Once You Leave Prison, You're Still Left Behind
We can, and should, do better.
It’s no secret that the justice system isn’t perfect.
It doesn’t matter if you’re in the United States, Canada, the UK, or almost any other country—corruption, injustice and unequal impacts abound. Of course, not all nations are equally bad, even if they all have problems.
I’d rather go to prison in Canada than in, say, Russia. But even so, imprisonment and punitive justice have pitfalls no matter where you go.
Here in North America, we have historically held certain expectations for how our justice system ought to work. We’ve expected fair treatment; an impartial judge, a trial by a jury of our peers, with legal representation who can provide a solid defence and a just prosecution.
We expect a fair sentence and, if applicable, a reasonable term behind bars that doesn’t violate our basic human rights—except our right to freedom, of course. That’s a given.
We base our idea of justice on the punishment of the guilty. We assume that punitive justice provides a deterrent that prevents future crimes and keeps dangerous people off of the street to keep law-abiding citizens safe.
We used to believe that. Now, many of us are waking up to the fact that it just doesn’t work like that—it never has.
As long as the system is motivated by punishing the guilty rather than protecting and benefiting society writ large, we will never achieve true justice.
Canada’s prison system is operated and maintained by the government. We’ve tried the private for-profit model—we even let an American company run one for a few years—and quickly determined it was a terrible idea.
Does that mean our system is enlightened and clear of any serious issues?
Hell no! If anything, the fact that the issues are government-wide makes the problem more egregious!
We don’t necessarily have a mass incarceration problem, per se, which is partly due to our small population and wide land mass. Per capita, our incarceration rate is pretty low.
Further, without a for-profit motive and a less combative cultural attitude towards people convicted of a crime, our average length of prison sentence is considerably lower. We emphasize rehabilitation programs to try and smooth the transition back into society.
But that’s not to say that we’re perfect; far from it. Felons still face stigma and discrimination in housing, employment and schooling.
There’s that, and then there’s the horrible bias involved in who gets convicted and who gets away. Whether we like to admit it or not, systemic racism is just as much of an issue in our justice system as in the U.S.A.
Our vaunted police force and our hallowed judicial system target Black and Indigenous offenders much more harshly and in greater numbers, per capita, than white offenders.
We’re just quieter about it. Very demure.
In the United States, the prison population and incarceration rates are far, far higher.
If you want to learn more about the American system, I recommend taking a look at the Prison Policy Initiative. They’re a non-partisan, non-profit think tank with a focus on improving America’s judicial mess. They offer some incredibly in-depth reporting on the subject.
In both systems, life in prison sucks. This makes sense; if the prevailing theory about justice is that it should act as a deterrent, then there’s little interest in making incarceration a comfortable experience.
It’s designed to be harsh and restrictive. You’re supposed to come out of it with a desire to behave yourself so you never have to go back.
But even though the conditions in prison are a nightmare, the recidivism rate doesn’t seem to be impacted. In the United States, the rate of subsequent arrests after release from prison is staggering. That’s strange, isn’t it?
In the United States, the average size of a prison cell is 6 by 8 feet; about 48 square feet. Older prisons tend to have smaller cells, newer ones tend to give their inmates a little more space.
In Canada, you’re looking at an average of 75 square feet in contrast. You’ll get more or less depending on whether your cell is built for single or multiple occupancy.
Our cells are usually a little larger, with better ventilation and lighting. Coupled with shorter sentences, prison time in Canada is a little less nasty on the surface. And I do mean ‘on the surface.’
Whatever some tough-on-crime Americans might think of our supposedly laissez-faire system, life in Canadian prisons is still awful. Your experience may vary depending on several factors; whether it’s a provincial or federal prison, which province you’re in, and which political party is in power.
Much like down south, our Conservative parties tend to make prisons worse while they’re in charge. The rate of incarceration goes up, quality of life goes down.
Abuse and gang violence abound within Canadian prisons. Many are understaffed and overcrowded, which makes it difficult to manage outbursts effectively.
While most offenders are not initially violent, they’re often caught up in dangerous situations and left without adequate mental health services during their stay. Living in cramped conditions— in constant fear for your safety and without freedom of movement—can seriously impact one’s level of stress.
In the United States, the same issues are compounded by the lengthy sentences— mandatory minimums are a bitch—and even more intense overcrowding.
The criminal justice system in the United States is often geared towards profit. That creates a conflict of interest that doesn’t incentivize successful rehabilitation.
It’s not just the private prison system, either, although that’s a huge problem. No—one of the biggest drivers of America’s love affair with imprisonment is the 13th Amendment to the Constitution.
Yes. I’m talking about slavery.
Both the United States and Canada practice forced prison labour to some extent, but in America the reliance on prisoners to prop up corporate profits is extreme.
Prisoners don’t have the right to refuse work or quit, and they have none of the usual rights and protections that exist for the rest of the working class. They are literally imprisoned by their employers; they have no recourse to seek justice for themselves.
In prison, there are no unions, there is no minimum wage, and workplace safety regulations are largely ignored.
I wrote about prison slave labour in great detail in a 2023 article on Medium; the problems persist.
It goes beyond corporate profit, too. American inmates do everything from gravedigging to prison maintenance.
In California, over 1000 inmate firefighters responded to help battle the uncontrolled wildfires in Los Angeles County. Unlike some other work programs in the state, at least the fire camps are set up for volunteers. The pay rate is abominable, though.
For risking their lives, California’s inmate firefighters are typically paid between $5.80 to $10.24 per day. During active emergencies, they do get extra. For the Los Angeles fires, inmate firefighters were paid less than $30 for each 24-hour shift.
Not per hour, per day.
In contrast, California’s minimum wage is currently $16.50 an hour.
Now, that might not seem so bad if you’re thinking they get to keep that money to save for when they leave. If their bread and board are paid for by the taxpayers while in custody, maybe that makes sense.
Except it isn’t. They have to pay for things in prison. And the cost of buying necessities like hygiene supplies in the commissary can be ridiculously high; there’s no competition.
Check out this report if you want to get angry. The system is designed to squeeze as much money out of exploited people as it possibly can.
Life in this system is designed to be exploitative, cruel and abusive. These conditions contribute to horrible mental health outcomes; to lose your freedom, your privacy, and your connections to life outside, and to be treated as less than human is extremely traumatic.
That isn’t even counting the literal torture that is solitary confinement.
Even minor infractions and pushback against corrections officers can get you time spent in the hole. Solitary confinement can psychologically break a person, and the damage to one’s mind and connection to reality can become permanent very quickly.
Life after prison is no easier than life behind bars.
As you walk out of the gate, most state penitentiaries in America will hand you a wad of cash. Just enough for bus fare and a meal; between $10 to $50 depending on where you are. Some of them even give you some clothing to take with you, in addition to the belongings you had on you when you went in.
It’s a little tip from Uncle Sam for all your hard times. I hope you saved up your pittance from work. While the firefighters in California might have gotten a whopping $5.80 to $10.24 a day, most inmates earn only a few dollars, if they’re lucky.
Again, that’s per day. And again, they still had to buy things in prison.
Most of the time, people walk out of a long prison stay broke, mentally ill, and with a conviction on their record that makes it difficult to find work. The prison-to-homeless pipeline is a very real thing.
In Canada, your rate of pay is not much better, though we don’t put as much emphasis on forced labour. You get a tiny allowance even if you don’t have a job while in prison. The wage for prison work hasn’t been updated since 1981, though, so it’s pretty bad.
Like in the States, Canadian prisoners have to pay for things while behind bars. Just calling your family is ridiculously expensive. It’s hard to stay in contact with the people you love on the outside, and that makes it difficult to maintain a support structure to help you when you leave.
And again, when you’re released, you often have a minimal amount of cash, clothes and nowhere to live. All that, and the stigma of being an ex-con.
Depending on how long you’ve been behind bars, your behaviour might be radically different. You’re used to living in tight quarters, having no autonomy, and having to constantly be on guard. All of your decisions are made for you. You have no freedom.
And then you walk out, and all you have is empty space, nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat and nobody telling you what to do.
Life after a conviction is a nightmare.
Remember when I talked about recidivism? The rate at which people go back to prison after they go free? There are many reasons why that’s so high. A lack of available work is one, homelessness is another, and mental health episodes are a third.
But one reason that we don’t discuss nearly enough is that once you’ve gotten used to life in prison, it’s hard to adjust to life on the outside.
If you’ve ever met a veteran who struggled with civilian life after leaving the military, you know what I’m talking about.
It isn’t uncommon for released cons to purposefully get arrested again, just so they can return to a world that gives them the structure they’re used to. It might be their only means of obtaining regular meals, medical care and a roof over their head.
It’s the only place where life makes sense, and their struggles are manageable. It’s the devil you know, as it were.
But it doesn’t need to be that way. Believe it or not, there are some places in the world where recidivism isn’t a problem at all.
Imagine a country where the recidivism rate is around 20%, compared to the United States where the recidivism rate stands at well over 40% in the first year after leaving prison.
Imagine, if you will, a country that bases its entire penal system around giving people a second chance. A country that doesn’t focus on punishing crime, but rather on humanizing and rehabilitating people who are struggling.
A country where people who leave prison are recognized for their humanity, and not referred to as ‘ex-cons’ or ‘felons’ or ‘criminals.’
I’ve been using those terms in this piece a lot, and I’ll bet you didn’t even notice. Dehumanizing and othering them is the norm in North America.
Imagine a country which prioritizes justice for humanity, where you walk out of prison fully set up to reintegrate into society with a job, a social life, a place to live and a better chance at life than you had on the way in.
It sounds like a fantasy, doesn’t it?
It’s not. The country is called Norway, and they’ve got it pretty much figured out.
Prisons in Norway are set up like small communities. Instead of living in a tiny, restrictive cell, you’re instead living in facilities that resemble a college dorm.
You have your private space, and then there are communal areas such as a kitchen and a living room which you share with your fellows. You aren’t locked in your room all day; you can walk in and out as you please.
There is a strong emphasis on maintaining relationships and support structures, too. Visitation from family and spouses is frequent and encouraged. They want you to walk out with your personal community intact and eager to welcome you home.
Likewise, communal exercise classes like team sports and group yoga classes focus on keeping residents calm and cooperative. Often, the officers in charge of the facilities take part, so they’re viewed as friends and teammates rather than enemies.
Prison officers work out with the residents, eat with the residents, spend leisure time with the residents and generally treat them like neighbours rather than prisoners to control.
In Norwegian prisons, officers are as much social workers as guards. They’re not there to keep you down; they’re there to offer you a hand up.
Like Canada and the U.S., Norwegian prisons do offer labour and employment. But rather than profit, the goal is to ensure that the inhabitants have strong training in a field so they can more easily find a stable job when they leave.
Once upon a time, they had a system similar to the U.S.A., with all of its problems, high recidivism rate and rough outcomes. They were throwing people out onto the streets to struggle.
They were taking regular people and turning them into lifelong felons.
But Norway recognized the problem. They realized that their system was flawed; rather than protecting their law-abiding citizens, they were creating a situation where there would be an influx of broke, desperate people with no options and even less to lose.
They were creating a situation where people released from prison were almost guaranteed to commit crimes and go back. They were creating a situation where their crime rate was going up because of how their penal system worked.
They recognized the issue, so they asked the logical question—what kind of neighbour do you want to have?—and applied that to their prison system.
They figured out how to turn their system around and rebuild it from the ground up to create a healthier, happier society with less crime and more prosperity for everyone.
Take a look at this short documentary; it’s an eye-opening glimpse at what we could accomplish in our own countries:
When people go to prison in the United States and Canada, they can often feel like their life is over. They’ve lost all opportunities, they have no chance of going back to living a normal life—if they ever had one.
But most people who go to prison are eventually going to walk back through that front gate.
The people who walk out of prison are going back into the communities they came from. They are our neighbours, our countrymen, our coworkers and our family members.
We need to ask ourselves the same question: what kind of neighbours do we want them to be?
Because as we can see from Norway’s example, change is possible. Our systems do not need to be as bad as they are.
Do I think this will happen in the United States any time soon? No. Not with Donald Trump sitting behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Private Prisons make too much money out of this punitive, unjust system for them to let it go easily.
The same goes for Canada; our problems may not be as severe, but they do exist. We might have slightly more hope for change with the lack of private interests involved, but it’s still not going to be a breeze to make these changes.
But as I have said a thousand times before and will say a thousand times over again, we do not fight for progress because it is popular. We do not fight for it because the battle is easily won. We do not fight for it because it’s simple and clear-cut, and victory is assured.
We fight for it because we believe that it’s the right thing to do. And that makes it worth fighting for.
Solidarity wins.
This makes so much sense.