Sigmund Freud and the Wright brothers were contemporaries at the turn-of-the-century. In the field of aeronautics, we have placed men on the moon and brought them back alive three decades ago. Yet in the field of psychology, we've hardly scratched the surface in understanding the human mind. Just one example of misplaced values is the way the wealthiest and most powerful nation in the world treats its prisoners.
One of the most unique gardens in the world is located in northern California and though few people visit, the garden is well tended. Scattered among the flowers and bushes are toys - a stuffed unicorn here, a tiny windmill there, a plastic creature with a trace of a smile stands propped among some early Spring daffodils. And painted on the rocks all about the garden are the names, ages and hometowns of children and the dates they were kidnapped, raped, and/or murdered.
On one large, rock is clearly printed in white paint, "For a brief time 'an angel rested here.' Polly Hannah Klaas." This hallowed ground is where the body of the pretty, forever-12-year-old was found in 1993 and is now called "Polly's Garden and The Memorial for All Children."
On a recent visit, I sat awhile on one of the benches, overwhelmed with sadness, mental portraits of my own grandchildren, and total incredulity. I searched for an answer to how a man, who might have been a father himself, could kidnap a child out of the warmth and safety of her own home, then rape and murder her.
I also sought an answer to why the United States' with its immense criminal justice system; all its great universities and think tanks; and its legions of psychiatrists, psychologists, sociologists, criminologists and spiritual leaders - doesn't seem to care enough about why people like Richard Allen Davis commit heinous crimes such as the murder of young Polly Klaas.
A freshly painted rock in Polly's Garden mocks our feeble efforts to prevent such horror; "Clarissa Ernst. Age 8. Another child victim. Her body found near Shasta Lake in California, Mar. 26, 1999."
There are clues to the mind-set of killers like Davis. But a public blinded by vengeance and swayed by self-serving politicians discounts these clues as "excuses."
For decades the public has voted for ever harsher punishment with lessening efforts toward prevention - as if knowing why people torture others is insignificant. It is crucially important for us to understand that rape is torture - the infliction of severe physical and/or emotional pain as punishment and/or coercion.
In his trial, it was passed over lightly that Richard Allen Davis was himself sexually tortured earlier in life. Speaking from personal experience and fifteen years of research, I suggest that this is a very important clue to why Davis sexually-tortured and killed a 12-year-old irl.
Rape Trauma Syndrome
Many prison rape survivors become rapists themselves in a demented attempt to regain what they think of as their "lost manhood." If upon release, these prisoner rapists and survivors-turned-rapists continue this particular cycle of violence, might they not victimize women as easier and preferred prey? If so, we may have identified a major root cause for the escalating rape rate of women in free society. Survivors are often walking, breathing time bombs.
Some prison rape victims retaliate by murdering their rapists, receiving added years to their sentence. Another outcome of prison rape is suicide. Researchers have found that suicide is the leading cause of death behind bars. Sexual harassment is the leading cause of prisoner suicide.
Yet another consequence is disease. Hepatitis-C and AIDS spread by prisoner rape can be a death sentence. An Ohio man contracted AIDS from rape in jail and infected his wife who bore two children who in turn tested HIV positive (Associated Press, Jan. 6, 1988).
Severe psychosis is the most common outcome of prisoner rape. Sexual assault can often break a prisoner's spirit without even breaking his skin, resulting in shame, rage and all the actions related to these emotions. With some people, just the threat of sexual assault can induce rape trauma syndrome which is similar to post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Researchers have found that it takes an average of ten years for a woman to heal from rape and that many male rape survivors never heal because of pressures placed on men that are only beginning to be understood. The rape of male prisoners is especially destructive in that they are usually gang-raped.
In the advanced stages of rape trauma syndrome, a survivor's mood often swings between deep depression and rage. Prisoner rape may be the quickest, most cost-effective way of producing a sociopath or, in Richard Allen Davis's case, a psychopath. The fact, according to researchers, that most men on death row were sexually abused earlier in life should come as no surprise. Indeed, it is a clue that we in free society ignore at our peril.
Dr. James Gilligan, psychiatrist and director of the Center for the Study of Violence at Harvard Medical School, has discovered that shame is the "deadly emotion." "It works to deaden the feelings of being human...Shame a petty criminal in prison and you may get a serial murderer after his term has been served." (Violence; Our Deadly Epidemic And Its Causes, Dr. James Gilligan, 1996).
A Monstrous Crime
One of King's court-appointed attorneys, Brack Jones, was quoted by The Dallas Morning News, Feb. 19, 1999, as having said, "Something... obviously happened to him (King) in the penitentiary." In news accounts, including that of Time for March 8, 1999, words like "attacked," and "assaulted*" were used to describe what may have happened to King at the Beto 1 Prison Unit in Texas several years ago. But no account that I read or heard until my trip to Texas in February ever mentioned sexual assault which is a big step up the ladder of violence.
In 1985, I received an unsigned memo from the FBI that included the following official definition: "By the Uniform Crime Reporting definition, the victim of forcible rape is always female...Sex attacks on males could be classified as aggravated assaults or other sex offenses, depending on the extent of injury." I find it interesting that King was reportedly "assaulted." In effect, "rape" of male prisoners by other male prisoners does not exist...officially, it's called "assault."
The prisoner in Texas refuses to go public with his information for fear of reprisal by prisoners and/or guards. But any psychoanalyst knowledgeable about rape trauma syndrome or torture syndrome should be able to verify the prisoner's claim by examining King. If the claim is indeed true, I charge that voters in general, and the criminal justice system in particular, share some responsibility for the brutal torture-murder of James Byrd Jr., as well as the sexual torture of John William King. As it is, King gets the death penalty while the criminal justice system that made him a killer is never even indicted.
The major media is negligent for not having dug a lot deeper into King's motivation. Here we have two stories of sexual misconduct, "Monicagate" and the issue of prisoner rape. Both are national scandals. The more titillating and glamorous story gets overplayed by the media. Guess which one has been underplayed since the first recorded prisoner rape in the US in 1826? "...my country has betrayed me."
In 1968, I was editor of the alternative newspaper Inferno, in San Antonio, Texas. I was arrested for civil disobedience and placed in a crowded cell with thirty prisoners, most of them confined for violent crimes. Almost half of them were black and the other half Hispanic. There were three whites, two of whom cowered in the back of the cell. The remaining white became ringleader of the action. The prisoners had all been moved there just hours before me and the two rival factions had been building up steam to go at each other. In the parlance of prison-speak, this was known as a "gorilla cage," a cell specially arranged for a "turning out party" in which the prisoners would bend some unfortunate candidate like a rubber tire.
Later, I learned the prisoners had been told by a guard that I was a child molester and they'd get an extra ration of Jello if they "took care of me." I was placed into this racial tinderbox, a clean-cut, well-dressed, white man, obviously ignorant of life behind bars. I wore glasses and spoke funny, too.
After the attack, I learned from my cellies how it had all been orchestrated. My FBI files (available via the Freedom of Information Act) indicate the Bureau may have set me up to be "neutralized" this way because of my anti-Vietnam war activities. What better way to deal with a political troublemaker than rape in prison? The victim is usually silenced by his or her own trauma and shame.
Since finding these things out, I've never had ill feelings for my rapists - but I still haven't forgiven my country. I'm working on it though because I understand the spiritual necessity and healing power of forgiveness. Whether the FBI was involved or not, my country set up the conditions for my rape and torture. I cared enough about this country and its actions to be arrested for civil disobedience?and I was repaid in a terrible currency.
I May Be Crazy but I'm Not Insane
In 1984, I fasted for two months to bring media attention to the issue of prisoner rape and obviously to my own pain. The San Francisco Chronicle interviewed me at length in my camper parked outside the gates of San Quentin.
I wanted badly for the story of prisoner rape to appear in a major national newspaper. After waiting two weeks, I figured it wasn't going to be printed, so I went to the Chronicle to find out why. Hoping for the best but expecting a brush-off, I brought a hammer along. I planned, if necessary, to smash a computer monitor because (1) I wanted to finish my fast, one way or other, in jail to make it that much more difficult for society to continue to ignore this barbarism. And (2), if I survived, I wanted to be able to afford to make restitution if I chose to.
Immediately after identifying myself on the phone in the lobby, the reporter upstairs told me he knew about me and rudely hung up. I selected one of the plate glass doors to make my statement. First I went outside, assumed the lotus position and among other things, I asked the door for forgiveness. I then rose with difficulty, put the hammer through the door, and resumed the lotus position, waiting for the police
As you can tell by now, I am crazy. The Veteran's Administration agrees and in 1987 awarded me a 100 percent, non-service-connected disability pension for PTSD. I am crazy. I suffer from depression, rages, flashbacks, paranoia, multiple personalities, and sexual dysfunction, to name some of my symptoms of rape trauma syndrome. But I'm not insane. I know the difference between right and wrong and I'm no danger to myself or others. This is more than I can say for many of those who make the law, interpret the law, and enforce the law.
For me to finish my own healing process, I need this barbarism to end, or to at least be greatly minimized. As president of SPR, Inc., every day I hear the screams for help or the weeping pain of new victims and old survivors.
The War on Drugs and Prisoner Rape as a 'Management Tool' I submit that the war on drugs never, ever had anything to do with public health. From its beginning in 1968, it was Richard Nixon's scheme to politically neutralize young men of color and the predominately white counterculture of which I am a long-time member. And like most wars, it's been about political and economic expedience. The war on drugs is a civil war against America's poor. As in any war, in the name of national security, civil rights are suspended and atrocities are committed. And since more than half of the men, women and children locked-up in America are confined for drug-related crimes (a majority of them non-violent and victimless crimes), they should be more correctly called "political prisoners."
This is why I use the word gulag, the old Soviet term for a prison system filled with political prisoners.
Reagan greatly escalated Nixon's war on drugs, doubling the prison population, thus making the American gulag the biggest in the world. Bush doubled it again, and, for over a decade, the US has had more prisoners per capita than any other country in the world.
California provides a telling example: even though new prison spending has outstripped new colleges by 19 to 1, the state predicts that all of its prisons will be filled to capacity by April of 2001. America is feeding its voracious prison/industrial complex with this spurious War On Drugs.
Now, in 1999, according to Amnesty International, conditions in merica's correctional institutions have gotten so bad that AI launched its "Rights for All Campaign," focusing on human rights violations in the US criminal justice system.
The appalling conditions behind bars are scarcely conceivable in free society. Statistics do not provide a clear picture of these conditions, but they can begin to establish a useful perspective.
For instance: In 1995, each day, 83,000 adult male prisoners were raped in US correctional institutions, according to a report by Stephen Donaldson, of SPR. Donaldson's statistics have yet to be challenged by the Bureau of Justice Statistics. In fact Donaldson's statistics may be so conservative, he may be off by half, according to Dr. Warren Farrell in The Myth of Male Power. And according to Carl Weiss and David Friar in their book Terror In The Prisons, published way back in 1974, "More men than women are raped every year in America. They are raped in prison."
Not only prison officials, but the entire criminal justice system has a vested interest in keeping this barbarism covered-up. Why? Because they use prisoner rape as what is called a "management tool." Police officers and prosecuting attorneys use the threat of prisoner rape to coerce suspects into plea bargaining. Ex-prisoners who know what to expect behind bars are especially vulnerable to these threats. Police - and guards - use the threat of prisoner rape to coerce suspects and prisoners into becoming informers.
I believe the criminal justice system has become a vast criminal conspiracy that preys mostly on the poor while extorting money out of middleclass taxpayers through the use of misinformation such as all the rhetoric about drugs.
Politics and Prison Rape
A few politicians have spoken out. In 1970, in the wake of prison insurrections in our country, we find these comments on record: "The appalling conditions and practices in many of our penal institutions can do more damage to a young person than his use of marijuana," said then New York State Representative Ed Koch before he became Mayor of New York City.
But as Mayor of one of the greatest cities on earth, what did Ed Koch do to end those appalling conditions and practices? "I think you are absolutely correct as to the consequences for these young men," agreed then Philadelphia District Attorney Arlen Specter, now a Republican senator of Pennsylvania. "Men who got into the prison facilities and who are victims of attack, or who may join in the attack, come out more finely-honed weapons against society than when they went in. Can any of us understand the degradation and hatred a young man must feel when he is released into a community after being raped?" asked Specter.
Yet as a powerful and influential senator now, what is Arlen Specter doing to end the system of prison rape which creates so much degradation and hatred in young men?
Prisoner rape violates two amendments to the US Constitution, the 8th forbidding cruel and unusual punishment and the 13th forbidding slavery. (Many victims of prisoner rape become sexually enslaved by a dominant prisoner and are often forced into prostitution for contraband such as drugs which, in the reality of prison culture, are often smuggled in by guards.)
Reactionaries predictably claim that prison rape doesn't exist, complaining that, to the contrary, prisoners are coddled and prisons are too comfortable. Such voices are especially shrill when prison reform activists report on atrocities. (I observe reactionaries to be very selective about what parts of the Constitution they defend. For instance, property rights, "yes," and to hell with human rights.)
Curbing Prisoner Rape
So I'd like to thank San Francisco Sheriff Mike Hennessy and his staff for doing the decent thing and contributing to the solution rather than the problem. But it occurs to me, if the solution is so simple, why isn't it more widespread? The extent to which it is not is evidence that SPR's charge is correct, that prisoner rape is indeed used as a management tool.
God Is Truth
The gentle laws of Christ will penetrate at last into the code and shine through its enactments." It is to this end we work; not just an end to prisoner rape.
I rest my case.
Tom Cahill is a long-time political activist, mainly concerned with issues of justice and the environment. He's been a member of Earth First! since 1990 and is currently president of Stop Prisoner Rape Inc. Tom lives on the Mendocino Coast of California. He can be reached at PO Box 632, Fort Bragg, CA 95437, or 707/964-0820. www.spr.org
This document is freely available for reproduction as long as the author is notified.
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(The following documentary received from Bastiat Law)|
Written from prison by
Gary B. Waid, #0-124551
New River C.I.(West) M-1
P.O. Box 333
Raiford, FL 32083
Recently the Federal Bureau of Prisons traded thirty minimum-security, non-violent inmates to the Florida Department of Corrections in exchange for thirty maximum-security state inmates. I am one of the thirty Federal prisoners, a marijuana offender, used as barter.
I was moved in secret, in ignorance, in chains, from F.C.I. Texarkana,
through Oklahoma Transfer Center, to F.D.C. Miami, where on November 5, 1998, the Florida authorities took possession of my body. I had never been convicted of a crime by this state. Nevertheless, they gave me a number and processed me at a facility called North Florida Reception Center, a boot camp for mostly violent offenders in Lake Butler, Florida. It was an experience that shouldn't have been allowed to happen.
When I arrived, I still hadn't been told anything that wasn't a lie designed to placate me and my family, so the shock of everything, of all the violence, muted me, scaring me into compliance. There were fifteen of us in that first batch, and no one had heard anything except false stories released by the administrators to expedite things or for the "greater good." We were mostly small time drug guys or money violators who's crimes orbited one or another illegal drug. We had all done several years of our sentences, which were long. In the Feds, long sentences are the norm. I, myself, am doing a 9-year bit. None of us had been troublemakers, though. Evidently, we had been chosen for our non-litigious, submissive natures. Cow-like, we hunched our shoulders and squinted into the choreographed anger of the guards in the reception bay.
Lake Butler Reception was a cold, brick and concrete room lighted with neon and marked by rows of wooden benches. We were stripped, weighed, measured, our hair removed and our property scrutinized then confiscated or boxed up to be shipped home. We sat at attention for hours while a succession of bully boys shouted at us. At midnight we were trundled off to lock-down cells, then the next morning at 400 we did the whole thing once again, this time in company with forty or fifty other mostly violent state offenders just arrived from the county jails. Some of us had to scrub the floors with toothbrushes, others had to stand at attention with noses pressed to the wall or risk a beating. Screaming and head slaps were administered. Occasionally a man was carted away. All of my group had been, until this day, enjoying a certain incumbency as well-adjusted minimum custody guys. Now suddenly, we were thrust into another world, a world where the guards screamed and spit and cursed you, calling you names, exercising a sovereign brutality as in "Come on Fed boy, let's see what you got! Ain't no marshals gonna protect you now, is there?" etc.
They dared us to speak or stare at them or suck our teeth or show any kind of defiance. It scared me big time.
That night I was deposited in F-Dorm (I think), with five others of my group. I was exhausted, afraid, my back hurt so much I couldn't climb into the bunk, and I still knew nothing.
F-Dorm was less a prison wing, more a bizarre hospital set from some foreign movie in which various war-wounded men limped and wheeled and washed body parts and made sick, suppurating noises and spent a good deal of time grossly, pinkly naked. There were a lot of A.I.D.S. patients, too, slowly dying and unhappy about it, occasionally extremely sick about it. F-Dorm was a well of lost souls, where all manner of personal frailties and tragedies displayed themselves like balloons at a circus. We had a dwarf, a pair of grossly fat men in wheelchairs awaiting heart operations, several cirrhotic alcoholics with their frail limbs supporting distended, poisoned guts that made them look comically like wading birds, and there was a guy with a drain in his navel, which twice a day filled its attendant bag with a yellowish opaque fluid that smelled of rot, like bad teeth. There were amputees and multiple amputees, paralysis cases, imminent failures that bespoke gross intemperance, wheedling, whining crybabies, insanely energetic sodomites squabbling like strutting street hookers (excuse my alliteration), and we had six federal inmates horrified at the thought of contracting whatever was most contagious in the air.
I was there about ten days before they moved me, so, trying to be helpful, I used to push a murderer's wheelchair to the chow hall and get his lunch tray for him. He and I would eat quickly in silence, shoveling down as much of the food as we could before one or another of the guards threw us out. The man had been down 16 years of a 120 year sentence, and was so ravaged by diabetes, his legs no longer supported him. I remember he took his showers in the early evening with the other crippled men, all sitting in sling chairs under the communal spray. I, myself, was reluctant at first to expose myself to the guards and surround myself with so many sick men. I'd wait until the freak show ended and wheeled or hobbled or slithered away to bed or their card games. Then I'd go quickly, undress, bathe in the fluorescent glare in front of the picture window where the guards stood watching TV, dry myself, dress and run away.
Just being there was a miscarriage, I thought. Like an insult. I'm a marijuana offender, right? I suppose some people might wonder why I expected any consideration. Others might say I was intolerant. But they don't know; they've never had to dance in the menagerie. I'm supposedly a well-behaved, compliant man, now being punished for my good behavior these past 4 1/2 years. I was a pot guy, a Fed, not a wielder of weapons or a rapist. Why, for political reasons unrelated to me, should I have to rot in this stupefying hole? I don't deserve this, I thought, and the other federal inmates with me agreed.
That week a counselor told me I was no longer a candidate for any federal programs. Neither would I be allowed state credits or good-time incentives. I was officially in limbo. Meanwhile, some of the guards accused me of being a 'plant.'
I can understand it now, really. They were afraid of being ambushed. They thought the feds were bushwhacking them and they knew their own bosses would stay silent. It's odd how large, complicated institutions work to dehumanize like that, but the most certainly do. If I and some of my confederates were really F.B.I. agents, no one in the D.O.C. heirarchy would talk about it. It's watch your own ass time, so benign directives passed down from on high become sinister lies meant to ensnare a poor working man or woman for being a mostly winked at bully or for breaking civil rights laws or for committing more straightforward crimes like assault.
All of this drama served to anger the guards more, though, which made things hard for me. I was asked point blank by more than one guy "Who are you really? Are you F.B.I.?" And the ominous stare-downs seemed dangerous, if slightly comical. I and some of the other guys actually began to entertain the notion that maybe we WERE a kind of double-agent plant system, disposable chaff in a federal game of some sort. Lies are lies are lies, we thought. Now would we know? After all, some of the staff at Lake Butler had allegedly just killed an inmate, pushed him down the concrete stairwell. And not long ago a genuine undercover agent was beaten to death, so they say. A few years ago they killed a federal judge's son or nephew no less. The Florida D.O.C. currently has ten officers charged with conspiracy to murder. They allegedly beat a man, chained him to a bunk, and let him bleed to death.
Considering all these stories, anything was possible. Every afternoon at count time, I'd sit on my bunk and endure the stare-down from a pair of
hulking goons or uneducated women in uniform, and every afternoon I was afraid they'd decide to chain me up and do me for sport.
I hated and hated and hated during my time at Lake Butler (about 3 week in all). I kept thinking, "These men are family men. These guards and officials and even the politicians who've looked this disgrace in the eye, they're family men who are so dumb they don't see the recidivist irony. They don't understand their poor rehabilitation record in Florida, but they were surrounded by the reason. I wanted to shout it in their faces. "Hey stupid, in a family, the violence visited upon the kids is ALWAYS returned in some other way, at some other time, father to son to son to son....."
A prisoner who is violated, lied to, cheated, beaten, sooner or later will
strike back, usually on the weakest of his everyday encounters. Horrible,
horror-filled institutions like Lake Butler are factories of hate and violence, especially when forced upon the non-violent inmates. Those guards were creating thousands of guys who might decide to solve their problems (or continue to solve their problems) like they were taught.
I'm at Florida State Prison Work Camp now, in Starke, Florida, awaiting the results of my lawsuit. All my federal rights are gone. I've written 30 unanswered letters to the B.O.P., the Marshals, the Florida D.O.C. etc. I was removed from my status in waiting for the D.A.P. (Federal Drug & Alcohol Program, residential treatment), a program that offered a year off and six months halfway house. My jailers have told me nothing and, indeed, stripped me of my federal good time. My new out date, so they say, is unknown. They issued me a notice, but the date is wrong. It must be. It says I do nine years to the day now. They tell me if I don't behave, they'll send me across the street to the big prison to be beaten up. I can't believe they say such things, but at least I'm not at Lake Butler.
My family knows now why I think prison administrators are the worst of the worst. It's because they use people like cattle. It's because they're liars. It's because I'm a victim of a personal agenda. It's because I was trying to do right, and they ignored it for "other reasons." If people think I deserve to be brutalized, my questions ignored, my time increased, well fine. But allow the judge to pronounce the sentence, not some baboon.
There are 30 of us in Florida State Prisons now, spread out across the state. But some of us are trying to fight it. And I've heard rumors. Some of us are winning.
They call this place a camp. Fancy that. A camp with double razor fences, patrolling perimeter trucks, and 14 counts a day. Fancy that.
NOTE It is much too common for the outside to loose contact with prisoners. B.O.P. moves them suddenly and often, usually in the wee hours of the night with no advance notice to them or their families.
You pay for it. Shouldn't you want to know why?
These excessive and expensive relocations, along with other problems with prison mail, media restrictions, high rates for collect calls, and increased use of long isolations, has convinced me that the prisons would like to see communication between prisoners and the outside severed.
If the rest of the country follows Florida's lead, it will make it harder
than ever to know where your prisoner is and what is happening to him.
* Where is Amnesty International?
* Where is the Clergy?
* Where is the ACLU?
* Where is the Media?
* Where are all those public servants and legal professionals who are sworn or affirmed to uphold our Constitution?
* Whatever happened to our Bill of Rights?
* Is there really a growing Judicial Industry that rakes in $billions annually?
* Should We, the People pay for government sanctioned crimes and subsidize parasites?
If you don't know, I'll be happy to tell you.
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