Early Release

Today marks the beginning of a process that is likely to see thousands of federal prisoners convicted under the notorious 1980s anti-crack laws set free years earlier than their original sentences called for. These laws set a 100:1 ratio between crack and powder cocaine for sentencing purposes under federal laws. Harsh mandatory minimum prison sentences (a fad during the late 1980s) that kicked in for people caught possessing more than 500 grams of powder cocaine (a large scale dealer one would imagine), kicked in for someone carrying a mere 5 grams of crack cocaine (who could be merely a user contemplating a binge).

The difference in treatment, which has proven indefensible in criminological or pharmacological terms, had an undeniable racial impact, selecting blacks for especially long sentences. After years of criticism, Congress finally enacted a reform law reducing (but not completely eliminating) the differential and President Obama signed it into law last year. As a result, according to Jessica Gresko's reporting for the AP (read it here) as many as 2000 federal prisoners will go free this year and as many as 12,000 over the next several years, based on sentence recalculations carried out to implement the law by the US Sentencing Commission.

But as much as there is to be said about the perniciousness of the crack cocaine sentencing law, the other part of the story is the importance of the precedent that has been set here about early release. In recent decades, politicians have locked themselves into the view that no one sent to prison, should ever be released early (remember Wilie Horton). As a result most states and federal justice system are criss-crossed with rigid laws, like California's absurd three-strikes law, that lock in very long sentences and guaranteeing that our prisons will become the new retirement system for the middle aged.

That is why despite the distinctive politics behind the crack cocaine sentencing revision, it is a precedent that should be generalized. The releases beginning today are powerful testimony that harsh laws, enacted in the glare of alarming media coverage of a crime "trend" (in that case the new super drug "crack cocaine" that was supposedly turning the inner cities into zombie lands), can be revised. The resulting effects, which will hopefully be carefully studied by criminologists, may offer evidence of the enormous gain our stricken society could gain from pursuing a much broader early release agenda that would see the repeal of so called "truth-in-sentencing" laws that prevent early release through parole and reconsideration of many sentences "super-sized" in the era of boundless prison expansion. Over the coming months and years, thousands of people whose incarceration was once deemed essential for public safety are going to be released. The federal government will save millions of dollars. Thousands of families will be reunited producing incalculable ripples of pro-social effects. Given that most people released are in their thirties and forties, and have served years already in prison, the likelihood is very little new crime will result.

Who sets the captive free

Looking at the pictures of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit being released from six years of captivity under the Hamas regime in Gaza, and the scenes of scores of Palestinian fighters being released from prisons in Israel, I could not help but think of the verse in the traditional Jewish morning prayers, the Amidah, in which the worshiper praises God for many kinds of acts on behalf of humans including, "who sets free the captive" (in some translations). Those words have always amazed me. I understand why we would need God to raise the dead, and perhaps to heal the very sick, but cannot we free prisoners on our own?

There is of course, an interesting theme in TORAH concerning the role of God in human decisions about freedom (think of Pharaoh's heart being "hardened" against freeing the Israelites); as if the almighty were daring us to raise the more fundamental question of when humans really can choose anything freely. But it also reminds us that there is something divine in the freeing of any prisoner, an act of trust, faith, and belief in the possibility that tomorrow will be different, and that we who hold the captive can escape our own prison of fear.

For now, as Ethan Bronner reports (here) in today's NYTimes, the site of prisoners being released has hardened hearts on both sides of the Israel/Palestine conflict.

Israelis, at first thrilled at the sight of their liberated soldier, were angered by how he looked — frail, wan and underfed.

Hamas officials said their members had been subject in Israeli prisons to “torture, compulsion and revenge.”

The overall strategic assessment, appears equally bleak, with the deal having strengthened to two elements in the Israel/Palestine sovereignty conflict most associated with rejection of compromise, Hamas and Netanyahu. Call me an optimist but I think the shifting of the conflict, even temporarily to the prisoner front is a good thing. Each side and the world should now look hard at these prisoners and demand an accounting for how they were treated.

In that regard Hamas should hang its head in shame for releasing Shalit in a visibly emaciated and sickly state. Any claim in the world that they represent the legitimate aspirations of Palestinian people is put into question by this image, and by their decision to deny Red Cross access to their prisoner. Shalit's own testimony will tell us more about the conditions under which he was kept. Perhaps Hamas can convince us that it's own status as a hunted outlaw organization, and the all seeing eye of Israeli intelligence, explains the necessity of both conditions, but it will be against a heavy burden of proof on a regime that has all the attributes of statehood other than legitimacy.

At the same time, they should present their prisoners to the world to back up their claims of "torture, compulsion and revenge." These are the right questions to ask of the means and motive of any regime of imprisonment, no matter how presumptively valid (Hamas might want to look into the mirror of "compulsion and revenge" while they are at it). Israel also must regret its ill advised decision just this September to strip Palestinian prisoners of many of their opportunities for communication and education, to increase pressure on Hamas to release Shalit. Nobody assumes Israeli prisons are as crude as the conditions under which Gilad Shalit was held, but long term imprisonment presents a path to degradating and inhuman treatment just as inexorable as bad conditions and lack of nourishment. Things that can seem like frills in the abstract, communication and education, become essential to the maintenance of human dignity when the years turn to decades. Israel must also question the validity of holding so many prisoners and for so long. Mass incarceration makes no more sense as a military strategy than it does as a crime control one. Suicide bombing has stopped because of the barrier wall and the political choice of Hamas to rely on rockets, not because there are not enough demoralized young people to carry them.

I am most hopeful because the debate about the prisoners has the chance to elevate a conflict that has been for too long about blood and soil, and bring it back to the real interests of the human beings on both sides. The Egyptian video-taped interview of Gilad Shalit as he was transferred from the custody of Hamas may raise ethical questions, but you could not escape the simple dignity of Shalit's quiet and deliberate answers to the journalist's questions. The story of a mother fainting on hearing the news that her daughter, an attempted suicide bomber, would be on the bus returning after twelve years in prison (read Chris McGreal's reporting in the Guardian) reminds us of the shear physical power of our bonds to our children.

The captive, stripped of the elements, bomb belts and uniforms, which once made him or her a threat in the eyes of the captors, becomes, in the end, a human being, and a representative of the divine in all of us.

Realignment and Beyond

Earlier this year, Governor Edmund G. Brown Jr. signed Assembly Bill (AB) 109 and AB 117, historic legislation that will enable California to close the revolving door of low-level inmates cycling in and out of state prisons. It is the cornerstone of California’s solution for reducing the number of inmates in the state’s 33 prisons to 137.5 percent design capacity by May 24, 2013, as ordered by the U.S. Supreme Court.

As the above quote from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation's realignment website, suggests, it is the most important shift in penal policy in California in forty years, but few appear to care about it. Desultory media coverage is matched by the equally desultory opposition of the formidable crime warriors that line the corridors of the California legislature. The title is vague, and perhaps designed to sound boring (even if it hints of profound change). Even while describing it as historic, the Governor has largely suggested it is a necessity for complying with the recent mandates of the federal court with the modest goal of achieving a prison population that is at 137.5 percent of design capacity by 2013. But make no mistake about it, realignment legislates the end of mass incarceration as we've known it.

Realignment has lots of moving parts but two particularly significant elements. The first redefines the punishments available for felonies in the state. Historically, following the common law tradition, California law defined as a general matter, death, or state prison, as the authorized punishments for all felonies (unless otherwise prescribed by the specific offense terms), with a limited option for county jail for a period not to exceed one year. Realignment would remove that one year cap, making county jail a potential sentence for felonies. The law however excludes "serious" or "violent" felonies (technical terms including scores of specific offenses, some not as serious or violent as you might imagine), as well as a laundry list of non-serious, non-violent offenses that law enforcement wanted excluded (mysteriously including "dealing in horse meat"). (download a legislative summary here).

This provision might seem to only trade one form of incarceration, state prison, for another, county jail time; a cynical shell game designed to relieve court pressure without altering our basic addiction to incarceration. There is more potential for change here than meets the eye. Historically it was assumed that persons sentenced to more than one year of incarceration were better off in prisons which were larger facilities, with more opportunities for education, rehabilitation, and employment. Today, after decades of building warehouse prisons aimed achieving only custody, the state prison system is a humanitarian disaster. County jails may have their own problems, but they are typically located closer to the communities that California's prisoners come from, permitting family ties to be sustained and opening access to educational and rehabilitative resources that are far more available, at least in the urban counties from which the vast majority of prisoners come. Potentially more importantly, the law grants broad new authority to counties to assign "low risk" inmates in county jail to home arrest and electronic monitoring. This gives counties the option to replace traditional brick and mortar custody with enhanced supervision and surveillance methods, a move that criminologists have been advocating for decades, but which has been considered an anathema in California's "total incapacitation" penal policy.

Equally important, realignment fundamentally reshapes parole supervision in California. Since the late '70s, virtually all California state prisoners faced a 3 year period of parole supervision in the community under the authority of state parole officers and subject to return to prison for even technical violations of parole. Once parole worked as reentry agency with the ambition of keeping prisoners from going back to prison. But as documented in my first book, Poor Discipline: Parole and Social Control of the Underclass, 1890 to 1990s, California turned its system into a fast-track system for recycling parolees back to prison. Starting in the 1980s, roughly half of California prison admissions have come from parole revocation. The resulting churning of this population, with very short prison sentences (typically 4 to 6 months) for revocation, followed by release with little planning or provision, has been widely condemned for wreaking havoc with prisons while providing less than zero crime control benefits (in effect creating crime). Realignment keeps the three years of post-release supervision but moves responsibility for that supervision to county probation agencies for a significant portion of the prisoners (excluding the serious and violent offenses, as well as various sex offenses). Parolees under county supervision will no longer be subject to return to state prison for technical parole violations and by the authority of the Board of Parole Hearings. Now county courts, the same authorities that sentence offenders charged with crimes, will have to decide on the appropriate sanctions (which could include county jail).

As this blog has advocated before, reducing the role of state parole supervision is by itself a step forward. County probation, while subject to resource constraints, has sustained an institutional culture more oriented toward rehabilitation and reentry than state parole which was assimilated into the custody oriented approach of the prison system decades ago. Moreover, by channeling decision making from the rubber stamp Board of Parole Hearings, which rarely rejects re-imprisonment for parole violations, to county judges, realignment ends the perverse incentive to use state prison as a tool for all kinds of low level violation behavior. Judges who see both parole violators and newly criminally charged defendants can apply a common standard of public safety to both groups.

These two aspects, widening the role for counties in the punishment of felonies and eliminating (or at least significantly reducing) the wholesale recycling of parolees back to state prison for technical violations, go a long way to ending the policy of mass incarceration in California. The heart of that policy was the assumption that removing offenders of all sorts from their communities and placing them in state prisons would make those communities safer. This indiscriminate quality to mass incarceration is a significant part of what led the scale of imprisonment to grow beyond any reasonable bounds and become a humanitarian crisis in California. It also contributed to abandonment of any ambition to provide rehabilitative programming in California prisons or to invest in significant reentry efforts for those leaving. If crime goes down simply by locking more potential criminals up, than rehabilitation and reentry are irrelevant.

These changes are historic and great credit goes to the Coleman and Plata litigations (culminating in the Brown v. Plata, Supreme Court decision in May 2011) which has dragged the state's political class into a long delayed reckoning with our fatally flawed penal system. But realignment leaves in place, and indeed reinforces, one crucial remaining aspect of mass incarceration, the extreme extension of sentences for serious and violent crimes. California prisons are increasingly filled with prisoners sentenced to lengthy or even life terms. The lifers, a group that due to Three-Strikes now includes roughly a fifth of the entire prison population, faces decades in prison and poor prospects for ever being paroled (although there are signs the parole process may be becoming unfrozen). Realignment will only increase the concentration of such prisoners in the state prison system. This will leave us with a smaller prison population perhaps, but one made up of prisoners with little hope or incentive to creating a dignified and safe culture inside prisons. Indeed the management problems created by such a concentration of hopelessness could make our prisons even more degrading than they are today for both prisoners and prison staff.

California needs to fundamentally revisit its sentencing policies for serious and violent crimes. Three-Strikes needs to go and parole release mechanisms recalibrated to assure that prisoners who avoid conflicts and work on their risk factors see a realistic path to freedom. These will be far more controversial moves than realignment and opposition from both Democrats and Republicans in the legislature (and presumably the Correctional Officers union) will be fierce. One step, however, that the Brown administration could take now and with no legislative authorization needed, would be to announce the end of the supermax regime in place at units of Pelican Bay and Corcoran state prisons among others. It is these units, Secured Housing Units, as they are described in California, that are the main focus of the hunger-strike by prisoners both in and out of the SHU, which is continuing across multiple California prisons this week.

The SHU regime of being locked down to your cell for nearly 23 hours a day every day (and in California amazingly you are in many cases sharing this tiny space with a second prisoner) in adds sustained physical suffering and potential psychological disintegration to the already degrading circumstances facing long term inmates. Assignment to a supermax or SHU unit is an administrative decision taken within the Department (which is the executive branch) and not part of the legal sentence imposed by judges based on legislation. Moreover the evidence about violence inside the prison system suggests it is increasingly difficult to justify the SHU as a management tool. An announcement that the SHU system would be wound down and replaced by new strategies for addressing those prisoners who do pose a serious risk to prison staff and other prisoners within two years (that is by the time the Brown decision requires the population reduction target to be reached) would send a ray of hope into this dark core of mass incarceration that is, as yet untouched by realigment. In subsequent posts I will address some of what these new strategies could look like.

Cupcakes, Affirmative Action and Mass Incarceration

Yesterday Berkeley's College Republicans were generating big crowds on Sproul Plaza and big media coverage with a retread of an old bit of anti-affirmative action agit-prop; a cupcake sale in which prices were set by race (just like academic "preferences" for students of color in admissions, get it). (read Nanette Asimov's reporting in the SFChron here). There was already a large crowd of counter-protesters and reporters on hand by the time I rolled my bike onto campus, otherwise I might have fought my way to the BCR table to buy a half-a-dozen or so. I've always thought affirmative action was a hugely good deal for America (especially white Americans); purchasing, at a very small price, a modicum of legitimacy as it seeks to lead in a world awash in diversity and in the governance of a tremendously unequal and coercive society at home.

However I was disappointed that my fellow progressives mostly fell into predictable response patterns; denouncing any opposition to affirmative action as racist, trying to explain why price discrimination (which of course is a routine feature of our society, try "buying" a loan if you are living in a traditionally Black or Latino neighborhood) is wrong but affirmative action is not, or claiming to have suffered emotional injury by the BCR's tactics. The right loves talking about affirmative action. It's a winning "wedge" issue for them.

An alternative would have been actions focused on California's mammoth prison system and the vast network of sentencing laws that keep it filled largely with people of color (laws which Republicans have supported with unbridled enthusiasm). If College Republicans are offended by educational admissions policies that allow race and gender to be considered as part of a holistic individualized look at the application, what do they think of a state run system in which virtually every aspect of life from cell assignment to job assignment to who cuts your hair is determined by race? Do they support laws that guarantee a steady flow of admissions to prison of men of color, with little regard for their individual culpability or the risk they pose to the community? Where is their outrage for a state that cooperates in handing prisoners over to racist prison gangs so they can return to their communities scarred by racist ideologies, bound into criminal networks, and shadowed by real and imagined enemies?

This system, which has been repeatedly condemned by the right leaning US Supreme Court, has become a vast sink hole into which the state's fiscal and moral capital has been poured, and California's Republican legislators have demanded to keep digging. The truth is that whatever you think of affirmative action in college admissions, it's a tempest in a teapot compared to the category five hurricane of mass incarceration which threatens the health of this state in every sense.

That message would also have put students on the side of thousands of California prisoners who are beginning a hunger strike this week to demand the most basic and humble of human rights. The right not to be confined in isolation from any meaningful activity for years or your entire sentence. The right to have your fate determined by laws and due process rather than invisible administrative judgments. The right to nutritious food, and to not having food used as a punishment. (Read their five core demands here).

Cupcake anyone?

Executing the Innocent: Time to Boycott Georgia and Texas

I believe the death penalty is an inherently degrading and dehumanizing punishment that should not be used even on the most heinous criminals. But when a state executes individuals with substantial doubt about their actual innocence they have crossed a different line. They are not only human rights violators, they are a clear present danger to every person who lives in or visits them. With the execution of Troy Davis in Georgia tonight (read the Guardian account of the final moves here); and the execution of Cameron Todd Willingham in Texas in 2004 (read David Grann's account in the New Yorker from 2009 here), two US states have now carried out executions in cases where the major prosecution evidence against defendants who have consistently insisted on their innocence has collapsed.

Despite an outpouring of global attention and emails, don't expect Georgia or Rick Perry's Texas to mend their ways soon. Solid majorities in those states not only support the death penalty, but celebrate a vigilante culture in which questions of due process and innocence count for little in the face of demands for vengeance. Politicians in those states will not respond until they feel powerful economic pain. In the meantime the attrition of the death penalty elsewhere may eventually lead the Supreme Court to strike down the death penalty as a regional eccentricity but not in my lifetime.

Its time to focus on these two major human rights abusers with the only language they understand, money. Its time for a grassroots boycott of these states. The tens of thousands around the world who sent emails and letters opposing Troy Davis' execution should now direct their activism in a new direction, to mobilize their fellow citizens for a boycott of the entire economy of each these two states until they declare a moratorium on executions. That means circulating lists of products made in those states (Georgia peaches, and Dell computers in Texas for example). That means avoiding tourism, conferences, or investments in any businesses in those two states. Let Georgia and Texas understand what it means to be an international pariah. It is true that these means letting other states go on executing prisoners. That is hard. Death is different, but so is executing the innocent. The boycott, as it grows will help keep the focus on these revealing cases and pressure on both states to justify their outlier status.

LWOP

The New York Times earlier this week published a strong editorial criticizing America's increasing use and abuse of life without parole (LWOP) sentences (read it here). The use of such sentences was largely unknown in the past and remains rare outside the US. Even murderers who did not get the death penalty could be virtually certain of parole within ten or twenty years at the most.

For many LWOP represents a hopeful alternative to capital punishment. But as the death penalty declines, LWOP is growing much faster. According to the Times the number of LWOP sentences tripled from around 12,453 in 1992 to 41,095 in 2008. The sentences being imposed not just for capital murder, but for many other homicides as well as crimes like kidnapping and drug dealing.

LWOP combines the eliminationist logic of the death penalty with the control problems of incarceration. How do you motivate compliant behavior for those who have no hope of being released no matter how good their record is? The result is an inevitable degradation for both prisoners and keepers, reflected in our increased reliance on supermax prisons to punish and isolate those who have nothing to lose.

LWOP highlights a paradox of American mass incarceration at this juncture. The soft end of the penal state, the over use of prison for drug users, parole violators and female property offenders is increasingly discredited and in varying degrees being reduced. But the commitment to long incapacitative prison sentences for violent crime remains as strong as ever. Yet our outsized prison population and highly disproportionate racial profile of prisoners will remain unless we revisit our excessive sentences for violent crime.

LWOP functions as the anchoring point for a structure of excessive punishment. With LWOP widely available, life sentences with parole are rapidly increasing from an average time served of 20 years to 29 years in the past two decades. Having established a harsh and flat sentencing system for murder it becomes easy to justify sending robbers and burglars to prison for decades.

I agree with the Times that LWOP should be limited to those cases that would otherwise attract a death penalty and even these cases should be exceedingly rare and open for review. Punishment can be proportionate without being harsh. There are no coherent moral principles the require natural life as a sentence for any crime, even for murder, and most criminologists would agree that the risk of future dangerousness drops toward zero for most offenders after 40. Instead we should look to human dignity to set an appropriate cap for even the worst crimes at around 25 years with few sentences of longer than 10. Beyond these boundaries, continued imprisonment becomes degrading for both prisoners and prison officers. A sentencing structure built around those principles would leave plenty of room to mark the seriousness of different crimes, have little if any effect on deterrence while producing a far smaller, healthier and more cooperative prison population.

Attica, Forty Years On

On the editorial pages of the NYTimes, historian Heather Thompson reminds us all of how profoundly the Attica prison uprising and its violent suppression, forty years ago this week, shaped our penal imagination and prepared the grounds for what we now call "mass incarceration."(read it here) The prisoners who took nine correctional officers hostage and gained control over most of the prison had in mind mostly rather basic rights, decent medical care, an end to lingering racial discrimination among them. For a moment, the sudden media attention on a prison being run by its inmates in a rather democratic and orderly way--including careful protection of the hostages and the absence of violence among inmates which had long been associated with classic prison riots--, seemed like it might deepen the already sympathetic view of prisoners many Americans had in the early 1970s.

Then Governor Rockefeller authorized an army of correctional officers and state police to violently retake the prison (despite five days of progressing negotiations). Thirty-nine men, twenty-nine prisoners and ten hostages, were killed, every one by the incoming bullets of state forces. Eager to cover-up what amounted to a massacre (and one followed by physical torture of the survivors) the state lied outrageously and told the media that the hostages had been killed with their throats slashed and in some cases castrated. The resulting fire storm of media coverage would reset the imagination of a generation. As Professor Thompson puts it:

We have all paid a very high price for the state’s lies and half-truths and its refusal to investigate and prosecute its own. The portrayal of prisoners as incorrigible animals contributed to a distrust of prisoners; the erosion of hard-won prison reforms; and the modern era of mass incarceration. Not coincidentally, it was Rockefeller who, in 1973, signed the law establishing mandatory prison terms for possession or sale of relatively small amounts of drugs, which became a model for similar legislation elsewhere.

Forty years on it feels like America may be ready to abandon the demons of Attica even as we finally come to some historical reckoning with what it meant. Forty years seems to be about the length of time it takes dramatic changes in the social imaginary to run their course. The Israelites left Egypt in one day, but as the Book of Numbers tells us, it took forty years to leave slavery behind. Today in California, with this summer's prison hunger strike against our cruel and degrading SHU (supermax) units having achieved totally unexpected media coverage and political response, and the spring's Brown v. Plata decision by the US Supreme Court calling on the state to recognize the humanity of its prisoners; signs abound that mass incarceration has itself become a scandal. But scandals only change things if people are committed to using them to promote a new way forward. Forty years ago the events of Attica would be seized upon to promote the war on crime and shift it from a focus on police to one on prisons. Today there is for those ready to seize it, an opportunity to re-imagine both safety and dignity for another generation.