The surprising reason our correctional system doesn't work | Brandon W. Mathews | TEDxMileHigh

In the United States, 67% of inmates released from prison will return having committed a new crime within three years. Simply put, the criminal justice system doesn't accomplish what it was designed to do. But why is it failing? Having worked in both punishment and rehabilitation, Brandon W. Mathews argues that the solution might be simpler than we thought.

Dr. Brandon Mathews is a passionate criminal justice professional with expertise in the development and implementation of innovative evidence-based correctional treatment and supervision programs. Brandon is an active researcher with the Alliance for Criminal Justice Innovation, publishing on topics like recidivism reduction, structured decision-making, risk assessment, and criminal justice education.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

I'm here to talk to you about divorce.

I have to admit

I'm absolutely,

positively,

100%

in favor of divorce.

(Laughter)

What else is there to do

when the marriage
is dysfunctional, ineffective,

creating poor outcomes
for everyone involved?

I say, nothing.

Just get it over with,
and divorce already.

Now, the type of divorce
I'm talking about,

it's probably a bit different
than what you're thinking.

What I'm referring to is a divorce
within our correctional and prison system.

Over the last 12 years,

I've worked in various parts
of the criminal justice world,

with most of that focused on corrections.

The correctional system
includes the agencies

that oversee an area's prisons,
halfway houses,

and community supervision programs.

Now, there are generally two types
of people who get into corrections work:

those who want to enforce rules and laws

and those who want
to help with rehabilitation.

I started my career
as a correctional officer,

like the first group of people.

I made sure inmates
were following the rules

and not doing anything dangerous
while they were in prison.

Eventually, I moved
into correctional investigations,

where I was looking deeper
into rule-of-law violations

for things like assault by staff
or things like excessive use of force.

But I grew frustrated
because no matter what I did,

it never really felt
like things were getting better.

So I moved into community corrections,

like the second group of people.

Unlike prison,

community corrections tends to be
more focused on rehabilitating offenders.

But even there,

it didn't feel like what I was doing
was changing behavior

or making a lasting, positive impact.

I was fed up.

So about six years ago,

I decided I was going to figure out
why our system wasn't working.

I started researching.

But instead of focusing on things
like how to prevent crime,

I took a look at how we manage corrections
from a systems perspective.

I studied the cultures, leadership styles,
and social identities of corrections

and how those within the system
view their roles and responsibilities.

And then it became clear:

the underlying reason
our system doesn't work today

is because the practices of punishment

are too interconnected
with our goal of rehabilitation.

Now, I suspect that most of you
haven't been to prison before.

(Laughter)

So let me explain a bit how it works.

After receiving a sentence by the court,
you enter the corrections system.

And we spend a lot of time interviewing
and assessing you when you get there

to determine whether you go
to a high- or a low-security prison.

And that is key.

Inmates are assigned to prisons

based upon how much we anticipate
they're going to misbehave

while they're there.

And what that means, unfortunately,

is they aren't assigned to prisons

based upon their specific needs
for rehabilitation and treatment.

If it's addiction that got you
in trouble in the first place,

cross your fingers and hope

that your prison has
addictions counseling and therapy

because it might not.

And then you're stuck there
at this prison for however long

without access to the right treatment.

This points to a fundamental problem

with our prison philosophy
in the United States.

Punishment is the foundation
of your prison experience

and the priority throughout.

Rehabilitation is an afterthought

and is only lightly sprinkled,

like seasoning on a steak,

on top of a system
whose core purpose is to punish.

And that is why I'm proposing a divorce.

A divorce that would once and for all

separate the practices of punishment
from rehabilitation,

creating two separate tracks:

one for those requiring retribution

and one for those requiring recovery
before they reenter society.

You may have heard of the revolving door
of the justice system.

When people talk about it,

what they're referring to

is the 95% of offenders
who will be released from prison

after serving their sentences

and the 67% who will return
back to prison for a new crime

within three years -

a cycle known as recidivism.

What if I told you

that 67% of your investments
would go belly-up within three years?

Or that 67% of your medical procedures

would need to be redone
within three years?

You'd probably find
a new financial advisor and a doctor

because there's no way
you would put up with these results.

But when it comes
to the correctional system,

we do.

Which is why we need a divorced,
two-track correctional system:

one for punishment
and one for rehabilitation.

Let's talk about track one:

punishment.

There is a population of offenders
in this world who are high-risk,

who demonstrate patterns
of criminal behavior,

who engage in serious misconduct,

and who have histories of violence.

And a system of punishment
and incapacitation is wholly appropriate.

That doesn't mean just locking them up
and throwing away the key.

For these violent and dangerous offenders,

it is appropriate to incarcerate
with access to just basic programs

in a strict prison environment.

Let's talk about our penal philosophy
in the United States.

Our system of punishment
can be traced back

to the penal philosophy
of the mid-1700s B.C.

in the Code of Hammurabi.

During his reign, he enforced
his now-infamous 282 laws,

a couple of which
you might be familiar with.

"If a man put out the eye of another man,
his eye shall be put out."

How about

"If a man knock out
the teeth of his equal,

his teeth shall be knocked out"?

Sounds a lot like "an eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth"

that showed up later in the Old Testament.

At its core, this is
a very retributive ideal

that shaped the way corrections
would later be established

in the United States.

Let's fast-forward
to pre-American Revolution times,

where there we see retribution's legacy

ingrained in the fabric
of the United States

through things like public whippings,
humiliations, mutilations,

and in some instances, even castrations.

Back then, crime was viewed
as a sin against God,

and responses to those violations
were often swift and brutal.

When we get to the early 19th century,

the system shifted
to reduce physical violence

while maintaining
a strict punishment structure.

The first penitentiaries in the U.S.
were based upon the religious idea

that solitary confinement,
forced silence, and hard labor

as well as penitence

would reform offenders
and make them change their behavior.

It wasn't even until the 1870s
that rehabilitation entered our prisons.

At that time, the correctional system
looked to the medical community

and how they were using
individualized treatment

as a means to cure patients.

If we treat patients
on a one-to-one basis to cure illness,

why couldn't we do something
with criminals and cure their criminality?

So prisons began using
rehabilitative techniques,

like psychotherapy and counseling,

treating criminal behavior
like a sickness,

which led to the establishment
of the nation's first reformatory

in Elmira, New York.

And that is why some of you
might be saying to yourselves,

"Exactly!

We do provide rehabilitation
in the system now.

Why do we need two separate tracks?"

To that, I call shenanigans.

(Laughter)

Because remember,

our correctional systems
were born of punishment,

forged through punishment,

and remain fundamentally rooted in ideals
that are directly connected to punishment.

And as such, rehabilitation
has never truly been attempted

separate and apart from punishment.

How is it we expect any
rehabilitative effort to be successful

when punishment was and still is
the core of the system?

Look, it would be like taking a taco

and jamming it in between
a couple of pieces of bread

and then calling it a sandwich.

Technically, it has
the elements of a sandwich,

(Laughter)

but at its core,
it's still a delicious taco.

(Laughter)

I came face to face
with this tension a few years ago

while touring a treatment program
at a local prison.

The program had uniformed
correctional staff members

to maintain security and control,

but also clinical specialists

to guide and facilitate
rehabilitation and behavior change.

As I was walking around,

I came across a couple of inmates
engaged in a nonviolent disagreement.

One of the goals of this program
was to teach inmates

how to better manage this type of conflict

so they could have those skills
before they exited the facility.

I watched as a clinician approached

and walked them through

this alternative way
to have this disagreement.

They tried it, the disagreement was fixed,

and everyone went on about their day.

I'd just seen behavior change
practice in action.

But then I noticed

there was a uniformed
correctional staff member,

higher ranking,

watching.

Being the organizational scientist,
I had to ask her what she thought.

She said, "These inmates
are given too much leeway.

They are not held accountable enough."

She told me,

"They are inmates, not patients."

Translation:

they're not getting enough punishment.

I wondered,

How would this disagreement
between these inmates

have been handled by this staff member
had that clinician not gotten there first?

And that, again, is why we need
a divorced, two-track correctional system:

one track for punishment
and one for rehabilitation.

I've mentioned punishment.

So let's talk about track two:

rehabilitation.

Fifty-three percent of offenders
are considered non-violent -

incarcerated for things like theft,
drug possession, and property crimes.

This group would follow
the rehabilitation track.

It is important to understand

that sentencing would mark
the end of punishment

and that decisions made
after the point of sentencing

would be directly and narrowly focused

on these individuals reentering
our communities, prepared for success.

In our current correctional system,

decisions about entry
into community programs

or for release from prison to parole

are often shaded
by how much time has been served.

Time served is punishment at its roots.

In this new structure,

criteria would be based

not on how much punishment
has been doled out

but whether the appropriate treatment
has been delivered

and drivers of criminal behavior,
like addiction, reduced.

This rehabilitation track would consist
of treatment-based facilities

where deep therapeutic approaches

can be used

without the contamination of retribution

and staffed by people specifically focused

on treatment, social work,
and behavioral health -

specialists whose attitudes,
skills, and beliefs

are aligned with things
like behavior change

and who are committed
to modeling the appropriate conduct

to help offenders reenter our communities.

Although this is a radical
paradigm shift in the U.S.,

this type of rehabilitation is happening.

We just have to look to Norway
and their philosophical approach

as an example.

Now, I understand the valid criticisms
of comparing the U.S. to Norway.

We differ in size,
demographics, and history.

So let's focus on their prison philosophy.

Norway's correctional philosophy
is specifically focused on rehabilitation,

with the end goal that all inmates
will reenter society,

having reduced their risk to reoffend.

And it has allowed them to achieve
an astonishingly low 20% recidivism rate

compared to our 67.

Former prison governor
in Norway, Arne Nilsen,

similar to a warden here in the U.S.,

said,

"If we have created
a holiday camp here for criminals,

so what?

We should reduce the risk of reoffending

because if we don't,

what is the purpose of punishment,

except for leaning toward
the primitive side of humanity?"

He's right.

Now, this type of change
certainly won't happen overnight.

And we are not going to be
the next Norway tomorrow.

But a divorced,
two-track correctional system -

punishment and rehabilitation -

is a step in the right direction.

Ultimately, such a radical change
in our correctional system

will be difficult,

but not impossible.

It begins by questioning our beliefs
about what corrections is supposed to be,

by initiating conversations
in our communities

with like-minded people

but also with skeptics

as well as civic and community leaders,

and those responsible for shaping
and designing our correctional systems.

Structural change
requires collective action.

So I call on you to join me in envisioning
a radically different correctional system

where each track's purpose is specific
and independent of the other,

where practitioners can flourish

because they are aligned with the track
that they choose to work in,

and where you,
as members of the community,

have your expectations met

when it comes to punishment
and rehabilitation.

And where, finally, in this divorced,
two-track correctional system,

we will have drastically slowed
the ever-revolving door

and made our communities
safer for all of us.

Thank you.

(Applause)