Mass Incarceration: A Humanitarian Crisis (Part 1)

Photo by Hédi Benyounes

The topic of Mass Incarceration has been on my mind for awhile now. Maybe it’s the content I’ve been reflecting on while in school. Maybe it’s the stories that have been reported over the past year or so. Maybe it’s the conversations I’ve been having with a friend about something that happened to him awhile back. Who knows, maybe it’s a combination of all three! Whatever the case, it’s just been on my mind and the topic of a lot of the recent posts on Instagram. And since it’s been awhile since I’ve posted on the blog, I thought why not share about it here.

I admit it’s such a broad topic, one way too vast to cover in just one blog post, so this will be part 1 of a 3-part series. And to kick things off this will be a little background as to how exactly incarceration became such a massive issue. Actually, I think a more appropriate description is humanitarian crisis, and I’ll share a little as to why I think so. Parts 2 and 3 will focus more on the role that race plays when it comes to incarceration as well as some potential ways that can bring about some much needed change.

So with that, let’s go!

A BRIEF HISTORY

Prisons in early America were designed to mimic the brutal conditions in England. Capital punishment was pervasive, and the mere threat of physical torture was hoped to be enough to deter people from committing crimes. It’s an idea many still believe today, actually, despite being disproved. But even if the fear of punishment could deter criminal activity, was it sufficient justification to have such blatant disregard for conditions and treatment of human beings subjected to it, even those who had committed crimes? Isn’t the goal to rehabilitate offenders so they’re equipped to reenter the free world with the hope of not reoffending? People like Dorothea Dix were asking these questions way back in 1841 and calling for prison reform.

After noticing how appalling some prison conditions were and the effects they were having on prisoners, she demanded more hospitals be established, specifically to address mental health. Dix may have had good intentions with her calls for reform, but intentions don’t always ensure good outcomes. Sometimes they can unintentionally make things worse. That seems to be the case for the early prison reform movement which gave birth to a new idea, one that said criminals weren’t simply bad individuals like many had long believed. Instead, they were products of an unfortunate environment. And if one’s environment could change, many thought those who lived in it would inevitably change, also. Thus, facilities began to implement rigid structure and strict disciplinary programs. Prisons like Auburn, which first opened in the early 1800s, instituted solitary confinement, forced manual labor, and imposed physical punishment if inmates spoke or even made sounds! These types of rules became commonplace in prisons across America, and it led to the emergence of a new type of punishment. Instead of inmates simply being punished inside prisons, the prisons themselves became the punishment.

By the late 1800s prisons were drastically overcrowded. That seemed to be enough proof that tormenting prisoners didn’t actually decrease crime or help rehabilitate prisoners, and, once again, another prison reform movement emerged. This time prisons began to incorporate educational programs and libraries. Whereas in the past it was misguided implementation of well-intended policies that led to tragic outcomes, this time it was simply the unfortunate timing. The new changes came on the heels Black Codes being passed in the South which permitted the arrest of Black people for trivial things like even vagrancy. The heinous laws in conjunction with the poor wording of the 13^th Amendment ensured that slavery could, and would, remain as long as someone was a prisoner. All of this paved the way for more and more arrests which permitted things like convict leasing, and for the first time people, specifically People of Color, are being incarcerated in mass.

A HUMANITARIAN CRISIS

While I believe Mass Incarceration is a pervasive and concerning crisis for People of Color, that doesn’t mean I think it’s a crisis that only affects People of Color. That’s just not true. It does seem to be a crisis that affects one particular racial group less than others, but I believe it’s a humanitarian crisis that affects all people, regardless of race. I use the phrase humanitarian crisis in reference to a definition by scholars Bornstein and Redfield who put an emphasis on physical and increasingly psychological suffering. I think it should go without saying that those incarcerated undeniably suffer physically and mentally, both unjustly and unduly. And so again, while I do believe there are systemic issues at play that cause disparate outcomes across races (more on that in part 2!), addressing the underlying causes of these systemic issues will assuredly benefit all who are suffering, regardless of race. As the saying goes, a rising tide raises all ships.

The term humanitarian crisis also seems appropriate because of how prisoners are often treated. Or maybe I should say how they’re punished. It seems inhuman at times, and I use that phrase quite literally because we don’t seem to subject any other humans in the free world to similar treatment, especially when it comes to labor. For example, prisoners often work for state-owned businesses and can earn between $0.33 cents and $1.41 an hour on average, which is about twice as much as those working regular prison jobs. When I first heard that I thought it had to be wrong. How is that not unconstitutional? Don’t labor laws prevent such things? It turns out, prisoners aren’t protected from the Fair Labor Standards Act, which means private corporations and state-owned businesses are able to take advantage of, essentially, free labor.

How is this not considered slave labor? Or the modern day version of convict leasing? And even if it’s technically legal, is such a loophole meant to satisfy any moral dilemma that questions if it’s ok to treat human beings in such a way?

Some are quick to say that being convicted means inmates forfeit [some] rights, but I struggle to grasp how, even if someone did in fact commit a crime, that makes them less deserving of human rights. Aren’t they still human? Beyond contentious labor law statutes, these are human beings who are confined to tiny, concrete enclosures. The American Correctional Association standards published in 2003 propose “cells/rooms in restrictive housing provide a minimum of 80 square feet, and shall provide 35 square feet of unencumbered space for the first occupant and 25 square feet of unencumbered space for each additional occupant.” Imagine being restricted to a living space that is all of 115 square feet (smaller than 11’ x 11’). Or being confined to a space no larger than 140 square feet (just 12’ x 10’) and forced to share it with another person, for years. Prisoners in solitary confinement units can be confined to even smaller cells while also deprived exposure to other people or natural light, potentially for years at a time. Daniel Barfield was released in November 2018 after spending nine years in the Special Management Unit, a solitary confinement section in the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Prison. Barfield was in isolation for 23 hours a day in a cell that was approximately 7’ x 13.5’ with no natural light. How did he survive? I don’t know if I could. And only a few years  prior, another Georgia inmate was somehow able to smuggle a handwritten note to a judge in hopes of letting someone know that, for 5 years, he had been in a windowless cell for basically 24 hours a day. It’s easy to think of these stories as anomalies, but it doesn’t appear to be the case. A fellow inmate in Barfield’s unit would cut himself just for hospital visits so he could interact with another human being. Barfield is in his mid-30s but moves like a person in his 50s as a result of his nearly 80,000 hours in solitary confinement. He also battles trust issues and paranoia.

How many more are suffering from such trauma? Don’t they deserve better?

Whether it’s because a person entered a carceral facility with a pre-existing mental health condition or they developed one once incarcerated, inmates are likely to suffer from depression, delusions, paranoia, PTSD, and more. In fact, approximately 25% of inmates in jails experience “serious psychological distress” while 37% of those in state and federal prisons have been diagnosed with a mental illness. For those in local jails, the percentage diagnosed with a mental illness is 44%, and tragically 66% of those in federal prisons indicate they haven’t been afforded any mental health care while they’ve been in prison! Even if someone is lucky enough to survive years of forced labor, psychological trauma, and potential physical abuse, how likely is it to think they will successfully reenter society and not reoffend, especially after being denied care for mental health? Not very without any real emphasis on rehabilitation. And it’s not enough to simply make claims of rehabilitation or have intentions of preparing those incarcerated to reenter society. We must back it up with actual actions and policies.

THE NUMBERS ARE STAGGERING

According to Historical Corrections Statistics, the total number of jail inmates in the United States went from 18,686 in 1880 to 99,249 in 1940. While those numbers are relatively low, that’s an increase of 431% when the nation’s total population only increased by 164% over the same span (from 50m in 1880 to 132m in 1940). It’s hard to locate state and federal prison stats prior to 1925, but according to the “National Data” report by the Prison Policy Initiative, there were 91,669 prisoners in state or federal prisons in 1925 and, by 1972, that number had risen gradually to 196,092. Again, those numbers are relatively low, and, in this instance, prison populations increased at a fairly comparable rate to the nation’s population over those 50 years (from 115m in 1925 and 210m in 1972). Plus, there were 13 years between 1925 and 1972 that actually saw a decrease in prison populations compared to the prior year, including a remarkable 5-year span where the number decreased from 179,818 in 1939 to just 132,456 in 1944. Therefore, while incarceration has always been on the rise, for the most part the rate has been gradual with numbers that were fairly low.

That was until the 1970s and the beginning of the era known as the War on Drugs. For the first time we see the militarization of law enforcement and large-scale criminalization of drug users and sellers with the majority of these efforts disproportionately affecting People of Color. As a result of Jim Crow laws, lack of access to equal and adequate education, redlining, unfair lending practices, and many other legislative efforts, most Black Americans were confined to densely packed, low-income residential areas. It was these particular communities and residents who were often targeted by the so-called War on Drugs. Sadly, so many Black and Brown Americans were arrested for selling or using drugs despite evidence showing White people use them at a similar rate (slightly higher in fact!). It certainly didn’t help that offenses involving crack received sentences at the now infamous rate of 100:1 in relation to cocaine. And while the Fair Sentencing Act eventually lowered the rate to 18:1 in 2010, the damage had already been done decades earlier. These disproportionate arrests combined with mandatory minimum sentences implemented in the 1980s and 1990s led to an exponential rise in incarceration with People of Color disproportionately affected and being sent to prison for long amounts of time.

It’s important to not overlook the role of the private prison industry. Rather than focusing on aid and rehabilitation, corporate greed and capitalism created an industry primarily focused on production and expansion. After all, what good are expensive prisons if they remain empty? Surely, it’s essential to find criminals to be confined to prove their necessity! That seems to be the mindset of those with vested interests in the prison industrial complex, and it also contributes to the vicious (and false!) cycle that says, the more prisoners we have, the more prisons we need.

Beginning in 1973, there would not be a decrease in state and federal prison population from the prior year again until 2010! And even then, the population only decreased from 1,553,574 in 2009 to 1,552,669 (less than 1,000 people). As of 2010, the total number of human beings incarcerated in either jails or prisons in America had reached a staggering 2.3 million! That represented almost 1% of the nation’s total population at the time. While there have been slight declines over more recent years, the Prison Policy Initiative still estimated the total incarcerated population in March 2020 to be just over 2 million. To put that in perspective, there were only 10m people incarcerated in the entire world in 2015. Which means, despite being less than 5% of the world’s population at the time (330m vs 7.2b), the U.S. imprisoned more than 20% of all incarcerated people in the world!

There is some reason to be encouraged as there was a decrease of approximately 300,000 over the last decade. Was it due to altruistic motives from those in charge? Was it a byproduct of the COVID-19 pandemic which required less people in small areas? Or was it because arrests rates are down? Regardless of the explanation, I still think the number is way too large.

Ok, I think that’s a good stopping point for part 1. Hopefully that sheds a little light on why I think Mass Incarceration is a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions in America. What do you think? As always, let me know what you think! And be on the lookout for part 2 which will pick up right where this left off by dissecting disproportionate outcomes when it comes to race.