By Tom Schoolcraft
When we think of dangers in prison, we often picture physical violence — the fights, stabbings and even murders that contribute to the routine harm and degradation of both corrections officers and people who are incarcerated. These explosive incidents are attention-grabbing, and rightly so.
But our intense focus on these threats often prompts responses that make prisons less humane and more dangerous, fueling hostile conditions that arguably cause the most harm to those who live and work behind the walls.
The dangers we don’t talk about
Having personally experienced incarceration in my early adult life before going on to serve as an officer at one of the nation’s best-run correctional facilities, I have seen how the narrow emphasis on physical safety can affect both sides. Many prison administrations attempt to uphold safety by enforcing a strict separation of corrections staff and those incarcerated. As an example of this approach, correctional officer training typically centers around use of force and other compliance tactics, which we are required to recertify year after year. Our training on effective communication meanwhile tends to be a one-and-done experience, even though it’s a skillset we’ll use far more frequently than force.
If we truly want to make prisons safer, administrations must first understand that the entrenched “us versus them” mentality is an impediment, not an asset. To make meaningful progress, we must be willing to reimagine and recreate our correctional system to emphasize the role of humanity. Only by encouraging those who live and work in prisons to see the person behind each uniform can we begin to empower staff and incarcerated people to work collectively to create safer, more positive environments for all.
While this may seem like a radical shift to some, we know that the status quo isn’t working. The culture of division in prisons only heightens the climate of fear and isolation, making it even harder for both officers and the incarcerated population to feel safe. In these settings, most people don’t think of much beyond getting through a shift or completing their bid. This contributes to high staff resignation rates, with many of those who stay simply counting the days until retirement, hoping it will be an answer to their problems. For incarcerated people, this sort of atmosphere quickly extinguishes hope, forcing them to focus on self-preservation and survival instead of the possibility of a brighter future.
The endemic stress, depression and trauma that follow frequently give way to PTSD and substance abuse, conditions that can strain personal relationships and erode ties with family members and the outside world. The impact is shocking: the average corrections officer who retires from this line of work dies almost 20 years earlier than the average citizen. The average incarcerated person dies about two years earlier for each year they spend behind bars.
We rarely consider these sorts of statistics in conversations about prison safety. But they are evidence of a genuine crisis in our field, and a reminder that physical safety is not the only consideration when it comes to improving overall security and health in corrections.
A new approach to prison safety
For the past few years, I have been collaborating on this work with Chicago Beyond, a national philanthropic organization that addresses systemic inequities by supporting solutions led by people closest to the issues. I assisted in the development of Chicago Beyond’s Holistic Safety Framework, which emphasizes collaboration between corrections administrators and the people working and living within jails and prisons. Some facilities we have worked with have used the framework to expand wellness resources for staff and people incarcerated. They have also developed collaborative groups of officers and the incarcerated, tasked with working together as equals to change the culture around safety and wellness. (You can read more in Do I Have the Right to Feel Safe? A Vision for Holistic Safety in Corrections.)
By promoting this shift, we can empower officers to be more invested in their institution and its mission. They will begin to see themselves not just as enforcers or referees, there exclusively to catch people when they step out of line, but as active partners — even coaches — in the process of change for the individuals they oversee. This fosters a more supportive atmosphere, which makes it easier for the people living in the facility to begin working towards personal growth and betterment. And this is ultimately just as critical to the overall safety of a prison as the harder security measures we so often prioritize.
Lessons from innovation: What’s working in the U.S.
Some facilities in the U.S. have begun adopting these principles with innovative policies and training that have shown impressive results.
Last summer, I visited the North Dakota State Penitentiary, a maximum security prison in Bismarck that has become a pioneer for practices that emphasize the role of humanity. During my visit, I sat in as new officers were trained on a forward-thinking curriculum around communication and professional boundaries. The program encouraged staff to break down the barriers that we see in American jails and prisons, and to engage more on a human level. This ultimately contributed to a decrease in staff assaults and a lowered need for use of force to gain compliance.
During discussions about prison reform, people often point to the Norwegian Model as an example to look to for guidance. The U.S. is obviously not Scandinavia. But that doesn’t mean we can’t examine their approach and see which aspects might work for us and which wouldn’t.
Many believe that people incarcerated in Norway are somehow fundamentally different from the folks in U.S. prisons. But this conveniently overlooks the question of how different we are as correctional professionals compared to our Norwegian counterparts, which I believe is part of what makes our prison culture so dangerous.
With the support of administrators and leadership, I know we can build a better correctional system in the U.S., which could one day become a model for other nations to look toward. But we must first stop hiding behind excuses for why we can’t change. The title of correction officer was not chosen at random. It is a title that implies being a key player in the journey of rehabilitation. If we allow ourselves to reimagine corrections and our role within this system, we can not only improve safety in prison, but create more fulfillment in our lives and careers.
About the author
Thomas Schoolcraft is a security caseworker at the Stillwater Prison in Minnesota. After serving time in jail as a young adult, he began his law enforcement career in 2011 as a Corrections Officer at the Cheshire County Department of Corrections in New Hampshire. He now serves on the board of directors for the Law Enforcement Action Partnership, a nonprofit organization composed of current and former law enforcement officials dedicated to advancing positive change in the criminal justice system.
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