How locking kids in solitary confinement became normal

I remember the first time I ever saw a child locked up in a men's prison. I was walking down the corridor of a maximum-security prison, visiting a prisoner who had been transferred there from the prison where I was working at the time. (That's a sad story for another day.)

Suddenly, I saw the face of a boy, staring out at me bleakly from a cell window. The incongruity of the boy's presence in a men's prison made me do a double-take. I stared back for a long moment into his haunted eyes. When I asked about him later, I was told that, as the only minor at the prison, he had to be locked down 24/7 for his own protection.

I remember thinking at the time that even if a minor was tried and sentenced as an adult, there should be a provision to keep him in a juvenile lockup until he turned 18, so that he would be with others his age, have access to educational programming, and not be such a target for victimization.

Fast forward to 2014, and such a sight is no longer unusual. Thousands of minors across the United States are locked up in adult prisons and county jails, and many of them are kept in solitary. Manhattan's Rikers Island, the second-largest jail in the United States, houses hundreds of minors, and roughly one-fourth are in punitive segregation at any given moment. What makes this especially appalling is that most of these minors are pretrial detainees, not yet convicted of any crime. 

Spotlight on Rikers island

Ismael "Izzy" Nazario has recently become the public face of the problem. Now 25 and a case manager for juveniles coming out of Rikers, he estimates that as a juvenile he spent about 300 days altogether in "The Box," a dreaded 6x8 cage; his longest single stay was four months. After a while, he said in a video (which has since been removed from YouTube), you start to go crazy. You pace back and forth and talk to yourself; your eyes start playing tricks on you. "Your mind becomes your own worst enemy."

Ismael "Izzy" Nazario

Nazario's experience is not unusual. According to a state report, teens in solitary at Rikers are more likely than other detained juveniles to try to harm themselves. Nationwide, more than half of detained juveniles who commit suicide do so while locked in solitary confinement.

This is not surprising. As noted by developmental psychiatrist Bruce Perry in an interview with the Center for Investigative Reporting, solitary confinement is bad for anyone -- but it is especially bad for children. And as we forensic professionals know, incarcerated children are not just any children; they are children who have already experienced major losses and traumas in their young lives. Traumas that make them more vulnerable to the deleterious effects of isolation:

"They end up getting these very intense doses of dissociative experience, and they get it in an unpredictable way. They’ll get three days in isolation. Then they’ll come back on the unit and get two days in isolation. They’ll come back out and then get one day. They end up with a pattern of activating this dissociative coping mechanism. The result is that when they’re confronted with a stressor later on, they will have this extreme disengagement where they’ll be kind of robotic, overly compliant, but they’re not really present. I’ve seen that a lot with these kids. They’ll come out, and they’re little zombies. The interpretation by the staff is that they’ve been pacified. 'We’ve broken him.' But basically what you’ve done is you’ve traumatized this person in a way that if this kid was in somebody’s home, you would charge that person with child abuse."

Being a feifdom, Rikers has steadfastly refused to allow journalistic access. But  New York City Councilman Daniel Dromm, one of the few outsiders to witness conditions in The Box, pulled no punches in labeling what he saw "torture." Dromm is campaigning for more transparency. At minimum, he wants Rikers administrators to report the number of minors locked in punitive segregation, their ages, and their infractions. “We need to unveil the secrecy," he said.

Rikers Island in the 1930s, Lucien Aigner

The international community agrees with his categorization. The United Nation classifies solitary confinement as a form of torture, prohibited for children under international law.

The correctional officers' union disagrees with this prohibition. A spokesman said outsiders just don't understand the need for force -- including punitive segregation -- to keep testosterone-fueled young men in line in "the belly of the beast."

I found that turn of phrase more than a little intriguing, coming from a correctional officer. Although the origins and meaning of the phrase are a bit murky, since the publication of Jack Abbott's prison memoir by that the title in 1981, in reference to the American prison system it is generally used to invoke a brutal and unjust system, which one opposes even from within.

But the phrase is apropros, because beastly the system is.It takes already marginalized youth and bestows the ultimate lesson in disempowerment and dehumanization. As Bruce Perry puts it, it announces to disenfranchised minors that, as a society, "we don’t care for you."

That's a harsh message, and one that these young people will have fully internalized by the time they are set back loose into society, broken or vengeful as the case may be.

The silver lining is that Rikers Island conditions are gaining traction as a symbol of the plight of children in adult correctional institutions nationwide. PBS Newshour recently highlighted the issue. And the Center for Investigative Reporting features a series of reports on the online media platform Medium.

Long-burning embers of 1990s superpredator wildfire 

But how did we ever get to the point that children are being tried and incarcerated as adults in the first place, not to mention locked in solitary confinement in adult institutions?

Not all of us are even old enough to keenly recall the 1990s hysteria surrounding juvenile "superpredators," marauding Black and Brown youth who were predicted to engulf society within a few short years if nothing was done to stop them.

This week, the New York Times produced a superb "retro report" video, documenting the history of the superpredator panic. Archived news clips bring us back to the moment when it all began, with incendiary predictions of two academics -- prominent political scientist John J. Dilulio Jr. and criminologist James Fox.

It was Dilulio who coined the term "superpredator," which invokes an animal menace in hordes of "Godless" young Black males, "a ticking time bomb" waiting to erupt; Fox added his own inflammatory rhetoric about the “bloodbath” that was just around the corner.

"And like a match to a flame, the word caught on.... Life in the 1990s [became] dominated by a sense that youth violence was out of control. The future looked bleak. To explain why, one word said it all – superpredators.... A growing wave of kids who were going to ravage the country…. The prediction was terrifying, and lawmakers cracked down on juvenile offenders."

Conservative politicians seized the moment. Aided by fears over changing racial demographics, they were able to pass harsh laws in nearly every U.S. state to allow for juveniles to be tried as adults and to exponentially increase their punishments.

Ironically, at the very moment these laws were being enacted, juvenile crime rates began their unprecedented plummet, the exact opposite of what Dilulio and Fox had predicted. The two men now admit that they were flat-out wrong. In 2012, they both went so far as to sign an amicus brief arguing against life imprisonment for children convicted of murder.

But it was too late. The punitive social climate they had ignited was like a wildfire that burned far out of control. And it's still burning across the United States, from Rikers Island to Los Angeles County and everywhere in between, consuming untold thousands of teenagers from the most vulnerable classes of society.

Hat tip: Kathleen

* * * * *

For those interested in the topic of juveniles sentenced as adults, I recommend the award-winning film Juvies.

(c) Copyright Karen Franklin 2014 - All rights reserved

Legal challenge may force changes to Minnesota civil commitment

Guest post by Jon Brandt, MSW, LICSW

It has been 16 years since the U.S. Supreme Court narrowly upheld the constitutionality of controversial preventive detention schemes for dangerous sex offenders. Now, with 20 U.S. states incarcerating many thousands of men at an annual cost of more than $500 million, Minnesota has become Ground Zero for a new round of legal challenges alleging that the state’s treatment program is a sham from which no one is ever released. In this guest post, Jon Brandt gives a first-person report on last week’s momentous federal hearing.

U.S. District Court Judge Donovan Frank

SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA -- On December 18 at the Federal District Courthouse, Judge Donovan Frank heard motions in a federal lawsuit that promises to dramatically change the civil commitment landscape in Minnesota and, by extension, around the country.

The case began modestly two years ago as a pro se complaint by about a dozen detainees at the Minnesota Sex Offender Program (MSOP).* The Federal District Court for Minnesota determined the case had merit, appointed counsel, and in 2012 Judge Frank certified it as a class action.  At a hearing last Wednesday, Dan Gustafson, lead attorney for the plaintiffs, argued motions alleging that civil commitment as administered in Minnesota is unconstitutional. 

An inauspicious start

When the court convened there was a sparse audience that included a few families of MSOP clients, a handful of reporters, and several professional stakeholders. Conspicuously absent were any plaintiffs.   Perhaps there’s some irony in the fact that, in 20 years, not only has no one ever been fully discharged from MSOP, apparently all current clients are too dangerous for any of them to be shackled and accompanied by security personnel to a federal courtroom to hear arguments on the conditions of their own confinement. Given that courtrooms are designed to contain dangerous people, whether the decision to exclude clients was made by executive or judicial authorities, it seems like a missed opportunity to allow some representative plaintiffs to bear direct witness to the wheels of justice.   

The hearing had an inauspicious start for the 698 plaintiffs civilly detained 90 miles away – the audio feed via phone lines failed. So, after waiting 15 years for the courts to reconsider their plight, the plaintiffs missed the first hour of legal arguments.   When the audio connection was finally restored, Judge Frank assured wary plaintiffs that the technical problems were not deliberate, and personally took responsibility.
The hearing began with attorney Gustafson arguing for “declaratory judgment,” or a legal finding that the state’s civil commitment program is operating in an unconstitutional manner.   He cited case law that clients have a constitutional right to rehabilitation and claimed that the program breaches civil liberties and offers neither adequate rehabilitation nor acceptable living conditions.

No one ever released

Detainee at Moose Lake MSOP facility

The state’s attorney, Assistant Attorney General Nate Brennaman, countered that the program does provide appropriate treatment, that there is no constitutional right to treatment, and that the plaintiffs are basing their entire case on a single fact, “That no one has ever gotten out.”

Gustafson seemed amused that the defense was making his case. The fact that no one is released is strong evidence, he asserted. He pointed out that nearby states have far better track records. Wisconsin, with demographics nearly identical to Minnesota’s, has civilly committed only 351 people, and nearly half are now on either conditional or full release. Iowa has committed only about 103 people, and about 30 of those have been provisionally or fully released. He pointed out that treatment which was originally estimated to be completed in 32 months is now anticipated to last eight to nine years. Not a single one of the more than 700 individuals (including one female) who have been detained has ever completed the treatment program, and only one is on conditional release.

The plaintiff next argued for a court order mandating that each detainee be individually evaluated to determine whether he might safely be released to a “less restrictive alternative,” or LRA.

Judge Frank peppered the hearing with comments and questions that frequently interrupted attorneys on both legal teams, and also gave clues to his persuasion.   Noting that Justice Kennedy was the swing vote in the 5-4 ruling in Kansas v. Hendricks, he read a passage from Kennedy’s concurring opinion whereby Kennedy cautioned that “an improvident plea bargain” by the criminal justice system cannot be remedied by the civil commitment system, and that retribution is exclusively within the domain of criminal justice. Judge Frank also raised concerns about 18 infirmed clients (one who is 91) who require assisted living and questioned the “dangerousness” of such relatively incapacitated clients. He also questioned conditions of confinement that mimic prison. When the state’s attorney argued that conditions of criminal versus civil confinement had been decided by the US Supreme Court in the 1982 Youngberg v. Romeo case, Judge Frank interrupted with, “No, it wasn’t… but continue.”

Judge Frank expressed concern that most of the clients at the MSOP were still in the first phase of treatment, and twice pointed to his understanding that treatment progress is not only slow but that some clients are apparently sent back to redo previous phases. He also seemed concerned that detainees get less treatment than sexual offenders incarcerated in state prisons. He pondered rhetorically, “How much treatment is enough,” and questioned how the “Youngberg standard” of professional judgment might determine completion of treatment.

Motion for federal oversight

Moose Lake

The plaintiffs’ third motion was for the appointment of a “special master” and federal supervision of both the facility and the system. A special master is an administrator who would oversee MSOP operations and implement federal court directives. The state’s attorney responded that clients are getting effective treatment at MSOP, that treatment is subject to quarterly reviews, which is more stringent than other states that only require annual reviews, that MSOP has filled most of its open clinical positions, and that there is nothing that a special master could do that isn’t either already being done, or that DHS couldn’t manage if so directed by the federal court.

If Judge Frank grants the first motion, finding conditions unconstitutional, the other two motions might be automatic -- MSOP could be put under federal supervision in a similar manner as the state of Washington from 1994 to 2007. 

Judge Frank confirmed that on December 6 he appointed four sex offender treatment experts to guide the proceedings, under Federal Court Rule 706 . The four experts are: 

• Mike Miner, Professor and Research Director of the Program in Human Sexuality at the University of Minnesota Medical School

• Naomi Freeman, who leads New York’s unit for Strict and Intensive Supervision and Treatment that manages civilly committed individuals outside of secure facilities

• Deborah McCulloch, director of Wisconsin’s sex offender civil commitment program, and 

• Robin Wilson, former clinical director at the Florida sex offender civil commitment program from 2006 to 2011, during which time there was a class action and settlement

Judge Frank seems to have exercised judicial restraint over the two years since the original complaint was filed. In an effort to prod state government, in 2012 he ordered the establishment of a special task force  to make recommendations to the state legislature. The Task Force held several hearings and collected relevant documents. It issued its first report in December 2012, with general recommendations for public-private partnerships to establish a statewide network of less restrictive alternatives. The report echoed critical findings by the Minnesota Office of the Legislative Auditor in 2011. Unfortunately the state legislature adjourned in May 2013 without enacting legislative changes. 

Events may force action

Wednesday’s motions, the critical reports, and two other events in 2013 will likely force Judge Frank to act soon. Last summer Dr. Grant Duwe, chief researcher for the Minnesota Department of Corrections, published research that challenges the government’s foundational claim that civil detainees are “highly likely” to reoffend. Duwe’s research indicates that most of the detainees are highly likely to NOT reoffend.   

Then, last month, Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton issued an executive order that continued the eight-year moratorium of his predecessor -- that there will be no further releases of clients from MSOP, except by court order. With this abdication of executive oversight, all three branches of the state government seem to be in perpetual paralysis. 

Minnesota’s government is managing the Sex Offender Civil Commitment program (SOCC)  like holding a wolf by the ears -- don’t want to hold on and afraid to let go.   Modest reforms that are in progress at MSOP are being sabotaged by systemic failures. Clinical staff have the impossible job of trying to maintain the integrity of endless treatment goals for clients trapped in a treatment paradox and have come to realize that the promise of rehabilitation is disingenuous.

Legal scholar Eric Janus

One of the highly principled critics of SOCC who is likely to be vindicated by imminent rulings from Judge Frank is Eric Janus. Janus is the President and Dean of the William Mitchell College of Law, and author of, “Failure to Protect; America’s Sexual Predator Laws and the Rise of the Preventive State” (Cornell University Press, 2006). Janus led an unsuccessful challenge to SOCC before the Minnesota Supreme Court in the 1990s. Since then, he has been warning that the SOCC, as public policy, is deceptively enticing, deeply flawed, and destined to overreach its stated intent. Janus was also a member of the Minnesota SOCC Task Force. 

Judge Frank indicated that he will accept a joint amicus brief from Janus and the ACLU, due Dec. 27, and will rule on the motions within 60 days.

My take is that the federal courts can no longer ignore repeated judicial admonishments; if the SOCC begins to look like retribution or prison in disguise, the courts will intervene. With precedence in the state of Washington, Judge Frank seems poised to put MSOP under federal supervision. Depending on the strength of any finding of “unconstitutional,” the ruling could have far-reaching implications that echo around the United States.    

Relevant legal cases:

*Karsjens, et al. v. MN Department of Human Services, et al., CV 11-3659 DWF/JJK

Foucha v. Louisiana, (90-5844), 504 U.S. 71 (1992).

Strutton v. Meade, (10–2029) 668 F.3d 549, US Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit (2012)

Youngberg v. Romeo, (80-1429) 457 U.S. 307 (1982)

Call v. Gomez, 535 N.W.2d 312, Supreme Court of Minnesota (1995)

Seling v. Young (99-1185) 531 U.S. 250 (2001)

Jon Brandt is a clinical social worker in Minnesota, for 35 years working in the prevention of sexual abuse. He has provided evaluations, treatment, and supervision to several hundred sexual offenders, and provided professional consultation and training to colleagues. He is a Clinical Member of the Association for the Treatment of Sexual Abusers (ATSA) and is a blogger for ATSA’s website, Sexual Abuse: A Journal of Research and Treatment.   In February 2012 his post, “Doubts about SVP Programs,” was re-blogged here.
 

Militarization: When the extraordinary becomes ordinary

In line with the human rights theme of this year's Blog Action Day (it's exciting to be coordinating with 2,000+ other bloggers from around the world!),* let me share four brief anecdotes. They may seem unrelated but, ultimately, they do connect. I promise.

#1: Cheye Calvo, mayor of the small town of Berwyn Heights, Maryland, was in his bedroom one night, changing clothes for a meeting. His mother-in-law was in the kitchen, cooking a tomato-artichoke sauce. Suddenly, Calvo heard an explosion and the sound of gunfire. Heavily armed men clad in black burst into the house. He saw his mother-in-law lying face-down on the kitchen floor at gunpoint. His two beloved black Labradors lay dead in pools of blood. Clad only his boxer shorts, the mayor was bound and forced to kneel on the floor. This was it, he thought. He was about to be executed, but he knew not why.

* * * * *

#2: In the Washington Heights neighborhood of New York City, an alert neighbor observed a man forcing a woman into her apartment. Police were called. They burst in and found the woman in handcuffs, a man hiding in her closet with rope and two pairs of women's panties in his backpack. Daryl Thomas was a resident of the neighborhood, a husband and a father, and a computer system manager for a Manhattan law firm. When questioned by Senior Detective Harold Hernandez, he was forthcoming. No, this was not his first sexual assault; he had committed seven or eight similar attacks in the neighborhood in recent months. Yes, he was willing to show police the precise locations. The detective had one major problem: He was unaware of any serial rape spree in the 33rd precinct. If the victims had reported the crimes, the Manhattan Special Victims Unit would have notified the precinct of the pattern, so police could be on the lookout for a suspect matching Thomas’s description.

* * * * * 

Police prepare to enter Carey apartment

#3: After dental hygienist Miriam Carey attempted to ram a barricade near the White House and was shot to death on Oct. 3, her one-year-old baby in the car, police descended upon her home town of Stamford, Connecticut, armed with helicopters, bomb trucks, Hazardous Materials trucks and machine guns. The 100-odd personnel from the U.S. Secret Service, the FBI and state and local police sealed off the area and evacuated nearby residents before donning Haz-Mat suits with self-contained breathing apparatuses and entering Carey’s apartment. Rather than bombs, guns or Al Qaeda literature, they reportedly found prescriptions for the antipsychotic risperidone and the antidepressant escitalopram, medications consistent with Carey's diagnosis of postpartum depression with psychosis.

* * * * * 

Ohio State University's MRAP

#4: Ohio State University has just obtained a military surplus Mine-Resistant, Ambush-Protected (MRAP) armored personnel carrier. Explaining the acquisition, the campus police chief points out that stadiums are at risk for terrorist attacks, according to the Department of Homeland Security. The MRAP may also be used for crowd control at football games. The vehicle cost about half a million dollars to produce and is designed to withstand "ballistic arms fire, mine fields, IED's, and Nuclear, Biological and Chemical environments." To make its appearance less ominous, its desert tan is being repainted black and its roof-mounted machine gun being removed. The university joins the ranks of cities across America -- from Preston, Idaho to Cullman, Alabama to Boulder, Colorado and Murrieta, California -- that are cashing in on Department of Homeland Security grant money to buy such intimidating vehicles. In Dallas County, Texas, for example, the sheriff’s department plans to use its new MRAP to serve drug warrants. 

So what's the connection?

All four anecdotes relate to an insiduous shift in U.S. policing over the past few decades, toward greater and greater militarization.

The emergence of SWAT

Young people born in the 1980s may find it hard to believe that back in 1970, there was only one SWAT team in the entire United States -- in Los Angeles, California. Today, SWAT teams are a cultural icon. Almost all cities and most small towns have these paramilitary forces. By and large, the role of SWAT teams is far removed from the Hollywood image of hostage rescue or mass shooting intervention. Rather, they are being deployed – tens of thousands of times per year – in drug raids and to serve routine warrants, according to a new book by award-winning in investigative journalist Radley Balko. 

Cheye Calvo, the mayor of Berwyn Heights, Maryland (Anecdote 1), was a victim of one such raid. Mistaken drug raids are far from rare. The judiciary's progressive weakening of checks and balances in regard to warrants and searches has fostered a police culture in which "extraordinary violence" is meted out with impunity. The shooting of dogs "at the slightest provocation," Balko writes, is part of a larger problem of an us-against-them "battlefield mentality" in which many police see the citizenry as the enemy.

Allure of the techno-warrior

"Why serve an arrest warrant to some crack dealer with a .38?" asked one U.S. military officer who trained police SWAT teams in the 1990s. "With full armor, the right shit, and training, you can kick ass and have fun."

As this quote implies, SWAT raids -- conducted hundreds of times per year in cities large and small -- foster a masculine culture of violence and a worship of a "techno-warrior" image of policing. SWAT raids are the ultimate in power, an adrenaline rush that is quickly habit-forming. Recruitment videos that emphasize this culture may, in turn, be changing the type of individual who seeks to become a police officer.

Texas SWAT team terrorizes organic farmers in August

Balko traces the militarization of police to the "drug war" ideology that began under President Nixon and escalated under Ronald Reagan. One specific clause in an omnibus crime bill of 1984, not considered particularly controversial at the time, ultimately produced a seismic shift in American policing. The asset forfeiture law allowed police to seize property, auction it off, and divide up the bounty, just so long as federal agents were even remotely involved in the investigation.

Asset forfeiture created a huge incentive for police to go after people in order to seize their property. Drug enforcement brought in boatloads of cash, much of which was reinvested into more battle gear. Police departments competed with each other for drug revenue, to the neglect of investigating violent crimes such as rape, robbery and murder. So, we end up with situations like the one a few years back in Oakland, California, in which a lack of investigative prioritization allowed a serial rapist on parole to remain free to prey on young African American girls until he finally made the mistake of gunning down four police officers.

Detective work is no fun

Many police officers are appalled by the insidious militarization of police. Betty Taylor, police chief of a small Missouri town, recalled how she became troubled by the economic disparity between the "drug guys," flush with property seizures and endless federal grants, and the struggling sex crimes unit that she had established.

"When you think about the collateral effects of a sex crime, of how it can affect an entire family, an entire community, it just didn’t make sense," she told Balko. "The drug users weren't really harming anyone but themselves. Even the dealers, I found much of the time they were just people with little money, just trying to get by." Her opinion solidified when she was recruited onto a SWAT team, and witnessed first-hand the lasting terror that the raids produced in vulnerable children.

"I thought, how can we be the good guys when we come into the house looking like this, screaming and pointing guns at the people they love? ... Good police work has nothing to do with dressing up in black and breaking into houses in the middle of the night…. When you get into that [us-versus-them] mentality, there are no innocent people. There's us and there's the enemy. Children and dogs are always the easiest casualties."

Downgrading crime

The case of Daryl Thomas (Anecdote 2) involved more than neglect of violent crimes. As Detective Hernandez discovered, police brass in his precinct -- and throughout New York City -- were systematically downgrading crimes from serious felonies to minor misdemeanors, in order to improve their CompStat crime statistics. A model that has been adopted throughout the United States as well as in England and Australia, CompStat had the unintended consequence of fostering competition among precincts for lower statistics. Only seven categories of major crime are counted in crime statistics and made publicly available, so police can reduce crime rates by, for example, reclassifying attempted rape as criminal trespass.

The Thomas case was handled quietly, with no media attention. Thomas was convicted and sentenced to 50 years in prison. But Hernandez, frustrated by the constant battles with his own superiors, took an early retirement. "Unfortunately, this is the culture for the young cop coming into the department. He doesn't see the bigger picture," he said. "If it's going to allow him to have a day off, and they won't ride him or harass him, he'll go along with it. And New Yorkers are being victimized, and no one responds to their complaints."

While major crimes were being downgraded to misdemeanors, Manhattan police were also being encouraged to trump up minor cases -- drinking in public or driving without a seatbelt -- in order to bolster their statistics. Police officer Adrian Schoolcraft surreptitiously recorded his superiors giving these directives; with the collusion of a department psychologist, he eventually found himself drummed out of the force on trumped-up psychiatric grounds. (You can hear excerpts from his secret tapes on This American Life.)

Culture of fear

Putting the case of dental hygienist Miriam Carey (Anecdote 3) in historical context illustrates just how much has changed in the past few decades. 

Back in 1976, Chester M. Plummer became the first person shot to death by White House guards. Plummer and Carey were similar in some respects. Both were African American. Both were described as apolitical. And both manifested signs of psychiatric decompensation. With her postpartum psychosis, Carey had apparently incorporated President Obama into a delusional belief system. Plummer, a decorated Army veteran, former high school football star and part-time cabbie, had been examined by a psychiatrist after being arrested for indecent exposure; the doctor thought Plummer's recent divorce had triggered a psychiatric crisis. On July 25, 1976, Plummer scaled a fence while holding a three-foot pipe. He was shot to death after ignoring the guards’ orders to stop.

What happened -- or didn't happen -- next is where the difference in culture emerges. Blogging at The Nation, Rick Perlstein compares the two cases to highlight the extreme overreaction of police today to any threat, however contained.

"There’s terrorism now, they say. But there was terrorism then, nearly every month -- 89 bombings attributed by the FBI to terrorism in 1975, culminating in that awful LaGuardia bomb; and a veritable wave in the winter and spring 1976, much of it around the trial of Patty Hearst: of an FBI office in Berkeley, Standard Oil of California headquarters in San Francisco. Americans didn’t freak out, or shut down, or exhibit symptoms of PTSD. They had a massive outdoor national 200th birthday party."

Writing in The Baffler, Chris Bray makes a similar point in regard to the shutdown of Boston after the explosion at the marathon that killed three people.

Police outside Carey residence in Stamford, CT

In the aftermath of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, the 1996 bombing at the Atlanta Olympics, and the paired 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, here’s what didn’t happen: whole cities weren’t locked down, armored personnel carriers with police logos didn’t rumble in, and SWAT teams in combat uniforms and body armor didn’t storm through the suburbs for a loosely ordered set of (ultimately hapless) house-to-house searches. Somehow, though, 2013 was the year it became appropriate to close cities, turning off taxis, buses, and trains and telling residents that the governor was suggesting -- okay, strongly suggesting -- that they not leave their homes until the police said so. One of those familiar moments in which officials ask the public to be on the lookout turned into a remarkable new moment in which officials ask the public to cease to exist in its public form so that the police can have the streets.

That leaves Anecdote 4, about armored personnel carriers, which pretty much speaks for itself.

"We are in the midst of a historic transformation," wrote Eastern Kentucky University professor Peter B. Kraska in 2007 in regard to police militarization. "Attempting to control the crime problem by routinely conducting police special-operations raids on people’s private residences is strong evidence that the U.S. police, and crime-control efforts in general, have moved significantly down the militarization continuum." 

The irony is that this militarization is occurring simultaneously with a great diminution in violent crime in the United States. In particular, despite the public's perception of police work as dangerous, the job of law enforcement is getting safer all the time.

The American Civil Liberties Union is looking into the broader implications of the spread of military culture into domestic policing in the United States. The agency believes that militarization has come at the cost of trampled human rights and a greater risk of violence, according to a report in the Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch. The study is due out next year.

That strikes me as a bit too late. Pandora's box has long been opened, and there's no going back.

So, don’t be too surprised if you happen to spy a mine-resistant, ambush-protected, armored personnel carrier rolling down your street in the near future. It's only a matter of time.

Sources and recommended resources:

Radley Balko (2013), Rise of the Warrior Cop: The Militarization of America’s Police Forces 

Peter Kraska (2007), Militarizing the American Criminal Justice System: The Changing Roles of the Armed Forces and the Police

Graham Rayman (June 8, 2010), Village Voice, NYPD Tapes 3: A Detective Comes Forward about Downgraded Sexual Assaults: When even attempted rapes are being downgraded to misdemeanors, is the public safe?

Rick Perlstein (Oct. 3, 2013), Nation, Culture of Fear: Miriam Carey’s Tragedy, and Our Own

Ira Glass, This American Life, “Right to Remain Silent” (well worth a look or, better yet, a listen)

Sarah Stillman (August 12, 2013), New Yorker, Taken: Under civil forfeiture, Americans who haven’t been charged with wrongdoing can be stripped of their cash, cars, and even homes. Is that all we’re losing? 

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*Blog Action Day is an international event in which thousands of bloggers around the world pledge to participate. This year's theme, in coordination with Amnesty International, is human rights. If you want to see a true smorgasbord of human rights topics streaming in live, check out the web page.

Miracle Village: A leper colony for bogeymen

Almost 750,000 Americans are now on sex offender registries, and the numbers just keep growing. Because the truly dangerous are mixed in with the far more numerous low-risk offenders, registries are useless from a public safety perspective. But they do have a pernicious effect on ex-offenders, who -- like the lepers of yore -- oftentimes find themselves with nowhere to go and no hope of ever reintegrating into society.

Enter "Miracle Village" in Florida. Built in 1964 for sugar cane workers (some of whom still live there), it was transformed into a haven by an evangelical pastor and his wife (both of whom, ironically, were sexually molested as children). It's now home to about 100 convicted sex offenders, a place they can be among others like themselves and feel a bit more human. Since the community was established in 2009, there has not been one reported sex crime, according to the local sheriff's office.

But it's only a drop in the bucket. The demand is extraordinary; more than 100 people per week apply for the limited housing.

The short video Sex Offender Village was put together by two people who come from what might be seen as opposite ends of the spectrum: Documentary filmmaker Lisa Jackson has spent years examining sex crimes from the victim’s point of view; David Feige is a former chief public defender from the Bronx turned TV writer. But they agree on one thing: U.S. sex offender laws are "doing more harm than good":

In the past 25 years, the laws governing sex offenses have gone from punitive to draconian to senseless. The term 'sex offender' simply covers too wide a range now, painting the few truly heinous crimes and the many relatively innocuous ones with the same broad brush. This overly broad approach wastes resources that could be better spent, for instance, on clearing the huge and unforgivable backlog of untested rape evidence kits. We see even deeper problems: the explosion of sex offender registries, stringent yet demonstrably ineffective residency restrictions, and the bizarre world of 'civil commitment,' where we punish what someone might do rather than what he or she has done. All of this suggests that our entire approach to dealing with sex offenders has gone tragically off the rails.

CLICK ON ABOVE IMAGE TO VIEW THE 5-MINUTE VIDEO AT THE NEW YORK TIMES OP-ED WEBSITE.

California high court upholds parolee confidentiality right

Two years ago, I reported on a California appellate opinion upholding the sacredness of patient-therapist confidentiality even for convicted felons who are mandated to treatment as a condition of parole. Today, the California Supreme Court upheld the gist of the ruling -- but with a proviso. Using strained logic, the court held that the breach of confidentiality was not so prejudicial as to merit overturning Ramiro Gonzales's civil commitment, as the Sixth District Court of Appeal had done.

Gonzales is a developmentally disabled man whose therapist turned over prejudicial therapy records to a prosecutor seeking to civilly detain him as a sexually violent predator (SVP). Forensic psychology experts Brian Abbott and Tim Derning testified for the defense; called by the prosecution were psychologists Thomas MacSpeiden and Jack Vognsen.

As I wrote two years ago, the ruling is good news for psychology ethics and should serve as a reminder that we are obligated to actively resist subpoenas requesting confidential records of therapy.

Today's California Supreme Court ruling is HERE. My prior post, with much more detail on the case, is HERE. The Sixth District Court of Appeal opinion from 2011, available HERE, provides a nice overview of both federal and California case law on confidentiality in forensic cases.

 

Hat tip: Adam Alban

Related blog posts:  

• Do sex offenders have right to confidential therapy? (Feb. 22, 2008)

• Confession to prison psychiatrist not confidential (Dec. 11, 2007)

• Treating therapist as police interrogator (Nov. 30, 2008)

• Abandon ethics, all ye who enter here: Special ethics exemption sought for SVP work (Oct. 6, 2010)

Prisoner "reentry": Paradigm shift or empty rhetoric?

  Vindictive "imagined public" a barricade to real reintegration   

For many who have broken the law, the real punishment begins not when they are processed into prison, but when they are finally ejected from their concertina-enclosed cages into a vengeful society that won't allow them to redeem themselves, branding them as forever bad.

Despite the stacked deck, some former prisoners do manage to find a sense of hope and turn their lives around. Such desistance is especially likely when society welcomes prisoners and restores their status as full citizens. Indeed, a study by Florida's Parole Commission found that prisoners whose civil rights were restored were far less likely to reoffend than those who remained unable to vote, hold public office, sit on juries, or obtain certain state licenses.

This process of criminal desistance is the topic of a new film out of Scotland. The Road from Crime -- a 48-minute film that can be viewed by clicking on the image below -- is narrated by Allan Weaver, a Scottish ex-offender turned probation officer and author of the book So You Think You Know Me? The script was co-written by my friend Shadd Maruna of the Institute of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Queen's University Belfast, who wrote the groundbreaking book, Making Good: How Ex-Convicts Reform and Rebuild Their Lives.

Study: Reentry doesn’t equal reintegration

The film strikes an optimistic note, citing increasing government interest in alternatives to incarceration in these lean economic times. But a new study out of Colorado is less sanguine, at least as far as the USA is concerned. Even as policy makers give lip service to facilitating prisoners' successful "reentry" into the community, they cling to a risk reduction model that hamstrings true reintegration, the researchers found.

The researchers tracked the work of a Colorado state commission tasked with recommending changes in sentencing policies aimed at reducing sentencing costs while increasing efficacy. Analyzing the commission's discourse, study co-authors Sara Steen, Traci Lacock and Shelby McKinzey of the University of Colorado discovered that a powerful "imagined public" held these public servants hostage, forcing them to look over their shoulders and censor their humanistic impulses lest they be perceived as soft on crime.

The public of the commissioners' imaginations is a vengeful one, which promotes "victims’ rights" as antithetical to the rights of offenders. In this "zero-sum" wordlview (as David Garland labeled it in The Culture of Control), "concerns about offenders translate into attacks on victims and vice versa, so that actors have to forge an allegiance with one group or the other."

"This narrative implies that the real reentry problem is that this population is reentering society at all (if it were not for the expense, the reentry problem could be solved by keeping people who commit crimes in prison forever). The moral undertone to this narrative is one of anger and disgust toward (or, more mildly, frustration with) a group of dangerous people who need to be watched. [Former prisoners] are not people we want to help -- in part because they are, in some sense, beyond help…. [It] is clear that there is some interest in improving offenders' lives, but the main story driving the recidivism reduction narrative is that we (nonoffenders) should invest in reentry to make ourselves safer."

Indeed, risk-driven discourse has so become so naturalized that it takes a very active effort to step back and realize that it is only one of several possible ways of thinking about citizens who have committed crimes. Indeed, Shadd Maruna and Thomas LeBel (in an article available online) identified two dominant recidivism-reduction narratives:

• The CONTROL NARRATIVE views ex-prisoners as dangerous creatures who require close supervision at all times.

• The SUPPORT NARRATIVE regards ex-convicts as bundles of deficits with “needs” that must be attended to.

Although these narratives are superficially dissimilar, in essence they are fundamentally alike in that both dehumanize and problematize former offenders. Indeed, the so-called "risk/needs" paradigm so popular in forensic psychology circles arose squarely from the recidivism reduction discourse that overarches both the control and support narratives. As the researchers discovered in the Colorado case, much more time and energy is put into risk assessment than in providing the external resources necessary for change; “no matter how precisely one can measure an individual’s needs, without resources to attend to those needs the measurement is in some sense meaningless.”

Source: Steen et al (2012)

Imagined public: More vitriolic than actual public opinion?

The irony is that, in their hearts, many public officials and practitioners would like to do more for paroling prisoners, but are paralyzed by fear of a public that in reality may be less vengeful than they imagine. As Steen and her colleagues note:

"Commissioners routinely raised the specter of public discomfort with their recommendations, and they always assumed that the public was punitive and would oppose reforms that benefited offenders in any significant way. While the commissioners themselves had complex views of crime and punishment, they  almost universally assumed a deeply simplistic view on the part of the public, a view based on retribution  to the exclusion of all other considerations. Despite its mandate to continually draw on evidence to support its conclusions, the Commission completely ignored (or was unaware of) recent social scientific evidence of a shift in public opinion about crime and punishment."

They cited a 2002 poll conducted for the Open Society Institute in which the majority of those surveyed believed that the primary goals of the criminal justice system should be rehabilitation and crime prevention.

In other words, public officials may be generalizing about the public's attitudes based on a skewed perception created by handful of vocal -- and often rabid -- constituents. Because of this, public policy remains firmly entrenched in an irrational, hysterical loop tape from which escape is nigh impossible. As the Colorado researchers conclude:

"Many academics equate reentry with rehabilitation, and assume that the popularity of the reentry concept has resulted in discourse and policy that are friendly toward offenders, decreasing the distance between 'us' and 'them'. Our analysis suggests that reentry has not significantly changed the discourse, and we show how practitioners and policy-makers have molded the reentry concept to fit comfortably within the existing punitive discourse by focusing on recidivism reduction rather than reintegration…. In the end, we rather pessimistically conclude that the high hopes of many that reentry could fundamentally change the nature of punishment discourse in the 21st century is to date misplaced."

Resources:

For more information about The Road from Crime and the wider desistance project visit the Discovering Desistance Blog. An evidence summary on desistance, How and why people stop offending, is also available online. The film was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council and George Mason University.  In addition to Shadd Maruna, project members include Fergus McNeill of the Scottish Centre for Crime and Justice Research at the University of Glasgow, Stephen Farrall of the University of Sheffield and Claire Lightowler of the Institute for Research and Innovation in Social Services.

The featured article is: Unsettling the discourse of punishment? Competing narratives of reentry and the possibilities for change by Sara Steen, Traci Lacock and Shelby McKinzey Punishment and Society 2012 14: 29 DOI: 10.1177/1462474511424681. Click HERE to request a copy from the first author.

Related blog posts: 

• Systems failure or black swan? New frame needed to stop "Memorial Crime Control" frenzy

• Book highlights prisoner reentry obstacles: Marked: Race, Crime, and Finding Work in an Era of Mass Incarceration

• Brooklyn, NY prisoner reentry program: Prosecutors push alternatives to crime