#prisoner community

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

Internalized Repression “Predictably, where increasing politicization combines with increased institutional repression, the situation has taken a violent turn. The 'contemporary prison' (Irwin, 1980) of the 1970s in the U.S. degenerated into a racial-ethnic battleground with inmate cliques and gangs organized apolitically for the purposes of defense and attack. This new mentality erupted in Canada with the bloody escape attempt and hostage-taking at Archambault Institution, Quebec, in 1982, where the number of long-term prisoners and inmates subject to special security precautions had been steadily increasing (Amnesty International, 1983). But while serious prison disturbances continue to occur, the political consciousness of prison inmates in both the U.S. and Canada has plainly eroded. As in the 1950s Big House era, inmates, especially in the context of increasing inter-personal violence, are simply trying to survive. It is unsurprising, therefore, that prisoners are distancing themselves from the contradictions and futility of their situation. For many, a fatalistic attitude prevails which blurs any meaningful distinction between those condemned to live inside prison walls and those who believe themselves to be beyond the shadow of the penitentiary. As one inmate stated in deprecating the goal of 'freedom' (expressed by Matsqui Institution inmates at the Matsqui Educational Institute, January 24, 1985):

What we have in here is our future. Soon they'll have as intensive a surveillance out there as they do in here. We'll all be in this situation soon. This place is just a 'testing ground' for the surveillance devices that will be used outside, everywhere.

In this Orwellian void, prisoners content themselves with meagre hedonistic pleasures, preferring institutional 'privileges' to vain protest. The logic of repression is internalized precisely because it is pervasive and inescapable. Conversely, the attempts by correctional staff to obstruct politicization are not understood by themselves as a calculated conspiracy, but as earnest attempts to re-integrate the offender into the larger 'social order'. The problems facing people are the same on the outside as on the inside;i.e., everyone could either see himself as behind the societal eight ball or can decide to pick himself up by the bootstraps.

And should prisoners fail to make the required adjustment, "common-sense' logic dictates an ironically smug explanation - - "Why expect prisoners to become social in the prison when they haven't been social outside it?" But it is not only prisoners and their keepers who have embraced resignation in the wake of stifled revolt. Radical criminologists, too, have lowered their sights, confessing to a romantic overestimation of the revolutionary potential of the prisoner movement. Staunch 'liberal' criminologists, while granting the reality of massive social injustices, argue the need to persist in the struggle for reforms that would mitigate the specific injustices of the correctional system. A newer breed of sociologists question the very possibility of change, citing the ubiquity of power as evidence of the haplessness of revolt. Amidst this intellectual default, criminologists are drawn deeper into the vortex of state control, fashioning theoretically specious analyses  which lay to rest the faded rhetoric of prisoner protest in the 1980s”

- R.S. Ratner, University of British Columbia, and Barry Cartwright, “Politicized Prisoners: From Class Warriors to Faded Rhetoric.” The Journal of Human Justice, Vol 2, No. 1, Autumn, 1990. p. 86-87.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Two versions of the shift from centralized, authoritarian control of prisons, by staff and prisoners, to a more diffuse pattern of interaction, can be discerned. First, Stastny and Tyrnauer's case study of Walla Walla describes the replacement of the extreme rigidity of the former authoritarian pattern of staff-inmate relations by a pluralism of staff and prisoner groupings, many of the latter autonomous, such as ethnic clubs, status clubs, community and self-help groups, religious or semi-religious organizations and special interest clubs, reflecting a more open and interactive prison environment (Stastny and Tyrnauer, 1982, p. 157). They argue that Korn and McCorkle were mistaken to imply that handing over power to prisoners would simply generate 'patterns of internal group coercion more punitive, more rigid, and incomparably more discriminatory' (Korn and McCorkle, 1959, p. 525). On the contrary, they adopt Irwin's opinion that the view of prisons as run by corrupt oligarchies of staff and prisoners is unrealistic. Most prisoners 'bring their "pre-prison orientations" with them and are resistant to prisonization' (Stastny and Tyrnauer, 1982, p. 157).” - Robert Adams, Prison Riots in Britain and the United States. Second Edition. Consultant Editor: Jo Campling. London: MacMillan, 1994. p. 90.

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“The sprawling facility which Warden Barry Mintzes inherited in 1980 occupied 57 acres "inside the walls" and an additional 4,000 acres in the Trusty Division outside the walls. The State Prison of South Michigan (SPSM) was divided into a maximum-security Central Complex (3,100 inmates), a medium-security Northside Complex (1,000 inmates), and a minimum security Trusty Division (1,500 inmates). Barriers prevented inmates from passing freely from one complex to the next. In the construction of Northside, two cell blocks which had been part of the Central Complex and which were physically attached to Central's Block 3 had their south entrances sealed off and new entrances opened onto Northside's yard. A gate linking the Central and Northside complexes was known as the "hole in the wall." This was used by Northside residents to go to work at the centrally located prison industries. The Central Complex was further divided into a "North Yard" (blocks 3, 4, and 5) and a "South Yard" (blocks 6, 7, 8,11 and 12). The more violent and less well adjusted inmates were assigned to North Yard blocks. Most residents perceived the North Yard blocks as the prison's most dangerous. One inmate commented:

They use blocks 3 and 4 as a dumping ground. If you come out of the hole [punishment], and they feel you have a lot of hostility, they dump you in those blocks. Most of your killings are in 3 and 4.

Inmates, especially those on the North Yard, thought that South Yard inmates received more privileges.

Inmates considered the medium-security Northside Complex to be considerably better than the Central Complex. "Northside was top of the line," one Northside inmate remarked. "It had grass, and a mess hall that looked like a Howard Johnsons, flowers."

Northside Complex inmates lived in nine dormitory-style, pre-fabricated "modular" units and two cell blocks (blocks 1 and 2). The modular units were relatively new, bright, clean, air-conditioned, and generally preferred over the cell blocks. One inmate stated:

The people in blocks 1 and 2 had to live in cells, all cramped and uncomfortable. These new modular homes [were] like army barracks only newer—they were clean, had no cockroaches, no mice.

To secure an assignment to modular housing, an inmate had to stay ticket free for six months.

Inmates' attitudes toward each other differed from the patterns seen at Attica, Joliet, and Santa Fe—primarily in the very lack of pattern. There were no gangs or political organizations; nor was there seething hatred and tension, at least not on the New Mexican scale. The rule was atomized, self-interested action. One inmate stated

There's a lot [who'd] sell out, for little favors, extra privileges,they'd sell out for a phone call. There's no unity in here. In every other pen, Jackson has a bad name; they're leery of guys coming from Jackson.

Another inmate commented:

Question: If you could talk to all the prisoners here at once, what would you advise them to do to get changes in here? Inmate: I couldn't advise these guys to do s—t. I wouldn't last three minutes. We are not dealing with people who could get together. I don't think you could get 20 together. I doubt if you could get 15 together in here.

By 1981, there were no gangs at SPSM and few inmates belonged to solidaristic organizations. However, a substantial number of blacks belonged to several Muslim sects, including the Moorish Science Temple, American Muslim Temple, and Orthodox Sunni Muslims. The latter group, for example, met two nights a week and claimed over 50 members. Adherents would associate together on the yard and on work assignments.

Another small group of inmates made up the Prisoner Progress Association (PPA). Formed in the early 1970s, the PPA filed class action suits on behalf of inmates and assisted inmates in filing individual suits. At its height during the mid-1970s, the PPA established regular contact with liberal political figures and organizations in the state, including Zolton Ferency and the American Friends Service Committee. One inmate described the PPA's activities.

The main thing was to provide legal support for whoever needed help on their own rights, mental rights and so on. Also we did a visitation suit, where the visitors were being f—ed over—a guy's daughter couldn't sit on his lap—they'd have to wait two hours in the front, and when they got in, they could only visit one hour.

By 1981, most inmates were either unaware of the organization's existence or contemptuous of it. According to a current member of the PPA, the organization fell from favor because "egotistical prisoners" had misused the group's funds. This general disorganization is more like New Mexico than like Attica. An important difference, however, was the Michigan DOC's policy that snitches "should not be 'fostered.' " Inmates confirmed that "officers say, 'Don't snitch,' " and some even complained that the guards did not act on the information given to them by inmates.

[If you tell] a guard, say,"This guy is going to stab me," he'll say,"What are you telling me for?" They have turned their backs.

Hence, "snitches" did not generate the enmity that was evident in New Mexico. Neither did inmates have the same degree of hatred for the guards and administration. Of course, it is somewhat risky to attempt to compare degrees of hate on the basis of interviews. Still, the average inmate at Jackson talked about the guards in relatively evenhanded terms. One stated:

These guards here, all they care about is coming in, putting in eight hours, making a living.

Question: Are there guards who dislike and harass you? Inmate: Not out here. Not toward me they don't.

Another inmate stated:

I get along with the majority of the officers, but some hate blacks, some are racist, some are homosexuals

One reason for the absence of strong hatred toward prison authorities is that many inmates felt they benefited from the prison's educational and vocational programs. One inmate stated:

One thing about Jackson is that it had good vocation. I have the skills of optics as the result of being in Jackson. They teach [inmates] how to make prescription glasses. You can take trades, like how to become a dental technician, [or] small-engine repairman. You [can] receive up to a bachelor degree in psychology, business, sociology. They have computer programs—up-to-date programs.

A small minority of inmates, though, did express un-tempered hostility:

Some [guards] are so sadistic. I think they go home after work and kick the cat or dog [that's the kind of people they are].

On living conditions in general, another inmate declared:

This place is not worth the spit I would spit from my mouth. It is not worth two dead flies. I wish the feds would tear it down. It's a real trip. You wake up, and there are pigeons flying in—roaches, bugs, little insects.

Question: Pigeons?

Inmate: They live in the block. Bats. You can go to the infirmary, and come back blind and crippled.

Beginning in the 1960s, in response to complaints by the custodial staff that civilian counselors were obstructing their work, the administration began to train guards in counseling. In the early 1970s, the civilian counselors were dismissed and guards trained as counselors were attached to the residential units. Inmates we interviewed were mistrustful of the guards-turned counselors, believed them to be unsympathetic, and were unwilling to trust them with their problems. One inmate wrote:

The counselors here do more of a guard's job than one of a counselor. Counselors shakedown residents, walk in the blocks taking down wire that men use for TV reception, sit at the guards' desks, etc.

Warden Mintzes, however, was generally popular among inmates and accurately perceived as believing in due process. One inmate declared:

Barry Mintzes was the best thing that happened to Jackson, a psychologist, who understood human nature, talked to people—but the guards think might makes right, and give no credence to [him].

-  Bert Useem and Peter Kimball, States of Siege: U.S. Prison Riots, 1971-1986. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. p. 125-128.

[AL:  An inmate in Southern Michigan State Penitentiary holds up Ralph Miliband’s The State in Capitalist Society in protest against prison conditions. (Photo: Taro Yamasaki, 1980)]