In September 2008, the Sentencing Project, an agency that researches state policies regarding felony disenfranchisement, reported that as many as 5 million felons could not vote in the 2008 Presidential election.  Included in this number are current prisoners, probationers, parolees, and ex-prisoners.  In his report “Expanding the Vote: State Felony Disenfranchisement Reform 1997-2008, ” Ryan King of the Sentencing Project describes the years leading up to this historic election and the efforts of nineteen states to reform their disenfranchisement policies which resulted in the restoration of voting rights for 760,000 ex-felons.

Historically, the federal government has used voter disenfranchisement to lock certain populations deemed undesirable out of the vote; groups such as women, criminals, African Americans, other minorities and the poor. Today convicted felons are the only remaining group that remains disenfranchised by law, according to Marc Mauer, Executive Director of The Sentencing Project, and author of the essay, “Mass Imprisonment and the Disappearing Voters.”

More recently, proponents of felony disenfranchisement see denying felons the right to vote as another form of punishment, and as a measure to prevent potential electoral fraud. Conservatives who support felony disenfranchisement want to prevent criminals from voting for representatives who would work in their favor. They see convicted felons as a demographic that could go to the democratic side. In a recent phone interview, King confirmed that the conservatives had a legitimate reason to be apprehensive of felons securing the right to vote; had they had the opportunity to do so in the 2008 election, they would have “overwhelmingly voted democratic,” resulting in an even wider margin of victory for Barack Obama. When it comes to electoral fraud, however, Mauer claims that proponents of felony disenfranchisement have nothing to fear, as 99 percent of felons have no charges of electoral fraud in their history. Furthermore, Mauer points out that electoral fraud is not a felony, but a misdemeanor, and those with such charges are not at risk of disenfranchisement. The public tends to generally agree with felony disenfranchisement as another means to punish criminals, but a July 2003 study by Brian Pinaire at Fordham University showed that 66.8 percent of people surveyed expressed the belief that disenfranchisement should end with one’s sentence. Nevertheless, most of the general public is unaware of the unintended consequences of felony disenfranchisement, one of which includes de facto racism against African American males.

Although the 15th Amendment of the U.S. constitution prevents state governments from using race as a basis on which to determine voting eligibility, one out of every eight black adult males is disenfranchised. Nationally, around two million African Americans are unable to vote because of state felony disenfranchisement policies, states Mauer. Pinaire notes that African American men make up an overwhelming 36 percent of the disenfranchised population. Latino men also make up a majority of the prison population, According to a 2008 report from the Pew Center on the States, “One in 100: Behind Bars in America 2008,” one in every 36 Latino adult males is disenfranchised.

Currently, the United States is the only democratic nation that denies ex-prisoners the right to vote. Ten states revoke the voting rights of those who have been convicted of a felony for life. In some such states, ex-prisoners have the opportunity to seek pardon or clemency from the governor so that they may vote, although it is a rare occurrence. Nine other states have abandoned permanent disenfranchisement and restore voting rights automatically, or following waiting periods of anywhere up to ten years.

Only two states allow prisoners to vote, Maine and Vermont. These states are a model for those who believe in full enfranchisement of all citizens, but King exposes a flaw in the voting procedure; prisoners are given absentee ballots, meaning their vote counts toward the district from which they came, not the district in which they are counted as an inmate in the prison.  In fact, these prisoners, as well as those in other states are counted by the census in the town where they are imprisoned, so the region benefits with [federal and state money] for prisoners who have no electoral representation. In other words, prisoners are counted as citizens in the census for the purposes of district apportionment, but are not allowed to take part in electing the people who will represent them.

In Illinois, voting rights are restored automatically upon release. Those on parole, probation, or are in jail awaiting trial also have access to voting rights. Like other states, Illinois has improved the restoration process, ensuring that newly released prisoners have been informed of their right to vote and aiding in the registration process. Darrell Cannon, recently released from prison after 24 years, voted for the first time in his life in the recent presidential election at a polling place right across the street from his house. “What made it such a historic event for me was that I was able to vote for an Afro-American for the president of the United States,” Cannon stated. On election night, Cannon was working the midnight shift as a security guard with no TV or radio. He suspected that Obama might have won because he “became aware of the sounds of celebration in the distance.” It wasn’t until he got home the next morning that he saw the results. In prison, Cannon said, they did their best to keep up with election coverage but it was very limited.

Though current Illinois prisoners are legally are unable to vote themselves, a small movement, known as the “One Prisoner, One Vote” Initiative has started in support of prisoner suffrage. Free people taking part in the initiative agree to relinquish their own vote and instead vote in a prisoner’s place. The initiative, Anaviel Rakemyahu remarked, is the first of its kind and has enlisted the help of over 200 so far. In the future he hopes that the movement will capture the attention of legislators and increase the involvement of prisoners in the political process. (See article about One Prisoner, One Vote.)

The Sentencing Project’s report on disenfranchisement policies over the last ten years uncovers the tremendous amount of change that has occurred in legislation surrounding the issue since 1997. King remains optimistic that changes in policy will continue to evolve in time for the next election. When it comes to the rest of the states falling in line with Maine and Vermont and allowing prisoners to vote, King is less optimistic: “changes to end lifetime disenfranchisement policies continue to gain momentum, but there’s not a lot of legislative push to allow prisoners to vote. We are a long way off from that.”

Katie Drews

After a 370-mile trek to the southern tip of Illinois, members of the Tamms Year Ten campaign met with the Illinois Department of Corrections on Oct. 23 for a tour of Tamms, a closed maximum security prison. It was a step toward greater transparency — or so they thought.

Upon arrival at the prison, IDOC officials, members of Tamms Year Ten, a reform group dedicated to the oversight of Tamms, and Ill. Rep. Eddie Washington were escorted into a conference room. After brief introductions, IDOC executive chief Sergio Molina asked the prison staff to leave the room and then delivered the surprising news: “We will not be able to allow a tour today.”

Built in 1998 as a supermax facility, Tamms keeps prisoners in solitary confinement for 24 hours a day with no human contact. The original design of the prison was for short-term incarceration, but one third of the inmates have been there since it opened ten years ago and 100 men have been held there since April of 1999. The Tamms Year Ten campaign is promoting a bill, HB6651, which calls for clear criteria to determine which men are sent to Tamms and guidelines on how inmates can leave. The bill also prohibits sending the mentally ill to the facility.

For Tamms Year Ten, the tour of the prison was a step forward in communicating with the IDOC, but after hearing Molina’s announcement in the conference room, every member was left stunned. Molina explained that he received the order from IDOC Director Roger E. Walker Jr. the day before because “this institution is in the crosshairs” with pending litigation. However, the lawsuit has been in contingency for years and other organizations have since visited inside the prison.

“People took two days off work and spent a lot of time and money to get here,” said Laurie Jo Reynolds, a leader of Tamms Year Ten. “This lawsuit has been going on for years. This visit has been planned for weeks. Why couldn’t you have told us last Thursday, last Friday, last Monday, last Tuesday, or yesterday? No phone call yesterday to tell us?”

Tim McLean, IDOC chief of intergovernmental relations, said they didn’t know who to call and Molina added that they figured “the train had already left the station.” Despite the decision, Washington and Malcolm Young, executive director of the John Howard Association, an Illinois prison monitoring group, were permitted to take the tour, but both refused since Tamms Year Ten members were denied.

“I was delighted to hear [that this tour was taking place],” Young said to Molina. “There is a value to letting people in. It’s terrible that the opportunity was missed and missed in this way.”

McLean later said there was a reason that the tour was canceled, but he could not disclose the reason why.

After a request from Washington for an abbreviated tour, Molina left to call Walker for permission. But he reported back that they had to maintain their position: “Our direction is to not allow [the tour].” A Power Point presentation was ready instead.

No presentation was given. Washington and Young decided to go ahead and utilize the opportunity to visit prisoners. From 11 a.m. to 3:45 p.m. without stopping for lunch, the two spoke with each of the 18 inmates on a list provided by Tamms Year Ten. Meanwhile, the excluded advocates engaged in hours of discussion about conditions at the facility and the proposed bill supported by Tamms Year Ten.

Revealing the results

Young and Washington disclosed the results of their visit during a roundtable discussion with legislators on Nov. 20 in Springfield, Ill. Others present at the meeting included the Tamms Year Ten organization, attorneys and former prisoners all articulating the need for legislation regulating the prison. The Department of Corrections was scheduled to join in the discussion, but it canceled the day before.

The John Howard Association released a report which disclosed the information Washington and Young learned on their visit with inmates. The report made strong recommendations to take legislative action.

“Cumulatively, you get the clear impression that [the prisoners] don’t know why they’re there and they don’t know the steps to get out,” Young said. “This is an overwhelming situation for a human to be in.”

The report drew on past investigations to show the long history of both procedural and mental health concerns at Tamms. In 2001, after two years of the prison’s operation, the John Howard Association reported concern because no inmates had been released, even though many were noted for good behavior, and because the original sentences were not to exceed two years.

“We were very distressed at two years after Tamms opened, and now to go back eight years later and talk to prisoners who were there eight, nine, ten years to find a substantial number, one third of the population [still there] was shocking,” Young said. “If we were concerned after two years, what would we be after eight, nine, ten?”

Young, as well as other proponents of the bill, are so concerned about prison oversight because the conditions enforced by the supermax system are severe. The United Nations Committee Against Torture questioned the use of prolonged isolation in U.S. supermax prisons in 2000 and 2006 calling it an “extremely harsh regime” which could “constitute cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.”

Living in isolation

Darrell Cannon knows the effects of solitary confinement firsthand ¾ he was held in isolation for nine years at Tamms. Cannon spent every day inside a 10 feet by 12 feet colorless cell with gray, cement floors, ceilings and walls.

“Some of your closets are probably bigger than my cell,” Cannon said. “If you’re not strong, being in that cell every single day will get to you. The color scheme will give you headaches and hurt your eyes. It’s designed to do that ¾ to drive you crazy. It’s not for human beings.”

According to an article in Time Magazine, a few days of solitary confinement can affect a person’s brainwaves, leading to the state of “stupor and delirium.” With the addition of sensory deprivation, the research shows that a person can “descend into a hallucinatory state in as little as 48 hours.”

“I’d wake up and start shaking,” Cannon said. “[I’d tell myself], ‘No, no, no. Do not let this happen. Do not let them break you. I’m not going to let this happen. I’m going to walk out of here sane.’ Thank God I would do that.”

Other prisoners are not as lucky. Some resort to self-mutilation and attempt suicide. Some defecate their cells, causing the smell to infiltrate through the ventilation system. Some yell all day long, and some continuously kick on the steel doors. Cannon said the sound “drives you up the wall,” so he made his own earplugs out of toilet paper.

During the night, the guards hit the master light switch every half an hour to turn on the bright fluorescent lights. Also in the night, doors would slam every time the guards left a wing. It was all difficult to sleep through, according to Cannon.

“It’s designed for mental torture designed so you don’t get seven or eight hours of sleep,” Cannon said. “…Everything about Tamms is to break you mentally, physically and spiritually.”

Insomnia is one of the most universal symptoms for those in solitary confinement. The IDOC says it offers Sleep Hygiene counseling for prisoners who complain of sleep problems, even though the guards cause regular sleep disruption in the night.

Cannon would often make the time go by through exercise in his cell, trying to race with the clock during his routines. He said he was eventually able to do 500 push-ups in the span of an hour and a half. Prisoners have the option of spending an hour alone outside in the yard, which is similar to a concrete box the size of a classroom. Otherwise they remain in their cells, even for meals, which are served through a small slot in the door called the chuck hole.

“Meals were measured by spoon,” Cannon said. “Everything was generic, nothing real. Lord have mercy, it was rough.”

Akkeem Berry, who was a prisoner at Tamms for eight years, said he was 240 pounds coming into the prison but dropped to less than 170 by the time he left.

Since there were no communal activities, the prisoners found other ways to interact with one another while still facing a concrete wall.

“People learn ingeniously how to play chess or cards,” Cannon said. “Or [we would] take thread from sheets to pass magazines to each other.”

But that is the extent of human contact. There is no human touch even with the guards because the guards always wear thick gloves. Keeping in touch with family members is difficult. Phone calls are not allowed, and visitation rules are strict. When family or friends do make an appointment, they are non-contact visits. The John Howard Association report says, “inmates are separated from their visitors by very solid partitions made of thick glass and steel, and communication is by way of a microphone and speakers.” Berry also described a concrete stump that he leaned on, while his feet were shackled in the back.

“You are already in a fiberglass cubicle there’s nowhere to go,” Berry said. “And they’re talking about safety?”

Although released from Tamms, Cannon says he can never forget about the years he spent there in confinement.

“Every day, for every night I think about what has been done to me,” Cannon said. “That’s a kind of torture. Will the time come when I won’t think about it? I doubt it. … I’m not a robot you can’t put me on erase. I can never forget and I can never forgive.”

Getting in and getting out

When the Illinois Task Force on Crime and Corrections outlined the construction of a supermax prison in 1993, the report stated: “The Super-Max institution should be used without exception to house only those inmates who have in their current incarceration inflicted or caused others to inflict physical harm against staff or other inmates.”

No prisoner is moved to Tamms based on the crime they committed on the outside. But over half of the men at Tamms are sent there not because of violent behavior at another prison, but because they are held in “administrative segregation status.” While this is not clearly defined, it usually relates to allegations of gang leadership and affiliation.

“Everybody was placed here for a reason,” Sergio Molina, IDOC executive chief, said. “We have information. It’s a judgment call, by all means, but we need to know if they’ll join a gang again.”

Attorney Alan Mills says this is like sending someone to Tamms not for what they’ve done, but for what they might do in the future. Both former prisoners Cannon and Berry believe that they were wrongly sent to Tamms under this procedure.

“They said I was a gang leader and a threat to security,” Cannon said. “Because I was intelligent, if I chose to get violent [than] others would follow.”

Cannon and Berry never committed a violent act to send them to Tamms, and both did not get a chance to defend themselves against the allegation of gang leadership.

“I wouldn’t consider myself a prisoner,” Berry said. “I would consider myself a hostage because I was taken there without a hearing and without due process.”

“Essentially you are woken up in the middle of the night, put on a bus and arrive at Tamms,” Mills said. “You will never get a hearing in terms of the right to defend yourself.”

Mills said that generally prisoners are allowed a hearing if the facility they are being transferred to is “atypically and significantly worse than other places in the prison system.” The question is then whether or not Tamms is worse. The IDOC believes the answer is no, it is not worse.

“It doesn’t matter what you compare it to, Tamms is worse,” Mills said.

Once prisoners are in Tamms, they often do not know when they are going to leave. But the Illinois Task Force also said that part of the supermax’s purpose is to transfer out prisoners based on outlined standards. The report states: “Since these highly restrictive environments, if misused, can create conditions tantamount to long-term isolation, the Department of Corrections will have to establish clearly defined rules and regulations to govern the admission and release of inmates from the Super-Max facility and to monitor its operation and administration closely.”

The IDOC’s position against the bill was detailed in a memo addressed to Rep. Washington: they oppose any limit on their ability to place inmates in any facility. At the roundtable, Rep. Hamos, the sponsor of the bill, expressed frustration at the IDOC’s refusal to cooperate with legislators, provide information to the committee or settle the pending lawsuit.

“The bottom line is [the IDOC] want[s] no legislation and ultimate discretion,” Hamos said.

Other supermax facilities in the country have changed their policies to bring the system back to its original intended use. The Ohio supermax offers prisoners due process and it also has defined criteria for placement into its prison. The Mississippi supermax declared specific guidelines for transfers and excludes any reason based solely on gang membership. It also has stipulated a procedure for moving prisoners out.

Time for change

Back in the conference room in Springfield, Washington told the other legislators that we have to be able to ask the administration for accountability and standards, and then he asked to see the hands of anyone in the room who disagreed. No one raised their hand.

“We are not asking for major changes in the prison system,” Washington said. “We’re talking about transparency and accountability. This is not really hard to do.”

With the proposed bill in legislation, Tamms would be required to create guidelines and bring the supermax back to serve its original purpose.

“I am going to work the floor today to get people on this,” Washington said. “It’s not a political issue, it’s a humane issue. I think we’re going to have some change here.”

Many holiday shoppers will go to stores like Best Buy, Circuit City, and the Apple Store to buy the latest technology for their friends and family.  Their purchases will include iPods, laptops, Blackberrys, and digital cameras.  Would you believe that some Americans are asking for typewriters and cassette players this holiday season?  Would you believe that some having been saving for these items for years and still desperately want them?  For the more than one percent of Americans that are incarcerated, iPods and computers are beyond their reach.  The technology available to inmates is the technology that Americans on the “outside” last saw decades ago.  Some inmates in American prisons have never used a cell phone or the internet. They are in a technological time warp and some will soon return to the outside world, a world that has rapidly progressed in its technology while they served their time behind bars.

The items that prisoners in Illinois are permitted to have are determined by the Illinois Department of Corrections (IDOC). The Department’s main concern is safety—both of the staff and of the inmates. Computers and devices like iPods, which hold the capacity to exchange and store large amounts of information, are too complex to be regulated by the IDOC. However, though inmates do not have access to computers, it is recognized that inmates need to be able to produce readable documents as many inmates appeal their case. At Stateville Correctional Center in Joliet, Illinois, typewriters can be ordered through the prison’s commissary. The commissary was founded in 1930 and it offers the latest technology available to prisoners like the Sintec 2410 typewriter for $279.54. The typewriter is specifically designed for use in prisons, made with clear plastic to deter inmates from trying to conceal contraband inside the machine. Other items on the commissary product list include art supplies, beverages, clothing, shoes, towels, blankets, electronics, food, games, housewares like bowls and mugs, toiletries, vitamins, and office supplies. The most expensive item is the typewriter; the least expensive is a legal envelope for 16 cents.

Inmates place a written order with the commissary and the commissary employees, some prisoners, fill the order. When inmates make purchases, they must pay in full. Loans from the state are no longer available unless an inmate can prove that they have no contacts on the outside that can offer them financial assistance.

Companies are profiting on the restrictions placed on prisoners’ possessions. Special typewriters, calculators, electric fans, and electric razors made of clear plastic are produced specifically for the prison population. Companies like Music by Mail and Pack Central offer current music on cassette tapes. CDs are not allowed because they can be broken and made into weapons.

One Stateville commissary worker called the purchases of commissary items a “survival tactic.” He explained that inmates do all that they can to make it through their time behind bars. Depending on the inmate, that can mean immersing oneself in case study, trying to build a strong appeal case, creating art, or enjoying a daily Pepsi. The commissary gives inmates options and though these are minor options, for some it’s what they need to make it.

But what happens when inmates are released into a world of technology they’ve only seen on TV? One former inmate who spoke to our class shared that he had to relearn to do the simplest things, like use keys. How do we expect released inmates to succeed in today’s society without pre-release training in today’s most common technology? As we increasingly become dependent on computers, the internet, and wireless connectivity, we need to consider the effects of incarceration on an individual’s ability to function and contribute to society. We must provide assistance for inmates’ transition between decades of technology. Just think: most inmates have never had the opportunity to do what you’re doing now as you read your screen.