Drugs enter institutions through visiting rooms, through the mail, and through corrupt staff members. The smuggling of drugs into prisons is particularly problematic in secure prisons. Ironically, in minimum-security camps, where prisoners enjoy significantly higher levels of freedom and interaction with the broader community, drugs are less of a problem. Administrators ought to learn a lesson from that truism.

Drugs are not such a problem in minimum-security camps for a variety of reasons. The most obvious, of course, is that minimum-security camps confine mostly offenders who were convicted of white collar crime and other nonviolent prisoners who are nearing their release dates. The people in minimum-security camp have more hope than those in higher security prisons. Although administrators in higher security prisons cannot change the type of offenders who are locked inside the boundaries, they can use their enormous power to encourage more hope.

Inmates who live without hope are vulnerable to negative adjustment patterns. Many ceaselessly plot and scheme to build a power base inside the penitentiary. They feel totally alienated from the world beyond prison boundaries, or recognize that they will not return to society for years or decades to come. Recognizing that many prisoners rely upon drugs to numb themselves to the pains of confinement, many prisoners traffic in drugs as a short-sighted way of easing their time in prison. Those activities contribute to many problems inside the chaotic world of the penitentiary.

Although administrators must make appropriate use of security measures, another tool they should consider to stop the flow of drugs into prisons would be implementing a meaningful incentive program. Rather than simply relying upon the threat of punishment to discourage bad behavior, prisons should make use of incentive programs that encourage good behavior. Inmates should have opportunities to work toward meaningful privileges that would improve their quality of life inside.

Some examples of incentives that would drive inmate choices might include opportunities for inmates to enhance their ties to society. For example, they could offer access to e-mail programs, better visiting access, more telephone access. Administrators limit those programs. If they allowed prisoners opportunities to earn privileges like more food, preferred housing within the penitentiary, or access to movies, music, or books. Since administrators control the infrastructure, they could control inventives that would motivate desirable inmate adjustment patterns.

The threat of punishments and further sanctions extinguish hope and contribute to the oppressive atmosphere. Incentives, on the other hand, would open and encourage motivations to grow. That shift in management would help stop the flow of drugs into prison.

The post How To Stop the Flow of Drugs Into Prison appeared first on Prison News Blog.

The fact that drugs are a problem in prison baffles some. With solid concrete walls and rows of high fences surrounding secure prisons, people wonder how drugs penetrate prisons at all. Yet the barriers that surround the prison are not effective deterrents. Much more effective deterrents, as is evidenced by the lack of drugs in minimum-security camps, are programs that inspire hope.

Policies that extinguish hope result in prisoners who focus exclusively on living inside the institution. Since they do not see opportunities to advance their release dates or influence their lives in positive ways, they engage in activities that ease their time inside the prison.

Secure prisons are large, confining thousands of felons together. Hundreds of staff members work in the institution, some of whom are susceptible to corruption. Those staff members have access to inmate files and can read about which prisoners are reliable to participate in illicit schemes.

To supplement their income, corrupt staff members may agree to mule drugs through all of the security procedures and pass them along to their trusted conspirators. That is one of the most common ways that drugs enter prisons. Other prisoners use creative techniques to breach security. They have conspirators outside of prison work together with them, for example, to pass drugs through the mail or through visits. The walls and security measures have not been effective in keeping drugs out of prison.

In minimum-security camps, on the other hand, administrators do not have as much trouble keeping drugs out. Some may find this surprising, as minimum-security camps do not have fences or walls surrounding the prison. Despite their openness, camps run without much threat of contraband. The reason that camps run more smoothly is that prisoners inside have hope. They are closer to release; they participate in programs that enable them to interact with society; they have a higher degree of freedom. Since they do not want to lose the privilege of serving time in the camp, most prisoners abide by the rules.

To lower problems with contraband and violence in higher security prisons, administrators ought to reevaluate policies that extinguish hope. They should consider using incentives to encourage good behavior in addition to the numerous policies available to punish bad behavior.

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The program in which I was participating goes by the acronym TOAD, which stands for Those Outspoken Against Drugs. TOAD is an outreach program through which inmate participants at the federal prison speak to at-risk adolescents about the perils of criminal lifestyles. Leaders of the Taft Correctional Institution make TOAD available to organizations in Kern County. TOAD participants hope to help others make more responsible decisions and avoid altercations with the criminal justice system.

Mr. Andrew Griffin, a substance abuse counselor at the Taft prison, coordinates and sponsors the group of ten inmate participants in TOAD. Five other TOAD members were with me as Griff drove us from Taft to the alternative school in Bakersfield where we were scheduled to make two presentations.

During the 20-plus years I had served in prison, I rarely had an opportunity to move or travel at a pace faster than my legs could carry me. I was unprepared for the stop-and-go motions of traveling through Bakersfield streets, or the visual of city traffic speeding in opposite lanes toward our vehicle. They felt like an onslaught, as if I were under attack in the midst of a graphic video game. I had not eaten before leaving the prison camp, though I still couldn’t control the upheaval from motion sickness in my stomach. Fortunately, I moved up to the front seat where I rolled down the window and stuck my head outside to combat the nausea and vertigo. When Griff parked the van, I stepped outside, still dizzy from the ride. Then another sensation came over me. I realized that I was many miles from prison boundaries, and no one had reason to consider me as anything other than a fellow human being. They did not know I was a prisoner, though I did not feel at ease. Too much time had passed since I had walked on city streets. I felt as if my wife should have been with me, yet there I stood, on the sidewalks of Bakersfield, without her. I missed the comfort her presence brings when she is with me.

The other TOAD members and I walked into the lobby of the school, and after a few minutes of polite introduction, a school counselor escorted our group into an auditorium. Once inside, I began to feel more at ease. The institutional setting was an environment I had grown used to over the past two decades, but this time our group had a different standing. In that school, rather than prisoners being watched, we stood before the audience as contributors who were deserving of attention and respect.

Griff introduced us, then each TOAD member spoke for between 15 and 20 minutes, describing the decisions we had made that led us to prison. Students and teachers alike listened intently, appreciating the insight we were providing into the consequences of criminal behavior. We not only told of our own experiences, but we performed a skit to show how the behavior of reckless adolescence could lead to criminal prosecution and lengthy prison terms. We spoke about prison life and expressed the importance of education. Our objective was to help the members of our audience see the value of their schooling, and the reasons why they should avoid criminal lifestyles.

Following our second presentation, we piled back into the van and buckled up for the long drive back to the prison camp in Taft. I felt more settled on the drive back and could take in the surroundings more easily. Griff described the growth of Bakersfield while I tried to process all the action outside the vehicle. Life was moving at a much faster pace than anything I had known since 1987. I didn’t realize how conditioned I had become to prison. The only peace I saw was a man who seemed to be enjoying himself while fishing alone on the bank of a lake.

I don’t know whether administrators will grant me the privilege of stepping into society again, as I am scheduled to serve about five more years before release, but as I settled back into the camp I realized the value of TOAD. It offers a great experience, one that benefits both society and participants. TOAD helped our audience by providing valuable information, and it gave long-term prisoners like me a glimpse of the world to which we were striving to return. Those interested in coordinating a visit from TOAD should contact Mr. Andrew Griffin, Substance Abuse Coordinator at Taft Correctional Institution.

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Besides the monthly field outings, the TOAD group meets each Monday afternoon to discuss the strategies for growth. Counselor Griffin and the other TOAD members have charged me with the responsibility of coordinating the one-hour meeting scheduled for Monday, November 5, 2007. In preparation for that meeting, I asked each TOAD member to be ready to describe the most influential book that he has read and tell the group how that book has influenced his life. My purpose in requesting each individual to share such information was to encourage the members to think about hope and self- empowerment. Frequently, when those of us in prison discuss our personal backgrounds, we spend too much time painting a picture of despair. The at-risk adolescents who listen to TOAD presentations have no shortage of struggle in their young lives. Many come from broken homes and live in neighborhoods filled with gang influences, drugs, and criminal lifestyles. They sit on the edge of their seats in anticipation of TOAD members descriptions. Yet I am convinced that providing audiences with strategies for building hope and self-empowerment, TOAD members can inspire the youngsters to make better decisions.

I intend to open the Monday meeting with a discussion on the importance of goals. I will discuss how goals relate to success and invite the other TOAD members to interact in the discussion. To provide one example of the importance I place on goal setting, I will read the 2 November Blog entry I wrote on the subject. Following that discussion, I will talk about Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. That book has been influential in my life and I want to explain the ways that I incorporate those habits in my preparations for release. Then I will ask each TOAD member to discuss his book of choice. Finally, I will conclude the 1-hour meeting with a discussion of how delivering a message of hope can help our audiences and TOAD participants focus on success. I encourage those who have questions or comments on TOAD to post them here, or write me directly at Taft Camp.

The post Taft Prisoners Contributing to the Lives of Others appeared first on Prison News Blog.

Each Monday morning, at 8:30, I join between 25 and 35 other men for our chapter meetings of the Taft Camp Toastmasters Club. I have participated in Toastmasters for many years. The group exists to help its members develop strong public speaking skills. Participation is voluntary, and I am glad for the opportunity.

Last week I delivered a 30-minute speech that described the strategies I employed to advance through my first 20 years of prison. No other prisoner at Taft Camp has endured so much time in confinement, so my audience was interested. Rather than speak about the ways that incarceration extinguishes hope, through my speech I explained how various mentors influenced me to work toward a brighter future.

The mentors whom I spoke about were not people that I had actually met. Instead, I spoke about Socrates, Aristotle, and Sun Tzu. I discovered those teachers through an anthology called A Treasury of Philosophy that I read in 1987, while I was awaiting trial at the Pierce County Jail. By reading the works of those ancient philosophers, I discovered the strength I would need to carry me through the many years that I expected to serve in confinement. Besides the ancient philosophers, I also spoke about others who convinced me that I could find meaning in my life and contribute to the world, even if I had to begin my work from inside prison boundaries.

Speaking in front of groups is a wonderful learning experience. I enjoy the challenge of writing a speech, and then spending many hours rehearsing. It is a thrill to speak without notes, and I feel a sense of energy come through me as I capture the audience’s attention. It’s important for me to deliver a message of lasting value, which is why I spend so much time preparing for every speech I deliver.

During today’s meeting, I was an observant rather than a participant. The featured speaker was a man who is serving a relatively short sentence for tax evasion. Prior to his confinement, this man led a career as the CEO of a publicly traded company. He spoke to our group about his experiences with international business. I appreciated the opportunity to listen to such a distinguished speaker.

As crazy as it may sound, living in a minimum-security prison camp offers many opportunities to grow. Our population is a microcosm of society at large. We have groups of highly educated, white collar offenders, and perhaps an equal segment of the population who struggled to adapt to the customs of legitimate society. As a long-term offender, I look for opportunities to learn from everyone I can, and contribute to the lives of those with an interest in what I have to say.

Following the morning’s Taft Toastmasters Club meeting, I attended an afternoon meeting with the Taft Camp TOAD group. TOAD is an acronym for Those Outspoken Against Drugs. The group meets in a classroom under the direction of a staff sponsor, and we discuss ideas on steps TOAD members can take to help at-risk adolescents make better decisions with their lives. Once each month, a few members of the TOAD group attend a field trip to a local school or juvenile detention facility to speak with troubled adolescents. I was recently inducted into the program so a few months may pass before I become eligible to leave the prison to speak with at-risk adolescents, but I am looking forward to that opportunity.

This evening I have more work to complete, but the work I have falls more in line with my independent projects. I am editing previous articles that I have written so that my wife, Carole, can post them on prisonsuccess.com/. In the weeks to come, I’ll write more new content. I hope to continue providing information to help readers develop a better understanding America’s prisons, the people they hold, and strategies for growing through confinement.

I welcome readers’ questions or comments through e-mail at prisonnewsblog@gmail.com, or by writing me directly here at Taft Camp.

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