2/21 Albany Occupy Prisons Action for ending PP Jalil Muntaqim’s solitary confinement!

NOTE: The Free Mumia Coalition will be driving up to Albany for this Occupy Prisons Action, call our hotline if you want to join us.  212 330-8029

 

Justice For Jali!

 

End Prison Abuse and Solitary Confinement!

 

Attica “Correctional” Facility, January 23, 2012.

 

Jalil Anthony Bottom, a former Black Panther, was sentenced to SIX MONTHS IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT (called SHU or Special Housing Unit) for possession of PHOTOS OF MEMORIAL SERVICES FOR 2 FORMER BLACK PANTHERS.

 

We call on Governor Cuomo, the NYS Legislature, the Attorney General’s Office, and the Department of so-called “Corrections”

 

ISOLATION = TORTURE. END IT!

 

“Long term solitary confinement in excess of 15 days could amount to torture and should be banned.” — Juan E. Mendez, United Nations Special Rapporteur on Torture. New York locks people in isolation at almost twice the national rate.

 

REVERSE JALIL’S DISCRIMINATORY TICKET AND INCREDIBLE 6-MONTH SENTENCE.

 

Six months in solitary confinement for photos of a memorial service exposes the arbitrary and cruel over-use of SHU for targeting, harassment, and abuse.

 

STRIKE DOWN THE “UNAUTHORIZED ORGANIZATIONS” REGULATION, written so vaguely that it invites abuse and harassment based on prisoners political beliefs or staff whims

 

ATTICA = ABUSE. SHUT IT DOWN! “Attica has clearly been unable to cast off its violent past, and has proven, time and time again, to be an unsafe and inhumane place for prisoners… The only possible remedy is to close the facility.” –The Correctional Association of New York

 

JOIN THE PEOPLE’S MIC FOR JALIL & AGAINST CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT in solidarity with occupy4prisoners national occupy day in support of prisoners

 

Tuesday, February 21, 12:00 noon

 Capitol Building, Washington Ave. entrance, Albany

 

Protest Jalil’s sentence (Anthony Bottom #77A4283) and the abuse of solitary confinement: Call your NYS

legislator or Commissioner of Corrections Brian Fisher.

 

The Radical Caucus of Occupy Albany

 

‘Slavery by Another Name’ Relays the Forgotten Stories of Post-Civil War Slavery

‘Slavery by Another Name’ Relays the Forgotten Stories of Post-Civil War Slavery

A new PBS documentary called “Slavery by Another Name” tells the story of the adapted forced labor practices that helped extend slavery long after the end of the Civil War. Gwen Ifill speaks with Douglas Blackmon, the film’s co-executive producer, about this largely forgotten piece of history and the forces that propelled it.

Voices from the inside In prison for life for helping his cousin

Voices from the inside

In prison for life for helping his cousin

By: Santos Reyes and Marlene Martin

 

Santos Reyes has been in prison for the past 13 years under the “three strikes law” in California. His third “crime” was taking the written part of a driver’s test for his cousin who could not write English.

Santos had two previous brushes with the law, one when he was a minor, and the other for a break-in, but in neither of these cases was anyone harmed. Santos spent the next 10 years working and raising his family and had no further infractions.

California is the only state that locks people up for life even when the third strike is just a misdemeanor. Efforts to change the law so only violent crimes count as the third strike failed in 2004. On March 10, 2011, the 17th anniversary of the law, Families to Amend California’s Three Strikes held a demonstration outside the Hollywood police station in Los Angeles. The group plans to organize for another ballot initiative next year.

The Supreme Court ruled in 2003 by a 5-4 vote that such sentences do not violate the Eight Amendment of the Constitution, which prohibits “cruel and unusual punishment.”

Santos Reyes was interviewed by Marlene Martin for the New Abolitionist.

Can you explain what you did in order for you to receive a third strike?

Perjury. I was charged and later convicted for sitting in on the written portion of the Department of Motor Vehicles test that my cousin, who didn’t read English, was taking.

How have you been able to survive in prison? What is your daily routine?

Only by the grace of God! Being in prison for what I am here for has definitely humbled me in ways that I didn’t know it could. To be incarcerated for the crime of perjury and on top of it sentenced to life is not only humiliating but also insulting to the entire judicial system in this country. I have been forced to acclimate to this environment that on a daily basis takes me through the gauntlet of emotions.

My daily routine I suppose is like any other prison throughout the country. There is time spent inside the housing unit, and due to my lengthy sentence, my day outside concludes at 3 p.m. I spend time out on the exercise yard, but most importantly I am enrolled in a GED program.

How has this imprisonment affected your family?

It has destroyed it. At this time, I’ve been literally left behind, and my wife and children have moved on with their lives. It breaks my heart, but I also know that this is my experience, and to some degree, it is best that they don’t suffer with me. I yearn to someday some how see my children and, like any father, know how they are doing in school, give them sound advice, and ultimately love and encourage them.

I have not seen my children for over 13 years—the length of my incarceration. All I’m left with are the memories of them as little boys. I know that I’ve made mistakes in the past, and those growing pains/errors were used to bury me, but this injustice has affected every person in my family.

Do you feel you were discriminated against because you are Hispanic?

Absolutely! I am a clear example of the racism of the American Justice System. To them, I am the worst of the worst, and what happened to me doesn’t matter—“he’s an illegal, he doesn’t belong here, so f#*k him” seems to be the feeling I’m left with.

What would you like people to know about you? 

I want people to know that I am not the person they say I am! That I also have a mother, brothers and sisters who I need and who need me. That I want to get out of prison. And yes, it was wrong of me to cheat on a DMV test, but I think I’ve done plenty of time in prison, and I’m sorry.

What do you hope for? 

I hope that this infamous “three strikes law” will be amended so that more than 4,200 men and women serving life sentences for nonviolent offenses will finally be liberated. Enough is enough.

Santos Reyes K-92997

Folsom State Prison

P.O. Box 715071 5-BB2-38

 

Represa, CA 95671-5071

Last Breath

 

Last Breath

You asked me to speak one last time, to ghost down and tell you how it was. You want to tell my story, to let everyone know how they electrocuted an innocent man, how it was to take my last walk ever. And I want you to tell it, burn my demise, the silent screams I uttered in the end, into their conscience like hot glowing iron in their soft brains; those who knew I wasn’t the killer and did nothing but laugh, and those who labeled me the killer because they needed someone to blame.

So, anyway, that last day started like this: looking back that final time into my tiny claustrophobic cell, my home during the darkest period of my life. Rotting on my coffin-size bunk, fading away, both dreading and praying for the death I knew would come. At first I was relieved to be parting from that cage, with its ugly, green block walls that cause the human psyche to hate anything green. Unmovable green walls that were amazingly clean because I would scrub them vigorously with all my wrathful energy, my way of showing those walls who was superior. And the scent of the soapy water would mix with, but never overpower, the whiffs of grilled steaks and potatoes smothered in butter and sour cream, which would drift to my cell from the guards’ hole down the stretch. People food I knew I’d never taste again. It was pitiful really, for I would actually salivate like some alley dog with rabies.

But the worst…. The worst was the light. Nagging on my mental. A blinding, fluorescent light that loomed above me all those creeping hours and days. It never quits, refuses to stop. A cruel, nasty brightness that’ll sear into your retinas. It generates sticky heat, and a neverending hum that sucks away any fight or hope. The light would bounce a maddening glare off the stainless steel toilet, grinning at me in its mocking way. I’m not sure how I wasn’t driven completely batty, enough so that I banged my head against the green walls until the light was no more. But I held onto my sanity, right?

So, yes, I was glad to be leaving that hell.

At first.

But then, after all that longing and praying to move on, as four guards drug me out in shackles, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sickening desire to stay. For just one more day, ya know, a bit longer to stall what awaited me. I probably would’ve knelt down and hugged the toilet with its grinning glare. Wallowed on my hard, crippling bed. That cheery light I would’ve bathed in, soaked up its soothing rays. It all seemed so cozy and peaceful as I glanced over my shoulder, digesting it for the last time.

They dragged me away, toward my own murder that I knew I didn’t deserve. This has to be one of the most frightening pieces of knowledge to dwell in a human mind. You know you’re about to be killed for a crime you didn’t commit. You’re about to die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Somehow, I dug up the strength and guts to walk forward on my own, stumbling with short steps, in my leg irons. The guards – oh how they despised me – led me down the long corridor. Walls still ugly green, the graying linoleum floor shining, all nice and clean. I remember entertaining the disheartening wish that I was strolling along one of the million other corridors in the world (going to see a movie or headed for my comfortable office with its plush carpet) and thinking of how years before I’d have never been able to fathom walking this one.
As I passed their cells, I could feel the other prisoners’ eyes on me, sense their dread of knowing they’d to take the walk one day. Some must deserve to be here, I was thinking, and perhaps some are innocent like me. Gloomy voices attempted at encouraging words, and out the corners of my eyes I saw some guys gripping the bars. I couldn’t meet their stares, couldn’t comprehend the living.

I was painfully aware of my unchangeable fate as I approached the chamber. I could not turn around and go back to my cell, no matter how bad I wanted to. My legs were weak and shaky, my chains jangling somewhere off in the distance. The cologne scent one of the guards had splashed on pushed a scary thought into my head: will I really smell my own hair and flesh burning just before I take my last breath?

My mind starts zooming. All these never-agains. I’ll never hold my child again. Never feel the gentle laps of the ocean’s baby waves against my ankles again. Never know the pleasures of making love to a woman again. Never laugh with you again. So many never-agains.

I’m wondering where I’d be at this very second if I’d never been accused of that heinous deed seven years before, in that other lifetime far, far away. That evil both you and I know I wasn’t, I’m not, capable of. And refresh them of all the evidence on my side, the truths that weren’t heard due to technical bullshit. That I even had an alibi for that night, a lowly chick with a shady past who wasn’t taken seriously. How the pigs chiseled guilt into my brain until I unwillingly accepted the fault.

The big steel door which opens to the chamber draws near, so slow yet so fast. Two guards squeeze my arms, letting me know the only way to go is forward. Step step step, my fear thickens, outweighing my desire to flee from here. I’m lost as to how my end came to this. I’d always lived a normal, content existence, full of hopes, dreams. Then BAM! one day I’m staring up at that soul-draining light in a miserable cell, a hated outcast from that wonderful before world.

The steel door slides open with a groan, taunting me, rattling my nerves. In the threshold my head swivels on its neck. I’m struck with a flash of that serene corridor. It’s magnificent with it pretty green walls, and the gleaming floor in all oft linoleum gorgeousness. Inside my head I scream frantically, I cry, dying to dash back in that direction. If given a chance I’d run up and down, jump with happiness throughout the corridor, then I’d spin around and around in my cell, where life still is.

But the guards, fierce animal keepers, eager to silence another crazed beast, hustle me onward.
Now, I can’t possibly describe how it feels, the overdose of pure terror that floods your entire being, when you round the corner in the chamber and quick as that your eyes meet the chair. It’s angry and unforgiving, an oak monster with its many straps like tentacles. There’s a metal box on the chair’s back side, black wires sprouting out of it every which way. The most intimidating sight of all is the metal cap designed to fit over your head. a thick black cable extends from it to the metal killbox on the back. Your eyes, your scrambled perception, take all this in as you bend the corner. You gasp inwardly, shudder. You want to hurl this certain truth from your vision, don’t want to believe what squats before you. But the chair isn’t going anywhere; you understand it’s not going anywhere.

The chamber is winowless, and I understand I’ll never gaze out a window again to see a pair of bickering birds or a star-clustered sky. There is a curtain in the chamber, but I’m aware that what’s behind it is a sheet of plexiglas bordering the little room where people wait to watch me be electrocuted.

The guards push me toward the chair. I don’t want to give in, to sit down. I start to at first but a vicious panic consumes me, the instinct to live making me rant and struggle in vain. I start to really trip as the realization of what’s about to happen stabs into me. The guards tighten their grip, leaving me no doubt this has got to happen. Forcing me to sit in the chair, they cuss me and hold me down, applying the torso strap so I can hardly breathe. They snatch away my shackles and go to strapping the rest of me down. And although I’d heard they wouldn’t draw the curtain until the prisoner was fully restrained, head and all so the prisoner was unable to turn his head and look the audience in their eyes, it didn’t happen that way, as you know.

The curtain slides back to reveal the dozen or so spectators sitting in rows, on the other side of the plexiglas. I feel like a fool in my blue prison attire. I bore hard into each set of eyes, because I hope the truth manifests after I’m dead and gone, and my stare of innocence is forever embedded in their brains. I lock eyes with the woman with silky red hair like Hell’s flames. The sister of the victim. I read her hate, her vengeance, anxiousness, too, as though she’s desperate to have a malignant tumor cut out of her body.

And you’re there. My heart literally aches when I see you, quietly frantic and helpless, doing all you can to avoid bursting into tears. You’re not here to watch me die, but ’cause it’s the last time you’ll see me alive. I have to rip my eyes from yours.

The guards finish strapping me in. Feet, arms, chest, head, everything so I can’t move, or look at the audience. I’ve never been so frightened. My nerves twist violently. The depths of my mind spew up a steam of forgotten memories: Angela, the first girl I ever kissed; that old bitch dog biting into my face when I reached down to pet her pups; you, me, and the rest of the bunch when the rain caved our tents down on us; that one Christmas when Scott actually scooted down the chimney dressed as a 150-pound Santa, everyone rolling and happy.

And now the end has come – I’m hearing Jim Morrison’s rich voice say it’s his only friend – sneaking up on me so quick, even after all this time. It has arrived. It’s in front of me and I realize that everything that was before, my whole past life, was only a blink of an eye. I’ve made peace with God, yet still I’m scared and maybe ashamed because I’m unsure of where I’m headed.

For a few seconds I focus on a big brown spider crawling the wall across from me. I’m wishing, wishing more than I’ve ever wished for anything, that I was that spider. I could scurry through the cracks to daylight and precious freedom. The resentment I feel toward this insignificant critter is sad and too much to bear. I squirm but I’m stuck in place.

One of the guards wedges a rubber bit in my mouth. This is so I don’t bite off my tongue when the charge surges through me and I start to convulse. Next, a black cloth mask is folded down over my face. This is to keep the watchers from witnessing the blood stream out of my orifices, and my eyes if they go to popping out of their sockets. Then the metal cap is fitted snugly over the crown of my shaved head. I hear a hand screwing the bolt, the one attached to the killbox cable, down on the cap. Metal twisting against metal. Screwing screwing screwing. It’s an eerie scraping sound, like one a disturbed youth would make angrily swirling a fork over the surface of his plate. It echoes against the walls of my skull.. I only see darkness, and sweat starts oozing from my pores. I fight not to tremble but still I do. I clench my fists and my breathing sputters.

I’m waiting. You’re waiting.

The following lapse of seconds drags, drags. One of the guards makes a joke about another guard’s junky pickup. I’d rather spare you this, but you want to know. Yes it hurts. It burns, horribly when the flip the switch and the current rips through me. An unbelievable pain. I wept, or it could’ve been blood draining out of my eyes. I shake wildly. I want to yell, I didn’t do it! to the world, but the bit’s jammed against my tongue and my insides are rocking. It goes on for a while, forty seconds they say, the lights flickering throughout the place.
Then suddenly I’m floating up out of my ruined body, the pain gone, my spirit being drawn away from the prison.

What about now? you ask. Now?

Now I wait in some black abyss in time, not sure of where or what’s next. I’m not at peace. Waiting for things to be resolved I guess. And now you can tell my part of the story, let them know how that last day was. And you can assure everyone that the real killer is still out there.

Out there somewhere, roaming the land.

 

By Matt Russ
# J10120
Hamilton Correctional Institution
Unit G21 31U
Jasper, FL 32052-1360

Gardens of the Law: The Role of Prisons in Capitalist Society

 

By Joel Olson

Prison isn’t a place to keep the “bad apples” from spoiling the rest of society. It is for the social control of the entire population–good and bad apples alike. Capitalism requires a politically obedient population that can be put to work making profits for the wealthy. Prisons ensure this politically docile and economically useful population. Prisons are useful for the powers that be; they are only a problem for those locked inside them, their loved ones, and those who want a free society.

Prison Myths

Prisons are not about decreasing crime. In 1976 the Panel on Research on Deterrent and Incapacitative Effects examined the role of prisons in deterring crime. Their report concluded that states like California and Massachusetts, for example, would have to increase their prison populations 150 percent and 310 percent (from mid-’70s levels) to achieve a 10 percent reduction in crime. Minnesota’s Assistant Commissioner of Corrections admits, “There is no evidence of a relationship between the incarceration rate and violent crime. We’re in the business of tricking people into thinking that spending hundreds of millions [of dollars] for new prisons will make them safe.” [1]

Prisons are not about rehabilitation. In 1981 New York State Correction Commissioner Thomas Coughlin confessed, “The department is no longer engaged in rehabilitative and programming efforts, but is rather forced to warehouse people and concentrate on finding the next cell.” Packing in more and more bodies inside their walls is what prisons do; rehabilitating lost souls in order to return them to society is not.

Perhaps most shocking of all to our common sensibilities, prisons are not about punishing people for crimes they commit. Of course, this is one of the things they do (as well as punish people for crimes they did not commit), but it is not the primary function of prisons. Prisons are first and foremost about social control, about suppressing dissent, about creating a more politically obedient and economically useful population. Sure, they isolate and warehouse “criminals” to keep them from the rest of us, but prisons are about controlling “the rest of us” as much as they are about controlling criminals.

How Prisons Achieve Social Control

In a capitalist society, when most people think of crime, they do not think of the acts themselves so much as they do an imaginary “criminal class” that commits them. It’s always these few “delinquents” that commit violent crimes and that have to be brought under control, so the story goes. The criminal in capitalism is defined not so much by their specific unlawful acts, but by the lifestyle s/he leads: gangsta, hoodlum, dope fiend, dealer, thug, whore. The criminal exists before the crime is even committed; a criminal’s prison record is merely a badge that recognizes him or her for doing what is expected. This is one reason why rich white people rarely go to jail: the rich and the white are not defined as “criminals” in this society, therefore when they break the law it’s easier to have sympathy for them for “making a mistake” and to give them a lesser punishment, or no punishment at all.

Prisons are not just the storehouses of this criminal class–they produce criminality by concentrating otherwise decent people into a cramped, crowded, and oppressive environment. In prison, an individual is subject to isolation, confinement in a control unit, violence, torture, gang activity, guard brutality, organized white supremacy, and a life of boredom and useless toil. When and if a prisoner is released, s/he is often condemned to a life of poverty and run-ins with the law. Prisoners have a difficult time getting a job because they are required to notify all potential employers of their felon status on job applications. College scholarship funds for former prisoners have been slashed or eliminated. By sticking people in prison, the prison system condemns them to poverty and stigmatizes them as lifetime members of the criminal class.

The criminal class is the scapegoat for America’s social ills and the justification for spending millions of dollars on building more prisons, hiring more cops, and for drafting tough new “anti-crime” laws. But by trying to make life tough for criminals, we make life tough for ourselves, because the laws that get passed to control the criminal class apply to everyone. If you, the “good citizen,” somehow run up against the law, well, you must be a delinquent, a member of the notorious criminal class. Better shape up, obey the laws and avoid any trouble so you won’t be one of those, those criminals!

By distinguishing “criminals” from the rest of society–not for people’s actions but for who they are–prisons and the “fight against crime” are used to attack target populations and garner obedience from the general population. This is what led writer Michel Foucault to write, “Let us conceive of places of punishment as a Garden of the Laws that families would visit on Sundays.”[2] Prisons are places where criminals are punished, but they are also “gardens” that remind citizens of what could happen to them if they were to become a “criminal.” In this way, prisons help craft a more obedient population outside the walls, outside the garden. Prisons put the cop inside your head. Prisons control your life even if you’ve never been inside one.

Black People are America’s “Criminal Class”

In the United States the criminal class created by capitalism and the prison system are poor people of color, especially African Americans. Over 33 percent of African Americans lived below the poverty line in 1994,[3] and they make up 48 percent of the U.S. prison population. One out of three Black men aged 20 to 29 is under some form of criminal justice control, which is more Black men than are in college. [3] and they make up 48 percent of the U.S. prison population. One out of three Black men aged 20 to 29 is under some form of criminal justice control, which is more Black men than are in college.[4]

This is not because Black people commit more crimes. The total number of crimes committed in America is huge (estimates range between 13 and 49 million annually, for example).[5] Only a tiny fraction of the people who commit them are ever imprisoned.[6] It has been well established that while most of the nation’s drug users are white, the vast majority busted for drug crimes are Black.[7]

Why are most of those who are caught and convicted Black?

The only possible answer is that African Americans are the specified “criminal class” of America, or are at least its biggest subgroup (Latinos and Chicanos are an increasingly large subgroup as well). Of course, most poor Black people are not criminals, but that’s the role they are forced into in the United States. As the author of The Coming of Black Genocide argues, “Black men are considered a criminal class, who must be pushed out to keep white people safe. Anything that is done to them, anything at all, is ok. Everyone is told to fear them, they are the threat.” [8]

Because Black people are the United States’ criminal class, and because in a capitalist society the criminal class must be subdued by terror, obedience from Black people is acquired through terror: police violence, locking up loved ones, etc. Just as the rest of the population doesn’t have to actually go to prison to be made more obedient by the prison system, Black folks don’t have to actually spend time in prison to be terrorized by it. As Malcolm X said, “Don’t be surprised when I say I was in prison. We [African Americans] have all been in prison. That’s what America means, prison.”

The Role of Control Units

Just as prisons create a docile and useful population outside prisons, control units create obedience and usefulness within prison walls. Prisons put the cop in the citizen’s head; control units put the cop in the criminal’s head. It’s not the “worst of the worst” who get thrown in control units, it’s a specific section of the prisoner population, chosen for the perceived threat they pose to order and obedience.

As in the larger society, the vast majority of those locked up in control units are Black. For example, all but a few in the management control unit at New Jersey State Prison are Black. Most are in there because they make trouble for the prisoncrats: they are jailhouse lawyers, political prisoners, activists, and revolutionaries. Especially Black revolutionaries. As Ralph Arons, former warden at Marion admits, “The purpose of the Marion Control Unit is to control revolutionary attitudes in the prison system and in the society at large.” The crime itself doesn’t matter–George Jackson did 11 years for a $78 robbery–it’s the class you belong to that determines whether or not you will go to prison, and once in prison, whether or not you will end up in lockdown in a control unit. And your class is determined by your “revolutionary attitudes,” i.e., a refusal to obey those in power.

Prisons and Liberal Democracy: Brothers in Blood

The notion that crime, the “criminal personality,” and imprisonment naturally go together is a capitalist myth. We need to separate the issue of imprisonment from the issue of crime; they are not about the same things, and one does not cure the other.

One complaint by liberals of the new incarceration society the United States is building (those few liberals who haven’t jumped onto the “get-tough-on-crime” bandwagon, that is) is that it is incredibly expensive. Of course, on the surface they are right; some control unit facilities cost $800,000 per prisoner just to build, and that doesn’t include living costs for the prisoner ($30,000-40,000 a year for general population prisoners). However, those who hold power in this society see things a little bit differently, and regard the rising costs of imprisonment as worth the investment. Since prisons control not just the “criminal class” but the entire population, compared with the possibility of a Northern Ireland-style military occupation of American cities, prisons actually obtain social control of the entire society at a relatively low social and economic cost for the rich. For most folks, though, the cost is devastating, which is why prisons must go.

Capitalism and its sidekick liberal democracy give us the vote, constitutional rights, consumer buying power, and a trunkful of goodies. Why aren’t we free? Because though some of us have toys, we still don’t have power in this society; that privilege is reserved for capitalists and the state. Why does this tiny class of society have all that power, while the majority has so little? Why don’t we just take power from the rich and “vote the bastards out”? Because the ruling class have developed other ways to control the population, so that our political power is much weaker than we are led to believe. Prisons are the linchpin to this social control; they guarantee our submission to the powers that be by opposing “citizens” to “criminals.”

The way to fight this is for those of us on the outside to align ourselves with those on the inside. Together, we can dispel the popular notion that crime and prison automatically go together. Together, we can expose prisons for their true nature. This can’t be done outside the context of fighting capitalism, patriarchy, and a white supremacist society. As capitalism and imprisonment go together, so must they fall together. The gardens must burn.

Notes

1. [back] Criminal Justice Research Associates telephone interview with Assistant Commissioner
   Dan O’Brien, May 28, 1996.
2. [back] Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, (New York: Vintage Books), 1979, p. 111.
3. [back] Black Americans: A Statistical Sourcebook, 1994, p. 190.
4. [back] Marc Mauer, Young Black Men and the Criminal Justice System: Five Years Later, (Washington, DC: The Sentencing Project), 1995.
5. [back] National Institute of Justice (NIJ), Victim Costs and Consequences: A New Look, (Washington, DC: NIJ), January 1996.
6. [back] Annually in the United States, there are more than 11,876,000 arrests, 945,500 convictions,
   and only about 339,000 people sentenced to state and federal prisons. Black Americans: A Statistical Sourcebook, 1994; Bureau of Justice Statistics, State Court Sentencing of Convicted Felons, (Washington,
   DC: GPO), 1994; Bureau of Justice Statistics, Sourcebook of Criminal Justice Statistics, (Washington, DC: GPO), 1994; Henry and Camille Camp, Felony Sentencing in the United States: 1992, (South Salem, NY: Criminal Justice Institute), 1992.
7. [back] Mauer.
8. [back] Mary Barfoot, The Coming of Black Genocide and Other Essays, (New York: Vagabond Press), 1993, p. 28.

This article originally appeared in The Blast!, August/September 1994. Reprinted in Criminal Injustice: Confronting the Prison Crisis.

A Pelican Bay hunger striker’s journal

 

A Pelican Bay hunger striker’s journal
July 13, 2011

Richard Johnson, a prisoner who recently suffered a heart attack due to a blocked artery in his heart, is among the hunger strikers at Pelican Bay. Since the beginning of the strike, he has been taken off three of his daily meds; medical staff say they may be adverse to his health when taken on an empty stomach. He is submitting a series of articles throughout his time on strike to educate potential supporters about the prison experience. The first, “The Psychology of Prisoners,” is dated July 5, 2011; the second, “Aging in prison,” is dated July 6.
The psychology of prisoners

by Richard Johnson

The multitude of prisoners who find themselves locked away in a perceptible world of perpetual and perplexing discriminatory wretchedness can look only inward for redress. Their only resolve is to attempt to figure out, with some form of insight that would give them some direction, how best to accurately function in an entrenched environment that isn’t transient but is beseiged in physical and mental violence of a destructive nature.

For anyone to come to grips with this situation, the mind must be able to assimilate all the disconnected parts, placing each in its allotted positional purpose.

Without the ability to organize these incompatible moving parts, the mind will undoubtedly be left in an incidental momentum of powerlessness that will further shake the already unstable foundation needed to prevail in the world of confinement. Unlike in society where people can find available aversions to escape the realities that confront them with some success, prisoners are limited in this regard. They can either grow from the experience or descend further in a highly documented atmosphere of self doubt, terror and hostilities.

Quite naturally, some prisoners can fool themselves in make believe, giving them false relief from truth, but in the final analysis the mental carnage will soon engulf them, bringing down those fictitious intrinsic facades used by some prisoners as a form of escapism, be it sports, gambling, drugs, sex or violence – a host of appeasing empty diversions.

The emotional, psychological rollercoaster is very unsettling in terms of a prisoner having a solid, undisruptive, strong balance between oppression and freedom of the mind. There is no dispute that life in general is complicated, demanding and painful, especially for certain segments of society. In the prison microcosm that enervates prisoners’ ability to engender certain powers, this oppression is enhanced tenfold, dispensing unmitigating pressure and trauma within the prison vortex that exists in numerous individuals entrapped in their psychotic turmoil – mostly as a direct result of being imprisoned and sometimes due to arriving in prison in an already lunatic state that only worsened with time.

When ordinary people think of inmates in prison, their focus is primarily on the physical restraint of those locked up. This reasoning, unfortunately, is misplaced because the mind allows the body to persevere, but if the mind goes, in time, so will the body. How else can people walk on fire, perform dangerous feats or educate themselves well beyond their particular circumstance? It’s all about the ability and tenacity of the human mind.

In prison, the main objective is to control the prisoners’ minds, for they’ve already enslaved the body. It’s the last line of defense that the prisoners have to defend themselves against appalling and frightening events that challenge the mind at every turn. By utilizing hard work and inexhaustible resolve, prisoners can step outside the pitfalls associated with doing time and not allow themselves to be victimized by the intensity of prison life.

The mental state of prisoners is also used by prison administrators as a political pawn to garner politicians’ support and funds, earmarked for prison commerce. Each prison generally has a building in which those suffering from obvious and acute mental imbalances are held and given psychiatric medication to help them adapt and exist in the extremes of prison culture. The fact is that most of them shouldn’t be in prison, but rather, in a mental institution in order to receive some quality psychological help – not simply being pumped with mind-altering drugs since it’s less costly or more convenient.
When ordinary people think of inmates in prison, their focus is primarily on the physical restraint of those locked up. This reasoningis misplaced because the mind allows the body to persevere, but if the mind goes, so will the body. In prison, the main objective is to control the prisoners’ minds, for they’ve already enslaved the body.

Whenever anyone resorts to eating feces or hurting themselves in any form, they need serious help. Whenever grown folk sit up in their cell and hold one-on-one conversations with themselves, something is innately wrong. Just like in society, mental health is of the upmost importance in prison, because you can’t have people running around noticeably unhinged, or a heartbeat away from doing the unthinkable.

This rationale should equally apply for prisoners who can’t cure themselves properly because of the overwhelming effects of damage done to their thinking process brought on intentionally, in some cases, by the controlling forces at hand.

You may think that it’s not a problem, at least in your world, but the truth is that prisoners’ mental well-being should concern everyone everywhere for the simple fact that exposure to someone released from a prison facility who hasn’t received the necessary treatment for his problems jeopardizes all, putting at risk the safety of many. Let’s be real clear: Not everyone in prison is suffering from mental depravity, but even if one goes without the psychiatric treatment needed to substantially mitigate the possibility of a complete psychological breakdown, then all are at risk.

Situations in some exceptional and defiant norms have caused such irreparable damage that long-term treatment must be used to lessen the injury. There can be no fostering of nonchalant attitudes toward this problem. Simply put, if people in society don’t care, why then should the afflicted not feel the same? With the U.S. locking up so many of its people, it should be criminal not to think and assume that mass imprisonment will have a grave and lasting effect on at least some.

When you tamper with the natural order of life, you put at risk the inherent and pure procession in life that constitutes normality. Prisons are essential to some, who typically think they are there to house the bad while protecting the good. It’s a nice concept.

The fact is penitentiaries are like zoos; their objectives – however admirable – are a complete failure. How do you justify caging human beings without some inkling of moral, humanitarian compassion regardless of their crimes, despicable as they may be? When is torture, physical or mental, acceptable for anyone?

If it’s all right to demonstrate unrelenting pain, then who can complain when it is reciprocal in the same manner? This pain is not right or deserved, but it certainly happens repeatedly and the help needed isn’t forthcoming when it really counts.

We’re all creatures of habit connected to what we discern as right and wrong, often accepting the holy scripture as the words of proper conduct. Too often it’s taken literally, causing some to go to areas of extraordinary disconnect in the name of “God.”
How do you justify caging human beings without some inkling of moral, humanitarian compassion regardless of their crimes, despicable as they may be? When is torture, physical or mental, acceptable for anyone?

The bottom line is we are our brother’s keeper. However, we are biased, prejudiced and vengeful and then don’t expect the consequences of failure not to revisit, which is wishful thinking.

Prisoners are people too. They deserve to be treated as such in spite of any transgression, for only God can judge and pass judgment on morality, not people who also suffer from lapses of proper choice and virtue themselves.
Aging in prison

By Richard Johnson

For some I suspect that prison life can be a truly horrific and demanding experience under any condition that undermines the ability to stay above the fray. There’s one inevitable fact that will haunt your every move regardless of any attempt at deferring the truth: With each passing day, your age becomes a real factor. This is illustrated even more profoundly if you’re doing a life sentence with less than a promising chance of any release – other than in a body bag.

Being hopeful and optimistic can only suffice for so long, and with time it diminishes as the years pass you by. As life creeps along, your mind constantly toils in retrospect. The future is too gloomy to ponder, so glimpses of the past serve to entertain and bring a margin of relief to cloud the wait for death.

Prison certainly isn’t the place to be on any occasion, under any circumstance, but what is even worse is being old and surrounded by elements that are inherently in opposition to age. This is an entirely different crisis within itself. Health concerns worsen increasingly while waiting to die. One shouldn’t be concerned with debilitating health problems involving complications related to growing old. Our mind tells us that we’re OK and everything is the same, yet our bodies remind us that we’re in a serious battle being physically fought daily. You awaken every day just like the day before, greeting it with a forced smile on an aging face and a failing body.
Upon release, many of those who have been incarcerated have no way of avoiding homelessness.
Life is measured on a day by day basis. You count your blessings and accomplishments based on what you did that day, because to focus too far ahead could prove to be an erroneous delusion. However, to say that every aging prisoner will die in prison is incorrect. Some most certainly will find themselves eventually being released at some point, be it in their 70s or 80s. But to keep a person locked up for 40-50 years then turn them out with nothing to go out to can be equally fatal for them.

The future is too gloomy to ponder, so glimpses of the past serve to entertain and bring a margin of relief to cloud the wait for death. You awaken every day just like the day before, greeting it with a forced smile on an aging face and a failing body.

Normally, aging prisoners are segregated with other prisoners of similar age, but with overcrowding, violence and lack of medical care, the chances of the process of aging getting any respect dwindles with each failure associated with prisons. Moreover, as the prisons become more and more a business interest, prisoners are viewed as a plain commodity, serving as a new source of profit. It doesn’t matter if that commodity is ailing, mentally unbalanced, young or old; as long as it’s breathing, it is a viable investment.

There used to be a time when clear distinctions were made in terms of designating prisoners; it was by age, temperament, health – both mental and physical – and work propensity, among other things. Now all that is irrelevant. The death rate for the aging in prison has spiraled drastically over the years. A lot of them just gave in and resigned themselves to a fate looked upon by some as befitting in comparison to the rigors of daily prison experience and survival.

Often prisoners outlive their immediate relatives and find themselves trying to get by without any outside help. Friends forget them. Their children ignore them. Wives divorce them. Society completely abandons them. This happens more often than not. To live life on the installment plan, you can’t help but reflect on who is better off, those sentenced to a certain time with the prospect of eventual death in prison or those of us sentenced to life?

Both scenarios have a reservation with destiny, but which one is more human or barbaric? We come to prison in spite of our sentences. We try to better ourselves through education by absorbing all useful educational material that we can get our hands on, or at least some of us do. We try as best as we possibly can to stay in shape by exercising and paying attention to our health issues. We try to avoid the emotional backlash of living in a toilet for decades.

We go out of our way in an attempt to stay connected to some features of the outside world. Yet after doing all of this, the ultimate question arises: To what end? We lose our teeth, our hair, our bodies, our objectivity and for some of us we lose our minds all in the process of growing old in prison. Is it sensible for us to want to cling to empty dreams, forgotten passions and the remote possibility of freedom?

Personally, I am of the opinion that life, regardless of its woes, should be lived in spite of the difficulties. I think that the only certainty in life is to help you to command some rule over your existence and not be dominated by it, take charge with impressive persistency. Durability comes with age, and if we allow time to demoralize our struggle, then we lose!

Send our brutha some love and light: Richard Johnson, K-53293, SHU D2-218, PO Box 7500, Crescent City, CA 95532

SLAVERY, FORCED LABOR, AND WORK IN PRISONS

SLAVERY, FORCED LABOR, AND WORK IN PRISONS

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS
1. Article 10.3 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR): “The penitentiary system shall comprise treatment of prisoners the essential aim of which shall be their reformation and social rehabilitation.”

2. Article 5, Universal Declaration of Human Rights, “No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.”

3. Articles 22, 23, and 24, Universal Declaration of Human Rights, provide that “Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security…the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favorable conditions of work…to equal pay for equal work…to just and favorable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity…the right to form and to join trade unions.”

B. ANALYSIS.

Productive work, that develops good work habits and skills for economic survival, and enables economic support for and relations with family, is a cornerstone of the rehabilitation process.

C. VIOLATIONS.

1. Article 5, UDHR: Wherever in the United States punishment for incarcerated persons’ refusing to work results in segregation or solitary confinement, in withholding of food or access to basic support or human interaction, violations occur.

2. Although the ICCPR excludes from “forced labor” “any work…required of a person who is under detention in consequence of a lawful order of a court,” (Article 8(3c)), slave labor or denial to incarcerated persons access to remunerative work sufficient to support oneself and ones’ family are rarely a consequence of any criminal sentence or court order, making all cases in which either slave or forced labor, absent sentence or court order, a violation of human rights with respect to incarcerated persons.

3. Articles 22, 23, and 24, UDHR: By law and custom, US incarcerants earn extremely little or no wages and are excluded from civilian labor force participation, impoverishing themselves and their families. United States’ Prison labor frequently denies incarcerated persons any choice in prison work assignments, affords neither employer nor worker investment in Social Security, pays in gratuities only a fraction of that required for “equal pay,” far below even minimum amounts, ensuring poverty for the incarcerated and his family, and denying incarcerated workers any union or participatory rights whatsoever.
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PRIVATE PRISONS

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS and VIOLATIONS

International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights

1. Article 7 No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment. (See also: Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 5).

Violation. – Little is more degrading than for prisoners to be treated as commodities, to be warehoused in for-profit private prisons like chattel. Private prison companies view prisoners as investments, not people; the privatization of prisons for profit is equivalent to the privatization of prisoners for profit, which is demeaning to their humanity and dignity as human beings. The United States holds over 128,000 prisoners in privately-operated for-profit prisons.

2. Article 8, Sec. 1. No one shall be held in slavery; slavery and the slave-trade in all their forms shall be prohibited. (see also: Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 4).

Violation – Private prisons operate on a per-diem payment system, where they are paid per prisoner per day they are incarcerated. This mirrors the system of slavery, which also is a for-profit enterprise that involves imprisoning people against their will. Private prison companies are modern-day extensions of the slave trade, in which prisoners are used to generate profit. The largest private prison companies in the United States are listed on the stock exchange, and the trade in prisoners for profit has become an acceptable form of legitimized slavery.

3. Article 10, Sec. 3. The Penitentiary system shall comprise treatment of prisoners the essential aim of which shall be their reformation and social rehabilitation.

Violation – The objective of private prison companies is to generate profit, not to reform or rehabilitate prisoners. Such companies have a duty to their shareholders to make money; they do not have a duty to help prisoners better their lives. Studies have shown that prisoners held in private prisons in the United States have higher recidivism rates than those in public prisons.
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MENTALLY ILL IN PRISON

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS

1. Article 7 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) states: No one shall be subject to torture, or to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment.

2. Article 1 of the Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman, or degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT): “severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental,…intentionally inflicted…for an act he or a third person has committed.”

B. ANALYSIS

1. There is now a huge population of mentally ill persons in our prisons and jails. The American Correctional Association has recognized that holding mentally challenged individuals in isolation can exacerbate their problems and bring about additional mental problems. Several federal courts have found that the conditions of confinement in isolation units can constitute cruel and unusual punishment which is prohibited by Article 7 of the ICCPR.

2. It would also qualify as torture defined in the CAT, Article 1, if correctional officials knowingly place mentally ill persons in disciplinary units.

3. Prisoners, who are seriously mentally ill, fall under the protection of the Americans with Disabilities Act, 1990. This act was amended to include serious mental illness as a disability in 2008 and enacted January 2009 to state: (1) Mentally ill people have the rights to accommodation plans to meet the needs of their disability, (2) They have the right to have access to an (ADA) representative to oversee Correctional Institutions compliance.
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LIFE WITH PAROLE

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS

1. International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD):
Article 2: 1(c) Each State Party shall take effective measures to review governmental, national and local policies, and to amend, rescind or nullify any laws and regulations which have the effect of creating or perpetuating racial discrimination wherever it exists.

2. International Convention on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR):

Article 10.3. The penitentiary system shall comprise treatment of prisoners the essential aim of which shall be their reformation and social rehabilitation.

B. ANALYSIS

1. In five states-Alabama, California, Massachusetts, Nevada, and New York-at least 1 in 6 people in prison are serving a life sentence.

2. The highest proportion of life sentences relative to the prison population is in California, where 20% of the prison population is serving a life sentence, up from 18.1% in 2003. Among these 34,164 life sentences,

3. There are 6,807 juveniles serving life sentences;

4. There are 4,694 women and girls serving life sentences.

5. Life in prison is the most severe punishment available for juveniles. Every state allows for life sentences for juveniles, and 46 states hold juveniles serving such terms. Juveniles serve life sentences in nearly every state, but more than 50% of the national population is located in five states: California (2,623), Texas (422), Pennsylvania (345), Florida (338), and Nevada (322).

6. In 1967, the President’s Crime Commission recommended that parole boards be staffed by correctional professionals rather than political appointees. However, parole boards remain the domain of political appointees and two-thirds of states lack any standardized qualifications for service. This has resulted in a highly politicized process that too often discounts evidence and expert testimony. In the case of life sentences with the possibility of parole, the range of time that must be served prior to eligibility for release varies greatly, from under 10 years in Utah and California to 40 and 50 years in Colorado and Kansas. The median length of time served prior to parole eligibility nationally is in the range of 25 years. However, eligibility does not equate to release and, owing to the reticence of review boards and governors, it has become increasingly difficult for persons serving a life sentence to be released on parole.

C. VIOLATIONS.

1. Racial and ethnic minorities serve a disproportionate share of life sentences. Two-thirds of people with life sentences (66.4%) are nonwhite, reaching as high as 83.7% of the life sentenced population in the state of New York. Seventy-seven percent of juveniles sentenced to life are youth of color. This violates the ICERD Article 1-1, Article 2–1, and Article 5(a).

2. There is a broad range in the severity and implementation of the statutes and arbitrary mechanisms for release on parole. This violates the ICCPR Article 10-3.
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DEATH PENALTY and LIFE WITHOUT PAROLE

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS

1. Article 6-1 of the ICCPR: “Every human being has the inherent right to life. This right shall be protected by law. No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his life.”

2. Article 6-2 of the ICCPR: “In countries which have not abolished the death penalty, sentence of death may be imposed only for the most serious crimes… and not contrary to the provisions of the present covenant.”

3. The “Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court,” adopted by the United Nations in July 1998, declares that in all life sentences, a review is mandated after twenty-five years and /if warranted/ a lesser sentence may be imposed (Article 110 No. 3). By October 2009, 110 states had become party to the treaty, with 38 states signed but not yet ratified.

4. Article 10.3 of the ICCPR: “The penitentiary system shall comprise treatment of prisoners the essential aim of which shall be their reformation and social rehabilitation.”

5. Article 1 of the ICCPR: “All peoples have the right of self determination. By virtue of that right they …freely pursue their cultural development.”

B. ANALYSIS

1. Since 1973, over 130 people have been released from death row with evidence of their innocence. (Staff Report, House Judiciary Subcommittee on Civil & Constitutional Rights, Oct. 1993, with updates from DPIC). From 1973-1999, there was an average of 3.1 exonerations per year. From 2000-2007, there has been an average of 5 exonerations per year.

2. In the United States 35 states with death penalty statutes also can impose life without parole. 14 states which do not have death penalty statutes may impose life without parole, including the District of Columbia. Alaska is the only state that does not impose life without parole.

3. A report released by The Sentencing Project, “The Meaning of ‘Life’: Long Prison Sentences in Context” (http://www.deathpenaltyinfo.org/life-without-parole), indicates a dramatic increase in life without parole sentences and notes that prisoners are generally serving longer terms of incarceration: “Of the lifers in prison, one in four (26.3%) is serving a sentence of life without parole, having increased from one in six (17.8%) in 1992. In six states – Illinois, Iowa, Louisiana, Maine, Pennsylvania, and South Dakota – all life sentences are imposed without the possibility of parole. Seven states – Alabama, California, Florida, Illinois, Louisiana, Michigan, and Pennsylvania – have more than 1,000 prisoners each serving sentences of life without parole. The increase in prison time for lifers is a result of changes in state policy and not due to increases in violent crime.”

C. VIOLATIONS

1. The high rate of exonerations of persons on death row awaiting execution is proof of the “arbitrary deprivation of life,” with inadequate proof of a “most serious crime.”

2. The rapid increase and the high rate of life-without-parole testifies to the arbitrary “slow death” deprivation of life as a result of politically motivated changes in state policy and not due to increases in violent crime or greater need for public safety.

3. Several other human rights are brought into question. For example, the right to the opportunity to reform one’s life, to change, to grow positively in maturity and responsibility; and the right for an opportunity for “conversion or transformation” (which is held dear by many religious and social groups in our country) and to become a contributing and productive member of society.

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COMMUNITY TIES; VOTING and FAMILY

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS

1. Article 21 (1) of the UDHR states that “Everyone has the right to take part in the government of his country directly or through freely chosen representatives,” and (3) of the UDHR states that “the will of the people shall be expressed …by universal and equal suffrage.”

2. Article 17 of the ICCPR states: “No one shall be subjected to arbitrary or unlawful interference with his privacy, home, or correspondence, nor to unlawful attacks on his honor and reputation.”

B. ANALYSIS.

1. Restoring a person’s right to vote is a critical element to successful reentry into society after incarceration, and consistent with our democracy’s modern ideal of universal suffrage.

2. If offenders are to achieve a relatively stable lifestyle post-release, continued contact with family and friends is needed.

3. Research shows that children are the unintended victims of a prison sentence, with many children of prisoners less likely to complete secondary school and more likely to become homeless or unemployed and more likely to come into contact with the juvenile justice or criminal justice systems. The likelihood of the children of an imprisoned parent ending up in prison increases by 6 times; they are also six times as likely to have mental health problems. (report by Justice Action)

C. VIOLATIONS.

1. Article 21 (1) of the UDHR: Nationally, an estimated 5.3 million Americans are denied the right to vote because of laws that prohibit voting by people with felony convictions. Of these, 4 million are out of prison and living and working in the community. Two states permanently ban voting by anyone with a felony record of any sort.

Also, 13% of all adult black men or nearly 1.4 million are disenfranchised. This represents one-third of the total disenfranchised population.

2. Article 17 of the ICCPR: Only a few states have visits where the family is together for 48 hours.

Some correctional facilities are now limiting mail to only postcards. This is certainly a violation of privacy in regard to the family which the state must have a special obligation to uphold.

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SEXUAL SECURITY

A. RELEVANT HUMAN RIGHTS

The Preamble to the Article 3 of the ICCPR states: “The States Parties to the present Covenant shall undertake to ensure the equal right of men and women to the enjoyment of all civil and political rights set forth in the present Covenant.”

Article 7 of that Covenant states: “No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment.”

B. ANALYSIS.

Prison rape not only threatens the lives of those who fall prey to their aggressors, but it is potentially devastating to the human spirit. Shame, depression, and a shattering loss of self-esteem accompany the perpetual terror the victim thereafter must endure.” (U.S. Supreme Court Justice Harry A. Blackmun).

The sexual assault of prisoners, whether perpetrated by corrections officials or by other inmates, amounts to torture under international law. Torture is prohibited by international conventions and treaties, including the Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT) and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), both of which have been ratified by the United States.

C. VIOLATIONS

1. Sexual assault. In 2009, the State of Michigan paid $100 million to settle a class-action by more than 500 female prisoners who said they were sexually assaulted by prison guards.

2. Sexual abuse. In a 2007 survey of prisoners across the country, the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS)
found that 4.5 percent (or 60,500) of the more than 1.3 million inmates held in federal and state prisons
had been sexually abused in the previous year alone. A BJS survey in county jails was just as
troubling; nearly 25,000 jail detainees reported having been sexually abused in the past six months.

Incarcerated women have undergone intrusive pat-downs and body searches in public by male guards.

D. RECOMMENDATIONS

1. Adopt and enforce the national standards that were developed under the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

2. Ratify the OPCAT, which establishes a system of regular visits undertaken by international and national bodies to places of detention in order to prevent torture and other forms of ill treatment.

3. Prohibit pat-downs and body-searches of women by male officers.

4. Adopt severe penalties for staff violence against women inmates.

California’s Pelican Bay prisoners plan hunger strike

California’s Pelican Bay prisoners plan hunger strike
Published Jul 4, 2011 9:20 PM

Prisoners in California’s Pelican Bay State Prison Security Housing Unit plan to go on hunger strike beginning July 1 to protest the cruel, inhumane conditions there. The following excerpted call for support was written by prisoner Mutope Duguma. For more information, visit www.prisons.org.

This is a call for all prisoners in Security Housing Units (SHUs), Administrative Segregation (Ad-Seg), and General Populations (GP), as well as the free oppressed and non-oppressed people to support the indefinite July 1 peaceful Hunger Strike in protest of the violation of our civil/human rights here at Pelican Bay State Prison Security Housing Unit, short corridor D1 through D4 and its overflow, D5 through D10.

It should be clear to everyone that none of the hunger strike participants want to die, but [the] state of California has sentenced all of us on Indeterminate SHU programs to a “civil death” merely on the word of a prison informer (snitch). The purpose of the Hunger Strike is to combat both the Ad-Seg/SHU psychological and physical torture. Those subjected to indeterminate SHU programs are neglected and deprived of the basic human necessities while withering away in a very isolated and hostile environment.

Prison officials have utilized the assassination of prisoners’ character to each other as well as the general public in order to justify their inhumane treatment of prisoners. The “code of silence” used by guards allows them the freedom to use everything at their disposal in order to break those prisoners who prison officials and correctional officers (COs) believe cannot be broken.

It is this mentality that set in motion the establishing of the short corridor, D1 through D4 and its D5 though D10 overflow. This mentality has created the current atmosphere, in which COs and prison officials agreed upon a plan to break indeterminate SHU prisoners. This protracted attack on SHU prisoners cuts across every aspect of the prison’s function: food, mail, visitations, medical, yard, hot/cold temperatures, privileges (canteen, packages, property, etc.), isolation, cell searches, family/friends, and socio-cultural, economic, and political deprivation. This is nothing short of the psychological/physical torture of SHU/Ad-Seg prisoners. It takes place day in and day out, without a break or rest.

The prison’s gang intelligence unit was extremely angered at the fact that prisoners who had been held in SHU under inhuman conditions for anywhere from 10 to 40 years had not been broken. So the gang intelligence unit created the “short corridor” and intensified their attacks on the prisoners housed there. The object was to use blanket pressure to encourage these particular isolated prisoners to debrief (i.e., snitch in order to be released from SHU).

The COs and administrative officials are all in agreement and all do their part in depriving short corridor prisoners and its overflow of their basic civil/human rights. None of the deliberate attacks is a figment of anyone’s imagination. They are deliberate and conscious acts against essentially defenseless prisoners.

It is these ongoing attacks that have led the short corridor and overflow SHU prisoners to organize themselves around an indefinite Hunger Strike in an effort to combat the dehumanizing treatment we prisoners of all races are subjected to on a daily basis. Therefore, on July 1, we ask that all prisoners throughout the state of California who have been suffering injustices in General Population, Administrative Segregation and solitary confinement, etc., to join in our peaceful strike to put a stop to the blatant violations of prisoners’ civil/human rights. As you know, prison gang investigators have used threats of validation and other means to get prisoners to engage in a protracted war against each other in order to serve their narrow interests. If you cannot participate in the Hunger Strike, then support it in principle by not eating for the first 24 hours of the strike.

I say that those of you who carry yourselves as principled human beings, no matter your housing status, must fight to right this and other egregious wrongs. Although it is “us” today (united New Afrikans, Whites, Northern and Southern Mexicans, and others) it will be you all tomorrow. It is in your interests to peacefully support us in this protest today, and beware of agitators, provocateurs and obstructionists, because they are the ones who put 90 percent of us back here because they could not remain principled even within themselves.
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