they eat the same tired out turkey loaf meal the department pretends is a holiday meal. 

I'm grateful to have some family still in my life, and although I cannot celebrate the holiday with them in person, I am very thankful for their presence in my life. I'm also thankful for the opportunity I had in prison to earn a bachelor's degree from Calvin University. I'm thankful to have been able to author a book in prison now published on Amazon.com (Insider's Guide to Prison Life). I'm thankful to have learned to play the guitar. I'm thankful that I have the love and support from some very special friends who make my time in prison easier by their presence in my life. I'm thankful for God's abundant mercy, His provision throughout my time in prison, and for His unfailing grace.

Choosing thankfulness in prison is not always difficult. I can enjoy the splendor of a firey sunrise or sunset, or the blanketing beauty of falling snow inside or outside these fences. I can experience the calming pleasure of listening to classical music while sipping a mocha in the evening. I can make lifelong connections with friends, even within the confines of prison. Although imprisoned, I have the freedom to read, write, and educate myself in ways I would unlikely have time for outside of prison. I'm thankful that I have had the time and space to work on some character issues and thinking problems that needed to be addressed in my life. I'm thankful for the time and opportunity to deepen my relationship with God. 

Thankfulness requires humility, a focus outside of oneself. It requires a putting aside of our demands for our vision of "the good life." When we can refocus, away from all that we wish was different in our lives, which for prisoners means primarily freedom from these confines, we are then free to notice and be thankful for the many blessings we do have. 

Thankfulness is a choice, and it's a choice that cultivates joy, even in the midst of trial. I'd rather feel joyful than be miserable all the time. I choose thankfulness.

Finding Moments of Serene Beauty in Prison

 We had our first snow for the year this week, although the ground is too warm for it to have stuck around (yet). I might be in the minority around here, but I think the snow is beautiful! It's the biting cold wind I don't like in the winter. 

The snow provides a bit of beauty in an environment starved for beauty. I happen to be in a prison that still has a few trees on the inside of the fence, so when the snow blankets the trees and covers the ground, it's serene and beautiful...for a little while. It doesn't take long before the snow is removed from walkways and trampled or driven over by corrections officers crossing the yard. The housing unit small yards are also cleared as prisoners make room for their workout routines. 

Snowball fights are prohibited in prison (it's "horseplay," which will earn you a misconduct ticket), and I've only seen a couple of small, lame attempts at snowmen. I'm sure that's not "cool" for hardened convicts to do. Enjoying winter sports is a non-starter in prison too. There are no slopes or trails to ski, and snow machines are out of the question.

With a plethora of free or slave-wage labor, most of the snow removal in prison occurs by hand. Yep, the old fashioned snow shovel. But the prison where I am currently housed also has snow blowers (which I don't recall seeing at the other three prisons where I've been). Only after a very heavy snow (a foot or more?) does the snow plow come out. Even in these cases though, much of the clean up occurs with snow shovels. It's a workout in itself that some prisoners really enjoy (definitely NOT me!).

When the cold hits and the snow flies, fewer prisoners are out on yard working out, walking the track, or hanging out. During our Covid restrictions, we have limited access to the gym, so it makes maintaining a regular workout routine difficult. But for the diehards who don't let the snow and cold stop them, there's less competition for workout space. 

Personally, I used to hate the winter, but in prison it's easier to put on clothes when you're cold than to get cool when it's hot. Prison housing units don't have air conditioning, so when it's in the 90s and very humid, it's impossible to get comfortable. I still don't like working out in the snow and especially the blowing cold wind, but I try to keep a regular routine nonetheless. For me, it's part of staying healthy--mind, body, and spirit. 

Another part of staying mentally and emotionally healthy is being able to pause and recognize the beauty of a snow-covered landscape. When so starved for beauty, it's essential for prisoners to take a moment to be grateful for that which razor wire fences cannot take away. I am grateful for these rare moments of serene beauty.

Double Standard Reinforces Bad Behavior

 One of the most frustrating aspects of prison, and the justice system in general, is the pervasiveness of double standards. From day one, people who encounter the justice system discover it is not the image of "blind justice" and fairness it is made out to be. 

In the courts, the accused is expected to know the court rules and to follow them precisely, but the court itself often doesn't follow its own rules and procedures. And when their violations are pointed out in appeals, the court rules their infractions "harmless error," even if an error costs a defendant years of his/her life. Additionally, prosecutors are given months to prepare filings and briefs, but defense lawyers and their clients are given days to weeks (especially in appeals). The list of unjust and unfair practices in the courts is long. It's simply not what many Americans think it is. 

And it's not only defendants who are treated unfairly by the courts. Victims are often left in the dark or told (implicitly or explicitly) that their opinions and desires don't count. In essense, the State usurps the offense and makes it a violation against the state. Victims become secondary to the judicial process. 

For offenders, unjust and unfair practices continue in prison. While prisoners are required to follow prison rules, prison administrators and guards often violate their own rules. Prisoners suffer consequences for failing to follow rules. We are held accountable for our behavior, even in prison. But when administrators and guards violate the rules, they "police" themselves, justifying or outright denying their violations, with little to no accountability. The laughable "grievance" process is so broken and useless, it produces no accountability. Yet, prisoners are required by the courts to follow this worthless process before taking a matter to court. What should be resolved in a matter of weeks drags out for months, even years. 

The most frustrating part of the whole system is the blatant double standard that exists. Prisoners are punished for breaking the law, and rightly so, but the courts and prison officials can thumb their nose at the rules, sometimes even breaking the law themselves, without consequence. It reinforces a message the some people (or entire systems) are above the law. It's a grossly unfair double standard. 

What makes matters worse is that some blatant rule violations occur precisely because officials know they can get away with it. They break their own rules to prove their superior position, their position of authority. Prisoners have no authority, so who are we to call for fairness? Who are we to call for justice?

How can society expect prisoners to develop pro-social behaviors--honesty, transparency, fairness, good will--when the people employed to ensure public safety provide such a poor example to follow? It's simply illogical. It's simply one of the many reasons the prison system has such a high failure rate.

Society deserves better for their investment of billions of dollars in "corrections." Society deserves a system that exemplifies justice, honesty, and fairness, not one where its people exploit and abuse their power and reinforce bad behavior through their poor example.

Cultivating Compassion in the Center of Chaos

 I recently heard a story of an Amsterdam obstetrician who trained nurses in the field. He was asked how he teaches prospective nurses to deal with mothers whose babies were still-born or died shortly after birth. He responded, "I tell them that when you go into the room, you need two eyes. With one you have to check the I.V.; with the other, you must cry. I tell them one eye is not enough. You need two eyes."

It's difficult to imagine the struggle it must be to maintain a professional demeanor at the same time one is overcome with compassion for the pain of someone's loss. Yet, nurses (and doctors) must learn to balance their professional duties with feeling their human connection to another's pain. 

I have found it profoundly difficult at times to maintain "two eyes" in prison. Prison is a hotbed of selfishness, and empathy can be dangerous in prison. As a Christian, I've also found it extremely difficult at times to live out my faith while protecting myself from the dangers of prison at the same time. It takes two eyes. 

Compassion, and empathy, are often seen in prison as signs of weakness. It can also signal that you are either in someone else's business or siding with someone who is experiencing or about to experience violence. Standing up for the weak or vulnerable in prison is very, very difficult. It could put one in grave danger.  

But God calls Christians to stand up for the vulnerable. He calls us to be lights in a dark world, and prison is one of the darkest places I've seen. God doesn't just call us to have compassion from afar, to cry in silence because of the pain we feel for someone. He calls us to step into someone's pain to bring the healing grace of God into another's life. That is not always appreciated in prison, and it could make you the target of violence. 

And so, many people who may come to prison with two eyes, after a while, shut one eye. They learn to walk past stabbings and fights in progress as if they see nothing. They learn to see nothing and to say nothing. They learn to hear painful stories of loss, of death, of abandonment and to stuff down their feral cry against the pain. 

Some who close their eye of compassion are able to open it again, able to see clearly again. Others become blind in that eye, learning to shut out the pain of others. 

Prisoners who are involved in restorative justice, on the other hand, practice seeing with the eye of compassion. They learn to see their own crimes from their victims' perspectives, to feel the pain they caused their victims. They learn to develop an eye of compassion for injustice and to become vocal advocates for justice in every form. 

Yes, living in prison still requires an eye of vigilance, an eye practiced at reading the signs of pending violence and danger. But it also requires an eye of compassion, for those whom we have harmed with our crimes, and for those in prison who suffer. One cannot go a single day without seeing suffering in prison, if one trains his eyes to see rightly. 

Seeing with two eyes is painful, yes, but it is also necessary. In a place where suffering among prisoners is ignored at best, someone must bring God's grace and mercy. Someone must offer hope when all feels hopeless. Someone must "weep with those who weep."

It takes someone with two eyes.

[story adapted from Nicholas Wolterstorff's "You Need Two Eyes" commencement address at Calvin College, 5/20/2006]