Part 1
Desistance Theory and Reintegration Practice
Chapter 1
Ex-offender reintegration: theory and practice
Shadd Maruna, Russ Immarigeon and Thomas P. LeBel
Jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins was 21 years old when his addiction to heroin threatened to end his budding musical career, just at a point when he was breaking in with the top jazz players of the day, including Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk. In 1951, many of these now famous composers and musicians were less well known and they would sit around small clubs, like Mintonâs in Harlem, playing what they knew, what they felt and what came to them. They were fashioning their careers and their legacies, but some of them were addicted to heroin. Indeed, heroin and other drugs were rampant in the jazz community in those years, so addictive behaviours were not viewed with much derision and addicts were typically not excluded from the community of jazz musicians.
But Sonny Rollins, like a few others, was deeper into the consequences of addiction. He committed a few strong-armed robberies and, subsequently, he spent some time on Rikers Island, New York Cityâs jail. When on release, the threat of parole revocation shadowed his days and nights. He continued his drug use but he knew that one day he would be caught, returned to prison and left to an uncertain future.
Rollins found himself in great conflict. On the one hand, he was being welcomed into a talented circle but, on the other hand, he was seen as disreputable, especially by nightclub owners who booked musicians. According to jazz biographer Eric Nisenson (2000), Rollins recognized his conflict most ostensibly in the facial expressions of Charlie Parker, who was also a heroin user. One evening in 1951, Nisenson relates, Parker and Rollins were playing together at a recording session held only a few weeks after Rollins had been released on parole from Rikers.
Rollins tells the story like this:
At the time of this session, I was on parole but I knew that I was probably headed back to Rikers Island because I was still getting high. Charlie Parker asked me something like, âWell, are you okay now?â or something of that nature â âHave you straightened yourself out?â â because he was always a very avuncular figure to me. Thatâs when I told him, âOh, yeah, Iâm straight now.â But there was somebody on the date with whom I had just been getting high before the date, and he spilled the beans to Bird [Charlie Parker] ⊠After Bird found that out he became very cold to me. Not just cold to me, I could see in his face that once again he had been confronted with the fact that all of his young protĂ©gĂ©s were messed up on drugs. So once again this was in front of him. I could see that in him at that session and I got the realization of how he must really feel about it. I realized then that I really wanted to get off drugs. I thought, âOkay, this is the impetus to get off drugs and Iâm going to come back one day and show Bird that I actually did get off drugs. And this time it will be true.â I saw the pain in his face that day. And then it all made sense to me. (Nisenson 2000: 51â2)
Kicking heroin addiction, like breaking out of other entrenched behaviour patterns, is no easy thing. Despite his revelation during the session with Parker, it was another few years, and other close calls, before Rollins voluntarily entered a federal drug treatment programme in Lexington, Kentucky, where he began a successful recovery process. Rollins re-emerged in Chicago at the end of 1955 as a member of the Clifford BrownâMax Roach Quintet, and soon established himself as a master of thematic improvisation. In 1957, he won the prestigious Down Beat magazine Criticsâ Poll as âNew Starâ of the tenor saxophone, and the rest, as they say, is history (for those interested in this history, see Kirschner 2000).
Sonny Rollinsâ escape from criminality and drug addiction is a story of desistance from crime. Of course, Rollinsâ contributions to the world of jazz â jazz critic Gary Giddens (1992: 164) has called him âthe worldâs greatest living saxophonistâ â make him one of the most successful exconvicts in recent history. Yet the processes of interpersonal reintegration and recovery from addiction he underwent are increasingly familiar ones. Indeed, the topic of ex-offender reintegration has become among the most important issues in criminology and related disciplines.
Reintegration (or âre-entryâ as it is sometimes called) is both an event and a process. Narrowly speaking, re-entry comes the day a prisoner is released from confinement. In its own way, the time (or timing) of a prisonerâs release offers challenges and conflicts that may or may not be managed by corrections officials or criminal justice agents. For instance, shortly before he became better known, the cult leader Charles Manson was an average prisoner being released from San Quentin into the San Francisco Bay area. In one version of the events of this day (see Emmons 1986), Manson hitched a ride just outside the gates of the prison from a delivery truck driver who almost immediately offered him a marijuana cigarette. Manson, not unreasonably, was startled that drugs were so readily available so close to the prison and wondered what was happening to the society that had kept him in isolation for a significant amount of time. Other, less notorious ex-offenders tell similar stories of being delivered from a prison to an inner-city bus station in the middle of the night, with $40 in gate money, nowhere to go and no one except drug dealers waiting for them in the station. What impact do such episodes have for a person newly released from confinement? At present, answers are more readily available from biographical accounts of prisoner life than from social science research, although this is changing (see, e.g. Travis et al. 2001; Chapter 9 this volume).
More broadly, re-entry is also a long-term process, one that actually starts prior to release and continues well afterwards. It is fashionable among some British resettlement workers to suggest that the re-entry process should begin as soon as the individual is taken into custody. That is, everything that is done to a convicted person should be serving the cause of preparing the individual for success after release. By this larger definition (the one most of the contributors to this book will be concerned with), reintegration encompasses many aspects of processes that go by names such as âcorrections,â ârehabilitation,â âtreatmentâ and the like. In fact, the UK Association of Chief Officers of Probation recently defined âresettlementâ as:
A systematic and evidenced-based process by which actions are taken to work with the offender in custody and on release, so that communities are better protected from harm and re-offending is significantly reduced. It encompasses the totality of work with prisoners, their families and significant others in partnership with statutory and voluntary organisations. (Cited in Morgan and Owers 2001: 12, emphasis added)
Essentially, then, reintegration involves everything â from literacy training to electronic monitoring â that is intended to reduce recidivism after release from prison. As such, public and governmental interest in successful re-entry is, of course, of longstanding vintage.
Still, the topic has never been more urgent than it is today. At the time of writing, in the USA, around 600,000 men and women (over 1,600 per day) will be released from prisons, compared to around 170,000 in 1980 (see especially Travis and Petersilia 2001). Criminological research suggests that many of them, perhaps even the majority of them in some states, will not achieve anything resembling successful reintegration into society. For instance, of the 459,000 US parolees who were discharged from community supervision in 2000, 42 per cent were returned to incarceration â 11 per cent with a new sentence and 31 per cent in some other way (Bureau of Justice Statistics 2001). In a recent study of 272,111 state prisoners released in 1994, 67.5 per cent were rearrested within three years, as compared to an estimated 62.5 per cent in a similar study of 1983 releases (Langan and Levin 2002).
In fact, re-entering society seems to be more difficult and precarious a transition than ever before. In 1980, 27,177 released ex-offenders were returned to state prisons in the USA. In 1999, this number was 197,606. As a percentage of all admissions to state prison, parole violators more than doubled from 17 per cent in 1980 to 35 per cent in 1999 (in California, a staggering 67 per cent of prison admissions were parole failures). Between 1990 and 1999 the number of parole violators rose by 50 per cent while the number of new court commitments rose by only 7 per cent (Hughes et al. 2001). This indicates that the re-entry problem is not only a product of the 1990sâ incarceration boom in the USA but was actually a leading cause of the boom as well.
Arguably, the situation for ex-offenders in the UK is less dire. Certainly, Britain has a longer and more substantive history of addressing the housing, employment and counselling needs of released prisoners (Haines 1990). Still, the UK prison population has jumped from around 40,000 in 1992 to over 68,000 today, and may reach as high as 90,000 in the near future (Grove et al. 1999). Moreover, substantial difficulties remain for returning ex-convicts (see Hagell et al. 1995; Metcalf et al. 2001; Niven and Olagundaye 2002). In fact, 57 per cent of all prisoners in England and Wales discharged in 1996 were reconvicted for a standard list offence within two years of their release (Home Office 2001). In a joint thematic review on resettlement issues, HM Inspectorates of Prisons and Probation conclude âThe resettlement needs of many prisoners are being severely neglectedâ because of the lack of an overall strategy for reintegration (Morgan and Owers 2001: 1).
It is no wonder that, in the USA, the re-entry issue has been described by former Attorney General Janet Reno as âone of the most pressing problems we face as a nationâ (2000). The importance of improving the prison release and re-entry process may be one of the few issues on which Reno agrees with the current Attorney General, John Ashcroft. In July 2002, Ashcroft announced that 68 different jurisdictions will share $100 million in grant funds through the new âSerious and violent offender reentryâ initiative, a reworking of the âYoung offender reentryâ initiative originally proposed during Renoâs term in office. The purpose of the much-touted new initiative is âto ensure public safety and reduce victimization by helping returning offenders become productive members of their communitiesâ (OJP 2002).
Similarly, in the UK there have been numerous recent calls for the development of a âNational rehabilitation strategyâ or system-wide resettlement agenda for HM Prison Service for England and Wales (Morgan and Owers 2001; Social Exclusion Unit 2001; Home Office 2002). Among the proposals being advocated include a âgoing straight contractâ to be signed by prisoners and prison staff, the creation of ârehabilitation governorsâ in every prison; and the development of resettlement performance targets to which every prison will be held accountable. In the USA, some state and local prison systems are gradually integrating ârelease planningâ into their standard custodial functions.
The promise of desistance theory
Some projects under development in the UK and the USA are incredibly exciting new efforts that involve multiple agencies and detailed planning. Yet these new initiatives hardly represent a new paradigm in reintegration practice. Criminologist James Austin (2001) argues that even though âre-entryâ has become âthe new buzzword in correctional reformâ the term is often âsimply another word for parole supervision, which many have tried to discredit and dismantleâ (p. 314). Certainly, its not an unfamiliar habit for the corrections industry to dress up a failed old policy as a seemingly new, exciting paradigm shift simply by changing a few agency names (see Cohen 1985). As a buzzword, âreentryâ appears to connote something similar to previous terms such as âprisoner aftercareâ (Haines 1990), âthroughcareâ (McAllister et al. 1992), âdischarged prisonersâ aidâ (Soothill 1974), âreintegrationâ, âintegrationâ, âparoleâ and the currently preferred term in Britain, âresettlementâ (see Morgan and Owers 2001).
A legitimate paradigm shift would require, among other things, a new understanding of the process of reintegration â in a word, new theory â on top of the new buzzwords and taskforce names. Unfortunately, for the most part, current reintegration practices seem to be operating in a theoretical vacuum, with no clear explanation for how the process is supposed to work (see especially Simonâs 1993 history of parole). Maloney et al. (2001: 24) quip: âIf there is an intervention theory in use, it is generally based on the rather bizarre assumption that surveillance and some guidance can steer the offender straight.â Ed Rhine (1997: 74) concludes that the lack of a âplausible narrative of community-based supervisionâ is âthe most pressing and vexing problem facing probation and parole administrators todayâ.
Much of the blame for this predicament has to be laid at the feet of corrections officials and policy-makers who are too wedded to the status quo and too fearful of appearing âsoft on crimeâ to experiment with innovations that might improve life opportunities for ex-offenders. Practitioners also share some blame. Practitioners need to bring the everyday realities of offendersâ lives to the attention of policy-makers as well as academic researchers. Notably, they must identify key service delivery concerns that establish greater acceptance for the use of community-based interventions. In the course of several decades of a ânothing worksâ mindset, practitioners have largely refrained from speaking â loudly at least â about âwhat worksâ in this way.1
Finally, academic criminologists most certainly cannot escape the blame for the apparent void in reintegration theory. As Frank Cullen (2002: 283) writes: âAlthough criminology is rich in contemporary theories of crime, true theories of correctional intervention are in short supply. One searches in vain in mainstream criminology journals and textbooks for new systematic theories of intervention and for empirical tests of these perspectives.â Like others, Cullen blames this lack of theoretical innovation on the legacy of the ânothing worksâ challenge to the practice of rehabilitation: âDeveloping theories of effective intervention seemed ill advised if there was, in essence, no âtreatment effectâ to be explained.â (2002: 283). There are exceptions, of course. Cullen rightly cites the principles of rehabilitative practice developed by Canadian researchers Don Andrews and James Bonta (1998) and Paul Gendreau (1996). Likewise, Joan Petersiliaâs (2003) recent book When Prisoners Come Home articulates a clea...