Next September will mark my 20th year in jail. It is not an anniversary I’m particularly proud of. I was convicted of murder and hopelessly sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.

When I arrived at the infamous Pelican Bay Prison, I was shocked right out of my criminal-minded circuit of stupidity. The flow of in-house narcotics profits didn’t appeal to me anymore. I simply wanted to build on the better part of me, redeem whatever part of

me was possible.

As the cycle of drug abuse, negative peer pressure, and unfettered rebellion roiled around my years of confinement, I began to long for something better. I wanted to be productive, do something better. That desire to build on the better part of me swelled, but with little comfort and no outlet. With fervent disillusion, I came to see the California Department of Corrections (CDC) as nothing more than an empty shell. It’s a colossal department with two overriding modes of operation: 1) behaviour control with a heavy stick as its main prod; and 2) the fostering of survival of fittest atmosphere.

Scarce are the rewards for positive behaviour, especially for lifers. Still, I managed to remain disciplinary free for 14 consecutive years, in spite of the pervasive violence, negativity, and hopelessness. Ironically, it wasn’t until I found myself in trouble (for being too friendly with a nurse), that I was transferred to the state prison in Los Angeles County, host of the Prison Honor Program. Suddenly, my lack of cognitive stimulation and productivity was turned on its head. There was such a wide array of self-help opportunities to choose from, I didn’t know where to start: yoga, creative writing, critical thinking, painting, and many other classes and activities.

The success of the Honor Program cannot be denied. According to a study conducted by prison staff, the Honor Program saved the CDC (and taxpayers) more than $200,000 in its first year alone. Meanwhile, weapons infractions decreased 88 per cent, and violence and threatening behaviour dropped 85 per cent. In a state that features one of the nation’s highest recidivism rates such tangible evidence of behavioural correction is welcome indeed. The secret to this is that it is a completely volunteer program. To our dismay, our success has earned only partial and inconsistent support from the institution and past secretaries of the department at headquarters in Sacramento.

Sadly there is still a school of thought that doesn’t believe in incentive-based programs or rehabilitation. For members of this camp, continuation of the

failed model is sufficient. They want the stick. Sadly, the violence, deaths, and costly court interventions don’t help them see the light. My hope is that the new secretary of the

department, Matthew Cate, will see the light and help move corrections out of the shadows of the dark ages. It would be a shame to see such a proven success — and a single tree that could yield a much fuller set of branches — go by the wayside. — The Christian Science Monitor