Forty-One Years of Solitary Confinement

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Yesterday while working to clean up my living space at home I was listening to the BBC News.  I was thunderstruck by a story.  I had to take a pause in what I was doing because I was immediately captivated by the content of the story.  

Herman Wallace is one of three men who was convicted of the 1972 murder of a prison guard.  A judge recently ordered Wallace released.  The presiding judge who ordered the release noted that 

"The record in this case makes clear that Mr Wallace's grand jury was improperly chosen… and that the Louisiana courts, when presented with the opportunity to correct this error, failed to do so."  More details on this story can be found on the BBC website at this link.

As I sat with my attention riveted to this story I could not help but attempt to imagine what it must have been like to be in solitary confinement for some forty-one years.  To experience such minimal ability to move and partake of the most basic of necessities such as breathing fresh air must be the equivalent of a slow torturous death.  We human beings have basic needs that must be met on a daily basis if we are to survive let alone thrive.  Sitting in a cell for twenty-three of twenty-four hours in a day is virtually incomprehensible to me.  I can imagine it to some degree but I cannot imagine living it.  And I certainly struggle to imagine living in such a state for some forty-one years.  As I continued to attempt to imagine myself in such a scenario I found my mind simultaneously filling with thoughts that represented the antithesis of such a fate.  I imagined taking a week long adventure tour in some isolated location in which the sky yawns large overhead, the stars sparkle brightly and the living planet around me tantalizes me with its sights and scents.

This particular story of suffering and injustice also reminds me of the reality that we human beings are social creatures whose health is contingent on our lived interconnectedness with others and the living planet upon which we depend.  No man is truly an island; we need the love and support of others to live happy, productive, long lives.

This story also reminds me of the sad truth that so many people who make up the imprisoned population in this nation are non-violent drug offenders who also happen to be minorities.  The prison industry is big business.  And I find that a very sad reality given how it apparently isn't uncommon for people to emerge from prison with emotional scars they did not have upon entering prison.  I cannot help but wonder if any studies have ever been done to determine how imprisonment affects people who have an active diagnosis of PTSD upon entry into the prison population.

I sit here at my computer on a chilly October evening and continue to marvel at the idea of forty-one years of solitary confinement.  How people can endure such horror and still survive amazes me.