© 2003 by Angela Y. Davis Open Media series editor, Greg Ruggiero. All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, includ­ ing mechanical, electric, photocopying, recording or otherwise, with­ out the prior written permission of the publisher. In Canada: Publishers Group Canada, 250A Carlton Street, Toronto, ON M5A 2L1 In the U.K.; Turnaround Publisher Services Ltd., Unit 3/ Olympia Trading Estate, Coburg Road, Wood Green, London N22 6TZ In Australia: Palgrave Macmillan, 627 Chapel Street, South Yarra, VIC 3141 Cover design and photos: Greg Ruggiero ISBN-10: 1-58322-581-1 / ISBN-13: 978-1-58322-581-3 Printed in Canada. 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 C o n t e n t s Acknowledgments ........................................*........................7 CHAPTER I Introduction—Prison Reform or Prison Abolition? . ,.........9 CHAPTER 2 Slavery, Civil Rights, and Abolitionist Perspectives Toward Prison.................................................22 CHAPTER 3 Imprisonment and Reform...................................................40 CHAPTER 4 How Gender Structures the Prison System.......................60 CHAPTER 5 The Prison Industrial Complex ...........................................84 CHAPTER 6 Abolitionist Alternatives....................................................105 Resources..............................................................................116 Notes .....................................................................................119 About the Author.................................................................128 A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s I should not be listed as the sole author of this book, for its ideas reflect various forms of collaboration over the last six years with activists, scholars, prisoners, and cultural work­ ers who have tried to reveal and contest the impact of the prison industrial complex on the lives of people—within and outside prisons—throughout the world. The organizing committee for the 1998 Berkeley conference, Critical Resistance: Beyond the Prison Industrial Complex, included Bo (rita d. brown), Ellen Barry, Jennifer Beach, Rose Braz, Julie Browne, Cynthia Chandler, Kamari Clarke, Leslie DiBenedetto Skopek, Gita Drury, Rayne Galbraith, Ruthie Gilmore, Naneen Karraker, Terry Kupers, Rachel Lederman, Joyce Miller, Dorsey Nunn, Dylan Rodriguez, Eli Rosenblatt, Jane Segal, Cassandra Shaylor, Andrea Smith, Nancy Stoller, Julia Sudbury, Robin Templeton, and Suran Thrift. In the long process of coordinating plans for this con­ ference, which attracted over three thousand people, we worked through a number of the questions that I raise in this book. I thank the members of that committee, including those who used the conference as a foundation to build the organization Critical Resistance. In 2000, I was a member of a University of California Humanities Research Institute Resident Research Group and had the opportunity to partic­ ipate in regular discussions on many of these issues. I thank the members of the group—Gina Dent, Ruth Gilmore, Avery Gordon, David Goldberg, Nancy Schepper Hughes, and Sandy Barringer—for their invaluable insights. Cassandra Shay lor and I coauthored a report to the 2001 World Conference Against Racism on women of color and the prison industrial complex—a number of whose ideas have made their way into this book. I have also drawn from a number of other recent articles I have published in various collections. Over the last five years Gina Dent and I have made numerous presentations together, published together, and engaged in protracted conversations on what it means to do scholarly and activist work that can encourage us all to imagine a world without prisons. I thank her for reading the manuscript and I am deeply appreciative of her intellectual and emotional support. Finally, I thank Greg Ruggiero, the editor of this series, for his patience and encouragement. I n t r o d u c t i o n - P r i s o n R e f o r m or P r i s o n A b o l i t i o n ? In most parts of the world, it is taken for granted that who­ ever is convicted of a serious crime will be sent to prison. In some countries—including the United States—where capital punishment has not yet been abolished, a small but signifi­ cant number of people are sentenced to death for what are considered especially grave crimes. Many people are familiar with the campaign to abolish the death penalty. In fact, it has already been abolished in most countries. Even the staunchest advocates of capital punishment acknowledge the fact that the death penalty faces serious challenges. Few peo­ ple find life without the death penalty difficult to imagine. On the other hand, the prison is considered an inevitable and permanent feature of our social lives. Most people are quite surprised to hear that the prison abolition movement also has a long history—one that dates back to the historical appearance of the prison as the main form of punishment. In fact, the most natural reaction is to assume that prison activists—even those who consciously refer to themselves as "antiprison activists"—are simply trying to ameliorate prison conditions or perhaps to reform the prison in more fundamental ways. In most circles prison abolition is simply unthinkable and implausible. Prison abolitionists are dis- missed as Utopians and idealists whose ideas are at best unre­ alistic and impracticable, and, at worst, mystifying and fool­ ish. This is a measure of how difficult it is to envision a social order that does not rely on the threat of sequestering people in dreadful places designed to separate them from their communities and families. The prison is considered so "natural" that it is extremely hard to imagine life without it. It is my hope that this book will encourage readers to question their own assumptions about the prison. Many peo­ ple have already reached the conclusion that the death penal­ ty is an outmoded form of punishment that violates basic principles of human rights. It is time, I believe, to encourage similar conversations about the prison. During my own career as an antiprison activist I have seen the population of U.S. prisons increase with such rapidity that many people in black, Latino, and Native American communities now have a far greater chance of going to prison than of getting a decent education. When many young people decide to join the mili­ tary service in order to avoid the inevitability of a stint in prison, it should cause us to wonder whether we should not try to introduce better alternatives. The question of whether the prison has become an obso­ lete institution has become especially urgent in light of the fact that more than two million people (out of a world total of nine million) now inhabit U.S. prisons, jails, youth facili­ ties, and immigrant detention centers. Are we willing to rel­ egate ever larger numbers of people from racially oppressed communities to an isolated existence marked by authoritari­ an regimes, violence, disease, and technologies of seclusion that produce severe mental instability? According to a recent study, there may be twice as many people suffering from mental illness who are in jails and prisons than there are in all psychiatric hospitals in the United States combined.1 10 | Angela Y. Davis When I first became involved in antiprison activism dur­ ing the late 1960s, I was astounded to learn that there were then close to two hundred thousand people in prison. Had anyone told me that in three decades ten times as many peo­ ple would be locked away in cages, I would have been absolutely incredulous. I imagine that I would have respond­ ed something like this: "As racist and undemocratic as this country may be [remember, during that period, the demands of the Civil Rights movement had not yet been consolidat­ ed], I do not believe that the U.S. government will be able to lock up so many people without producing powerful public resistance. No, this will never happen, not unless this coun­ try plunges into fascism/' That might have been my reac­ tion thirty years ago. The reality is that we were called upon to inaugurate the twenty-first century by accepting the fact that two million people—a group larger than the population of many countries—are living their lives in places like Sing Sing, Leavenworth, San Quentin, and Alderson Federal Reformatory for Women. The gravity of these numbers becomes even more apparent when we consider that the U.S. population in general is less than five percent of the world's total, whereas more than twenty percent of the world's combined prison population can be claimed by the United States. In Elliott Currie's words, "[t]he prison has become a looming presence in our society to an extent unparalleled in our history or that of any other industrial democracy. Short of major wars, mass incarceration has been the most thoroughly implemented government social program of our time.'"2 In thinking about the possible obsolescence of the prison, we should ask how it is that so many people could end up in prison without major debates regarding the efficacy of incar­ ceration. When the drive to produce more prisons and incar­ cerate ever larger numbers of people occurred in the 1980s during what is known as the Reagan era, politicians argued that " tough on crime " stances—including certain imprison­ ment and longer sentences—would keep communities free of crime. However, the practice of mass incarceration during that period had little or no effect on official crime rates. In fact, the most obvious pattern was that larger prison popu­ lations led not to safer communities, but, rather, to even larger prison populations. Each new prison spawned yet another new prison. And as the U.S. prison system expand­ ed, so did corporate involvement in construction, provision of goods and services, and use of prison labor. Because of the extent to which prison building and operation began to attract vast amounts of capital—from the construction industry to food and health care provision—in a way that recalled the emergence of the military industrial complex, we began to refer to a "prison industrial complex/'3 Consider the case of California, whose landscape has been thoroughly prisonized over the last twenty years. The first state prison in California was San Quentin, which opened in 1852.4 Folsom, another well-known institution, opened in 1880. Between 1880 and 1933, when a facility for women was opened in Tehachapi, there was not a single new prison constructed. In 1952, the California Institution for Women opened and Tehachapi became a new prison for men. In all, between 1852 and 1955, nine prisons were con­ structed in California. Between 1962 and 1965, two camps were established, along with the California Rehabilitation Center. Not a single prison opened during the second half of the sixties, nor during the entire decade of the 1970s. However, a massive project of prison construction was ini­ tiated during the 1980s—that is, during the years of the Reagan presidency. Nine prisons, including the Northern California