Often, people ask me if Correctional institutions correct inmates' propensity to commit further illegal behaviors upon their release from lockup.
"No," I answer.
"Isn't that the job of correctional institutions—to correct?" they ask.
"Some social engineer came up with that term. I didn't, but tell me, can I change you?" I ask.
"Uh." Followed by more uh's.
"The only person I can change is me," I continue. "And the only person who can change you is you. I believe that to be factual, not fanciful or theoretical."
Let's look at incarceration's history briefly. In the really olden days, folks who violated society's laws were either stoned to death or banned from that society. If they tried to re-enter that society, they were killed, usually, stoned to death. End of story.
In the 19th century, states built penitentiaries, bleak and staid institutions surrounded by a tall rectangle, built of wood or stone or brick or concrete, four times higher than the average man's height, armed guard towers built atop, enclosing interior acreage where housing and work stations were erected for men and women convicted of committing felonies. Buildings with barred windows housed the wrongdoers in multiple cages, or cells, the violators' homes for a set period of time as required by statute. If they did the time with good behavior, that is, if they did not continually break penitentiary rules, they could be released earlier.
The administration of those institutions followed the Quaker philosophy, believing that sinful folks had to be cut off from normal society, needing time and solitude in order to reflect on past misdeeds. Invariably, silence and Bible study would inevitably enable them to seek God's blessings and guidance, consequently changing their ways. Even at Waupun in its early history, although never called a penitentiary, the silent system was enforced. Men could only talk during Sunday Bible study, the subject limited to salvation.
Thus, these law-breaking sinners needed time away from other people, heeding the word of God. Using prayerful meditation, scoundrels were expected to become penitent, contrite, remorseful, and even apologetic. At least, that was the theory.
So, what supplanted that system? Busting large boulders into grains of sand might do the trick. At least, that's what prison experts of the era believed. Being frugal, legislators and governors used the same buildings enclosed by that same rectangular, high wall but added "hard labor" to the statutes. Hard, tedious work would convert criminals into law abiders. Yet, more than seventy-five per cent of the criminals did not change their ways but returned to a life of crime after they were released. Eventually nabbed by the arm of the law, they were sent back to prison. Thus, the word "recidivism" was added to social science textbooks.
Social engineers from those same universities in mid-twentieth century concluded the Bible nor God nor hard labor in a closed society of molesters, rapists, murderers, robbers, and burglars, resulted in changing criminals' minds but instead caused their being released from those institutions in worse shape than they were originally. Angrier, many former inmates became even more violent in their subsequent illegal acts. Thus, social science professors concluded prisons and penitentiaries were actually graduate schools for criminals. Their theory went like this: After spending time in boys' schools, pre-teen lawbreakers would further break laws and be sent off to reformatories for teenage offenders. After they became adults and were convicted of felonious acts, prisons became their graduate schools where young criminals learned the art of criminal proficiency from old time convicts.
So, what was the 1960’s answer to rectify this dilemma? Call prisons and penitentiaries correctional institutions. (Yes, retain the original buildings but build some newer, nicer lockups, as well). Add rehabilitation, recuperation, therapy, analysis, restoration, and that great term, "reintegration into society" to social science's lexicon. Take away bars and use thick glass instead. Call it the medical model. Into the correctional institutions marched social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists. They'd save the day by changing criminals' past behaviors by offering individual counseling, group therapy, and also by prescribing psychoactive medication.
So, how has this model worked?
Nearly a half century ago, Waupun's Warden Elmer Cady said, "Prisons are monuments to man's ignorance of human behavior." That was the definitive statement in the 1960's concerning the psychological model of our present day correctional institutions: Blame us law abiders our ignorance as to why some people end up in lockups. Cady's statement didn't make much sense to me then. It makes less sense to me now.
As individuals, we have choices to make. We can choose to abide by society's laws, or not.
However, if one listens to today's social science and corrections’ "experts," they're telling us it's more complex than that. Criminality is the result of poverty or being a member of a minority class or being sexually abused as children, among many other reasons. Why is it, then, that the majority of poor people or members of a minority class or formerly sexually abused children never commit felonies?
Flip Wilson, a favorite comedian of mine back in the day, used to say, "The devil made me do it." Everyone laughed. Nowadays, I think it would be healthy if everyone loudly guffawed whenever an expert states, "Something or other forced this human to perform a criminal act." As for me, I will tell you the criminal act was his or her choice. Not mine. Not yours.
I still believe when a criminal reaches his or her mid-thirties, he or she finally considers his or her mortality—and no criminal I've ever met—and I've met plenty—wants to die while incarcerated. That's when many lawbreakers decide to change their behaviors to align with society's expectations, and not until then.
"No," I answer.
"Isn't that the job of correctional institutions—to correct?" they ask.
"Some social engineer came up with that term. I didn't, but tell me, can I change you?" I ask.
"Uh." Followed by more uh's.
"The only person I can change is me," I continue. "And the only person who can change you is you. I believe that to be factual, not fanciful or theoretical."
Let's look at incarceration's history briefly. In the really olden days, folks who violated society's laws were either stoned to death or banned from that society. If they tried to re-enter that society, they were killed, usually, stoned to death. End of story.
In the 19th century, states built penitentiaries, bleak and staid institutions surrounded by a tall rectangle, built of wood or stone or brick or concrete, four times higher than the average man's height, armed guard towers built atop, enclosing interior acreage where housing and work stations were erected for men and women convicted of committing felonies. Buildings with barred windows housed the wrongdoers in multiple cages, or cells, the violators' homes for a set period of time as required by statute. If they did the time with good behavior, that is, if they did not continually break penitentiary rules, they could be released earlier.
The administration of those institutions followed the Quaker philosophy, believing that sinful folks had to be cut off from normal society, needing time and solitude in order to reflect on past misdeeds. Invariably, silence and Bible study would inevitably enable them to seek God's blessings and guidance, consequently changing their ways. Even at Waupun in its early history, although never called a penitentiary, the silent system was enforced. Men could only talk during Sunday Bible study, the subject limited to salvation.
Thus, these law-breaking sinners needed time away from other people, heeding the word of God. Using prayerful meditation, scoundrels were expected to become penitent, contrite, remorseful, and even apologetic. At least, that was the theory.
So, what supplanted that system? Busting large boulders into grains of sand might do the trick. At least, that's what prison experts of the era believed. Being frugal, legislators and governors used the same buildings enclosed by that same rectangular, high wall but added "hard labor" to the statutes. Hard, tedious work would convert criminals into law abiders. Yet, more than seventy-five per cent of the criminals did not change their ways but returned to a life of crime after they were released. Eventually nabbed by the arm of the law, they were sent back to prison. Thus, the word "recidivism" was added to social science textbooks.
Social engineers from those same universities in mid-twentieth century concluded the Bible nor God nor hard labor in a closed society of molesters, rapists, murderers, robbers, and burglars, resulted in changing criminals' minds but instead caused their being released from those institutions in worse shape than they were originally. Angrier, many former inmates became even more violent in their subsequent illegal acts. Thus, social science professors concluded prisons and penitentiaries were actually graduate schools for criminals. Their theory went like this: After spending time in boys' schools, pre-teen lawbreakers would further break laws and be sent off to reformatories for teenage offenders. After they became adults and were convicted of felonious acts, prisons became their graduate schools where young criminals learned the art of criminal proficiency from old time convicts.
So, what was the 1960’s answer to rectify this dilemma? Call prisons and penitentiaries correctional institutions. (Yes, retain the original buildings but build some newer, nicer lockups, as well). Add rehabilitation, recuperation, therapy, analysis, restoration, and that great term, "reintegration into society" to social science's lexicon. Take away bars and use thick glass instead. Call it the medical model. Into the correctional institutions marched social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists. They'd save the day by changing criminals' past behaviors by offering individual counseling, group therapy, and also by prescribing psychoactive medication.
So, how has this model worked?
Nearly a half century ago, Waupun's Warden Elmer Cady said, "Prisons are monuments to man's ignorance of human behavior." That was the definitive statement in the 1960's concerning the psychological model of our present day correctional institutions: Blame us law abiders our ignorance as to why some people end up in lockups. Cady's statement didn't make much sense to me then. It makes less sense to me now.
As individuals, we have choices to make. We can choose to abide by society's laws, or not.
However, if one listens to today's social science and corrections’ "experts," they're telling us it's more complex than that. Criminality is the result of poverty or being a member of a minority class or being sexually abused as children, among many other reasons. Why is it, then, that the majority of poor people or members of a minority class or formerly sexually abused children never commit felonies?
Flip Wilson, a favorite comedian of mine back in the day, used to say, "The devil made me do it." Everyone laughed. Nowadays, I think it would be healthy if everyone loudly guffawed whenever an expert states, "Something or other forced this human to perform a criminal act." As for me, I will tell you the criminal act was his or her choice. Not mine. Not yours.
I still believe when a criminal reaches his or her mid-thirties, he or she finally considers his or her mortality—and no criminal I've ever met—and I've met plenty—wants to die while incarcerated. That's when many lawbreakers decide to change their behaviors to align with society's expectations, and not until then.