The prisoner’s dilemma: How male prisoners experience and respond to penal threat while incarcerated

Abstract

Drawing on interview data with 56 former prisoners in Canada, we examine how male prisoners understand, experience, and respond to threat while incarcerated. We show that prisoners face a variety of different and often competing threats, resulting from prisoner interactions (e.g. threat of physical violence for being a “snitch”) on the one side, and institutional powers and procedures on the other side (e.g. threat of delayed release from prison). These threats are competing insofar as countering a prisoner threat opens the door to threat on the institutional level (i.e. administrative uncertainties) and vice versa. As a consequence, we show how feeling threatened for prisoners becomes paramount and in many cases unavoidable as the different threats in prison are difficult, if not impossible, to handle in unison. However, in an effort to stay physically safe and work toward their release, prisoners must find viable strategies to navigate different prison environments, particularly as they move between prisons of differing security classifications. We draw on Giddens' notion of “ontological insecurity” to draw attention to prisoners' feelings of perpetual vulnerability and insecurity. In addition, we build on Luhmann's conceptualization of risk and danger to explain how male prisoners experience and respond to moments of “danger” when they are faced with competing threats and must decide how to best navigate them.

Keywords

prison risk strategies safety security threat

Introduction

Prison constitutes a high risk, low safety environment (Bottoms, 1999; Bowker, 1980; Crewe, 2011; Jewkes, 2005; Toch, 1977), where threat can be physical, psychological (e.g. emotional, verbal), or administrative in form, impacting prisoners’ wellbeing and thus their parole eligibility. Researchers have long unveiled the ‘pains’ of incarceration (Irwin and Cressey, 1961; Sykes, 1958); select others have examined the ways prisoners first adapt to the deprivations of incarceration and then seek to create some semblance of safety while incarcerated (e.g. McCorkle, 1992; Ricciardelli, 2014a). De Viggiani (2012: 277), in his ethnographic research with male prisoners, argued that prisoners adopt a range of “fronts” in an effort to fit into the prison community and avoid exploitation; such “fronts” include engaging in public banter, projecting a tough persona, and working on a muscular self. He also noted that prisoners may withdraw from their peers and opt to spend their time alone in their cell as a way to avoid exploitation. McCorkle (1992: 164–166) similarly found that prisoners, in an effort to reduce their risk of violence, engage in two broad styles of protection, namely “keeping to themselves” and “getting tough” (see also Bottoms, 1999). In this article, we aim to augment this small body of work by asking two new questions, notably: (i) How does the prison environment affect prisoners’ strategies of protection, or how do prisoners' strategies of protection shift between prisons of different security classifications? (ii) What resources do prisoners’ draw on when assessing and deliberating how to “best” stay safe in prison?

Analyzing data from in-depth, semi-structured interviews with former male federal prisoners released into an urban center in Ontario, Canada, we approach these questions by focusing on discussions of threats present in higher-security versus lower-security prisons. We distinguish between two kinds of threats: (i) prisoner threats, referring to threats that result from prisoner interactions, such as the threat of physical violence for being a “snitch” and (ii) administrative uncertainties, referring to institutional powers and procedures that can pose a threat to a prisoners’ legal future, such as the threat of a delayed release from prison. While extant research has focused largely on prisoners’ responses to what we term prisoners threats (e.g. McCorkle, 1992), we demonstrate, more concretely, the ways prisoners must handle both, threats that derive from other prisoners and those that derive from the demands of the prison institution. We emphasize that instead of disappearing or fading, perceived threat takes new forms in institutions of different security classifications and culture. We build on Giddens' (1991) notion of “ontological insecurity” to demonstrate how for incarcerated men, feeling threatened becomes paramount and in many cases unavoidable as the different prisoner and administrative threats in prison remain difficult, if not impossible, to handle in unison. Using ex-prisoners' narratives, specifically releasees who, at the time of interview, were under the supervision of Correctional Service Canada (CSC), we illuminate what we refer to, –building on Niklas Luhmann's (1993) conception of risk–, as moments of “danger.” Said moments are situations when prisoner threats and administrative threats meet, and prisoners must decide how to best navigate the particular risk situation. In this context, we examine how male prisoners rethink and modify their strategies of protection and “safekeeping” (Stanko, 1997) as they move between prisons of different security classifications. We reveal the relative nature of penal threat, demonstrating how some threats may be prioritized because they are defined by the individual as more pressing (e.g. Rhodes, 1977). We argue that male prisoners must constantly counteract perceived threat by adjusting their behaviors in response to the various, often competing, threats they encounter.

“Prisoner codes”, safety, and victimization

The “prisoner code” denotes informal rules and guidelines that prescribe certain behaviors (e.g. staying true to your word), while prohibiting or discouraging others (e.g. supporting prison staff) (Sykes, 1958; Trammell, 2009a; Ricciardelli, 2014b). Internationally, “prisoner codes” that serve to govern prison living are documented in correctional institutions in the United States (e.g. Trammell, 2009a), Britain (e.g. Crewe, 2009; Jewkes, 2005), Nigeria (Onojeharho and Bloom, 1986), Israel (Einat and Einat, 2000), and India (Bandyopadhyay, 2006), among others. Canadian prisons are not an exception. Ricciardelli (2014b), in her study of federally incarcerated Canadian men, outlines five central tenants of the “inmate code.” Her interviewees placed an emphasis on being dependable, self-focused, and fearless (at least in self-presentation) to survive in prison, as well as to mind their own affairs, adhere to rules of etiquette and hygiene, and to refrain from talking to staff. Researchers have shown that while compliance with the “prisoner code” may gain the solidarity of one’s peers, its violations merit exclusion from the prisoner community and an increased potential for prisoner interpersonal victimization (e.g. Tew et al., 2015). The “prisoner code” itself in many cases constitutes a threat to prisoners’ sense of safety (Ricciardelli, 2014b), particularly if the informal rules guiding prison living stand in opposition to the prison’s official rules and procedures, and prisoners find themselves in a position where complying with both types of rules or guidelines (i.e. “prisoner codes” versus official rules) may seem almost impossible.

In his essay on interpersonal violence in prison, Bottoms (1999: 269) points out an important contradiction between the “pervasiveness of the rule of force” demanded by the “code” among prisoners and research findings that suggest prisoners feel relatively safe despite the “code’s” dominance—with its engrained potential for victimization. Bottoms (1999: 269) uses the term “safety paradox” to draw attention to the contradiction between studies of prisoners' feelings of safety and other accounts of prison life “that paint a picture of inmate society very close to Hobbes's nightmarish vision.” Scholars have largely relied on quantitative measures, either self-reported or as documented in institutional statistics, to explain prisoners' feelings of safety or specific experiences of victimization (e.g. Hemmens and Marquart, 1999; Kellar and Wang, 2005; Wolff et al., 2007; Wolff and Shi, 2011). For example, Wolff and Shi (2009) examined how at risk male prisoners felt of different types of victimization (physical, sexual, or property theft). The majority of their sample had not experienced recent victimization in prison and as a consequence, the authors conclude, felt safe. Prisoners who felt the least safe had experienced recent victimization, leading Wolff and Shi (2009: 812) to conclude that feeling insecure is positively correlated with prisoners' actual experiences of victimization and that “prisons are differentially safe from the inmate perspective” (see also Camp, 1999).

Existing studies of prisoners' feelings of safety also highlight the relative nature of prison threat (e.g. McCorkle, 1992). Prisoners’ feelings of safety, researchers show, vary across institutions of different security levels and prison spaces (McCorkle, 1992; Wolff and Shi, 2011). Wolff and Shi (2011) show, for example, that prisoners feel less safe in open spaces such as work and dining areas and safer in secluded areas, such as their cell. Consistent with these findings, the prisoners in McCorkle’s study (1992: 165) rated open spaces, like the yard, as the most “dangerous” places in prison. These studies suggest that lack of safety is relative, rather than encompassing, and that many prisoners report feeling safe, despite the pervasiveness of potential victimization derived from the “prisoner code.”

The current study

Bottoms (1999: 270) proposes that to understand the “safety paradox,” we need to reference research that shows that prisoners “over time gradually work out ways of coping with this strange world.” Scholars have yet to account for how perceptions of threat and safety change by phase of custody, and how shifting perceptions of threat influence prisoners' strategies of protection. Following Bottoms, we seek to understand what safety means for incarcerated men, and how they seek to create safety while incarcerated. In doing so, we depart from previous studies of prisoner safety by qualitatively examining how male prisoners understand and constitute safety, rather than, for example, measure rates of victimization. We rely on in-depth interviews with former prisoners in an effort to understand how individuals talk about and reflect back on their perceptions and experiences of risk in different environments, thereby developing a better sense of how conceptions of risk and threat change as people move through their prison sentence.

Notably, all 56 men in our study reported feeling insecure, operationalized to include any discussion related to feeling at risk of victimization, of being under threat, and of concern or worry about what may occur while incarcerated. For most interviewees, never being able to “let their guard down” impeded their sense of safety and meant they felt an omnipresent risk of victimization, even in the absence of actual experiences of victimization. Our findings thus challenge previous studies (see above) and invite scholars to think about what safety means in the context of incarceration. Prisoners’ feelings of insecurity, we suggest, are directly related to prisoners’ interpretation of threat as something that can be actualized at any time, and in consequence, feelings of safety are always temporary and unsustainable. We further show how feeling insecure does not diminish over time for prisoners; they do not “learn” how to feel safe; rather, the meaning attached to the idea of safety changes as prisoners move between higher and lower-security institutions. When safety is understood in these broader terms, the “safety paradox”–the apparent contradiction between the “rule of force” (Bottoms, 1999: 270) of the prisoner code and studies that suggest that prisoners feel relatively safe–we suggest, appears to fade.

Giddens (1991:3) uses the term “ontological insecurity” to denote a deep-seated sense of uncertainty and instability; the lack of “a 'protective cocoon' which stands guard over the self in its dealing with everyday reality.” He explains that “[in] circumstances of uncertainty and multiple choice, the notions of trust and risk have particular application.” Trust, then, serves to “screen off” potential threats and dangers inherent in everyday life, while loss of trust may induce a state of anxiety, insecurity, and uncertainty. Applying Giddens’ (1991) concepts of “ontological insecurity” and existential anxiety to prison living, we suggest that prisoners, throughout their time in custody, remain in a state of “ontological insecurity” and perpetual vulnerability, because—even in the absence of actual physical victimization—they know violence could be actualized at any point. In addition, we show prisoners’ lack certainty and security around their legal future, which contributes to a general, deep-seated feeling of risk and insecurity. We emphasize that we cannot get a sense of prisoners' feeling of “safety” without taking into account how different kinds of risks, specifically those stemming from other prisoners, the institution, and their precarious legal status, together create a “risk environment” and shape prisoners' sense of safety, security, and wellbeing.

In addition to examining prisoners' feelings and perceptions around safety, we also analyze how interviewees responded to and navigated penal threats. We do this by drawing on studies of “risk” in an effort to delve into how prisoners negotiate a prison environment that, although mundane, is laced with fear, risk, and threat. Specifically, we draw on research by scholars who observe and evaluate how risk is understood and constituted by social actors in “society” or specific social worlds. Sanders (2004), for example, in her study of British sex workers explains that sex workers must consciously assess and manage occupational risks through calculated risk strategies, informed by their own, as well as others’ risk experiences and interpretations. Other scholars (e.g. Rhodes, 1997) have described risk as inherently dynamic and interactive; defined by physical environments and local cultures that also organize people’s perceptions of risk. Risk is thus relative. Focused on women’s fear and negotiation of men’s crimes, Stanko (1997: 488) explains that women “actively manage ‘crime’ through our strategies of safekeeping.” These strategies of “safekeeping,” of which she refers, are the ongoing process of assessing and managing risk as informed by “situated, locally-produced knowledge of our risk and conceptualization of danger.”

Stanko (1997) and Rhodes (1997), said another way, argue that perceptions of risk are socially organized and reflect experiences. Environment then is central to the constitution, recognition, and negotiation of risk—including that of the prison. To elucidate how male prisoners constitute, assess, and negotiate penal threats or risks in prison, we conceptualize risk and threat in prison as fluid and multidimensional. Specifically, we are interested in understanding why certain situations in prison are perceived as risky while others are not, and the factors which shape prisoners’ responses to perceived threat.

Method

Our analysis is based on semi-structured, in-depth interviews with 56 male parolees who were incarcerated in one of the, formerly, 11 federal prisons in Ontario, Canada. Participants ranged in age from 19 to 58 years, with an average age of 37. The majority identified as White (55%; n=31); 17 (30%) as Black; three (5%) as Indigenous; and eight (14%) as other. Their convictions included violent crimes (59%, n=33) such as murder, armed robbery, and assault, non-violent non-sexual crimes (25%, n=14) such as drug trafficking and possession, and sex-related offenses (16%, n=9). One respondent elected not to outright disclose the nature of his conviction. All respondents had served time in a maximum security facility or on a maximum security unit during “reception” (i.e. the first three months of a federal sentence where prisoners undergo and await result of their intake assessments and transfer to their “home” institution). Post reception, participants had served in penitentiaries of diverse security classification, ranging from minimum to maximum security. This allowed us to ask participants about how they experienced and managed threat across facilities of different security classifications and how their perceptions and experiences of threat changed with the different penal environments.

Participant recruitment occurred in the community, where the study was advertised at a reporting center in an Ontario city. Beyond the study advertisement, most recruitment was word-of-month. Persons under the supervision of CSC referred to the reporting center or living in nearby halfway houses or homeless shelters, heard about the study from peers who had interviewed or their case manager and volunteered to participate. Each interview was voice recorded, conducted in a private space, and ranged in length from 45 to 180 min. Although an interview guide was available, to ensure all themes where covered, the interview followed the conversational trajectory put forth by the interviewee. This process was encouraged by the open-ended questions, which provided the interviewer with the flexibility to request more details or clarification as themes emerged. In the face-to-face interviews, participants were explicitly asked about their feelings of safety (i.e. did you feel safe in prison?), their experiences of threat (i.e. did you ever feel threatened by other prisoners or prison staff), and how they dealt with feeling threatened (e.g. how did you respond?). More often than not, conversations surrounding these topics emerged naturally at different stages throughout the interview in relation to other topics under discussed (e.g. prisoner code, healthcare, post-prison plans).

Releasees, we argue, are uniquely situated to talk about their perceptions and experiences of risk in prison. We interviewed former (rather than current) prisoners so they could report on their full range of experiences of threat in different penal environments and reflect on potential differences between prisons of higher versus lower security―without fear of looking like a snitch or abated by power differentials given the presence of correctional workers in the institution. At the same time, since all interviewees were released within six months at the time of the interview, they remained attune to their prison experiences. This retrospective approach, where the interviewee is able to reflect on theirprison experiences, beyond providing more depth in knowledge in comparison to survey data, ensures that experiences with lasting salience are discussed. It also ensures that releasees can speak openly about their experiences without concern about appearing to ‘snitch’ or being overheard by persons in positions of authority, like correctional officers.

The transcribed interview data were then thematically coded for emergent themes, using a semi-grounded and constructed approach (see Charmaz, 2006; Glaser & Strauss, 1967). Pseudonyms are used to protect participants’ identities as well as those of the correctional facilities in which they served time.

Results

Experiences of prisoner threats

Interviewees experienced a multitude of prisoner threats, ranging from violence and intimidation to the fear that other prisoners may jeopardize their parole. Threats of physical violence, ranging from slapping and pushing to more extensive and even lethal acts of aggression (e.g. stabbing) were experienced as particularly salient in higher-security prisons. Housed in a maximum security prison, 30-year-old Marcus recounted his experience as follows:

The first day I got there they [other prisoners] approached me and told me I was too big and they’d have to stab me from behind… [So I] sharpened up my shank and I went to shower with my shank. Went to the shower, washroom, gym, yard, I ate with my shank. I had my shank all the time….stressed all day. Looking behind me, I was always having my back to the wall, always watched my surroundings…it was stressful, things were different; dangerous or whatever. Stabbings everyday; a lot of people get killed.

Data that would help assess whether Marcus' account of the prevalence of prisoner-on-prisoner violence (“stabbings everyday”) matches “objective” levels of violence are limited, as even where official data exist, it is often incomplete, sometimes contradictory, and largely either unavailable to the public or available data is not stratified by institution, security classification, and other factors (e.g. management style, prisoner culture) that our data evidences to be relevant.¹ However, since we seek to understand how prisoners perceive and respond to threat in prison, it is less relevant whether the prison Marcus was held in was “objectively” dangerous (or to assess exactly how “dangerous” it was), and more important to understand what Marcus' narrative reveals about his perceptions and assessments of the prison and the meaning he attributes to feeling safe versus feeling at risk. As Sandberg (2010: 461) has argued, “[if] the researcher’s primary interest is in cultures and value-systems […] questioning the truthfulness of research participants may be unnecessary.” Regardless of their “truth” or accuracy, narratives are constitutive of social life and can tell us about interviewees' context-specific perceptions and understandings (Sandberg, 2010). We argue that prisoners' subjective perceptions of risk and threat (rather than “objective” levels of violence) shape how they respond to perceived threat. Marcus for example “sharpened up” his shank and took it with him wherever he went, because he felt like the potential for victimization was ever-present. His narrative then reveals the omnipresent risk of physical victimization, often accompanied by feelings of uncertainty and unpredictability, he and others described in higher-security prisons. Cyril stated, “you always got to look over your shoulder. You don't know what could happen at any time […].”

Consistent with prior research (e.g. Sykes and Messinger, 1960; Tew et al., 2015), interviewees also explained how any violation of the “prisoner code” could potentially lead to physical victimization and repercussions. Participants recognized that they were not to talk to correctional officers if they wanted to avoid acquiring the label of “snitch” and the associated potential for victimization. Instead, prisoners were to “mind their own business” or their “Ps and Qs” as a strategy to mitigate potential threat. Explaining what constituted appropriate prisoner behavior—his “Ps and Qs”—Ben, age 53, stated:

At that time it [the prison] was a tough little place. You had to really mind your Ps and Qs… You had to mind your, uh, um, you had to have your act together and keep your act together. Your guard, you had to keep your guard up, and be respectful of others, and make sure you get your due respect, and carry yourself in that regard.

Consistent with other interviewees, Ben described a prison atmosphere that was laced with violence, risk, and could quickly turn from mundane to unpredictably violent.

In lower-security facilities, participants tended to describe a different, less violent atmosphere. In low-medium and minimum-security facilities, releasees described more pronounced types of threat that, instead of causing physical harm, could impact their future, particularly their parole eligibility. Many described their peers as too ready to negatively intervene to either hamper their eligibility to be declared ready for parole by the Parole Board of Canada (PBC) or their eligibility for conditional release after their approval was already granted. Said another way, prisoners granted conditional release fear other prisoners will target them, such as by forcing them into altercations or to participate in misconduct that would likely result in their release being delayed or revoked if caught. In recounting his experiences in a minimum-security prison, Karl explained:

Cuz, like when you’re in prison, like you can’t even let guys know you’re getting out because they’ll [other prisoners] try to keep you in jail.

Karl's statement confirms the sense of threat posed by other prisoners toward his legal future. Participants referred to the possibility of lies being spread about them, being purposefully placed in situations of conflict, or being dragged into misconduct occurring on their range or among other prisoners. That participants had such concerns is perhaps not surprising, given that their status in prison is precarious. Being in minimum-security custody gave prisoners something to lose (i.e., they could be transferred back to higher-security), and the behavior of other prisoners, interviewees felt, could lead them to lose that privilege. We do not know the extent to which prisoners in fact try to jeopardize each other's parole. Although interviewees frequently expressed worry that other prisoners would likely engage in these kinds of behaviors, none admitted to purposefully trying to jeopardize another prisoner's release (nor were any asked if they had engaged in such practices), thus making it difficult to assess to what extent Karl's concerns match “objective” risks. To Karl, however, other prisoners were experienced as posing a real threat to his legal future. In consequence, he chose not to tell any of his peers that he was soon to be released, which he believed was the best strategy for ensuring his was successfully awarded. This individualized form of “safekeeping” was representative of other interviewees' responses, who explained that in an effort to avoid institutional repercussions, they chose to stay away from other prisoners, spend more time in their cell, or engage in rehabilitative programming (if available). These strategies, all consistent with the individualization underpinning the neoliberalization of the prisoner community where collective wellbeing and prisoner solidarity is uprooted by individual need and self-focus, were all believed to minimize each prisoner’s exposure to risky situations.

Experiences of administrative uncertainties

Conditional release decisions are made by the PBC based on information and assessment provided by the prison administration, prisoners’ institutional parole officers, and other actors. Since very few prisoners are released from maximum-security prisons, prisoners must “work toward” release by demonstrating “good behavior” to staff (e.g., refrain from altercations, avoid contraband, and attend programming). Such behaviour is then rewarded with a transfer to a prison of lower-security and thus more freedom—less stringent work, recreation, and visitation rules. Correctional officers hold considerable power over each prisoner’s future. Parole approval rates in Canada are relatively high. According to official statistics, 75% applications for day parole are approved (Government of Canada, 2016). Interviewees explained that their goal was to be paroled at the earliest date possible, and to do so, they had to prove their suitability for early release to the authorities (e.g., cooperating with staff, etc.).

Our participants were acutely aware of the possibility of being transferred to a higher-security prison with additional security and less liberty and, in the worst-case scenario, of being refused parole. While waiting for transfer or release, prisoners explained feeling at the mercy of the staff, especially correctional officers, who respondents recognized had the power to influence, even indirectly determine, whether a prisoner was deemed “ready” for such transitions. Prisoners perceived the power of the staff as a threat and expressed concern that their penal future was uncertain and, in many ways, out of their control. This is consistent with findings by Crewe (2011) who identified “uncertainty” and “indeterminacy” as “pains” of incarceration (see also Shammas, 2014). In an effort to deal with these threats of administrative uncertainty, interviewees, such as 33 year old Jacob, recounted various situations, where they felt succumbed to the orders of the staff in order to successfully work toward parole:

[…] going through… transfer, they wanted me to take out my tongue ring. And I said, “No”. You know? It’s an appendage, I’ve had it since I was thirteen, it doesn’t come out, what are you talking about? So he [the correctional officer] is trying to tell me he is going to shove these rusty pliers in my mouth and take the thing out. I’m like “I don’t think so, this is – this is absurd!” But the problem was, is that he, I was getting stripped searched. So I’m standing there in the nude, lift my arms, back of my hands, open my mouth, he goes “That has to come out” and I go “That doesn’t come out” I’m standing there naked, well, six more guards come and like crowd me into this little thing and start telling me they are going to pull this thing out. And I’m like “No, it doesn’t come out, what are you talking about?” So like eventually I pulled it out, I gave it to him “Here”. Cuz I, I knew what was gonna to happen was that they would just throw me in the hole. But, you know, again, I’m trying to get parole, do I really want to go and sit in segregation when I’m trying to get parole.

Jacob ultimately followed the officer’s order to remove his tongue ring, not only because he felt physically vulnerable—because of the threat that the ring may be forcefully removed, and being stripped searched which is an emasculating and degrading experience itself—but also because he was deeply aware that non-obedience could hinder or risk his parole. He thus felt that he had no choice but to tolerate and accept these orders. Some interviewees explained that simply having a strained relationship with an officer or getting involved in minor altercations with other prisoners, often unavoidable and unanticipated, was enough to dissolve all their chances for positive movement within the system. They described a perpetual feeling of uncertainty and unpredictability because of what was experienced as an often arbitrary exercise of authoritarian power. For instance, Theo, age 35, recounted an incidence that occurred prior to what multiple prisoners’ referred to as a “special event” (where members of the public visit the institution and participate in select activities with prisoners). The incident caused such a disturbance that the event was canceled and all those who were allegedly involved were taken into segregation:

So the warden really wanted who ever stopped this whole thing [the “special event” at the prison] from happening to be punished for it. He told the guards that whoever they saw on the range that day, they just took anybody that was standing there, they took all of us to the hole. I was surprised they shipped me to the [maximum security] unit because I didn't have a bad record and I was actually a range rep, I finished my high school diploma there.

Clearly, Theo perceived his transfer as an unfair and arbitrary form of punishment. His words also demonstrate the inherent lack of certainty and security he experienced about his penal future. Like other prisoners, he felt that despite being able to establish some kind of feeling of security and comfort (here in relation to staff; “I was a range rep, finished my high school diploma”), and doing everything to work toward parole, he remained in a perpetual state of vulnerability—a kind of “anything can happen dynamic” in relation to his future.

Prisoners’ narratives of both prisoner threats and administrative uncertainties show that threat in prison is malleable and flexible. Perceived threat, as demonstrated, changes with the prison environment. Risk perceptions have a spatial-temporal dimension, perceived threat is ever-present and, thus, needs to be negotiated on a permanent basis.

Managing prisoner threats and administrative uncertainties

Interviewees' narratives demonstrate how prisoners’ self-presentations take different forms in diverse environments. In maximum-security facilities, where the threat of physical violence was particularly pronounced, interviewees reported two dominant strategies of “safekeeping” (Stanko, 1997). Many noted that using violence or “fighting back” was the most effective strategy to demonstrate one’s physical prowess and strength. This strategy, they believed, was essential to maintaining physical integrity and a sense of safety. As Pete recalled:

Yeah, if you don’t fight then other people are going to start pushing you around and, you know, so you have no choice for sure.

Other participants recounted that in an effort to stay physically safe, they stayed to themselves in an effort to avoid interactions and possible altercations that could result from those interactions (see also McCorkle, 1992). However, even these interviewees explained that there were certain situations when using force was necessary. Verbal abuse, for example, warranted violence as a response to show one’s strength and to mitigate the chance of future victimization. Recounting their experienced in lower-security prisons, interviewees emphasized that after being transferred to a lower-security institution, they acted more defensively, humbly, and even submissively toward other prisoners, abandoning their tough personas where possible. Participants provided two main reasons for this shift in strategies.

First, they believed that being transferred back to a higher-security prison would have made them look like a “failure” to their peers, while working toward parole tended to garner the respect of other prisoners, including those who felt parole was too far in the future to even consider. Some disclosed they would have been embarrassed if they had “failed” in a lower-security prison because the institution was perceived as both “softer” and less dangerous than higher-security facilities. For example, 30 year old Martin said that he opted not to fight back when he was challenged by his peers because he did not want to “look like an idiot” to the other prisoners if he was transferred. This choice, however, would not have been an option in higher-security facilities, where prison culture dictates that a prisoner, once an altercation is instigated, fights back. Like many respondents, Martin was able to preserve positioning and status by engaging in an adaptive strategy; he went from expressing aggression to appearing compliant in the face of authority as a direct response to his vested interest in remaining in minimum security. He behaved in ways that evidenced his commitment and motivation toward early release.

A second reason, participants explained, was tied to their need to exhibit “good behaviour” if they wanted to stay in lower-security prison or to be paroled. This meant exchanging violent or confrontational behaviour for “pro-social” strategies such as cooking, attending prison programs, or not speaking out. Generally, respondents said it was important to “keep out of trouble” if they wanted to remain in an environment with more privileges and to focus on other activities in preparation for release (e.g., school, building networks in the outside world). According to Dylan, abandoning the “tough” persona, that he felt was necessary in the higher-security prison, and remaining passive, in a sense defenceless, was perceived as a way “of proving yourself, that’s giving yourself credibility [amongst other prisoners].” Jayden, age 24, recounting his experiences in a lower-security prison explained:

Because I wanted to stay there [a lower-security prison] and so I had to, I was compelled to toe the line. If I want to stay there then I had to go along with their [the prison’s] program. Their program is no violence and stuff like that. [I needed to] tone that down.

As evinced in his words, Jayden negotiated the risk of being transferred back to a higher-security prison by abandoning his more aggressive self-presentation and instead acting in a way he believed was consistent with the prison administration’s rules and expectations. Our data suggest that prisoners change their strategies of “safekeeping” as new threats, such as being transferred back to a higher-security institution, become more dominant, and other threats, particularly that of physical violence, become less pressing. Prisoners assess and re-assess their level of risk and threat as they move between different prison institutions, and accordingly abandon or adopt behaviors that can mitigate what is perceived as the most pressing threat in a particular situational context. Interviewees’ narratives highlight the fluidity of self-presentation and conduct: how prisoners consciously use different protection strategies to obtain some semblance of safety. At the same time, these varying strategies are contingent on the most dominant threats in that environment, as perceived by prisoners themselves. Not all protection strategies are equally available and applicable to all prisoners; rather, their availability and applicability are contingent upon the specific penal context. Realms of threat are transformed in different penal spaces, and prisoners' protection strategies vary in accordance to the threats experienced as most dominant. Prisoners' strategies of “safekeeping”, thus, reflect back on the prevailing threats in prison because they are revealing of the choices available to prisoners to stay safe. Thus, prisoners’ protection strategies provide invaluable insight into the nuances structuring and shaping different prison environments.

Some prisoners described low-medium and minimum-security prisons as representing the ultimate challenge because, in these facilities, they are housed alongside individuals defined as sex offenders—objects of disdain. In more secure facilities, prison culture pushes imprisoned non-sex offenders to immediately threaten, even harm, sex offenders (Spencer and Ricciardelli, 2017). In response, incarcerated sex offenders are commonly segregated from non-sex offenders for their own safety. In low-medium and minimum-secure facilities, however, prisoners of diverse criminality are integrated rather than segregated in their living arrangements—the result being that informal behavior rules must shift. Clarke, age 41, recounted his experiences as follows:

[High-medium security prison] was more like real criminals… and [low-medium security prison] is totally different, actually the inmates there fear guys that were coming…transfers from [high-medium security prison]. [High-medium prison] was more old school, like we don't tolerate certain offenders whereas [low-medium prison]… it was very difficult to do time, I mean, it was very easy in one sense it was like a resort there… that place is like you see scary dudes like walking around there and I don't mean scary for me. I mean [they were] just mean, you wonder what the hell they've done, or you know what's some of the shit they've done to women and children and stuff. So most of the guys on my range, you could tell [what they had done] even if I didn't know it. You could just tell that it was child molesting or whatever. So that was kind of the test when you're a lifer. Cause that proves to the parole board ‘if he made it through [the low-medium prison] and made it to [minimum security prison]’. … That proves to the parole board, ‘hey, he can handle dealing living with these people even though he doesn't approve of them and even though he would like to do something’.

Interviewees, in this context, reported using complex strategies to demonstrate to staff that they were “ready” for and “worthy” of parole, including abandoning their more aggressive and stoic self-presentations. Nathan, for example, explained, “you were not allowed to feel like that [disdain for sex offenders] when you’re inside there [the lower-security prison]. You feel like, [if] you have thoughts like that you can’t speak your mind [or] you’ll never get parole.” Thus, if a “solid” prisoner was ever to harm another prisoner in a lower-security facility, he would likely be considered a safety risk, reclassified to a higher-security level and, correspondingly, transferred back to a more secure institution. His parole eligibility would likely be re-evaluated and either delayed or denied as a result. Institutional risk management strategies, in this sense, affect prisoners as these strategies become part of their own assessment of the diverse risks associated with penal living.

Lower-security institutions were viewed as the ultimate meeting of prisoner threats and administrative uncertainties, locating a point of conflict that also represents a deciding point—the moment in which a prisoner has to determine their self-identification and how they will continue forward (i.e. focused on prison reputation or reintegration opportunities). The question respondents often asked was “was it worth it?” to act out against a sex offender and to follow the “prisoner code” that likely will ensure they lose their place in lower security and possibly their parole eligibility. Prisoner threats and experiences of administrative uncertainty reinforce each other, creating a risk environment for prisoners. For example, threats generated by other prisoners, such as when prisoners spread rumors (truthful or fabricated) that either tarnish or reinforce positively another prisoner’s reputation, may enhance that prisoners' sense of administrative uncertainty. Because prisoners experience both prisoner threats and administrative uncertainty at the same time, they must find viable strategies to handle these moments of “danger” (see Luhmann, 1993), which proved challenging for many of our participants.

The prisoner’s dilemma: Navigating competing threats

Luhmann's (1993) concept of risk/danger is helpful in understanding interviewees' responses to perceived threat, and how they decide to navigate different risks. Luhmann (1993: 23) states that decision-making is only relevant when risk can be attributed to a decision. As he explains, “[thus] if a risk is to be attributed to a decision, certain conditions must be satisfied, among which is the requirement that the alternatives being clearly distinguishable in respect of the possibility of loss occurring.” If a clearly identifiable risk can be attributed to a decision, then a person is exposed to “danger.” Participants reported finding it difficult to handle prisoner threats and threats stemming from institutional powers and procedures in unison. Countering one source of threat tended to create a new source of threat, which leaves prisoners entangled in a spiral of competing threats. Interviewees often felt obligated to act in ways that, if detected, would lead to institutional charges. For example, the “no snitching rule” among prisoners conflicts with the institutional policy demanding that violent altercations, and those involved, are reported to the prison authorities. Tylor, reporting on a prison altercation, explained that he knew the actors involved in the fight but refused to tell the prison authorities and accepted his institutional punishment in an effort to avoid prisoners' retaliating against him for being a snitch:

You can't tell if anything happens, you know? And that's why I got shipped from [a maximum security unit] too 'cause I figured out…'cause I found out who did it but I didn't say anything [to the prison staff]…because they [prison staff] try to tell me well “why didn't you say who did it or you get it shit”? I'm like “you'd rather I'd say”… [but if] I say it now and then I’ll get killed and then what?

Tylor’s statement exemplifies that prisoner threats and administrative uncertainties are interrelated as prisoners must balance both sources of threat, often dictating that they participate in opposing or conflicting behaviors. Specifically, acts that may reduce feelings of administrative uncertainty (e.g. talking to staff to make a good impression) can increase risks imposed by other prisoners. On the other side, acts that reduce prisoner threats can increase threat at the institutional level with the most extensive long-term repercussions. Tyler essentially had two “choices;” cooperating with the prison staff and avoiding his institutional punishment, or keeping quiet (as he chose to) and accepting his punishment. The former had a clear risk attributed to it,—Tylor would have likely been physically victimized by his peers. The latter too was “risky” in the sense that any institutional punishments can lead to a delay in parole. In said “risky” situations, prisoners are exposed to, as Luhmann would argue, “danger,” as their decisions carry real risks and consequences. Our data reveal that to make these kinds of “risky” decision, prisoners weigh the implications of their possible decisions,—informed by their own experiences and perceptions and knowledge of the prison facility where they were held and the penal complex as a whole.

Some prisoners’ assessments of risk in prison, for example, appeared to place greater emphasis on survival and personal safety, despite aspiring for long-term gains; perhaps because the risk of physical violence was perceived as more immediate and threatening. Adrian, for example, talked about being asked to store a weapon in his cell by other prisoners when in a maximum security prison. Like other participants, Adrian described the need to “prove yourself” and then maintain “your status” to in order to occupy a relatively safe position in prison; a need that started anew with each institutional transfer or unit relocation that could also be understood as a strategy of “safekeeping.” Adrian explained that during his incarceration, despite his best efforts and interest in working toward his release, if he wanted to stay “solid,” safe, and healthy, he had no real choice but to follow the request of his peers and store the weapon in his cell:

…and if it means I have to take a fall, or take a charge, or not get parole to stay solid well, I mean that's part of the, part of the life in there….

Adrian was clearly aware that his actions—storing the weapon—could lead to institutional repercussions, yet his risk assessment led him to accept the risk of administrative uncertainty in an effort to maintain his status and reduce a prisoner threat. Adrian was exposed to “danger” (Luhmann, 1993) as either decision carried a risk that he had to weigh, assess, and ultimately accept. His statement and our data suggest that prisoners make conscious decisions that result from their evaluation of risk as they strive toward their end goal (e.g. parole, staying physically safe) which itself is contingent on the prevailing risks in the different penal settings. While participants were for the most part able to successfully adapt their strategies in response to the dominating and changing threats, our data highlight what we refer to as the “prisoner's dilemma.” For incarcerated men, getting rid of a prisoner threat (e.g. an altercation with another prisoner) may lead to new threats on the institutional level, like being locked up in their cell or placed in segregation. On the other hand, countering feelings of administrative uncertainty (e.g. by cooperating with staff) may lead to new prisoner threats (e.g. loss of status). Our findings suggest that within the precarious space of the prison, no strategy of “safekeeping” is universally effective; any venue to produce safety may result in producing or opening up new threats although eliminating others. As a consequence, prisoners are forced to continuously re-think and re-negotiate their strategies of “safekeeping” as they move between different prisons. Ultimately, all 56 releasees were able to successfully negotiate the different and competing risks as all of them were paroled. However, the need to constantly revisit one's risk and protection strategies not only meant that interviewees were engaged in an “ongoing process of risk assessment and risk management” (Stanko, 1997: 488), but also impeded their sense of safety, security, and certainty, ultimately leading a state of “ontological insecurity” (Giddens, 1991).

Conclusion: Threat as flexible and ever-present

In prison, our participants felt at risk of physical violence and institutional reprimand and punishment, even in the absence of such victimization and/or punishment. The extent to which these different risks are pronounced and experienced as particularly pressing varies by prison institution, but the feeling of being at risk is ever-present and can lead to a constant feeling of insecurity and unpredictability as well as the perceived need to continuously try to create a sense of stability, predictability, and security in an overall unsafe environment. Prisoners, thus, remain in a state of ontological insecurity (Giddens, 1991) as they move through their prison sentence. At the same time, prisoners, our data suggest, face these distinct moments of “danger” (Luhmann, 1993). When prisoner threats and administrative uncertainty meet, prisoners must decide how to act, but importantly, either decision is associated with risk. The perpetual feeling of insecurity (that spans across prisons) coupled with these distinct moments of “danger” (i.e. the situations when prisoners must decide whether to incur a prisoner threat or institutional punishments), we argue, lead to a general lack of safety experienced by incarcerated men. Our data show that for prisoners, lack of safety equates to more than a prisoner being at risk of physical victimization; it encompasses a constant feeling of insecurity that results from prisoners' experiences of competing threats, and the need to respond to those threats on an ongoing basis. The constant need to re-negotiate protection strategies is a source of insecurity, can cause psychological distress, and necessitates a complex negotiation of space and actions in order to try maintain some safety in an overall unsafe environment. Our interviewees revealed that this thinking process—deliberating about how to best respond to threat in order to stay physically safe and work toward parole―seemed to take up a lot of prisoners’ time and appeared to constitute a source of their psychological stress and discomfort.

Our study has one major limitation. Since all of our participants were successful in securing conditional release, either fully paroled after serving a minimum of one-third of their sentence or qualified for statuary release after serving two-thirds of their sentence, we cannot say how their experiences of threat and strategies of “safekeeping” might compare to prisoners who are repeatedly denied full parole or acquire institutional charges that extend their sentences considerably. We take some comfort, however, in the generalizability of our data because our sample includes prisoners deemed to be higher-risk by the prison institution; as a consequence, our data may be inclusive of those who experience different types of threats, particularly in regard to feelings of administrative uncertainty. We hope that future researchers will use our work as a basis to further investigate how prisoners' strategies of “safekeeping” are shaped by institutional risk management strategies, as well as by prisoners' personal characteristics, such as their ethnicity, race, gender, and age. In the future, it would be particularly useful for researchers to compare male prisoners' experiences of threat and their protection strategies to those of female prisoners, given that the risk of physical violence tends to be less salient in women prisons, while other threats (e.g. threat of spreading lies) tend to be more dominant (e.g. Trammell, 2009b). It would also be useful for scholars to investigate why prisoners may engage in certain victimizing behaviors, such as jeopardizing their peers' parole, and what such behaviors and motives may reveal about the prison environment.

Researchers should also consider if and in what ways prisoners' experiences of threat and their strategies of “safekeeping” influence their transitions from prison to community. Upon release from prison, parole conditions may expose ex-prisoners to new forms of administrative uncertainty, such as the risk of breaching parole and thus being re-incarcerated, that must be negotiated and managed vis-à-vis ex-prisoners' future goals (e.g. finding employment, “going straight”) (see Werth, 2011). Strategies that were “learned” in prison to manage threat—using physical violence, staying to oneself, etc.—may be “exported” from the prison back into the community and used to negotiate new sets of threats and challenges. As Caputo-Levine (2012) demonstrates, people's experiences of interpersonal violence in prison, and their ways of dealing with these interactions, are carried into a wide range of situations outside the prisons, including social interactions and employment situations. Additional research is needed to further explore the ways prisoners' strategies of “safekeeping” inside prison may transfer to and influence their post-prison lives, in potentially positive and/or negative ways.

Footnotes

Note

Katharina H Maier is a Doctoral Candidate at the University of Toronto’s Centre for Criminology & Sociolegal Studies. Her research interests focus on prisoner reentry, desistance, punishment, and Indigenous experiences of criminal justice.

Rosemary Ricciardelli is an Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology at Memorial University of Newfoundland. Her research interests include prisons, desistance, policing, and wrongful convictions.

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