Don McDonnell also identified a more general change in the corrections
system, one related to the larger society within which Corrections operated.
Coming out of a sixties mentality, there was a sort
of belief out there that people can make a difference, and when you work
with people, be it in the health care system, any kind of system where
you are working with people, then you believe that an individual professional
could make a difference in the lives of people. Like everything else,
when you take on self-responsibility and if you want to get something
done you do what it takes to give your best. When it comes to managing
offenders, if you were in a judging situation as a case manager and you
felt that something wasn't being done properly, you would do your best
to make it right. So advocacy was built into the system, and as the system
has changed, so the role has changed. We're not advocates. It's just not
part of the job description. If you are an advocate you are viewed with
distrust.(McDonnell interview)
Barry Owen and Randy Voth began their careers in corrections fifteen
years after Don McDonnell did, and they represented a later generation
of case management. In my interviews with them, as the senior case management
officers during my research at Kent, they reflected on both the changing
nature of their responsibilities and the attitudes and values of the latest
generation of case management officers, with their new title of "institutional
parole officers", most of whom had been recruited since the passage of
the CCRA. Barry Owen summarized his response
to the computerized Offender Management System:
It is more and more case management by numbers. We
are attached to those computers. It is almost like as long as we feed
that machine and keep it happy then we are okay. We have done our job.
But we don't have to go down to the units and see the inmates, or rather
we can't because of the time constraints imposed by all the reports we
have to write. You end up spending the vast majority of your day typing
reports. It is more like we are technicians operating numbers and scales.
The human side is going out of it more and more, and I think that was
where the advocacy role came into it. You could relate to this person
as a human being. You could see if there was an injustice and say, "This
isn't fair. I've got to get something straightened out for this guy. The
prisoner might be a total jerk, but still he doesn't deserve this." (Interview
with Barry Owen, Kent Institution, August 12, 1999)
For Randy Voth, the demand for more and more data and progress reports
had taken a toll on his ability to work at a personal level with offenders.
One big part of the job that has really been lost
in the last ten years is the whole aspect of counselling. Somewhere in
the neighbourhood of 25-30 per cent of our job is supposed to be counselling
offenders. However, counselling does not happen between institutional
parole officers and offenders at any level. New initiatives such as the
streamlining of the Offender Management System have actually taken away
from the quality time where you can actually sit down with an inmate and
develop some kind of plan with him. That is where the real challenge is.
When you go home at the end of the day and you have talked to half a dozen
guys, and maybe there are three or four of them that involve very intense,
heated discussions, and a couple of them were very positive, you feel
like you have accomplished something. And you might even have developed
some rapport with that person. But the computers have taken us away from
that. It doesn't matter if an IPO [institutional parole officer] doesn't
have social skills because they can hide behind the computer screen. (Interview
with Randy Voth, Kent Institution, August 12, 1999)
Both Mr. Owen and Mr. Voth expressed grave reservations about the attitudes
of the newest practitioners of "good corrections," the young institutional
parole officers who had been hired as part of the move to strengthen the
reintegration strategy of the Service. Ironically, said Mr. Voth the Correctional
Service's efforts to carve out career paths for employees had given rise
to a narrow corporate mentality among new recruits.
A lot of these people are very highly career-motivated.
They will toe the company line at all costs. They do not want to offend
management. They do not want to disagree with management, because they
are concerned that it is going to impact upon their career aspirations.
It is almost like these people have suspended their own personal value
system when they come into the Service and they have sold themselves out
and basically whatever management wants they will do. If that means writing
somebody up for the Special Handling Unit, they'll do it even if in their
hearts they believe that the guy should not be transferred. They will
not sit there and argue with a unit manager or deputy warden that this
is not a legitimate case. They will just write it up the way management
wants it. There is no conscience there.
Randy Voth's criticisms of the technologically driven corporate approach
to modern corrections demonstrated the continuing relevance, at the end
of the twentieth century, of David Rothman's characterization of correctional
history as a process in which conscience is repeatedly subordinated to
convenience. Page 7 of 7
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