American Prison

American Prison

Adult nonfiction
...My research took me inside a private prison, but it also took
me to history books, old newspapers, forgotten memoirs, and
penetentiary reports stuffed away in state archives. Through the
course of my digging, ithas become clear that there was never a time
in American history in which companies or governments weren't trying
to make money from other people's captivity. I have attempted to
weave this larger history into the story of my eyewitness reporting,
in the hope that I can convey the scope and stakes of what is surely a
national disaster."
Shane Bauer, senior reporter for Mother Jones, was faced with a
dilemma. He wanted to get the scoop on private prisons. Just what
went on behind their closed doors? Only going the conventional route
would just gain him the information the industry would want him to have.
"...when prisons do let reporters in, it's usually for carefully
managed tours and monitored interviews with inmates. Many states
don't allow reporters to choose who they want to interview; the prison
chooses for them. Phone calls are surveilled and letters are opened
and read by guards. Inmates who talk freely to a reporter risk
retaliation, including solitary confinement."
Under those circumstances he felt that he had no other option
than going undercover. He applied to work in the system. He was
hired for an entry level CO [corrections officer] job at Winn
Correctional Center in Winnfield, Louisiana. His observations and
research resulted not only in an expose for Mother Jones, but the book
American Prison.
His biggest take was that private prisons are all about turning
a profit for the stock holders. The way to do that is to slash costs
ruthlessly, denying inmates not only the services that could lead to
rehabilitation, but often basics. [Isn't this just like the American
healthcare system?] Education, training, and even recreation are
nonexistent. The prison doesn't provide staff for that; in fact, they
don't have enough people on duty to adequately keep an eye on the
inmates.
Health care for inmates is neglected big time. In an episode
that should enrage readers, Bauer meets an inmate who, during a four
month span, had made nine requests for medical help. Even when his
feet were oozing pus he was given "sole pads, corn removal pads, and
Motrin." A nurse threatened to write him up for malingering.
"...He tells me his name is Robert Scott and he's been there
twelve years. 'I was walking when I got here,' he tells me. 'Had all
my fingers.' I notice he is wearing fingerless gloves with nothing
poking out of them. 'They took my legs in January and my fingers in
June. Gangrene don't play. I kept going to the infirmary saying, 'My
feet hurt. My feet hurt.' They said, 'Ain't nothin' wrong wicha. I
don't see nothin' wrong wicha.' They didn't believe me or they talk
bad to me--'I can't believe you comin' up here.'"
One way Winn cut corners was by paying COs the same as WalMart
associates, only for twelve hour shifts of dirty [human feces are
involved], dangerous work. Some found less than legal ways of
supplementing their income. Many ignored things like fights. They
weren't being paid enough to intervene. Chillingly, Bauer finds
himself evolving from wanting to do the right thing to taking the
insults of prisoners personally and retaliating, caught up in the drama.
Bauer interweaves his personal narrative with history chapters,
showing that imprisonment for profit is a dark stain on American
history, going back to colonial days. English convicts were given an
offer they couldn't refuse. Instead of death by hanging, they could
be exiled to the colonies where they'd be auctioned off into
involuntary servitude. Well off colonists were really hard up for
servants, you know.
If you're bothered by what you hear about conditions in private
prisons--and remember they also include immigrant detention camps with
children--you'll find American Prison to be a must read.
On a personal note, last night there was quite the drama in the
Hathaway household. Walking into the kitchen, I found myself wading
in water, much too much to be the result of a knocked over water
bowl. I thought, oh, crap! The washing machine is spewing water!
Eugene and I had quite the clean up! And now we don't have a washing
machine. Laundromats are not an option because there are none in
walking distance and I can't drive. I can wash my clothes by hand and
hang them. It's Eugene's clothes and the towels that are too heavy
for that! What will we do? Keep reading my reviews to find out.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world who
was confused by all that was going on.
jules hathaway


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