Maple Flavoured Mass Incarceration
With the COVID-19 global pandemic, group activities and visits to our favorite leisure-type businesses have been put on hold indefinitely as we stay home, physically distant to protect ourselves and our communities. Many of us are privileged enough to be experiencing this form of social separation and isolation for the first time. Yet we’ve seen celebrities, like Ellen DeGeneres, tweeting from their multi-million dollar mansions comparing their current situation to “being in prison” and the telecommunications giant, Bell, advertising that we can get through this together by simply, “Reaching out.” As if they’re not the company profiting off of vulnerability by making it incredibly difficult logistically and financially inaccessible for those incarcerated to “reach out” to their support systems.
While most of the world is under quarantine, I can’t even begin to imagine the isolation that prison inmates face and endure every day; the trauma of being violently removed from society in this manner and the high rates of mental illnesses. With the Coronavirus crisis and the lack of physical distancing afforded by cages, I am angered by how inhumanely prisoners are treated; how they are suffering and dying. Amid this pandemic, I can’t help but reflect on how much I really fucking hate the Prison Industrial Complex.
Considering the number of people incarcerated worldwide — a quarter of them being imprisoned in the States — when we speak of “mass incarceration”, we often think of the experience of Black men in America. Ava DuVernay’s powerful, heart-wrenching documentary “13th” (2016) posits that slavery was never abolished in 1865, but was instead replaced with prisons, as there are more Black Americans incarcerated today than there were enslaved in the 1850s. The documentary is titled “13th” to indicate the clause in the 13th Amendment that declares that slavery shall no longer exist in the USA, except as punishment for a crime. With the loss of slave labour following the civil war, a collapsing economy motivated the mass criminalization of Black people — who, with the 13th Amendment loophole, could be forced to provide labour. The socio-economic situation incentivized the first mass incarceration boom that we continue to be spectators of today.
Like most social atrocities sanctioned within Canadian borders, there’s a willful ignorance that mass incarceration is only a problem in our neighboring country — that because it doesn’t exist on the same scale as it does in America, that it is an inconsequential issue. To appear more palatable, Canada sugarcoats our social issues, allowing us to grossly minimize our societal harm and cast judgement upon America from our pedestals. Even when doused in maple syrup, mass incarceration is still a tool that “effectively disappears racialized communities and facilitates the practices of racial violence” (Thibault, K. 2016).
With Canada positioning ourselves as the northern neighbors whose borders offered sanctuary to fleeing slaves and, for so long, not even acknowledging the genocide of Indigenous peoples — are we surprised that Canada is in denial about our own justice system? This is a country built on colonialism and white supremacy. Slavery, residential schools, and the criminilazation of Black and Indigenous peoples are the foundation of Canada’s Prison Industrial Complex (source).
What is the Prison Industrial Complex?
Clearly identifiable by the incarceration rates, at every level, the criminal justice system disproportionately affects Black and Indigenous people from street checks, wrongful arrests, denial of bail and pre-trial detention, to high sentencing rates. A flawed institution, the Canadian justice system actively works against Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), funneling racialized people into prisons at an alarmingly high rate.
More than just brick and mortar, the Prison Industrial Complex (PIC) is an intentional system of mass incarceration that actively preserves and supports colonialism and capitalism. Interlocking the interests of government and private companies, the PIC allows stakeholders to benefit from people in jail cells (Mannoe, M., 2018). It has provided leverage and increased the electibility for “tough on crime” politicians. Canada’s dependency on inmate labour is escalating resulting in decreasing prisoner’s wages to balance costs. On average, an incarcerated person will earn $5-$7 per day, allowing vendors to exploit inmate labour and avoid minimum wage laws (Ling, J., 2019). The PIC also enables private companies (like Bell and Aramark) to profit from contracts to supply services and products to prisons at grossly inflated prices, extorting the inmates and their families.
Like any industry, there is a supply and demand. Prisons are a source of social control and financial gain, therefore there is a demand for “supplies” — the prisoners. Enabled by the ancillary systems, Black and Indigenous bodies are acquired at a high volume to meet the demand. Under the guise of protecting the public, growth and profit occurs when people are incarcerated as the PIC is an industry that thrives by locking human beings in cages.
“[Prison] relieves us of the responsibility of seriously engaging with the problems of our society, especially those produced by racism and, increasingly, global capitalism.” — Angela Davis
Canada’s inJustice System
While the rate at which white people are jailed is steadily decreasing, it is significantly on the rise with BIPOC. In the last 15 years, there has not been a year that the population of Black inmates in Canadian prisons did not increase. Black Canadians represent the fastest growing racialized group incarcerated, increasing by 70% from 2005–2015 (McIntyre, C., 2016), followed by Indigenous people at approximately 50%. Compared to the white population, Black people are 3.5 times more likely and Indigenous people are 4.5 times more likely to be incarcerated (Thibault, K., 2016).
Those from Black and Indigenous communities are over-represented in Canada’s prison systems. This means that the number of Black and Indigenous people imprisoned are not an accurate depiction of the country’s population. Black Canadians represent 10% of the prison population but only about 3% of Canada’s population, while Indigenous people, making up approximately 4% of the population, account for 25% of those imprisoned. Indigenous people are the largest racialized group incarcerated (McIntyre, C., 2016) and federally, Indigenous women account for a staggering 33% of the female prison population (Thibault, K., 2016).
Inside of prisons, Black and Indigenous people are less likely to be able to access educational programming and are less likely to be assigned work. In absence of the small income from assigned work, they are unable to afford a minimum quality of life within prison. Black and Indigenous inmates are more likely to be classified as high security and more likely to be placed into administrative segregation.
I have been emphatic on my position that it is not by accident that the PIC is a system that greatly disadvantages people of color, specifically Black and Indigenous persons. The system is not broken; what we are witnessing is the PIC operating as it was designed to — maintaining the majority of the power in a capitalist, white-settler state and unjustly policing racialized bodies.
Why Prison Abolition?
With the history of their foundation and the disproportionate amount of damage inflicted on marginalized communities, including those who are also innocent or incarcerated for misdemeanors, I do not believe that prisons are the solution. Not only do they have a detrimental impact on families and communities and on the individual’s mental health, they are also not an effective solution for deterring crime or repeat offenses.
Norway has the world’s lowest recidivism rate at 20%; they focus on relationships and rehabilitation as they believe that removing a person’s liberty is punishment enough. Inmates in Norway’s prisons have autonomy with their own private quarters and kitchens where they can cook their own meals. Countries that have prisons that reflect normal life and that value the individual’s quality of life inside of prison walls have significantly lower recidivism rates than those that continue to punish once behind bars. According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics (2014), in America, 68% of prisoners released were arrested for a new crime within three years of release. That number jumped to 77% within five years. Of those who were taken into custody within five years of their release, more than half were arrested by the end of the first year. Although that was data collected from the States, both the American and Canadian justice systems which pursue punishment over intervention are counterproductive to reformation.
Imprisonment as justice is what we have been indoctrinated with for the entirety of our lives. So much so that the mere suggestion of a society without prisons typically halts the conversation without second thought. Prison abolition is not only about bulldozing buildings, but also dismantling the principles and ideologies on which prisons, immigration and detention centers, and law enforcement were built and employed to maintain the status quo. Can you wholly reform a system that is inherently racist as it sits comfortably on the belief that BIPOC are lesser humans? The blatant disregard of the humanity of Black and Indigenous people necessitates the abolition and replacement of the PIC. Policy tweaks and adjustments to practices are not enough — not in a society where Black and Indigenous peoples and marginalized communities are viewed as disposable. Not in a society that, since colonialism, has deliberately chosen which lives do not matter.
One of the few arguments in favor of prisons is the belief that those incarcerated are ‘bad people,’ because they have been found guilty for committing a crime: “They wouldn’t be in prison if there wasn’t a reason for them to be.”
We are led to believe that our criminal justice system is not only well-intentioned, but operates fairly and with unbiased ruling, but in Canada the majority of people incarcerated are legally innocent. Sixty percent of people in Canadian prisons have been either denied bail or are being held on remand — meaning that they are being imprisoned before their trial (Chan, J., Chuen, L., & McLeod, M., 2017). Remand is supposedly temporary, but people can be detained pre-trial for several years (Watch “Time: The Kalief Browder story” on Netflix). Black Canadians are 1.5 times more likely than white Canadians to be incarcerated while awaiting trial. In America, a shocking 93% of inmates have never been tried for their crimes.
One of the main arguments against prison abolition that I hear is this notion that mass chaos would ensue, that prisons keep the public safe: “What about the people who are dangerous and cannot be reformed?”
There may always be individuals who are harmful to society and should perhaps be removed from or have limited interactions with society; however, it seems ill-fitting that an argument against abolition of a socially inequitable and harmful institution would hinge on the “absolute worst case scenario.” The reality is, when we examine the prison population, the majority of people are imprisoned for drug and property-related crimes. These are people who are experiencing barriers to basic necessities — like housing and mental health supports. Our criminal justice system penalizes addiction, mental illnesses, poverty, homelessness, etc. by offering retribution instead of rehabilitation. We are punishing the responses to structural neglect by criminalizing those already marginalized. If we viewed “crime” as a response to social inequity, perhaps we would seek out more reformative practices instead of concrete cell blocks.
The true crime is the orchestration of a system that produces antisocial behavior, typically in order to survive, and then punishes the product of the socio-economic environment.
“Prisons do not disappear social problems, they disappear human beings. Homelessness, unemployment, drug addiction, mental illness, and illiteracy are only a few of the problems that disappear from public view when the human beings contending with them are relegated to cages.” — Angela Davis
Another question that I often wrestle with due to the introspective nature is “What if you or someone you knew had been hurt. Wouldn’t you want them in prison?”
I am human and the empathy that I have for those imprisoned can also exist as rage for those, who despite all evidence, go with impunity. The anger stems from a system that has a disparity in how it applies justice to different members of society. It’s enraging when innocent Black and Indigenous people are killed in the streets, in their cars, in their backyards, in driveways — and their murderers receive no punitive measures. I was angry that, following the trauma he caused, Brock Turner was only sentenced for six months and was then released after three. And yes, there was satisfaction upon learning that Harvey Weinstein was convicted for 23 years for serial sexual abuse. It’s valid that when someone has caused irreparable damage to a community that we may hope for 25 to life, because we have not been given alternative means of justice or ways for the victims to grieve and to heal. Thus, I recognize that there is “justice” to be felt when those accused of heinous crimes are convicted, but punishing these few still comes at the expense of a great number of innocent Black and Brown lives. You can advocate for the abolition of prisons while still believing survivors and demanding justice for victims.
The Western ideologies and approaches on which prisons are built continue to perpetuate violence in racialized communities. Undoubtedly the process towards decarceration will be gradual and fraught with resistance. These are intricately designed systems with laws and policies in place to maintain the number of people caged and to reinforce recidivism. Rehabilitation and harm-reduction are not the priority. An institution where the rich and powerful make an incredible amount of wealth off the backs of Black and Brown people is reminiscent of the 1800s. When there is a multi-billion dollar industry at stake, there is a significant interest in maintaining the flux of racialized bodies into the prison system.
I look forward to a society that doesn’t focus on where to displace and traumatize people for hypothetical crimes, but instead focuses on preventing crime by addressing inequality. Until all lives are given an equal valuation of humanity, the entire justice system will continue to not only fail, but kill Black and Indigenous people, People of Color, and other marginalized individuals. There needs to be a total paradigm shift of the priorities, functions, and processes of law enforcement and the criminal justice system. Across the world there are experts from multiple fields and backgrounds who have made prison abolition and decarceration their life’s work; so I will not pretend to have every question answered, but I cannot foresee a solution to the Prison Industrial Complex where the entire Canadian Justice System is not decolonized.
“If it takes a village to raise a child, it certainly takes a movement to undo an occupation.” — Ruth Wilson Gilmore
