I watched the Justice Votes 2020 forum held on Oct. 28 in New Jersey’s Eastern State Penitentiary Historic Site, a former prison, sponsored by The Marshall Project and hosted by Voters Organized To Educate—the first presidential town hall hosted by formerly incarcerated leaders, with an audience of formerly incarcerated people and criminal justice organizers and activists. Since this not only was a groundbreaking event, the first of its kind, but was covering the criminal justice (or injustice) system, I made it my business to tune in.
From the announcement of the event:
“This historic town hall marks an important step toward centering the voices of those directly impacted by mass incarceration, and in recognizing us as citizens with an equal stake in our political system,” said Lawrence Bartley, director of News Inside, who himself regained his rights as a citizen after being released on parole. “In 2018, a friend asked if my parole officer had informed me of my right to vote. When I responded that she had not, he made a call on my behalf. Hours later, someone from the parole office came to The Marshall Project’s office building and delivered a pardon signed by Gov. Andrew Cuomo that temporarily restored my right to vote. I was elated and felt like I had taken another step toward complete freedom.”
Sen. Kamala Harris, D-Calif., Sen. Cory Booker, D-N.J., and Tom Steyer have confirmed their participation in today’s town hall. While many Democratic candidates have made criminal justice reform a part of their platform, supporting policies such as ending cash bail or the federal use of private prisons, only a few agreed to discuss their policy positions with people who have been directly involved in the criminal justice system.
Leading up to the event, I was perturbed when I read that very few candidates were going to show. Initially, Sen. Kamala Harris was on board, followed by Sen. Cory Booker, and then Tom Steyer.
Though the event is over, the nightmare that is our system of criminal injustice isn’t going away. I have no idea how many people tuned in to the livestream—I hope that those who did will join or continue the struggle to change the inequities of our current system.
Here’s the full program:
I am hoping that every Democrat running for president will embrace Harris’ position.
After watching, I thought about conversations I’ve had over the years, visits I’ve made to prisons and jails, political comrades and friends who were locked up for years and years—many of those years in solitary confinement, and some of them are still there, forgotten except by a few people, while a new generation of activists, advocates, and researchers tackle the issue.
This is not the first time I’ve addressed solitary, and it won’t be the last. In “Perhaps Bradley Manning will open your eyes,“ I called for activists who were focused on Bradley (now Chelsea) Manning’s case to expand their protests to include everyone in solitary. In “A King and a crown of gold,” I wrote about the harshest sentence in the U.S.
A cursory search of Twitter turned up new studies and facets of a problem that must be addressed.
First author Lauren Brinkley-Rubinstein, Ph.D., an assistant professor at the University of North Carolina School of Medicine, tells Inverse that previous research has shown that solitary confinement can be detrimental to health, but “traditionally it has been very hard to obtain administrative data on time in solitary confinement during incarceration.”
Similarly, it’s been difficult for researchers to establish how many Americans have been placed in solitary confinement. A 2016 study by Yale Law School found that about 66,000 prisoners were in solitary confinement, based on data from 73 percent of the country’s prison population. The study also estimates that if all data was available, that number would rise to 80,000 people.
While prisons and jails are designed by and for men, incarceration rates for women are on the rise. Since the 1980s, incarceration rates for women have increased by over 800 percent. Yet people incarcerated in women’s facilities, especially pregnant people, are ignored, with few legal protections or policies that address their special needs—particularly pregnancy and reproductive care.
In many cases, there are more legal protections and oversights concerning the protection of captive wild animals and the care and handling of farm animals [than] there are for incarcerated pregnant people in the United States. In Colorado, for example, a pregnant pig cannot be confined to a cage for more than 12 hours a day. But in most states, no such protections exist for pregnant people.
I think that one of the best ways to gain advocates for the cause are the first-person narratives of former or currently incarcerated people. One such narrative is Hell Is a Very Small Place: Voices from Solitary Confinement, by Jean Casella (Editor), James Ridgeway (Editor), and Sarah Shourd (Editor).
“Do we really think it makes sense to lock so many people alone in tiny cells for twenty-three hours a day, for months, sometimes for years at a time? That is not going to make us safer. That’s not going to make us stronger.” —President Barack Obama”
On any given day, the United States holds more than eighty-thousand people in solitary confinement, a punishment that—beyond fifteen days—has been denounced as a form of cruel and degrading treatment by the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture.
Now, in a book that will add a startling new dimension to the debates around human rights and prison reform, former and current prisoners describe the devastating effects of isolation on their minds and bodies, the solidarity expressed between individuals who live side by side for years without ever meeting one another face to face, the ever-present specters of madness and suicide, and the struggle to maintain hope and humanity.
In a review for The Health Care Blog, David Introcaso wrote:
The editors’ most substantive accomplishment is in offering sixteen first person accounts, some via interviews, by current or former long-term solitary confinement inmates under the headings “enduring,” “resisting” and “surviving.”
Among the 16, Syed Fahad Hashmi, a former graduate student in international relations, plead guilty for allowing a friend, who later became a cooperating witness in terrorism cases, to use his cell phone and to stay for two weeks in his London apartment with luggage containing raincoats, ponchos and waterproof socks. Hashmi plead guilty only after spending three years in pre-trial solitary confinement that Juan Mendez found had “no justification.” He is serving 15 years in solitary at ADX (the US Penitentiary Administration Maximum) in Colorado.
Judith Vazquez, who spent several years in solitary in New Jersey, became so obsessed with having to feel the wind, she spends six months using her nails to scrape until they bled a small opening in the rubber seal around a four inch wide window in her cell. “Upon seeing this little opening,” she writes, “I acted savagely.” I only had room to put one nostril at a time against the hole, and I would breathe in so hard. It gave me a sense of being human again. It was my secret air supply, which was what kept me alive.”
Joseph Dole, who spent more than 10 years in solitary and is still incarcerated, Shaka Senghor, now a free man but spent over seven years in solitary and Todd Lewis Ashker, who spent 30 years in solitary are accomplished authors and successful plaintiffs. Beyond their accounts of “SHU (Secure Housing Unit) Syndrome,” life in the “Graves” spent, in part, hurling “feces-filled bottles” at one’s enemies and successful efforts by prison staff to play racial groups against one another, all three men wonder whether the purpose of solitary is to drive corporate profits. Senghor writes, “the officers have no interest in seeing me turn my life around, to most of them I represent job security.” The guards at Folsom Penitentiary in California, Ashker writes, arranged for “Roman gladiator pit-style fights,” that the guards then wrote up as incidents proving the need for more solitary confinement and more guards.
William Blake, who has been held in isolation for over 29 years to date, perhaps best sums up what the editors try to accomplish with this work. Blake writes,“If to imagine what kind of death, even a slow one, would be worse than twenty-five years in the box – and I have tried to imagine it – I can come up with nothing. Set me afire, pummel and bludgeon me, cut me to bits, stab me, shoot me, do what you will in the worst of ways, but none of it could come close to making me feel things as cumulatively horrifying as what I’ve experienced through my years in solitary.”
Another set of narratives is compiled in Six by Ten: Stories from Solitary, by Mateo Hoke (Editor) and Taylor Pendergrass (Editor).
An estimated 80,000 Americans are held in solitary confinement in prisons across the country. Solitary confinement, often in cells no bigger than 6 by 10 feet, means 24 hours per day with little or no meaningful human contact. Six By Ten explores the mental, physical, and spiritual impacts of America’s widespread embrace of solitary confinement, as told through the first-person narratives of individuals subjected to solitary confinement, family members on the outside, and corrections officers. Each chapter presents a different individual’s story and probes how Americans from all over the country and all walks of life find themselves held in solitary for years or even decades at a time.
The narrators include:
BRIAN, who was taken by the Illinois Department of Corrections from solitary cell to solitary cell in prisons across the state for more than seven years in the 1980s and ’90s as part of an unofficial program that came to be known as “the circuit.” Brian reclaims his humanity by working as an advocate on behalf of people currently trapped in solitary.
MOHAMMED “MIKE” ALI, who grew up in the Bay Area after his family immigrated to the United States from Fiji. Growing up romanticizing gang life, he escalated through youth detention, jails, and prisons before landing in solitary in a private immigration detention facility in Arizona.
HEATHER, who is fighting for the life of her son, Nikko. He was diagnosed as bipolar at a young age and spent time in youth institutions in Florida before being sent to solitary as a teenager.
SONYA, who was sent to solitary in a men’s jail in Texas, supposedly for her own protection, and whose story helped inspire change for other trans people facing incarceration in Dallas.
Angola 3 News has been a group here at Daily Kos since 2009. Those who read and follow it are aware of this book, which I strongly suggest you read: Solitary: Unbroken by Four Decades in Solitary Confinement: My Story of Transformation and Hope, by Albert Woodfox.
Solitary is the unforgettable life story of a man who served more than four decades in solitary confinement—in a 6-foot by 9-foot cell, 23 hours a day, in notorious Angola prison in Louisiana—all for a crime he did not commit. That Albert Woodfox survived was, in itself, a feat of extraordinary endurance against the violence and deprivation he faced daily. That he was able to emerge whole from his odyssey within America’s prison and judicial systems is a triumph of the human spirit, and makes his book a clarion call to reform the inhumanity of solitary confinement in the U.S. and around the world.
Arrested often as a teenager in New Orleans, inspired behind bars in his early twenties to join the Black Panther Party because of its social commitment and code of living, Albert was serving a 50-year sentence in Angola for armed robbery when on April 17, 1972, a white guard was killed. Albert and another member of the Panthers were accused of the crime and immediately put in solitary confinement by the warden. Without a shred of actual evidence against them, their trial was a sham of justice that gave them life sentences in solitary. Decades passed before Albert gained a lawyer of consequence; even so, sixteen more years and multiple appeals were needed before he was finally released in February 2016.
Remarkably self-aware that anger or bitterness would have destroyed him in solitary confinement, sustained by the shared solidarity of two fellow Panthers, Albert turned his anger into activism and resistance. The Angola 3, as they became known, resolved never to be broken by the grinding inhumanity and corruption that effectively held them for decades as political prisoners. He survived to give us Solitary, a chronicle of rare power and humanity that proves the better spirits of our nature can thrive against any odds.
Albert Woodfox is a former political prisoner who was held in solitary confinement for 43 years until he won his freedom just over three years ago. Now he is traveling the world and joins us in studio to discuss his new memoir, “Solitary: Unbroken by Four Decades in Solitary Confinement. My Story of Transformation and Hope.” In it, he writes about his childhood and how his mother struggled to keep the family cared for, how as a teenager and young man he was in and out of jails and prisons, and how he became radicalized when he met members of the Black Panther Party and went on to establish the first chapter of the organization at the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola, Louisiana, to address horrific conditions at the former cotton plantation. Not long after this, he and fellow prisoner Herman Wallace were accused in 1972 of stabbing prison guard Brent Miller. The two men always maintained their innocence, saying they were targeted because of their political activity. Woodfox, Wallace and and a third man, Robert King, became collectively known as the Angola 3. For decades Amnesty International and other groups campaigned for their release. “Solitary confinement … is the most horrible and brutal nonphysical attack upon a human being,” Woodfox says.
When I first came to Daily Kos to blog, I was appalled to find some people actively trying to stop Mumia Abu Jamal’s case from being presented here. I know him. I knew him as Wes Cook, as both a fellow Panther and later a journalist. I talked about that resistance here, in a story about the death penalty.
As a victim of COINTELPRO myself, I admit readily that I have no faith in manufactured government “evidence.”
MANUFACTURING GUILT is a short film that appears as a Bonus Feature on our dvd MUMIA: LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY (www.firstrunfeatures.com/mumiadvd.html). The short takes on the colossus of Abu-Jamal's contentious case, distilling a mountain of evidence and years of oft-repeated falsehoods to the most fundamental elements of police and prosecutorial misconduct that illustrate a clear and conscious effort to frame Mumia Abu-Jamal for the murder of patrolman Daniel Faulkner. Based on the actual record of investigations and court filings from 1995 to 2003 - evidence denied by the courts and ignored in the press - MANUFACTURING GUILT cuts through the years of absurdities and overt racism to produce a clear picture of how Abu-Jamal's guilt was manufactured and his innocence suppressed beginning only moments after he and Faulkner were found shot in the early morning hours of December 9th, 1981.
I think attitudes on the left and of liberals are slowly changing. When we write about police brutality, and cops murdering black and brown folks, and false confessions, no longer is there a flood of comments backing the police automatically. Ava Duvernay’s film When They See Us, about the Exonerated Five, has done a lot to change perceptions.
It has also brought more attention to the lies of Donald Trump.
The case of the Exonerated Five has shone a light on false confessions.
Transcript here.
It is still difficult to get folks on the outside to worry about those on the inside, unless there is a personal connection. This is one of my personal issues, as a former member of the Black Panther Party. Sadly, though more attention is being paid these days to the history of the Black Panther Party, incarcerated members of the BPP languish in prisons across the U.S., most either in solitary or doing long hard time and being denied parole over and over again.
Case in point: Romaine “Chip” Fitzgerald, the longest-held Panther in the United States. He was incarcerated at age 20, and has now been in prison for 50 years.
From his biography:
In September 1969, Romaine was wounded and arrested in connection with a police shoot-out. He was tried and convicted for assault on police and other, related charges, including the murder of a security guard. He was sentenced to death. He was 20 years old.
Romaine's eventual arrest was politically motivated, he made mistakes associated with his involvement in the turbulence of the 60’s. Imprisoned for the last 50 years due to the unfortunate death of a security guard. Romaine is now 70 years old locked up since age 20. He is the longest confined former member of the Black Panther Party. Romaine has been eligible for parole since Oct. 1976.
While confined Romaine has attended college studying anthropology, environmental biology and a host of other subjects, taking college courses whenever possible. Romaine is very effectively self-taught and an avid reader of history and social science topics. Romaine is an educator of sorts and is a mentor to young people. Romaine is a Jazz enthusiast, and was a DJ for the prison population for a number of years.
In February 1998, Romaine had a stroke that left him partially without the full use of his limbs. He is currently housed in an American disability act medical facility. Romaine remains hopeful that just as he found a way to forgive the past social injustices, that he will be forgiven someday soon and can enjoy the remaining part of his senior life with family.
More details on his case here.
Take some time and read “Reflections of a Friend” by Bruce Richard, which will give you a sense of how a young Chip was politicized and came to join the party.
Here’s what Chip has to say:
I will welcome the warmth and laughter of my grandchildren. I look forward to their hugs and smiles. I will be the Grandpa present to soothe them through occasional scrapes after they show me their somersaults and expert bike riding maneuvers.
I will have the chance to witness numerous bird species and listen to their songs. I'll hope for a rain to nourish the vegetables and flowers i planted days before, just as my mother used to do, and reach for the rainbow stretching across the sky after the rain. I will feel the mist on my face and rejoice.
I will experience the waves of the ocean reflecting the moon filled sky and the cozy breeze and graceful winds upon my skin. I will be outside in nature's healing environment as it soothes and comforts my body allowing my age filled bones to heal and rejuvenate in ways lost for most of my life. At the end of the evening I will look forward to a soft bed and sinking my head into fluffy pillows as I curl up in soft covers and dream sweet dreams knowing I will awake to a new day of freedom.
I will have my eyes dazzled by the spectrum of radiant colors that only a city can sparkle. I look forward to enjoying the sights from a car window, recognizing the aroma of the city's possessions all converging together.
I hope to share love and laughter, the joys and hardships of life with a special woman. We will lift each other's hearts as equals to face a brighter tomorrow.
I will continue to appreciate the love and challenges of family. I imagine our dialogue will include our sense of community, our country, the world, our contributions and help to our neighborhoods and, of course, sharing my personal sorrows and hope. I will lead by example with spontaneous acts of love, compassion and kindness thereby demonstrating my belief in the transformation of others. I will enjoy volunteering in preschools and/or visiting the elderly in convalescent hospitals.
I will always give special devotion to finding peace and moving full speed to overcome the damaging impact associated with the daily screams of terror and absence of dignity that have engulfed my prison environment.
Most of all, I will be dedicated to the journey and opportunity of spending my remaining life giving. Giving of myself to achieve the many treasures of what it means to be a valued human being; embracing freedom.
If you live in California, you can sign a petition for his release.
What can you do to end solitary confinement and other overly harsh sentences? The organization Voice of Witness suggests 10 actions.
1. Become a friend to someone in solitary.
People in solitary may not have anyone on the outside to write or call, and correspondence with someone on the outside can be a significant source of comfort. To find a pen pal, connect with Solitary Watch’s “Lifelines” program.
2. Invite people who have spent time in solitary to speak in your community.
If you are part of a book club, coffee shop discussion group, library meetup, or any other community forum, invite someone who has been in solitary confinement to come speak and share their experiences and thoughts with other community members.
3. Make demands of local elected officials and candidates.
In most states, the county jail is run by the locally elected sheriff. Attend town halls or write your sheriff a letter demanding that solitary be banned in your local jail. During election time, show up to events to ask candidates for sheriff to state whether they would abolish solitary confinement if elected. Vote accordingly.
4. Give your money or time to local prisoners’ rights and reentry organizations.
These groups are on the front lines of protecting peoples’ rights while in solitary and assisting them when they return to the community.
5. Organize to pass statewide reforms.
State legislatures across the country have passed laws restricting solitary confinement in local jails and state prisons. Contact your local prisoner rights’ organization or ACLU to help support existing campaigns to enact new state laws addressing solitary confinement. Join efforts to improve access to quality mental health care funding, both in the broader community and in prisons and jails.
6. Ask your governor where they stand on solitary.
The heads of most state prison systems are appointed by the state’s governor, so what the governor believes about solitary confinement and who they appoint to that position is critical. Call in to radio shows or attend town halls to ask your governor about solitary confinement. Make sure your governor is committed to appointing a corrections director tasked with implementing reforms to solitary confinement.
7. Volunteer in a prison.
Most prisons have opportunities for volunteers to teach classes inside prisons. There you will have the opportunity to work with and talk to people returning to the general prison population after having spent time in solitary. More broadly and just as importantly, every effort that penetrates prison walls and creates more contact between the outside world and those who are incarcerated increases accountability and transparency.
8. Support efforts to hire formerly incarcerated people.
Regardless of your vocation, making an active effort to hire people who were formerly incarcerated not only helps to repair some of the damage done to people in prison, it also helps create a bridge between those who have spent time in prison and those who have not.
9. Support investigative journalism.
Journalists who have the time and resources to shine light inside prisons will continue to be invaluable in the movement to end solitary confinement. Donate to projects like Solitary Watch and subscribe or donate to other media outlets that cover prison rights and criminal justice issues.
10. Share our new book, Six By Ten: Stories from Solitary.
For those of you who have questions about alternatives to solitary confinement and segregation, see the Vera Institute of Justice’s Safe Alternatives to Segregation website.
I’ve attached a brief poll to this story, just to get a sense of readers’ familiarity with the issue. I hope to hear more details in comments.