Punishment or Rehabilitation


Punishment or rehabilitation?

We have a choice. We can change lives.

Punishment Fails. Rehabilitation Works.

James Gilligan, a clinical professor of psychiatry and an adjunct professor of law at New York University, is the author of, among other books, “Preventing Violence” and “Why Some Politicians Are More Dangerous Than Others.”
UPDATED DECEMBER 19, 2012, 11:43 AM (originally published in the New York Times)

“If any other institutions in America were as unsuccessful in achieving their ostensible purpose as our prisons are, we would shut them down tomorrow. Two-thirds of prisoners reoffend within three years of leaving prison, often with a more serious and violent offense. More than 90 percent of prisoners return to the community within a few years (otherwise our prisons would be even more overcrowded than they already are). That is why it is vitally important how we treat them while they are incarcerated.

“How could we change our prison system to make it both more effective and less expensive?

“The only rational purpose for a prison is to restrain those who are violent, while we help them to change their behavior and return to the community.

“We would need to begin by recognizing the difference between punishment and restraint. When people are dangerous to themselves or others, we restrain them – whether they are children or adults. But that is altogether different from gratuitously inflicting pain on them for the sake of revenge or to “teach them a lesson” – for the only lesson learned is to inflict pain on others. People learn by example: Generations of research has shown that the more severely children are punished, the more violent they become, as children and as adults. The same is true of adults, especially those in prison. So the only rational purpose for a prison is to restrain those who are violent from inflicting harm on themselves or others, while we help them to change their behavior from that pattern to one that is nonviolent and even constructive, so that they can return to the community.

“It would be beneficial to every man, woman and child in America, and harmful to no one, if we were to demolish every prison in this country and replace them with locked, safe and secure home-like residential communities – what we might call an anti-prison. Such a community would be devoted to providing every form of therapy its residents needed (substance abuse treatment, psychotherapy, medical and dental care) and every form of education for which the residents were motivated and capable (from elementary school to college and graduate school). Getting a college degree while in prison is the only program that has ever been shown to be 100 percent effective for years or decades at a time in preventing recidivism. Prisoners should be treated with exactly the same degree of respect and kindness as we would hope they would show to others after they return to the community. As I said, people learn by example.

“My colleague Bandy Lee and I have shown that an intensive re-educational program with violent male offenders in the San Francisco jails reduced the level of violence in the jail to zero for a year at a time. Even more important, participation in this program for as little as four months reduced the frequency of violent reoffending after leaving the jail by 83 percent, compared with a matched control group in a conventional jail. In addition to enhancing public safety, this program saved the taxpayers $4 for every $1 spent on it, since the lower reincarceration rate saved roughly $30,000 a year per person. The only mystery is: Why is this program not being adopted by every jail and prison in the country? Why are taxpayers not demanding that this be done?”

Why indeed?

The Power of One


The Power of One

“It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there’ll be any fruit. But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing, there will be no result.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

Can I really make a difference in the world? Does what I do really matter?

The other day, I ran into a young man I’d worked with, having long talks about his future. We became friends, and I was a cheerleader in his life. I watched him refocus in high school, and graduating there. I walked with him and held his hand as he thought about college, and enrolling.

A few years later, I watched him receive his community college diploma, laughing with him as he posed for a family picture, diploma in hand. His wife, and his sister, now both in college, stood proudly beside him.

At the store, he shared a photo of his new baby, and his dream of a bright future, getting his bachelor’s degree, creating a bright future for him and his family.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly. “Without you pushing me, encouraging me, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

A few weeks ago, I took a young man to a university, walking with him into the registrar’s office to schedule his classes, and get him ready for fall term. We’d worked together last spring, to get him admitted, and transferring all his credits he’d earned for his associates degree, ready to start his junior year. He’s been aiming for a bachelor’s degree for a long time, and was finally able to make the move into a four year university, one that has an excellent program in his area of interest.

He’d been dragging his feet, not making the phone call to schedule his class registration, and all the other paperwork that needed to get done before he was really ready to begin classes. The plan was for me to drive him there, make a day of it, and to celebrate his achievements. But, he was dropping the ball, ignoring my increasingly less than subtle hints to take that drive, and move on with his life.

I nudged, I prodded, and I waited. Procrastination and fear took over, even a bit of resentment towards me, for being the quiet voice urging him forward, encouraging him to go live his dream.

Time was running out, and I spoke up, becoming direct, calling out for him to confront the elephant in the living room, and get moving here, moving ahead with his life. We met, finally, to have that hard conversation. We argued, we struggled, we finally got to the heart of his struggle, we each teared up, our guts churning.

We named the elephant, and we argued some more. He asked me where he thought I’d be in a few years, if he didn’t go to college, if he didn’t make that short trip to the university’s registrar that week, and be ready for fall term.

I got blunt, and painted a realistic picture.

“If you don’t live your dream, if you don’t work towards achieving your goals, life will be hard, and life will be disappointing. You will end up being disappointed in yourself. Is that what you want?”

He admitted he really did want to go to college, but the old voices, the voices of childhood that had always whispered that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t deserving of success, those were the voices speaking loudly in his head lately.

We refocused. We didn’t dwell on “failure” and “I’m not good enough”. Instead, we moved on, living in today. And, looking towards the future, planning for it, taking real time steps to get where he wanted to go.

I grabbed the car keys, and his cold, sweaty hand, and walked him to my car. Amazingly, at least to him, within an hour, we were at the registrar’s office in the university, organizing his schedule, planning for his graduation in two years. He registered for classes, accepted his healthy array of scholarships, and sent in his student loan application.

On the way out the door, we picked up his student body card and scheduled a time for him to meet his department head and double check his class schedule, to make sure he was on the right track with his major.

Along the way, every college staff person was courteous, informative, and dedicated to getting him enrolled and off to a good start. Each one of them took the time to take an interest in him, focus on his needs, and help him achieve his goals for the day, and for the next two years of his life.

Each one of them, taking the time, being interested, investing in him. He saw that in how they treated him, how they were living their day. The caring about one other person, one at a time, with all of their focus, all of their energies, all of their wisdom.

And, so it begins, the new student and the teachers, the first lesson, building on the past, and aiming at the future.

One person at a time.

Neal Lemery, August, 2013

Tattooed Consent


“Do not resuscitate” is tattooed across his chest, and he’s just keeled over. My newly recertified to perform CPR self is ready to spring into action, ready with my well rehearsed thirty chest compressions, then two short breaths, and repeat until he’s cheated death. I want to get him ready again for another round of golf, or another pitcher at the biker bar down the street.

What do I do now? Try to save his life, or just wait for the ambulance. Maybe he’ll die, and I haven’t done a thing.

We’re all sitting on the floor, our hands sweaty in our brand new Red Cross gloves, fresh out of the box. our CPR mannequins are strewn across the floor, resting from yet another round of our chest thrusts, then breathing into their plastic, unsmiling mouths. Thirty and two, thirty and two, my new mantra I’ll take from this class, is running through my head.

We’re talking about getting Mr. Heart Attack’s permission to pound on his chest, restarting his heart, saving his life.

“You need their consent,” the instructor intones, in his best, by the manual, voice.

“What if they say no?” someone asks.

Saying no, right when you’re itching to put your hand in the middle of their chest. Your fingers are laced into your other hand, ready to begin your compressions, singing “Stayin’ Alive” to yourself, to keep you on your rhythm, 100 compressions a minute. Disco beat, heart beat. You and John Travolta are singing your duet, waiting for the ambulance, saving a life.

“What if they’ve got a tattoo, one that says no, inked across their chest?”

The guy next to me, the guy with dreadlocks in his beard, my practice buddy with Ricky the Mannequin, is asking the question. He’s the tattoo artist from Indiana, taking the class so he can start inking the few people in Portland who apparently have a few uninked inches left on their pale Northwest skin.

“I’ve inked that tattoo on a number of guys, and a few women, too,” he says. “And, for most of them, they do it as a joke.”

Consent. Informed, you hope, the instructor intones again, in his best Red Cross voice, making us think about how some folks may not want us to push hard and fast into their chest, maybe cracking a rib, maybe restarting their heart. But what if they keel over, pass out cold, not letting you know if they want to hear your version of 1970s disco music, maybe saving their life?

We all laugh, breaking the tension in the room, the first time we’ve really thought today about what it means to maybe save someone’s life, by beating on their chest, reprising old disco tunes, just something to do until the ambulance comes. Like the warning label on mattresses, we ought to plunge on, we agree, ignoring what’s probably a bad joke of a tattoo, inked on there to make the girlfriend, or the boys down at the bar, laugh a bit.

After all, “Stayin’ Alive” was a pretty popular song. The guy underneath my hands probably wouldn’t mind hearing it again.

Neal Lemery
August, 2013

Being the Candle and the Mirror


“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that receives it.” —Edith Wharton

I am both the candle and the mirror.

Every morning when I awake, when I pause for a cup of coffee, or to watch a bird in the garden, in every moment in life, I have a choice on how I live my life. It is for me to shape my intention, to go forth with my mind set on what it is I want to do, who it is I want to be, where it is I want to go, how I will live, and grow, and how I will spread light and love.

What am I doing now to reflect that Love and Light I find in the world, so that I can share that with others, thereby changing the world?

And, what am I doing to create Love and Light, and, likewise, give that away to the world?

Once you find the words to ask the question, then, and only then, will the answer come.

I have so many of the tools I need inside of me. And, if a tool is lacking, then it is up to me to ask of the Universe for the tool that works.

It is up to me to find my own story. That story has been gathering within me since I was born, and it is ever-changing, ever growing into an even more beautiful story.

It is up to me to draw upon the resources I need in order to live with purpose, and with meaning. I just need to ask, and, then, I need to be willing to receive. I need to be open, and to receive the gifts of the Light, and to be loved.

When I connect with the world around me and when I am in sync with the energies and rhythms of the universe, then I am aware of the light within me, and of the power of intention in my life. And, then, I must be open to receiving those gifts, those tools so that I can be a better lover, a better candle and mirror of the Light. Indeed, it is easier to give than to receive. I need to be humble, and open, and accepting of these eternal gifts.

I am a human being, and not a human doing. I can lose myself in endless tasks and projects, and I need to continually ask myself, what is my intention? Am I creating Light and Love in what I am doing here? Or, is my doing getting in the way of my Be-ing, am I living life with intention, congruent with the true reasons for why we are all here today.

I need to be able to ask the question, and also be open to listen to the answer, hearing it with my heart and soul.

I need to tend to my candle, and I need to polish my mirror.

Neal Lemery, July 22, 2013.

Stepping Back


I get pretty involved in the lives of the people I mentor. I worry about their grades in school, how they are managing their lives, if they are taking care of themselves, and making good choices.

We talk a lot about all that, especially the “good choices” part. Their lives haven’t been marked by a lot of good choices, though if I was to lay blame for that, most of the blame would fall elsewhere. If you don’t have good role models, and you don’t have some solid, compassionate people at your side, life gets harder to navigate through.

And, sometimes I give advice. I like to think it is just commentary, or, to be polite, “direction and concern”. But, really, it is advice.

When I do that, it is always a good idea to be asked. Micromanaging someone else’s life, or being the co-dependent fatherly type isn’t my style. I don’t have the energy for that, and, besides, I’m pretty busy just trying to manage my own life. I don’t do “rescue” very well, and the big lessons in life are best learned by experiencing the consequences of one’s own decisions.

Granted, if I see you head towards the cliff and your foot is on the gas, I will be moved to open my mouth and speak my mind. I might even grab the wheel for a bit, until you are headed away from the pending apocalypse. Still, I prefer the diplomatic approach, and I use “suggest”, or “what are some other options you’ve thought about”.

But, tact and being politically correct aren’t always my guiding forces, and I tend to speak my mind, especially when I see someone I care about heading for the cliff.

And, I might even step back, and let them come close to their cliff, and get their feet muddy in the quagmire of their actions. Good lessons are often taught when you are up your ass in alligators, deep in the swamp.

Not that I want my buddy to get chomped on by the alligator, but that swamp offers some good, solid lessons. It has for me.

Stepping back. Maybe it is the time of year for that. After all, people are taking a summer break, and various organizations, and schools, have shut down for the summer. The usual frenzy of meetings and activities has slowed quite a bit, and I find the calendar to be blissfully empty of a lot of the usual activities. People are taking care of themselves, going on vacation, taking a breath. They are letting go, and letting the world go on a bit without them at the helm.

And, as the young men I worry about start stepping out into the world, flapping their wings a bit, and testing the winds of the adult world, I need to let them go, let them fly out near the abyss on their solo flight. They will be stronger for taking that flight on their own, stronger, and a bit wiser. Haven’t we been working on that, getting them ready to fly?

Isn’t that the goal of all this, to build strong men, able to fly on their own, to bear the consequences of their own decisions?

Not that I don’t get to worry, and fret, just like the mama eagle frets when that fledgling steps out of the nest and catches the air, to fly free.

Neal Lemery, July 19, 2013

I Watch the Son, Sleeping


Like the others before him, this son sleeps deep, snoring, heavy into his night thoughts, his weekend away. He comes here tired, worn out from life. We feed his belly, he finds the hot tub and the beach, even the stars at night, a cat to pet and love. All the food and time in our quiet starts unwinding his shoulders, lifting worry from his eyes.

We talk at dinner, or on the deck, or on the road to the beach, catching up on his life, and his adventures. I listen, and rarely advise, though this journey of his is a familiar story, told by the sons who have come before, and the sons who will come later.

I practice patience, waiting for a pause, or a question.

“I might be lost.”

“What should I do?”

I do not know, but I can offer praise, and understanding, and tell my own story a bit.

“You are not the first on this path,” I try to say, knowing that he must take his own steps, and find his own road.

“You have the tools you need. Just look inside of you,” I offer, sometimes out loud.

And, he must fall and skin his knee sometimes, that bit of blood marking his own journey. I can offer the bandage, but I cannot always prevent the fall.

I look down on his sleeping face, seeing how he has grown, knowing, deep inside of me, that he has all he needs inside of him to be the man he wants to be. I can only help him find his patience, and his stamina, and his courage, and then he will walk his path with strong legs and a loving heart.

I can only be behind him, offering a few words of encouragement, and unlimited love, knowing that will be enough, and he will blossom and come into his own.

Our time now at an end, we have one last meal, he, again, eating as if we’ve starved him all weekend long. Bottomless, in many ways, he thinks he might, finally, be full.

I drop him off at work, his week just beginning. We hug, one final time, and he whispers “thanks”.

Any more words and we would have both cried.

Shoulders back, the old smile again, he is on his way again, renewed.

Neal Lemery, July 8, 2013

Some Thoughts on Independence Day


Some Thoughts on Independence Day

Two hundred and thirty seven years ago, a group of educated, politically popular entrepreneurs and leaders got together and declared war against their country, and told their King they were starting their own nation. They endorsed a revolution against the world’s largest political power.

They listed their grievances against their government, telling their sovereign it had abused its power, had deprived its citizens of liberty, and acted immorally. Their extensive list is familiar to us, the topics and grievances familiar to what we hear today in Syria, Egypt, China, Turkey, and closer to home.

These rebels, speaking for their communities and neighbors, declared they were done with trying to reform their nation. Their grievances were so extensive, and the inability of the government to listen and respond, and to reform, had become obvious and without remedy.

So, they denounced their government, and declared their independence. They rebelled.

This was treason of the highest order. If caught, they would be hanged, and all their property would be confiscated, their families impoverished, and likely imprisoned. And the war would risk devastating their cities, their farms, everything they had worked for.

No one had ever declared independence from Great Britain before, and succeeded. “The King can do no wrong” was the major theme of politics and governance. Indeed, the King’s reign was blessed by All Mighty God, His Majesty exercising unlimited, even divine power. Laws and taxes were enacted by a parliament comprised of noblemen and wealthy businessmen, who were making huge profits from the lucrative trading laws and colonial economy of the British Empire. American colonists had no voice. And, they had discovered they had few rights.

The Empire had the world’s largest navy, and the world’s largest army. And, Britain was the world’s largest economy. The American colonies depended on British trade to sell all of their goods, and to buy the supplies and goods they needed. Trying to make their way in a world without the umbrella of the British economy was a dangerous road. They were risking everything they had for their values.

Their rebellion wasn’t popular with everyone. Many people supported the Crown, and the rebellion dragged on for seven terrible, bloody years. Cities were beseiged, New York City was burned, trade was blockaded. People starved, and thousands died of disease and the ravages of war. The British were ruthless and brutal, as they brought large armies to track down the rebels, and end the rebellion.

Yet, the flame of wanting liberty and human dignity, and self governance eventually prevailed. Sheer determination and courage won the day, and eventually Britain conceded American independence.

That new nation was not perfect, and faced enormous obstacles. Slavery, disparity of wealth, onerous taxation, the needs of justice, and a fragmented and inexperienced government burdened the young nation. And, those issues and the wide range of political thought continue to be part of our national conversation today.

Yet, there was hope. There was a shared belief that whatever we do as a nation, we will act with respect to personal opinions, we will engage in serious debate, and we will be willing to share our collective burdens. We will make our decisions, and then we will move ahead, together, as a community.

Our Founding Fathers started a revolution. They risked everything, in order to be able to live in a community where there is freedom of speech, due process of law, and respect for the opinions and rights of others.

Are we that committed to those ideals today? Are we willing to be the revolutionaries when we are called upon? Are we willing to sign our own Declaration of Independence in bold strokes, telling the King that he is wrong, and we will be free, and that we are willing to die for that? Or, have we even given that much thought, as we head out for a Fourth of July picnic, or to watch the fireworks at the park?

The words of the Declaration of Independence resound today within our national fabric. Those words have inspired people throughout the world to believe in themselves, and to take charge of their lives, to cherish life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Today, our challenge is to remember that revolution, and to continue to rekindle those flames of liberty and freedom, and the willingness to put all that we have on the line for the betterment of our community and freedom for all.

—Neal Lemery, July 3, 2013


“What I’ve found about it is that there are some folks you can talk to until you’re blue in the face–they’re never going to get it and they’re never going to change. But every once in a while, you’ll run into someone who is eager to listen, eager to learn, and willing to try new things. Those are the people we need to reach. We have a responsibility as parents, older people, teachers, people in the neighborhood to recognize that.”
― Tyler Perry, Don’t Make a Black Woman Take Off Her Earrings: Madea’s Uninhibited Commentaries on Love and Life

This New Emptiness, Filled


Go, and create, you said
with your eyes, a few words spoken into my soul—
You have something to say, something to offer,
and the world needs to hear it.

Impatient, almost,
you always checking on my progress
to move, to contribute, to change this world,
your words pushing my procrastination.

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

“When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”
― Mary Oliver

You left us too soon, yet,
and yet, your words
to live fully, with passion,
echo throughout my being
in the silence
left in your passing
into the beautiful, the mysterious
next.

—Neal Lemery, June 2013

In memory of and tribute to my friend, Judy Allen