Abstract
Researchers have established that prisons are violent spaces where prisoners use aggressive or passive strategies to manage the threat of victimization. Using in-depth semi-structured interviews, this study explores the coping strategies of 56 former Canadian federal prisoners. Most respondents used passive, aggressive, or passive/aggressive coping strategies. Differences emerged among respondents who used individual strategies (self-dependence) or alliance strategies (dependence on affiliates) to cope with prison living. Only alliance strategies appeared simultaneously passive and aggressive. Theoretical implications are discussed.
Researchers have established that prisons are increasingly violent spaces (Griffin & Hepburn, 2006; Lahm, 2009; Ricciardelli, 2014a, 2014b; Wolff, Shi, & Siegel, 2009a; Wolff, Shi & Siegel, 2009b). U.S. data indicate that rates of violence in prison far exceed rates in the general population (Catalano, 2006). The Census of State and Federal Correctional Facilities reported that, in 2000, 28 of every 1,000 prisoners were physically assaulted—a 32% increase in prisoner-on-prisoner assaults from 1995—totally 34,000 victimized prisoners (Stephan & Karberg, 2003). Although Canadian data are rather limited, official statistics show a steady increase in rates of major assaults since 1989 and a consistent numbers of prisoners being murdered annually (e.g., between 4 and 11 each year). Official reports on prison violence, however, are not failsafe measures due to a variety of factors (e.g., threat of retaliation, being labeled a “rat,” the belief that nothing will be done, embarrassment) that discourage prisoners from reporting victimization experiences to officials or officials from recording prisoner misconduct (Bowker, 1981; Gilligan, 1997; McCorkle, 1993b; Wooldredge, 1998). Thus, official estimates underrepresent the frequency and the nature of physical and property victimization (Bowker, 1981; McCorkle, 1993a, 1993b); particularly in comparison to self-reported data (Wolff, Blitz, Shi, Siegel, & Bachman, 2007). Using self-report measures, Wolff et al. (2007) noted 1 in 5 prisoners experienced some form of prisoner-on-prisoner physical violence in a 6-month period.
Violence or victimization in prison occurs between prisoners or between staff and prisoners (Kerbs & Jolley, 2007; Lahm, 2009; Wolff et al., 2009a). It can take the form of physical assault (Wolff, Shi, & Blitz, 2008; Wolff et al., 2009a), sexual assault (Gear, 2007; Miller, 2010), verbal assault (Wolff & Shi, 2009b), or theft (Kerbs & Jolley, 2007; Wooldredge, 1998). Although the intensity of violence and sources of victimization may vary across prisons and overtime (Wolff & Shi, 2009a, 2009b; Wolff, Shi, & Blitz, 2008), both continue to be documented at institutional and prisoner population levels (Steiner, 2009; Wolff et al., 2007). Institutional-level factors affecting prison violence include the size of the prisoner population (Wolff et al., 2007), interpersonal dynamics between prisoners and staff (Steiner, 2009), overcrowding (Steiner & Wooldredge, 2009), and security classification (Cooley, 1993). Factors affecting victimization at the prisoner population level include the prisoner’s age (Kerbs & Jolley, 2007; Wooldredge, 1994, 1998), race (Lahm, 2009; Steiner, 2009), prior criminal history and history of assaultive behavior (Griffin & Hepburn, 2006; Wooldredge, 1994, 1998), time served in prison (Wolff et al., 2009a; Wolf et al., 2009b), and presence of mental illness (Blitz, Wolff, & Shi, 2008). Some factors, however, cross both institutional and prisoner population levels such as the link between racism and violence 1 (Lahm, 2009; Steiner, 2009; Tartaro & Levy, 2007).
Explaining Violence: Deprivation, Importation, and Integration
Historically, deprivation and importation theories have been used to explain the manifestation of violence among incarcerated populations. Importation theorists like Irwin (1980) argued that prisoners’ lived experiences and socialization on the “outside” provided the foundation for understanding their behaviors (e.g., their participation or lack of participation in violence) when behind bars. That is, attitudes, values, and beliefs, including aggressive behaviors, among prisoners are viewed as “imported” from the street to the prison (Irwin & Cressey, 1962). In contrast, proponents of the deprivation model argued that being confined with strangers, where conditions of scarcity are externally imposed and traditional social status markers denied, encourages adaptive responses that include interpersonal violence like violating another’s person or property (McCorkle, 1992; Sykes, 1958; Sykes & Messinger, 1960). Sykes (1958) noted that incarceration is characterized by five “deprivations”—of liberty, goods and services, autonomy, safety, and heterosexual relations—or the “pains of imprisonment” (p. 64). These deprivations encourage violence and limit the resources available to evade or manage such threats.
Prison scholars conceded more recently that environmental conditions (i.e., deprivation), together with individual characteristics (i.e., importation), construct and preserve prison culture—the integration model (Lahm, 2008, 2009; Sparks, Bottoms, & Hay, 1996). Integration theorists offer that prisoners adapts to incarceration in light of the intersecting and conflicting relationship between institutional arrangements and past and present biographical experiences (Goetting & Howsen, 1986; Sparks et al., 1996; Thomas, 1977). In-prison violence is also influenced by this relationship (e.g., the mix of a deprived environment, lived experiences, and subcultural norms that promote violence). Sources of violence vary across time and space and, with the current punishment-oriented penal environment in North America, prisons are anticipated to become increasingly more violent. Given the degree, multiple sources, and the extent of people participating in violent behaviors, it is not surprising that prisoners develop strategies to cope with the threat of victimization.
Dealing With the Threat of Victimization
Prisoners are affected by prison violence (Bartollas, Miller, & Dinitz, 1975; Huffman, 1961; Lockwood, 1980; Parisi, 1982), and studies have demonstrated that by coping with its threat, prisoners may avoid “risky” areas (Irwin, 1980), request protective custody (Greenfield, 1980), or create an image that conveys their ability to act violently (e.g., by carrying weapons or fighting; Irwin, 1980; Johnson, 1987; Ricciardelli, 2014a). McCorkle (1992) provided a systematic examination of how violence shaped prisoner behaviors in U.S. prisons. In his analysis of 300 prisoners, McCorkle (1992) found that 77.7% of respondents reduced their risk of violent victimization by “keeping to themselves” (e.g., avoiding certain areas of the prison, staying in their cells, or requesting protective custody), whereas 69.9% of his participants used violence or threatened violence to deter aggression. In light of these findings, McCorkle created two distinct factors, passive precaution and aggressive precaution, to explain the different strategies used to deal with the threat of victimization. He discovered a strong relationship between fear and avoidance where older prisoners, those serving longer sentences, and those who were not integrated into the prison subculture were more likely to use passive precaution (e.g., avoidance behaviors). In contrast, McCorkle uncovered a weaker relationship between fear and aggressive behaviors, where younger or weaker prisoners, those who had been in prison longer or had served fewer sentences, or with prior experiences of being threatened or victimized in prison were more likely to use aggressive precaution (e.g., fighting behaviors).
More recently, psychologists have studied aspects of victimization coping in British prisons (Chan & Ireland, 2009; Ireland, 2005, 2011). Ireland (2005) argued that fear gives rise to a variety of behavioral and emotional responses, including the precautionary behaviors noted by McCorkle (1992). Thus, Ireland (2005) developed the “Applied Fear Response” (AFR) to illustrate how victims respond to bullying in prison; specifically if they use avoidance or aggression. Findings suggest that perceptions of victimization risk were highest among prisoners who were either perpetrators or victims of violence in prison. These feelings could drive individuals to engage in “pre-emptive aggression” to reduce risk as well as other negative behaviors (e.g., substance abuse and avoidance; Ireland, 2005). In 2011, Ireland included cognitive factors such as threat appraisal, coping appraisal, and beliefs to her examination of how prisoners responded to feelings of fear. She reports that increased levels of fear among prisoners were predicted by high threat appraisal and low coping ability. However, perpetrators of victimization were less likely to feel at risk and more likely to feel personally able to minimize their risk; perhaps explaining their lower levels of fear. Perpetrators were also more likely than victims to rate aggression as a helpful strategy for managing risk yet both perpetrators and victims did rate avoidance favorably (Ireland, 2011).
Current Study
Rates of incarceration are highest in the United States, with over 7.2 million people (3.1% of the population, or 1 in every 32 adults) under some form of correctional supervision (e.g., probation, prison, jail, parole). Although in Canada incarceration rates are not as pronounced as in the United States, they have increased steadily for the last half decade and now are at an altime high—despite decreases in crime rates (Brosnahan, 2013; Glaze, 2010; Statistics Canada, 2009). The incarceration rate in 2009 was 117 people in custody for every 100,000 people—a total of 37,201 adults and 1,898 youth—with men and aboriginal adults being overrepresented (Correctional Service Canada, 2009). Moreover, with the passing of Bill C-10 and the associated policy and sentencing changes (e.g., mandatory minimum sentences), rates of incarceration are expected to continue to increase dramatically.
Given that more and more Canadian men are serving time in an increasingly violent prison environment (see Ricciardelli, 2014b), it is essential and timely to draw attention to how prisoners manage threats of victimization. Although some researchers (Ireland, 2005; McCorkle, 1992) have examined how prisoners cope with such threat, their research is somewhat dated, largely quantitative, and not within a Canadian context. However, in taking into account their findings, this study examines the strategies that men incarcerated in Ontario federal prisons (i.e., men sentenced to at least 2 years or more) adopt to manage the threat of victimization and how this helps to create some sense of safety. Theoretically, the work of McCorkle (1992) is extended by more finely classifying his ideas about passive and aggressive precautions (e.g., passive and aggressive techniques used to deter victimization). These concepts are unpacked to identify more variation in prisoners’ techniques of threat management than McCorkle’s categories allow in their original form. McCorkle’s findings (i.e., that fearful, older, and socially isolated prisoners use avoidance behaviors and younger prisoners behaved aggressively and proactively to deter violence as a means to enhance their position in the prisoner culture) are taken into account and compared with behaviors used in the current prison environment. Based on interviews with parolees, this study is a comprehensive investigation of prisoner self-reported behaviors adopted to cope with the potential for victimization.
Method
Semi-structured interviews were conducted with 56 men who had served time at a Canadian federal prison. Ages of participants ranged from 19 to 58 (M = 37). The majority of respondents self-identified as White (55%, n = 31) or Black (30%, n = 17), with others identifying as Muslim (5%, n = 3), Aboriginal (5%, n = 3), Aboriginal and Black (2%, n = 1), or Latin American (2%, n = 1). Of the respondents, only 9% (n = 5) were married while incarcerated although 55% (n = 31) had at least 1 child. The criminal histories of the participants varied as illustrated in their convictions: 59% (n = 33) had convictions for violent crimes (e.g., second degree murder, manslaughter, armed robbery, organized crime, and assault), 25% (n = 14) for non-violent, non-sexual crimes (e.g., drug trafficking, manufacturing, and possession), and 16% (n = 9) for sex-related offenses (e.g., sexual assault, child pornography, and pedophilia). One respondent elected not to disclose his convictions. Corresponding to their convictions, respondents’ sentences ranged between 2 years and life with parole.
Excluding time served in assessment 2 or temporary detainment units, 3 36% (n = 20) of the respondents served time in at least one maximum security prison, 55% (n = 31) in at least one medium security prison, and 84% (n = 45) in at least one minimum security prison. Also, a minimum of 75% (n = 42) of the respondents had previous prison experiences in federal, provincial, or juvenile facilities. Men serving a life sentence but released on parole or statutary release were included in the sample as well as those with long-term offender status. Men were only eligible to participate in the study if they had served at least one federal sentence in Canada, had an active warrant or recently expired warrant (i.e., within 6 months of the interview date), and were released from closed-custody. Recruitment was community-based where establishments that provide services to parolees in South Western Ontario provided information about the study to their clients. Specifically, word of mouth was the main form of recruitment. The interviews were conducted in a private space between February 2011 and February 2012. There length ranged from 45 to more than 180 min depending on the participants’ talkativeness.
Although the face-to-face interviews were semi-structured, a 35-item interview guide was used when needed to draw participants into conversation. It did not direct how the interview progressed; rather, it offered extensive leeway for the interviewer to probe conversational paths as they surfaced while touching on topics related to the personal and institutional experiences of incarceration. Interviews were voice recorded. Field notes were taken and a demographic survey that tracked the criminal histories and prison residences of the participants was completed. Interviews were transcribed and coded according to emergent themes as determined through a grounded approach consistent with Glaser and Strauss (1967). Specifically, core variables and major themes were identified and less relevant data were removed from the analysis (i.e., selective coding). Virtual coding maps were used to organize the data (organizing the transcribed data by themes rather than by participant) and to omit any problems of ambiguity or interpretation. If a respondent had more than one coping strategy or discussed more than one emergent theme they were included in multiple categories and subcategories as appropriate.
Participant confidentiality and anonymity were protected, and all participation was voluntary and could be terminated at any time during the interview process. 4 Pseudonyms were used to protect the identities of the participants in the transcribed data, file labels, and manuscripts. And any information that could potentially identify a respondent was also removed. Included quotations from participants have been edited to remove any non-prison slang, non-word utterances, speech fillers (e.g., umm, like, ahh), and to assist with comprehensibility and flow. To stay true to the voice of a participant, grammar was less frequently modified. Participants were offered an honorarium, provided consent, and thanked for their time.
Results
Findings related to how former prisoners coped with the threat of victimization when incarcerated are situated within behavioral categories that extend McCorkle’s (1992) concepts of passive precaution and aggressive precaution by introducing a new element of analysis—if the coping strategies used required individual agency (individual strategies) or group agency (alliance strategies). Individual strategies are self-sufficient coping strategies where a prisoner is not dependent or reliant on another prisoner for protection (e.g., staying quiet, keeping to oneself). Alliance strategies, contrastingly, are coping behaviors that involve being reliant on other prisoners for protection from threat (e.g., gang membership, having fellow members watch your back). Alliance association was operationalized as a former prisoner stating they were part of or joined an organized group, 5 brotherhood, or gang when incarcerated. In almost all cases, the bonds between members of alliances extended far beyond the confines of prison.
Individual-passive strategies include many coping behaviors that McCorkle (1992) classified as passive precaution (e.g., “kept more to self, avoided certain areas of the prison, spent more time in cell, avoided activities,” p. 167). However, these strategies were restricted to passive behaviors that prisoners engaged in independently. Individual-aggressive strategies, again, were limited to behaviors involving only individual agency and include most behaviors McCorkle (1992) grouped as aggressive precaution (e.g., “had to ‘get tough’ to avoid victimization, kept a weapon nearby,” p. 167). Alliance strategies, conversely, include passive/aggressive strategies used by prisoners who were members of an alliance and relied on their group for protection and support. Alliance strategies are classified as passive/aggressive because although a behavior may appear passive (e.g., creating strong bonds with other members), it is simultaneously aggressive (e.g., the membership will fight on behalf of each member when necessary). Said another way, alliance membership may appear as a passive coping strategy but it has aggressive undertones because all prisoners, members or non-members, understand that alliances fight as a group, have strength in numbers, and have acquired power and privilege due to their allegiance, history, and size. Indeed, alliance strategies provide protection from victimization as well as a sense of belonging and identity that strengthened the bonds between members.
Overall, the coping strategies expressed by the participants were organized based on if the prisoner was “alone” in prison (e.g., individual) or part of an alliance (e.g., gang). These strategies included individual-passive (e.g., awareness of surroundings and back watching, independent and quiet), individual-aggressive (e.g., engaging in physical violence, possession of a weapon), and alliance passive/aggressive (e.g., protection from victimization, power and privilege in membership, sense of belonging and identity in membership).
Individual-Passive: Awareness of Surroundings
When incarcerated, almost all interviewees described rarely if ever feeling safe. To cope with this feeling, they maintained an awareness of their surroundings and either “watched their backs” (Dave) or “had their backs against a wall” (Lance). This strategy created a sense of protection; given altercations could occur at any time for any reason (e.g., nature of charges, lack of trust). The very few respondents who did not discuss feeling unsafe and, as a result, did not employ this coping strategy differed from other interviewees because they only served time in minimum security prisons.
In higher security facilities (e.g., maximum or high–medium), respondents were always vigilant—aware of their surroundings—and “on alert” (Rob). They described a need to “protect themselves” (Frank) or “be on guard” (Pat) at all times. 6 This need transcended if they were in or out of their cells and intensified in the yard or showers where altercations were most commonplace. Despite cameras being present in prisons, respondents noted that prisoners knew the “blind spots” or simply “didn’t care” about being filmed. For instance, Kent noted, “Just watch your back because you never know when something’s going to happen . . . There are cameras but there are blind spots. Everyone knows the blind spots and some people could care less . . .”
This need for awareness impacted the daily behaviors of prisoners; creating new patterns of actions designed to heighten safety. Echoing those of many other respondents, Dave described his actions when incarcerated:
I don’t like people following close behind me . . . It’s just being aware. I could walk in a room and realize, okay, there are people over here, there are people over there. And I’d still be talking, I’d still notice there’s somebody on the computer, there are two people sitting on that chair . . . It’s just being aware of your surroundings; it doesn’t mean I’m constantly sketching out. But you’re aware of what’s going on around you. It just comes with being in the scene . . .
Parolees explained that prisoners should never let down their “guard” (Kam). Sam, a victim of multiple shank (i.e., homemade knives) wounds on his face and neck, described
You’re not supposed to turn your back to anybody. You don’t know who’s who . . . I was on that range for a lot of years . . . I got a little too comfortable. Right [motions to his scars], and that’s what happens.
Parolees warned never to trust others as prisoners were quick to turn on one another and the possibilities for problems were endless (e.g., an “angry guy” could “want to come stab you in the neck for nothing” [Hank] or a “little guy . . . might come and try to stab you in the back” [Jacob]). Tim explained that the weaker prisoners may appear less threatening but “don’t underestimate [them]. These guys are a fucking joke . . . They’re predators. They prey on weak . . . It’s happened a lot and guys died because of it.” Participants were concerned about being harmed and noted that being aware provided a sense of protection. Kent explained, “I just had my back to the wall and waited. I was ready if anything happened. I’m not going to let anybody come stab me or something.”
This coping strategy was particularly valuable for prisoners who had been convicted of sexual offenses (e.g., sexual inference or assault). These respondents stressed always needing to be aware of their surrounding because the nature of their crime made them prime targets for victimization. In prison Sal, a sex offender, explained, “Due to the sensitivity of my situation, I’m what you call down here, scum of the earth.” Generally, sex offenders—or prisoners who had victimized women or children—lived in a constant state of fear and, often, loneliness because they were ashamed of their crime and knew other prisoners would react negatively to them. Rick described being
Like a scared child. [It was the] first time I ever did any time in my whole life. This was all new to me. Everything was new to me. And I was scared. I, for that first 6 weeks in the fish tank, was sitting on pins and needles like you wouldn’t believe . . . [I was scared of] the other guys finding out what my charges were.
These respondents knew their social position in prison and were aware they were neither welcome nor their presence tolerated. Sal explained that his “prison sentence was based on worry. Will someone stab me? Kill me? Revenge . . . I had to go into survival instinct, to study my surroundings. Who are these guys? How best can I survive when I’m inside?” As a result, sex offenders often served their time in protective costudy segregated from the general population as soon as the institutional policy allowed. However, interviewees agreed that protective custody did not guarantee safety, largely due to “solid” criminals (e.g., non-sex offenders) who had transferred to protective custody for some reasons (e.g., debt, or snitching) and still preyed on sex offenders.
Individual-Passive: Quiet Independence
Many respondents dealt with the threat of victimization in prison by quietly and selectively socializing—never becoming linked to another prisoner. These former prisoners explained that in being quiet, minding their own business, and having few, if any, friends (e.g., “I had no friends” [Cory] or “I generally stuck to one dude . . . we just sort of kept to ourselves” [Max]), they were removed from potentially problematic situations including prison “politics” or “drama” (e.g., racial tensions, riots, etc.). Respondents stressed that in prison “friends” had drawbacks. They could not be fully trusted. Further, they could personably be held responsible for their “friends” actions or called to fight on their behalf:
Not having friends there [meant] I didn’t get sucked up into that shit. Because if . . . “Oh hey, so-and-so just got stabbed, we’ve got to stab him.” Well I don’t want any part of that; I’m just trying to serve my sentence. Here, I was like, “Hey, fuck buddy, I don’t even hardly know you man, do your thing.” (Dave)
Indeed, having friends was thought to create opportunities for misconduct leading to additional charges, extended sentences, or transfers to higher security institutions.
Quiet independence as a coping strategy also protected prisoners from altercations caused by breaches in behavioral norms (see Ricciardelli, 2014a). Dave summed up the general prisoner mind-set as follows: “There are some crazy days but if you just mind your own business, do your own time, and don’t get your nose up in other people’s shit, its fine.” Some men described being quiet in prison despite their “normally” talkative, social, and loud personality. They explained, “I always keep in my corner as a quiet guy” (Cal) or “I just stuck to myself” (Tim). Many discussed how routines helped them remain quiet and avoid trouble; “Your best bet is sticking to yourself. And don’t get caught up in the drama . . . Your best bet is just to get into a routine fast” (Ralph). Importantly, respondents did not use avoidance in prison (i.e., they frequented common areas without retreating), instead they steered clear of trouble, adhered to forewarnings offered by seasoned prisoners, and kept to themselves even among the crowd.
Individual-Aggressive: Engaging in Physical Violence
The overwhelming majority of respondents at some point when imprisoned had a physical encounter with another prisoner. They felt “it was the only way” (Max) to prove their strength, status and deter future victimization because a “hierarchy” (Max) or “pecking order” (Dwight) exists among prisoners. The positions at the top were reserved for solid prisoners with extensive criminal connections (e.g., persons with organized crime affiliations) and those at the bottom went to men who victimized women or children—often people in protective custody. Thus, all “solid” prisoners (i.e., non-sex offenders or snitches) in the general population fought to raise their status above the lower rungs on the hierarchical ladder. A prisoner that lost a fight was considered weak, thus prisoners were willing to continue fighting until they won to improve their status and, as a result, protect themselves, their property, and earn respect.
In “winning” altercations, a prisoner became known as someone “not to be messed with” (Hank). Dave explained how a prisoner who previously lost “wanted to come back and fight me again,” he explained, “It’s a respect thing . . . so stupid, I never understood it. We go to jail because we can’t follow rules and then we go there, and make up our own rules.” If a prisoner lost a fight, showed weakness or fear, parolees explained, the duration of his sentence would be difficult. These prisoners were “exploited” (Zak), “violated” (Klive), and “walk[ed] on by everybody” (Max). Losing a fight could result in a prisoner being: “sexually assaulted, maybe even stabbed, killed, numerous times, ripped off . . . guys stealing your stuff” (Sal). A suspected “rat” (e.g., prisoners in collaboration with guards) or sex offender were treated the worst in prison, had the most to fear, and were often victimized (see Ricciardelli & Moir, 2013).
Of these 56 participants fewer than 5% wanted to fight; others felt they had no other option and many feared the consequences of altercations (e.g., killing or being killed). Max explained, “I got into a couple fights but most of them had to be fights. When you are in jail, you have to fight . . . It’s simple.” For some, their “violent” self-presentation was initially a ruse although as their sentence progressed it often became increasingly real:
My violence was really more like a bluff. [When] I got there it turned—it got more real. It’s a defense mechanism, as soon as you walk in there you feel the tension. So you automatically have your guard up, you build a wall and it’s a survival thing. (Tom)
Similarly Sal, a sex offender—unlike Tom who was a solid prisoner, summarized,
I’m not a man of violence by nature. I grew up in a very rough community, but in general that wasn’t who I was . . . There were times that I had to literally call a guy to a fight, hoping that it didn’t go there, but I had to say, “Well, Sal? You’re going to have to do this. Or else.” Because if you back down one time, or you suddenly start talking your way out of it, people are just going to say: “Oh, that’s the kind of guy he is.” I just had to make sure that I wasn’t the guy who was stepped on.
Many men, often self-identified “fighters” or those convicted of murder, were concerned about the outcomes of fighting. These men feared killing someone accidentally or, by being charged with misconduct, having more time added to their sentence. Particularly, older prisoners did not want to cause fatal harm or be responsible for another man’s death. Hank noted he worried about
Doing something to defend myself that might hurt somebody real bad, where they might have died . . . Where defending myself, would lead to something like that, because it has happened in there. People fighting, a guy defending himself, he ended up killing the other person.
Interestingly, the few respondents that wanted to fight were young (e.g., ages 18-23), trying to earn a reputation for being “tough,” or fighting on behalf of others in exchange for drugs or other “privileges” that they could not afford to pay for otherwise.
Individual-Aggressive: Possession of a Weapon
Some respondents (less than 50%) had a weapon in their possession for use if threatened or called to fight. Weapons (e.g., shanks) provided protection and an increased sense of security without being dependent or reliant on others. Some respondents felt they needed a weapon, particularly those in higher security facilities, and would rather be punished than surrender the weapon. Ralph, for instance, described his experiences with a buck knife he did not want to lose:
I wouldn’t give it up to them [corrections staff]. I kept hiding it and hiding it. They tried to find it but they couldn’t. So they threw me in the hole until they found it. It took them almost a year to find it. I was in the hole for nine months. It’s their protocol. If there’s a knife on the range, they have to protect the safety of other inmates. And because I knew where it was, they wouldn’t let me out until they found it. When they found it, they let me out the next day. But I wouldn’t tell them where it was. It was mine. It’s my protection . . . I don’t trust nobody.
Parolees noted, given most attacks were not one-on-one and instead were one-on-all alliance members, prisoners with weapons were often not part of an alliance. In trying to determine why this was the case two possibly interconnected reasons arose: (a) prisoners without alliance affiliations felt they required additional protection in prison because they did not have “people” they could call on if a situation arose and/or (b) possessing a weapon was dangerous (e.g., if caught with a weapon one could be sent to segregation and/or charged). Thus, alliance members may not possess weapons but have some at their disposal if needed (i.e., other prisoners store or hold their weapons in exchange for protection or “privileges”). Some interviewees felt pressured by others in prison to craft (e.g., those with access to welding or certain metals or tools) or hide a weapon in their cell (e.g., certain cells had known “hiding places”). Max explained,
The cell I was in had a space about “that big” at the bottom of the toilet. Just big enough to fit some steal under. When I got on the range and somebody said “Bro listen, your cell is the cell, can you take care of this?” it was like “Yeah-Yeah, sure.” I had no choice. I didn’t want to touch that thing. I was trying to get parole, the last thing I wanted was for them to search my cell and find this steal. But at the same time what am I going to say? “Oh, sorry bro, can’t do it” Well, [if I said that] I was going to be wearing that piece of jewellery to the frigging medical wing. So a rock and a hard place. Of course I took it, right? . . . I would rather just have had the thing out of circulation, because that’s the kind of guy I am, but at the same time, it’s not my business, and if it means I have to take a fall, or take a charge, or not get parole to stay solid well, that’s part of the life in there.
Clearly, not hiding a weapon could lead to victimization and surrendering a weapon could suggest one was a snitch again leading to altercations. Either acts resulted in a tarnished reputation (no longer solid). Thus, weapon possession was an interesting complex coping strategy that provided diverse forms of protection. On one hand, it provided the illusion of strength and ruthlessness—someone not be “mess with”—and on the other it could keep an individual protected without becoming a member of an alliance although this was not by choice (e.g., due to their cell or job). Overall, respondents felt that having weapons in circulation was dangerous and those with weapons were potential threats.
Alliance Passive/Aggressive: Power and Privilege
Some respondents reported coping with the threat of victimization in prison through alliance membership; affiliations they could depend on if needed. Although these men represent a smaller portion of the sample (e.g., less than 25%), the strategies they employed were telling about the prison experience. Respondents who were not part of alliances often speculated about why some people sought membership once incarcerated; discussing their perceptions of the associated advantages (e.g., power, privilege) or disadvantages (e.g., being called to fight).
Respondents in alliances when incarcerated were members of diverse “organizations” (e.g., biker gangs, racial/ethnic gangs, gangs based on urban locations). At the time of their interview, some were active members and some were former members—they had successfully left the organization (e.g., “I’m thankful for that [being able to leave the gang] because somewhere else, like back in Los Angeles, these gangs; they’ll kill you. So if I can exit it, than it would be my weakness that would get me back into it” [AJ]). Also, some joined alliances while incarcerated and others were already members prior to prison.
Privileges associated with alliance affiliation were extensive and ranged from private tables and personal chefs to cigarettes and protection. Members of all alliances described alliance-specific privileges ranging from perceived “respect” and “privacy” from staff to more tangible realities. Frank, for instance, explained that due to his membership when some men were “eating on our table, it wasn’t right, so they [the staff] gave us a separate side and things like that. We got a guy cooking our food. He didn’t cook for the whole population, only for [us].” Beyond helping to pass time, create a sense of belonging, and deal with loneliness (e.g., “It was nice [being a member] you could keep to yourself and you had the company” [Pat]), these membership “perks” passively demonstrated the status of alliances in prisons. They had aggressive undertones; they excluded others, displayed ownership (e.g., where one can or cannot sit), and suggested that they were not to be challenged.
The real advantage of this coping strategy was its passive/aggressive nature. Said another way, the strategy of a seemly passive member (e.g., who minds their own and keeps to himself) remains aggressive because his membership is embedded in power, privilege, and offers him protection. There is power in membership and personal power. Personal power was evident in how members felt they had more control than the average prisoner. AJ described,
I had a little bit of power and I didn’t abuse my power. [Some] people have a little bit of power and they start to abuse it; terrorizing people. If I saw two people were about to get into it and both of them respected me, I would do my best to prevent the fight from happening before it turned into something big.
AJ’s strategy appears superficially passive; using his “power” for good by trying to diffuse potential conflict. However, the strategy is aggressive; it entails getting involved in the affairs of others. Moreover, if the prisoners’ do not oblige with the advice he provided an additional altercation would likely follow to remind those involved that they should have listened. AJ, for example, was eventually transferred to a maximum security facility because of an altercation (e.g., “I did my best to stop a lot of bad intention that was going on. Unfortunately I couldn’t stop everything. That’s why I . . . [was transferred]”). Gang affiliation gave members power; clearly evident in the ability of members to enforce punishment on other prisoners and to create the illusion of power such that non-members would fear the repercussions of “crossing” a member.
Alliance Passive/Aggressive: Power and Protection in Membership
Given non-members viewed alliance affiliation as indicative of power and members felt protected and powerful, opting to join an alliance in prison was telling. Respondents that took this path employed a passive/aggressive coping strategy; the passive act of joining a group while agreeing to the selectively aggressive “job description.” In swearing allegiance, necessary to acquire protection, the member has obligations to the group. Respondents, members or non-members, explained that in prison an altercation was never with “just one gang member” (Ash); it was always against the group. Hank explained,
When they’re on their own, they’re just another somebody. But when they’re with their group, then they try to play the role of “Hey, I’m invincible. You can’t mess with me because there are 20 of us, and one of you.” That’s usually how it is. No one fights one-on-one in there. If you were to fight one-on-one and you won, chances are, the next day you’re going to get jumped by a whole bunch of guys.
Alliance members were spread out across the prison on different ranges and word spread quickly (e.g., through the vents and prisoners going to work, programs, or school). Thus, requesting transfer to another range was insufficient to avoid an altercation with an alliance as well as requesting transfer to another facility (e.g., prisoners had contact with people in the community, including alliance members, and information could be passed between facilities). Kent noted,
They’re so many of them [alliance members] and they just run the prison. It’s not like they run the prison to say what happens and what does not happen. But not a lot of people fuck with the [gang]. If you’re [gang] you don’t get into a beef with another [gang]. They’re not going to let that happen. But if you’re not [gang] and you get into a beef with a [gang] guy something’s going to happen.
In this sense, alliances were powerful, in prison and on the street, and aggressive.
Respondents serving time at different prisons varying across security levels felt a few predominant alliances, due to their large membership, controlled the prisons. Some reported feeling pressured to convert to a different religious faith (e.g., Muslim vs. Catholic) or change how they identified (e.g., Aboriginal vs. Latino) to be accepted into an alliance that would in turn secure their safety; again a passive/aggressive strategy. Respondents noted, “A lot of these young scared Black guys come in and they want to be a part of that [gang] because they want to feel protected. It’s all about the feeling of being safe, being liked and known” (Klive). Some respondents went so far as to change their name to be ensure acceptance into an alliance.
Alliance Passive/Aggressive: Bonds in Membership
Respondents provided some insight into why people joined alliances in prison. Often, participants who were members before incarceration ended up in prison for gang-related activities. These particular respondents cited their membership as a result of where they lived, how they were treated by people who assumed they were part of a gang—before they ever were—and life circumstances. For example,
I became affiliated with them around the age of 16/17. That’s when I really started being active . . . Basically I joined the gang because . . . of protection. I was wrongfully targeted by police, wrongfully targeted by other gangs because I was from here. So, I was just like: “ok fine.” For me to be comfortable when I came home or to go home and be comfortable in my building I had to be with these guys and I saw how they were respected. (AJ)
In prison, alliance membership was the foundation of many of friendships. Members shared experiences and backgrounds; further strengthening their bonds. Dwight explained,
You go through the heartache, stress and worrying . . . you have so much in common with other people and you can relate . . . So I can understand why gangs happen and the allegiance to certain types of criminal activity.
Members also seemed to share certain attributes that further bonded them (e.g., religious affiliation, ethnic identities).
Some respondents felt, in reflecting on their experiences, that their membership gave them a sense of belonging; preventing feelings of loneliness and being out of place. Without membership, Frank said, “You have nothing. You’re lost.” These respondents felt cared for and cared about by their fellow members both in kind (e.g., their physical needs) and emotionally (e.g., their psychological needs). Generally, Dwight suggested, “People get into organizations because it is like a family, and if you do go to jail you’re 100% covered. You get tobacco right off the bat, you don’t have to wait for canteen, everybody’s got everything for you.” Having these needs met made prisoners feel they were truly cared about and understood—further intensifying their loyalty and allegiance.
Respondents also talked about the value of alliances when serving their first sentence in the penitentiary. Members assisted each other in learning the norms of prison living; essential to survival on the inside:
It’s pretty tough. You need to learn the ropes. They tell you not to step on other peoples’ toes, to mind your own business. So I just stuck with the reverend group there. On our range there were probably four, six of us brothers. We just stuck together. (Kam)
Members of every alliance felt their own alliance was superior and treated its own members better than those of any other. In this sense, respondents praised their alliance and criticized others:
[Group A], especially in the penitentiary, they stick together. The [Group B] guys there, you don’t know if they’re going or coming. Most of them come over to our side because they see the way we live in there and how we help each other . . .
Indeed, the strength of the bonds between members and the mutual respect was clearly evident in how they addressed each other—brothers.
Conclusion
Theoretically, this study extended McCorkle’s (1992) previous work on coping strategies to include prisoner reliance (alliance) or lack of reliance (individual) on other prisoners. This extension emerged from the data in light of how alliance affiliation appeared to influence respondents’ behavior and experiences in prison. The resulting categorizations represent the coping strategies used by each interviewee to manage the threat of victimization; at one time or another all men adopted strategies that were either passive, aggressive, or passive/aggressive to avoid being preyed upon in prison.
McCorkle’s (1992) findings indicated that prisoners generally favored either the strategy of avoidance or that of aggression with fewer using both. He found that prisoners either attacked or were aggressive proactively with the goal of earning status to deter violence. Yet, rather than aggression being a strategy one chooses to adopts, my respondents reported that at some point during their prison sentence they felt they had no choice but to fight another prisoner; to prevent future incidences of victimization. These men, despite if they were in the general population or protective custody, viewed fighting as their only option. Furthermore, this turn to aggression occurred despite a prisoners’ preferred coping strategy: staying on their own, being quiet, or alliance membership. Interestingly, the interviewees who described their aggression or violence as “fake,” a “bluff,” or a “ruse” were men who had served 20 plus years in prison. Contrastingly, those that self-identified as non-violent by nature but became violent in prison had served shorter sentences (e.g., less than 10 years). Parolees identifying as aggressive by nature were also young. This trend appears indicative of a changing prison culture and a greater push toward violence behind bars—something to caution for and an area necessitating future inquiry.
Also, noteworthy, most respondents opted to be self-reliant when incarcerated rather than join alliances; perhaps indicative of a preference for individual versus alliance strategies among prisoners to deal with potential victimization. Prisoner strategies were similar to McCorkle’s (1992) reported emphases on being passive or aggressive; however, they differed in prisoners’ reliance on others when incarcerated. Respondents employing individual-passive strategies remained independent, quiet, aware of their surroundings, and watched their backs. McCorkle’s (1992) findings were similar in that he noted prisoners “kept to themselves,” yet his findings also suggested that prisoners employed a technique of avoidance (e.g., spending more time in their cells, avoiding activities and areas). This trend did not emerge in the current data; rather than avoidance respondents appeared to favor awareness (e.g., being aware of tensions or riot potential). Interviewees rarely avoided activities or felt a need (not a choice) to stay in their cells; although some did choose to read or study in their cells due to a need for quiet (e.g., not due to feeling threatened). Generally, respondents did not disclose avoiding any areas of the prison—including high-risk areas such as the yard or showers.
Interestingly, alliance strategies were passive, yet aggressive. Members used many of the coping behaviors McCorkle (1992) categorized as passive precaution and aggressive precaution in conjunction. However, this new dynamic—the ability to selectively determine when and how to act based on the group’s needs—combined with the ability to exert power and dominance with support, to have assistance if required, and to develop mutual bonds with members created an alternative coping strategy; a seductive strategy for some prisoners. Tellingly, the power of alliances was evident in how interviewed members never carried or hid weapons in prison yet always had access to them. Rather than carry their own weapons, prisoners who often entered the situation by fluke (e.g., their cell, job) crafted, held, or hid weapons on their behalf. This too demonstrates the power of alliances as non-members would rather breach formal conduct rules and risk charges of misconduct (e.g., potentially having time added to their sentence) than counter the will of the alliance or one of its members. Clearly, a passive/aggressive strategy used to cope with the threat of victimization in prison. Non-members, however, carried their own shanks for protection.
Given this study was exploratory in nature—it was not designed with the intention of investigating coping strategies—there are some methodological limitations. Indeed, even when intended, studying strategies for coping with violence in prison is innately difficult for a variety of reasons (e.g., prisons and prisoner experiences vary among and between countries, prisons, and persons) and can generate some concern about the generalizability of findings. However, given violence is an omnipresent threat in most prisons and prisoners must cope with this threat this study does shed light on how this can be done. Second, participant recruitment was largely word of mouth. As such, this study may be limited given that it is impossible to know the non-response rate or the potential biases in how the sample was acquired. Nonetheless, the time and attention to detail used in conducting interviews and analyzing transcripts provides insight and a valuable starting point for future research in the area.
Alliance affiliation in prisons appears to have vast implications for prisoner behavior and safety. Findings suggest that such affiliations impact how prisoners must behave in prison (e.g., forced to fight on behalf of another member), yet why do some prisoners elect alliance or individual coping strategies and do personal factors or circumstances play into such decisions? Additional investigations are also needed to determine if alliance membership leads to either more aggressive behaviors in prison (e.g., people become ruthless due to the support system in place) or assists with controlling the prison environment in some way (e.g., stops other prisoners from acting out); and how these affiliations influence post-release behaviors (e.g., members being more open to returning to prison because of their relationships and sense of belonging). Clearly, research examining the relationship between alliance membership and recidivism is warranted. This is further supported by the fact that only a small number of respondents in the 56 interviewed were alliance members—perhaps indicating greater prisoner misconduct among alliance members when incarcerated (e.g., institutional changes prolonging incarceration). Such information may assist in shaping or developing policies designed to decrease rates of recidivism or misconduct.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The author received financial support for the research from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada, in the form of a Standard Research Grant in the 2010 competitioin.