Escape from Freedom

Hola everybody,
I find myself rooting against the USA in the Olympics. 

Escape from Freedom

If you keep doing the same thing you keep getting the same results.

A week after I began facilitating workshops at New York’s notorious penal colony, Rikers Island, I was confronted with the scene of four men screaming in uncontrollable anger as they violently shook the bars that confined them in their “housing area.” My job was to lock into this housing area in order to deliver programs. That day’s group topic? Anger management. I stood there and I wondered how the hell I was going to do this. It was oppressively hot and there were no fans, not even a breeze. Part of the anger was due to the heat and the fact that many of the men felt they were being brutalized -- and in a very real way, they were being mistreated.

Being me, I smiled and asked my men at the gate (one was a cage fighter out in the street) what was the matter. I asked the correctional officer to open the gate and I took in a deep breath as I walked in and heard the gate close shut behind me. Don’t get me wrong, I never felt I was in danger from the men in my two different groups. On the contrary, they were very protective and loyal to me. Part of the reason I am not allowed to run groups at Rikers any longer is because I was able to forge a bond with the men detained there that the Department of Corrections (DOC) staff either didn’t like or understand. I often felt less comfortable around the guards and civilians than I did with the men detained at Rikers. 

In any case, I wondered how in the fuck I could run a group in which the room temperature was over 100 degrees and my participants were rightfully protesting treatment that would be considered inhuman by most international watchdog groups. In fact, my guys were saying, “We don’t want to hear no bullshit anger management shit today, Mr. Eddie!” LOL

So I struck a deal with them. I said that what I brought to the group that particular day, they could kick me out of the group. That brought some laughter, as many felt my quest was Quixotic at best. In any case, I bet the farm that I could teach the group something they could use that very moment. To do this, I had to throw away the book.

One big revelation for me was the realization that we subconsciously train others how to treat us. We do this through the messages we send through our body language, our tone of voice, and other subtle cues and behaviors. Unfortunately, mostly because our attention is often distracted, obscured, or lost in a past that has gone by or a future that doesn’t exist. 

So my first lesson was the important lesson that the ability to pay attention to what is happening in any given moment -- to our actions and their results -- is one of the basic principles of freedom. And yes, I was talking about freedom to a group that (rightfully) felt they had none. 

Failures and unwanted situations should serve to create new behaviors and different approaches. As the group talked about their grievances of not being listened to, we explored how these things happened. In the context of a jail or prison, conflict resolution takes shape within a bubble of apathy and violence. Feelings of powerlessness and the perception that you are not being listened to or valued may make you scream or talk louder. It might compel you to curse and make threats because the feeling is that you will not be heard otherwise. And while this may seem strange to you, consider how you would react if you felt your basic human rights were being trampled every day. My goal was to do what seemed like the impossible: to teach the practice of freedom where the very concept is held in contempt.

Part of the group entailed role-playing exercises that encouraged awareness of body movement, and the tone and timbre of the voice in various situations -- especially in stressful ones where we all tend to go unconscious and habitual, often mindless, strategies take over. For example, we noted one participant raised his hands and used his index finger in a menacing way though he was basically unaware of the gesture. Others noted that they screamed, but justified it by observing if they didn’t, the guards wouldn’t listen to them. I challenged on this, but that was hard because the hard reality is that in some ways they were correct. What I asked was that they looked at how they added or took away from the dysfunction.

I called in a guard and asked that he participant in some role play. Unfortunately, the guard refused, so I stood in and played the role of authority. Then I asked some of the participants to role play as a guard. That resulted in a lot of laughter, but I think some were able to see past the surface and see that they were humans (if fucked up in their views) just like they were humans. And in this way we all tried to explore how we could train others to treat as we felt we deserved to be treated.

I can’t say if I was successful that day. I know we got to laugh at some of the things we do without being aware of them and how our actions have real-time consequences in our lives. Most importantly, my desire was to communicate that even those who are confined have one basic freedom: we can choose how to respond. 

More on this soon.

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Sunday Sermon [Human Dignity]

Hola mi gente,
As if you needed more proof that the war on drugs was just another way to lock up Blacks and Latinx and radicals, more and more key players at the center of the CIA-crack cocaine scandal continue to come forward. While things did not turn out well for Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Gary Webb, who stunned the world with his “Dark Alliance” newspaper series (Webb’s top editor abandoned him, he was drummed out of journalism by the Times and Washington Post and other leading newspapers, and eventually committed “suicide”), it seems he will have the last word.

A documentary, Freeway: Crack in the System, by Marc Levin (released at the same time Hollywood version of Webb’s life, Kill the Messenger, was released)... 

“…  not only explores the corrupt foundations of the drug war itself, but also calls into question the draconian jail sentences the U.S. justice system meted out to a mostly minority population, while the country’s own foreign policy abetted the drug trade.”

Today's image is courtesy of the upcoming film, The Birth of a Nation. As one critic put it, it's like a “... punch to the gut.”

Seeing the Human

Not too long ago, a high ranking correctional officer admonished me for missing a workshop at this facility. It seems that my workshop participants, thinking I had been replaced, expressed their disapproval so vehemently, they had to call in reinforcements. I run workshops in Rikers Island, one of the most infamous penal colonies in the world at one of their most problematic facilities, Anne M Kross (“AMKC”). The captain asked me what was I did that created such loyalty. I just shrugged and said, “I treat them like with respect.”

Saying shit like that always gets me in trouble. 

I considered it a compliment, especially considering that the NYC Dept. of Corrections (DOC) bureaucrats who run these programs have huge problems with how I facilitate my workshops. The greatest compliment, however, is whenever I run into a brother or sister on the outside and they come up to me to hug me. I remember being in an isolation ward and telling one the brothers there, “You don’t belong here.” He said he would come see me when he got released and he did. He’s now involved in a campaign to do away with the torture of solitary confinement. 

Still, as I further reflected about my workshop participants’ “mutiny” I was reminded of the the thing I do that perhaps others don’t: I refuse to see them as criminals. I see them as human beings. I believe that all people, regardless of their criminal justice status, have the right, as we all do, to live with dignity and their humanity respected and valued. 

I have seen and worked with many people who had committed murder, but I have never seen a murderer. I have seen many people who had stolen from others, but I have never seen a thief. And here’s the hardest one for me. I have even seen and worked with people who had committed terrible sex crimes, but I have never seen a sex offender. Throughout the years, I have evolved enough to realize than any person is more than a crime. 

It is irrational to define people by their worst act or acts. It denies the existence of all the other deeds they have committed, the many good or even noble, acts. I recognize those other deeds, the other, good aspects of their personalities. I see people who had done a crime, not criminals, or inmates, detainees, or cons, or animals.

When I began to see the people instead of just the crimes, they also saw the good parts of themselves. In giving respect, they respected me, and as a consequence, respected themselves. They began to have self-respect without denying their crime

Unless you have been living under a rock, you most know by now that as a nation, The United States incarcerates more people than any other nation on the planet. We’re in the midst of a brutal social experiment in which we have enslaved black and brown people and poor people. We’re so hell-bent on retribution and punishment that we have lost sight of the humanity of our brothers and sisters and in the process, we have lost our souls.

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Shame and Violence

Hola mi Gente,
Yesterday, I spent the whole day in lobbying in Albany to essentially do away with the practice of torture often called solitary confinement. One of the consequences of politicians such as Hillary Clinton, who championed get tough on crime policies that have decimated Black and Latinx communities, is the increased practice of caging human beings in a cell not much bigger than a small closet, for 23 hours a day every day -- often for years.

I spent less than a month in an isolation unit and by the second week, I was prowling the small cell and talking to myself. One guard, who had something against me, hinted that he had pissed and put shit in my food, so I wasn’t eating. By the third week, I was having difficulty separating what was in my head from reality. The screams I heard throughout the day and night, screams from people with mental health needs, were horrifying and disorienting. Then there were the screams of people who were being beaten by the guards. 

The UN considers anything more than 15 days of isolated confinement as cruel and unusual punishment. But in the United States, because we’re seen as animals -- super-predators -- we’re subjected to abuse that would make most people angry if the abuse were directed at a dog, let alone a human being.

* * *

Formerly incarcerated people at the vanguard of criminal justice reform.

Shame and Violence

Retribution as justice is the disease of a society gone mad with the lust for vengeance.
-- Eddie

Some of you know that I work in the area of criminal justice. More specifically, for ten years, I helped create and eventually became the director of a (now defunct) community-based re-entry project called Developing Justice that offered support to the many men and women returning to their communities after incarceration. More recently, I have worked for an organization, The Correctional Association, where I was able to utilize a human rights perspective as a way to advocate for policies that decreased our dependence on incarceration and create more human conditions in prisons.

One of the things I like most about the work that I do is being a part of network of formerly incarcerated men and women who are at the vanguard of the push for criminal justice reform. As my friend, Glenn Martin, of JustLeadership, likes to say, those who are closest to the problem are often closest to the solutions

One of my areas of interest is challenging what many of us are calling the punishment paradigm -- the notion that punishment, without regard to rehabilitation is an effective means of social justice. Of course, it isn’t. In fact, there’s an empirically strong case for hyper-incarceration as a factor in increases in violence and violent crime. I tend to agree with this, generally speaking. I actually see it all the time. I will also submit that there is very little difference in the lived of experiences of people in prison and the people who live in communities that are the pipeline to those prisons -- for the most part communities of color. In fact, Black and Latinx communities often resemble open air prisons.

Psychiatrist James Gilligan, who has worked in prisons for 35 years, describes an interesting experience that I think is connected to all this. He was called in to resolve a vicious cycle with a prisoner in which he would assault corrections officers and they would in turn physically abuse him. The more they abused him the more violent he became, and the more violent he became the more they abused him. Nothing they did (at least legally) would stop this man from assaulting the officers.

When Gilligan went to see this man he asked him what he thought was an obvious question, “What do you want so badly that you are willing to give up everything else in order to get it?” His answer astonished the doctor. Usually inarticulate to the point that it was difficult to get a clear answer to any question, he stood up, and with perfect clarity he stated authoritatively: “Pride. Dignity. Self-esteem.” And then he added, “And I’ll kill every motherfucker in that cell block if I have to in order to get it.” He went on to describe how the officers were attempting to strip away his last shred of dignity and self-esteem by disrespecting him, and said, “I still have my pride and I won’t let them take that away from me. If you ain’t got pride, you got nothin'.” He made it clear that he would die before he would humble himself to the officers by submitting to their abuse.

According to Gilligan, this wasn’t uncommon. In fact, several hundred violent criminals in this country provoke their own deaths at the hands of the police in exactly that way every year. Indeed, this phenomenon is so common that police forces (and this is not counting the clear cases of police misconduct) around the country have given it a nickname: “suicide by cop.” In World War II, Japan’s kamikaze pilots behaved in a way that had much the same result, as do contemporary suicide bombers in the Middle East and elsewhere.

Articulating a powerful insight, Gilligan adds, “In the prisons and on the streets of the United States, such behavior appears to be committed by people who are so tormented by feelings of being shamed and disrespected by their enemies that they are willing to sacrifice their bodies and their physical existence to replace those intolerable feelings with the opposite feelings of pride and self-respect, and of being honored and admired by their allies and at least respected by their enemies. Such people experience the fear that they provoke in their victims as a kind of ersatz form of respect, the only type they are capable of achieving.”

I certainly agree with Gilligan except that I see his use of the label “enemies” as a product of his white privilege. What he calls enemies are, in fact, the very social institutions that are meant to protect and serve us.

Here’s the travesty: as a society we recreate environments, at an enormous social and economic expense, that exacerbate these feelings of impotent rage. Our prisons and communities are filled with people who have become part of a long-standing human experiment in how to destroy a whole group of people through racialized social control. In other words, we address social issues such as addiction, lack of access to quality education, poverty, structural racism, and domestic violence, for example, by punishing -- incarcerating -- the people most impacted by inequality. The icing on the cake is that we do this at an enormous economic expense and that money gets taken out of, yes, you guessed it, “luxuries” such as education, drug treatment, economic investment in marginalized communities, and so on.

There has to be a better way. In fact, there are better ways. Gilligan has run an extremely successful prison restorative justice program utilizing his insights, for example. I believe that at least half (and maybe more) of the mostly Black and Latinx people in cages right now, don’t belong there. It is common knowledge that education and supportive services such as drug treatment, workforce development, educational opportunities -- in essence a Marshall Plan for our own devastated communities -- cost a fraction of the billions prisons cost us today and are much more effective at reducing violence and crime. 

Not too long ago, while reviewing some literature, a colleague sent me the following snippet:

In the Babemba tribe of South Africa, when a person acts irresponsibly or unjustly, he is placed at the center of the village, alone and unfettered. All work ceases, and everyone in the village gathers in a large circle around the accused. Then each person in the tribe speaks to the accused, one at a time, recalling the good things the person has done in his life. Every experience that can be recalled with detail and accuracy is recounted. All his positive attributes, good deeds, strengths, and kindnesses are recited carefully. This ceremony often lasts for several days. At the end, a joyous celebration takes place, and the person is symbolically and literally welcomed back into the tribe.”

I believe we need what my departed friend, Eddie Ellis, called human justice. Essentially, Eddie offered “an instructive vision for what 'justice' looks like in the context of the needs, aspirations and well-being of ordinary people.” 

Wow, justice for the 99% what a fuckin’ crazy idea, huh?

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…