Drops in the Ocean

Two recent experiences have me thinking a lot about how our society handles criminals - both in the criminal justice sytem and in our own minds.

I'm involved in restoring the late-19th century schoolhouse building in Bethania, headquarters of the Bethania Historical Association (on whose board I serve) and a rare example of extant architecture from that period in rural North Carolina. Early on, a consultant recommended that we hire a work crew from the Dan River Prison Work Farm, mainly because it would save our small group a lot of money. I was pretty reluctant, remembering how prison laborers have been used in the past almost as slave labor, and to undercut full-wage workers. What convinced me was hearing how, for many of the inmates at the minimum-security prison, their off-site jobs were coveted chances to earn real-world work skills. The inmate workers have all the safety protections of state workers.

So the crews started out at Bethania a few weeks ago, painting and replacing the building's wooden siding. Members of the community provided their meals every day. When my grandfather called to thank me for taking them a lasagna, we had an interesting conversation. Now, Grandpa may be a life-long Democrat, but he's hardly a bleeding-heart liberal. He can be pretty hard on people. He told me how much he enjoyed talking to the inmates, and how surprised he was to find that they weren't much different than any other construction workers we would have hired: they were hard-working, clever and thankful for the work. Grandpa remarked that they weren't bad people at all, just men who hadn't had the opportunities he'd had in his own life, and that they all seemed anxious to turn their lives around.

The other experience happened tonight. A professor at the college where I work started a class focused on re-entry to society. But rather than talking about this in a classroom on our tree-lined campus, the students head out to Guilford Correctional once a week to work with actual inmates. The superintendent of the minimum-security prison (a Guilford alum) is enthusiastic about re-entry programs. Tonight, several of the students and inmates spoke movingly of what the course has meant to them, joined by Greensboro's mayor and police chief (whom I hope liked what they heard). (BTW, we also have a prison literacy program where, for 10 years or so, students tutor inmates.)

The class looks at what inmates need when they leave prison - a support network, job contacts and basic skills like writing a resume, plus the more intangible gifts of confidence and a belief that the system cares about their success. Right now, all the state gives them is $45 and a list of homeless shelters. Is it any wonder that two-thirds of paroled inmates are back in prison within three years? Aside from the waste of their lives, that's extra crime victims that don't have to be. Programs like the one at Guilford Correctional help break that cycle.

Unfortunately, Gov. Perdue's budget plan would close Guilford Correctional, along with several other prisons. To be fair, she would also slightly increase the budget for probation and parole programs. But without minimum-security step-downs like GCC - who can more easily provide re-entry programs than, say, a max-security facility - how effective will those additional dollars be?

One of the students who spoke tonight is a former offender himself, now on his way to a law degree. He opened his comments with a quote from Gandhi: "You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." This isn't true just of our total population, with its small number of people who choose to rob, assault or kill. It's true of individuals, too. One bad action, or even many bad actions, do not negate that person's ability to lead a moral, productive life. It doesn't help us to convince ourselves that all prison inmates are irredeemable criminals, ignoring the reality that most of them will be out among us again someday - and they'll need some way to support themselves that doesn't involve hurting another person.