Hard time

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This article was published 27/05/2017 (3053 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

People penned up in prisons live in the cobwebs of the public’s mind somewhere between fear and fancy.

And it is in this forgotten and out-of-sight limbo called Canada’s corrections system that both prisoners and those who oversee them struggle to co-exist in an often-warring bureaucratic dance involving two codes of conduct — one the jailers’, the other the inmates’.

Robert Clark says there’s a lot wrong in this artificial waltz. He should certainly know; he spent three decades as part of the orchestra that runs it.

In fact, Clark became compelled — in frustration — to leave the penal service.

So was born Down Inside, his exposé of what he calls the service’s glaring failures and systemic intransigence.

The retired Clark lives in Kingston, Ont., the unofficial incarceration capital of Canada, with the most correctional facilities in the nation. This is his first book — and an easily readable one, despite the heavy nature of the topic.

From what Clark has learned working in seven penal complexes — rising from a boyish volunteer to a deputy warden — it’s easy to see that he believes that in an ideal relationship between the system and the people it houses, the only difference between them would be that some go home after work and some can’t.

But Clark knows from experience that comprehensive harmony in Canada’s prisons — or anything approaching widespread fellowship between staff and prisoners — is a pipe dream.

In his sometimes-scathing portrayal of everyday conduct among some staff, he singles out the outrageous over-use and improper application of solitary confinement and the fact it is the cause of almost half of inmate suicides. These, he says, could have been prevented.

Clark lauds a minority of people who work for the penal system as genuinely committed to inmate rehabilitation. Others who may want to help, meanwhile, are short-changed by a system that rewards the people who don’t rock the correctional boat.

It’s not a pleasant job when upset or deranged prisoners throw feces or urine in your face. But, he says, the majority of prison staff is lukewarm or indifferent to rehabilitation. Instead, they embrace the antithesis of a rehabilitative environment — an unhealthy alliance of punishment, intimidation and the social isolation of minimal contact and interchange between staff and inmates.

Why? Because they want inmates to never forget who’s in control; besides, it makes their job easier and less risky.

Clark is no bleeding-heart do-gooder or preaching academic. Rather, his belief in modern penology is based on his vast experience in the trenches. He has worked minimum security to maximum, has dealt with murders, escapes, a riot, despicable serial killer and rapist Paul Bernardo and the late bank robber and famous escapee Tyrone Conn.

He’s even investigated staff corruption. And as a deputy warden he was in charge of the everyday operation of a major penal institution. He has earned the right to be heard.

Clark is sure that rehabilitation and treating inmates humanely, instead of just warehousing them, is workable and rewarding, and results in both safer prisons and communities: “I remain convinced any government policy that doesn’t make rehabilitation the central focus of its prison system is doomed to fail.”

The popular opposite — being “tough on crime” — actually makes communities less safe, he says, because it punishes people instead of trying to help them. And, contrary to popular belief, most inmates want help. Most, says Clark, are the product of horrific human experiences, primarily in childhood.

The problems aren’t always within prison walls, either.

“Not all problems in prison were the result of prisoners or staff,” Clark notes. “Sometimes the people above us — that is, at national headquarters — caused the biggest problems.”

One of Clark’s most touching comments — an incidental example of his sincerity and commitment — is his mention of released inmates bumping into him outside the prison walls and wanting to introduce him to their wives and children.

Although he doesn’t say so, surely there is no better endorsement of his work inside the walls than that.

Barry Craig has spent time in six jails and prisonsby choice.