Prison as Industry

This weekend I took a Sociology workshop with 5 of my classmates called "Prison Industrial Complex." According to the Critical Resistance website, a prison abolition organization:

"The prison industrial complex (PIC) is a complicated system situated at the intersection of governmental and private interests that uses prisons as a solution to social, political, and economic problems. The PIC depends upon the oppressive systems of racism, classism, sexism, and homophobia. It includes human rights violations, the death penalty, industry and labor issues, policing, courts, media, community powerlessness, the imprisonment of political prisoners, and the elimination of dissent."
www.criticalresistance.org

It was a really great class, with more important info than I can include in one blog post (because of all the other, not-as-interesting, homework I need to get done). We watched a few videos- one about the increased development of state prisons in California in recent decades. Here's an interesting stat: California currently has the same number of UCs/CSUs as it does state prisons: 33. Wonder which will be built next in Any-Rural-Town, CA- a university, or a prison?

Another video clip we watched was from a corrections conference, where prison industry products were being sold. Imagine a business merchandise showcase, in a huge warehouse, with aisles and aisles of the newest accessories and styles. But these products were the new and improved tasers, stainless steel sink and toilet combos, and stab-proof vests.

What both of these have in common, and an issue that really struck a cord with me, is the issue of industry/commerce/corporation. Currently in the U.S. many prisons are privatized. That means corporations make money off of incarceration. More prisoners, more money! Capitalism at its best.

There was a guest speaker from Bar None, a local prison abolition organization, and 2 from Cop Watch, an organization that documents police brutality. During the Bar None presentation, the speaker discussed how our prison system is so deeply ingrained in our minds and culture as the only way to deal with "crime," that we struggle to even imagine alternative responses. For example, solitary confinement, used- and abused- pervasively in the U.S., is considered a violation of human rights by the U.N. Bar None does workshops, including with youth, that look at our definitions of harm, and safety, as well as brainstorming around alternative ways of dealing with various social harms.
Bar None: www.barnone.mahost.org
Redwood Curtain Cop Watch: www.redwoodcurtaincopwatch.net

That evening, Bar None was celebrating their 10 year anniversary with an event including artwork and letters by inmates at Pelican Bay (our local- Cresent City- supermax prison). I went to the event, which was small, but incredibly moving. Several people read letters from inmates, and one woman spoke whose son has been incarcerated for the past 20 years. And then a man stood up to speak, probably in his mid-50s, who said this was his first time engaging Bar None, and that he had had no intention of speaking. But he said, "I am the face of these letters." He had been incarcerated for 29 years, for homicide, "which I am guilty of," and was released 1 month, 1 week ago. He had spent a total of 9 years in the "Shu," which is solitary confinement. As he spoke, he looked at the mother of the inmate in the audience, and said his mother passed away before he was released, and he never told her that he was guilty.

Today, as I wrote this post, I was listening to "Sista's Place," an old-school soul radio show on the Humboldt State station, KHSU. Apparently a lot of inmates in Pelican Bay listen to her show, and so she reads messages to and from them over the radio. She had 2 guests on the show today, a couple of grad students working on an inmate writing project through Dell Arte, (a local artist community organization), who were at the Bar None event. They talked about that man who spoke, and said that afterwards, he and the mother hugged. They mentioned how incredible that moment was- a former inmate who did not get to hug his mother again before he was released, and a mother who cannot hug her incarcerated son.

I will leave it at that, but I want to say that I am so grateful for this community- including the opportunity to take this class, to be inspired by local activists, to bear witness to artwork by and communication with inmates, and to see the healing power of reaching out and opening up among those impacted by the prison industrial complex.