Behind Bars and Beyond Redemption
: Why Prisons Fail to Cure the Criminal Mind
The image of the soaring prison wall, a stark symbol of societal retribution, often conjures a comforting illusion: that within its confines, the criminal mind is either broken or, more optimistically, mended. Yet, as Stanton E. Samenow meticulously dissects in "Locked Up," a chapter from his seminal work, "Inside the Criminal Mind," this comforting notion is, by and large, a dangerous fallacy. Prisons, he argues with chilling precision, are not the crucibles of reform we wish them to be; rather, they are often mere holding pens where deeply entrenched criminal thinking cycles undisturbed.
The Myth of the Mending Wall
For centuries, societies have wrestled with the four traditional functions of imprisonment: deterrence, retribution, incapacitation, and rehabilitation. While the first three are arguably met to varying degrees – the fear of lost freedom, the punishing of transgressions, and the physical removal of offenders from society – it is in the realm of rehabilitation that Samenow delivers his most damning critique. "Prisons, however," he states unequivocally, "do not usually contribute to the rehabilitation of criminals."
This isn't to say prisons are inherently "schools for crime," as some popular narratives suggest. Samenow refutes this notion by asserting that criminals aren't passively corrupted by prison culture. Instead, they choose to engage in self-serving behaviours and solidify antisocial thinking, demonstrating that their criminal patterns are intrinsic, not merely environmental. Nor, crucially, do the majority of inmates actively thwart the efforts of the genuine few who desire change. One might even find a glimmer of hope in the anecdote of inmates who "would make time serve them while they served their time," focusing on self-improvement. But these, Samenow implies, are outliers in a system largely unresponsive to true penitence.
The Criminality That Knows No Walls
The most arresting aspect of Samenow's analysis is his assertion that a criminal's thinking patterns remain stubbornly consistent, whether they are "in prison or on the street." The same manipulation, the same drive for status, the same contempt for authority that define their lives outside merely shift their theatre of operations to the correctional facility.
Consider the "consummate actor" – the inmate who diligently scrubs cells and appears to be a paragon of rehabilitation. This is not genuine remorse but a calculated performance to "score brownie points" and ensure an easier existence, all while harbouring an internal disdain for the very system they outwardly conform to. Inmates become "highly legalistic," asserting their rights with surgical precision, not out of a belief in justice but as a means to manipulate staff and gain advantages. Even the initial shock of incarceration, often accompanied by fleeting fear, remorse, or depression, is rarely a catalyst for lasting change. These emotions, Samenow observes, are largely transient, and most quickly revert to their ingrained patterns. For some, particularly those previously unincarcerated, serving time even confers a perverse sense of "status," elevating them within their criminal hierarchy. Fuck me, right? It's a badge of honour, not shame.
From Supermax to College Camp: A Spectrum of Confinement
The physical manifestations of imprisonment vary wildly, from the brutal maximum-security institutions rife with violence and gang warfare to the seemingly benign "minimum-security camps" resembling "college campuses." Yet, even in these diverse environments, the deeper currents of criminal behaviour persist. Supermax prisons, designed to isolate "the worst of the worst," offer a stark example. While intended to improve conditions for the general prison population by removing the most volatile elements, they raise profound ethical questions about prolonged isolation and sensory deprivation, which can exacerbate mental health issues. Samenow's examples of inmates like Trent and Rodney, whose persistent violence led them to supermax, underscore the intractable nature of certain criminal minds, capable of challenging the system even from the most extreme isolation.
The ecosystem within these walls is further corrupted by pervasive issues: staff dissension exploited by inmates, the "don't snitch" code often a brittle façade for self-interest, rampant theft, and the grim reality of sexual assault. Contraband, from makeshift weapons to smuggled drugs, illustrates the "ingenuity" of inmates, often aided by complicit or unwitting staff. And then there are the gangs – powerful entities whose "shot-callers" extend their influence far beyond the prison gates, coordinating drug trafficking and even ordering assaults, forcing correctional facilities to resort to isolating their members in a desperate attempt to maintain order.
The Unending Cycle and the Flimsy "Burnout Theory"
Samenow's conclusion hits with the force of a cold, hard truth: "Penitentiaries are not a place for the penitent." Even those inmates who express remorse typically couch it in excuses, blaming external factors for their predicaments. Some even use their time "inside" to "sharpen their skills for future crimes," honing their craft to evade detection upon release.
He also takes aim at the "burnout theory," the comforting idea that criminals simply "outgrow" their propensity for crime. While older criminals might shift from violent "street crimes" to less physically demanding forms of illicit activity, their fundamental criminal personality often remains stubbornly unchanged. They may inflict harm differently, but they continue to inflict.
True change, Samenow posits, is a deeply personal and rare phenomenon, occurring only when a criminal becomes genuinely "fed up with himself" and actively desires a different path. It's a powerful and sobering thought, reminding us that external mechanisms of control, no matter how imposing, can rarely alter the internal landscape of a mind unwilling to change.
In "Locked Up," Samenow offers not a prescriptive solution, but a vital dose of realism. He strips away the sentimental notions surrounding incarceration, forcing us to confront the uncomfortable truth that while prisons may punish and incapacitate, their role as agents of genuine rehabilitation is severely, perhaps even fundamentally, limited by the enduring nature of the criminal mind. It's a challenging insight, but one essential for any society grappling with the complex and often intractable problem of crime.
Citations for the Article:
The article is a detailed analysis and interpretation of material from Stanton E. Samenow's "Inside the Criminal Mind," specifically focusing on Chapter 13, "Locked Up." As such, the primary citation should refer to the original work.
Samenow, S. E. (1984). Inside the Criminal Mind. Times Books. (Or the edition you are specifically referencing).
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