The Prospectors & Developers Association of Canada (PDAC) prides itself on being “the leading voice of the mineral exploration and development community;” however, what they fail to admit on their dazzling webpage is that Canadian mining fuels war and human misery around the globe – that is, one of Canada’s dirty little secrets. If the public digs deep below the surface of PDAC’s propaganda pertaining to the “responsible” discovery of minerals and metals they will discover the brutal truth: Canadian mining is a violent industry.

With 60 per cent of the globe’s mining companies (CBC Radio 2023), Canada is a mining superpower that places profits before people and the environment. As mentioned by Mining Watch Canada (2023), “Canada’s mining companies are operating in Latin America, Africa and Asian-Pacific. The largest portion of the overseas value is situated in the regions of Latin America and the Caribbean which hold 45.4% of Canadian mining assets with a value of $85.4 billion in 2020.”

According to the Mininig Injustice Solidarity Network’s (MISN) (2025) Canadian Mining Kills, Destroys and Colonizes campaign flyer, Canadian mining is directly linked to war, environmental destruction, colonialism and a wide range of human rights abuses such as slavery, forced labour, sexual violence and targeted assassinations. Similarly, Mining Watch Canada (2023) reports, “Harm caused or contributed by Canadian mining companies, their subsidiaries and contractors overseas is widespread globally and persistent. It includes environmental degradation that will persist for hundreds of years, a wide range of human rights harms, abuses of Indigenous rights, as well as negative economic and financial impacts at local and national levels.”

Similar to the deceptive role of corporate propaganda, Canada’s settler colonial Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, went public on the International Day of Peace on September 21, 2024, speaking of Canadian “progress,” “inclusivity,” “peacekeeping” and “feminist policy” (Canada 2024) without a single mention of the ways in which Canada actively supplies the U.S. with the essential ingredients for its massive war machine. MISN’s (2025) campaign flyer clearly states, “Weapons require huge amounts of raw material – metals and minerals that the mining industry is only too happy to race to supply and profit from.” As discussed by Nelson (2021) Canada provides the U.S. with cobalt, rare-earth metals and minerals for weaponry, aircraft, [so-called] precision-guided missiles and smart bombs, armoured vehicles, lasers, night-vision goggles, satellite communications and radar and sonar on submarines and ships. MISN (2025) adds, “Without the mining industry there could be no modern war. Each F35 fighter jet the Israeli military has been using to bomb Gaza contains over 900 lbs. of rare earth elements.” 

As with most 21^st-century associations and corporations, PDAC propagates notions of “social responsibility,” “gender diversity” and “community engagement” at the expense of the hard facts. For instance, Canadian companies such as Barrick Gold are being hit with lawsuits directly linked to killings and injuries initiated by security and police personnel tasked with guarding mines in places such as Tanzania (Mining Watch Canada 2023). In the words of Mining Watch Canada, “The first case was settled in the U.K. in 2015 on behalf of 13 plaintiffs. The second case was filed in 2020 and is now ongoing in the U.K. on behalf of ten plaintiffs. In November 2022, a third case filed, in Canada, on behalf of 21 Indigenous Kuria who allege that they or their family members were killed, injured or tortured by police guarding Barrick’s North Mara Gold Mine” (for more examples linked to sexual assaults by mine security and police guarding mines, forced evictions, threats to human and environmental rights defenders, forced labour and environmental harm around the globe see Mining Watch Canada 2023).

Between March 2-5, 2025, PDAC hosted yet another massive convention with nearly 30,000 attendees from over 135 countries around the world on the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples (Treaty 13). As an attempt to disrupt business as usual the MISN organized a rally full of speeches, artists and signs that exposed the real business of PDAC: violence and plunder.

Canada’s systemic transgressions are fueling war, ethnic cleansing, genocide and environmental collapse around the world and we must do whatever it takes to end such profit driven savagery. One way to stop such barbarity is through organizing and demanding that the institutions responsible for spreading terror to places such as, Argentina, Chile, Colombia, Brail, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Panama, Peru, Dominican Republic, Tanzania, Papua New Guinea, Eritrea, China, Kyrgyzstan, Philippines and Indonesia, not only closedown but also publicly acknowledge their harms, apologize and provide local communities with adequate compensation.

At the moment, the settler state known as Canada places corporate mining interests abroad above the promotion and protection of human rights and environmental protection (Mining Watch Canada 2023). It’s time for the settler state to take a deep look into the mirror and begin the process of ending its perpetual duplicity by fulfilling its obligations under international standards such as, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Paris Agreement, Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women and Slavery Convention – all of which are being violated by Canadian mining companies around the globe.

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“It is said that no one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails. A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones.” – Nelson Mandela (1918-2013).

I met Amy McKechnie on Tuesday, January 28, 2025, which was the second day of the inquest into her brother Ryan’s death. My first words to Amy were, “Please accept my condolences for the loss of your brother Ryan.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Amy pulled out the chair next to her and invited me – a complete stranger and concerned citizen – to take a seat. Anyone who knows Amy will attest to the fact that she is exceptionally friendly, warm and caring. Within seconds we were conversing as if we knew each other for years. Despite Amy’s obvious fatigue and ever so tired eyes, she opened her heart and shared some memories pertaining to Ryan’s lively personality, struggles and death, which took place at Hamilton-Wentworth Detention Centre in 2017. After waiting seven and a half grueling years for the inquest, Amy admitted that she was cautiously optimistic about the process.

The following article is a critique of Ontario’s jail-death-inquest cycle, which appears to be stuck on repeat, and a tribute to Amy and her family and all those who have lost a loved one inside of Ontario’s archaic jail system. How many more Ryan’s will there be before we implement a system that provides real support to some of the most vulnerable members of our society?

__________

Institutional hypocrisy 101

The Ontario Ministry of the Solicitor General is a two-faced institution bent on mainstreaming a public image of “safety,” “effectiveness” and “accountability” (Ontario 2024) all while some of the most vulnerable people in our society sit idle, rot away and tragically die inside of its jails. One of those people was 34-year-old Ryan Patrick McKechnie (1983-2017) who tragically lost his life from an overdose at the notorious Hamiliton-Wentworth Detention Centre on June 29, 2017. Like every person locked up like an animal in one of Ontario’s 25 so-called correctional facilities, Ryan McKechnie was more than an inmate, he was a son, brother, uncle, father and boyfriend who loved ones described as caring, funny and vibrant. In the words of his own family, “Ryan was known for his quick wit and caring personality. He always knew how to lighten the mood with a good joke and some funny commentary” (Dignity Memorial).

       Regrettably, the life that once cast light had been morphed into a crushing death and an undying darkness. In the words of Ryan McKechnie’s sister Amy, “He was supposed to be safe in there […] I wasn’t supposed to have to bury my younger brother” (as quoted in Pan 2018) – something that would not have happened if the Ministry was fulfilling its unequivocal mandate to institute “a safe, effective and accountable adult corrections system” (Ontario 2024). What deepens the despair of Ryan’s death is the fact that it was preventable (Widra 2024).

       Unfortunately, Ryan McKechnie’s story is not some minor institutional glitch; but rather, a disturbing institutional regularity with no end in sight. Since 2012 there have been 14 other heartbreaking overdose-related deaths at Hamilton-Wentworth: Louis Angelo Unelli, William Acheson, Martin Tykoliz, Stephen Conrad Neeson, David Michael Gillan, Trevor Ronald Burke, Julien Chavaun Walton, Michael McNelis, Jason Archer, Paul Debien, Nathaniel Golden, Igor Petrovic, Christopher John Sharp and Robert Soberal (Beattie 2024).  A seemingly never-ending stream of tragedies followed by shock, heartbreak and frustration with a system unwilling to address the crisis. As a clear demonstration of such frustration, Tracy Sharp, Christopher John Sharp’s (one of the 14 who died from blood toxicity since 2012) sister-in-law stated, “Actions needed to be taken yesterday […] We need something of substance to be done” (as quoted in Beattie 2024).

       In light of these tragic cases, the Ministry’s rhetoric pertaining to “rehabilitative programming, treatment and services designed to help offenders achieve […] successful reintegration into the community” (Ontario 2024) amount to nothing more than a cruel joke paid for in full by taxpayers. As the families of the deceased will tell you, the Ministry’s claims of programming, treatment and reintegration constitute a series of falsehoods designed to protect the image of a defunct system. Arguably, if the Ministry actually delivered rehabilitation, treatment and reintegration Ryan and the other 14 men who perished prematurely would still be alive and maybe even thriving. What will it take for the Government of Ontario and the Ministry of the Solicitor General to institute a system without such hypocrisy?

Beyond the walls of Hamilton-Wentworth Detention Centre

Outside the scope of overdose-related deaths at Hamilton-Wentworth, McClelland et al. (2024) reports that fatalities in provincial custody are rampant. As a case in point consider the following figures, which disclose deaths in Ontario-based jails since 2000: Maplehurst Correctional Complex: 45 deaths, Hamiliton-Wentworth Detention Centre: 35 deaths, Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre: 25 and Central North Correctional Centre: 25 deaths. With respect to Toronto South Detention Centre, which has been dubbed a “$1-billion hellhole” (Robin 2017), there have been 16 deaths in custody since it first opened its doors in 2014 (McClelland et al. 2024).

       Adding salt to injury is the fact that the vast majority of people locked up in Ontario jails are on remand, which means they are legally innocent and awaiting trial. Research is clear, remand is no walk in the park and often leaves people worse off in comparison to when they arrived. As observed by the John Howard Society (n.d.), “Many individuals enter the correctional system with pre-existing mental health issues, which are typically worsened during their incarceration. Other people develop new symptoms due to the negative psychological effects of jail. Whether it is through the imposition of strict conditions of bail or probation, or through segregation and isolation in jails, practices rooted in punishment and control often only exacerbate the challenges facing people with mental health issues and further enmesh them in a system that was never designed to meet their needs” (6).

       What do you do when the very system tasked with instituting a “safe,” “effective” and “accountable” environment for your loved one fails? In Ontario, there are generally three options: (i) launch a civil lawsuit for damages, (ii) participate in what has been dubbed by many as a toothless coroner’s inquest (O’Reilly & Hayes 2015) into the circumstances surrounding the death in question and (iii) file a class-action lawsuit – all of which are highly demanding, exhausting, expensive and retraumatizing for the families of the deceased.

       Take the case of 30-year-old Soleiman Faqiri who was beaten to death by guards at Central East Correctional Centre in Lindsay, Ont. on December 15, 2016, as a clearcut example of the death in custody rollercoaster families are forced to endure as a means of attaining answers and some degree of institutional accountability. Like Ryan, Soleiman should never have been shoved into an institutional space designed to control and punish. Like so many of those who find themselves behind bars in this province, Ryan and Soleiman needed compassion, care and support for their struggles not demonization, mistreatment and death in an antiquated system set up to fail those in its barbaric hands. As observed by Widra (2024), “Jails and prisons are often described as de facto mental health and substance abuse treatment providers, and corrections officials increasingly frame their missions around offering healthcare. But the reality is quite the opposite: people with serious health needs are warehoused with severely inadequate healthcare and limited treatment options. Instead, jails and prisons rely heavily on punishment, while the most effective and evidence-based forms of healthcare are often the least [original italics] available.”

       In January 2019 Soleiman’s brother, Yusuf, launched a $14.3-million lawsuit against the Ministry of the Solicitor General (formerly referred to as the Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services), the superintendent of the Central East Correctional Centre and seven guards (Stockwoods 2019;CBC News 2023). According to Stockwoods (2019), the lawsuit claimed damages for negligence, battery, cruel and unusual punishment and abuse of public office. In the words of Yusuf (as quoted in Stockwoods 2019), “Since my brother was killed, my family has been suffering. The Central East Correctional Centre should have protected Soleiman, but they failed him and us.” In striking similarity, Amy stated, “He [Ryan] was supposed to be safe in there” (as quoted in Pan 2018) and, speaking for the Sharp family, lawyer Kevin Egan stated, “they’re surprised he [Christopher John Sharp] passed away in a provincial detention centre where he was supposed to be supervised and cared for” (as quoted in Taekema 2018). Unfortunately, protection, safety and care sit miles away from the concrete reality experienced by those in Ontario jails.  

       In addition to the Faqiri family’s civil lawsuit, which was settled in late 2021 (TVO Today 2022), the Office of the Chief Coroner launched an inquest into the death of Soleiman Faqiri on November 20, 2023 (Ontario Newsroom 2023). According to the Canadian Mental Health Association (2023), the inquest considered Soleiman Faqiri’s death a homicide and produced 57 recommendations theoretically geared towards preventing similar deaths. The question remains: How many of the recommendations have been implemented? According to Raveendran (2024), the family is still waiting – all of which amounts to a double slap in the face by a Ministry that keeps on failing those assigned to its “care” as well as the families that are expected to stay strong and survive the impossible task of attaining some modicum of justice.

       With respect to Hamiliton-Wentworth Detention Centre, a 2018 inquest into the deaths of 8 men produced 62 recommendations (Beattie 2024) and a 2024 inquest into the deaths of 6 more men at the same facility generated an additional 56 recommendations (Chandler 2024). With a 118 non-binding recommendations on the table, families of the deceased can only hope for a reduction of bodies flowing through the catastrophic pipeline of jailhouse deaths.

       While the filing of civil lawsuits against the Ministry, superintendents and guards remains inconsistent among families of the deceased (e.g., Amy’s family did not file a civil lawsuit), there is an extraordinary degree of consistency in the application of coroner inquests for one official and one unofficial reason. Official reason: coroner inquests are mandatory when an “unnatural” death occurs in custody. According to Ontario (2024), mandatory inquests are initiated in specific circumstances, for instance, when “a death occurs while a person is in custody or being detained.” From a critical standpoint, the unofficial reason revolves around the fact that coroner inquests pose no serious threat to the status quo of the existing punishment system and are prohibited from assigning blame, casting judgement and making a finding of responsibility. Put simply, there seems to be an enormous degree of consistency in procedures that make elite figures such as the Solicitor General, Michael S. Kerzer, and the Parliamentary Assistant to the Solicitor General, Christine Hogarth, appear “productive” all while waves of ingrained deficiencies continue with a great deal of regularity.

       Just imagine sitting in a courtroom or tuning into a videoconference concerning the gruesome details of your loved one’s death all while knowing in the back of your mind that the process unfolding before your eyes was designed to merely “inform the public about the circumstances of [their] death” (Ontario 2024) versus a laser focused process related to full transparency, accountability and evidence-based changes geared towards uprooting a system saturated in dehumanization, fear, control and punishment.     

       To make matters worse, inquests revolve around a five-person jury tasked with answering five questions (e.g., Who? When? Where? How? By what means?) and providing the presiding officer with a list of optional and non-binding recommendations, which are reviewed and implemented at the discretion of the Ministry of the Solicitor General and local jails. As observed by Hudson (2016), “These recommendations are an attempt to make some sort of change at the policy level, but inquest juries aren’t specifically required to make them and the recommendations often don’t hold much weight.”

       While coroner inquests play out like an official court case, they amount to nothing more than a legal custom that provides the public with the illusion that justice is being served. In the words of Hudson (2016), “We need to be aware of what decision-makers are doing when they make it seem as though inquests are a form of justice; inquests are instead used to placate public unrest.” Put another way, inquests can be accurately conceptualized as a political instrument meant to subdue fuming and frustrated family members of the deceased alongside their public supporters. How many times will the public be tricked into playing this cruel and hollow game?

       In addition to Hudon’s insight lawyers and advocates of the incarcerated from London, Ont., have been unapologetically vocal about the ineffectual nature of inquests. In the words of one such lawyer and advocate, Kevin Egan, “Explore is a big word in inquests, but who’s to determine what are appropriate corrective measures? It’s back in the hands of the ministry and they’re driven by politics” (O’Reilly & Hayes 2015). Egan maintains that the entire process is biased because those tasked with setting the scope of the inquest are influenced by the Ministry of the Solicitor General. Another one of Egan’s scorching criticisms revolves around the fact that when jury recommendations are produced, they tend to be articulated in vague, exploratory and suggestive terms (O’Reilly & Hayes 2015), which only ramps up the post-inquest fury regularly experienced by families of the deceased.

       With respect to the history of inquests Wood (1967) states, “By 1960 it had become usual practice for the jury to include recommendations on any matters involving public safety” (250). Over sixty years later the toothless recommendations continue to flow out of $1-billion state-of-the-art facilities such as the brand-new Forensic Services and Coroner’s Complex (FSCC) located at 25 Morton Shulman Avenue, Toronto, Ont. (Landau 2013). According to Landau (2013), “The […] FSCC houses two courtrooms to facilitate Coroner’s inquests, several autopsy rooms, and a multitude of futuristic machinery necessary for modern forensic investigations.” It was here where Ryan’s inquest was heard on the week of Monday, January 27, 2025.

Public placation 101: The McKechnie inquest

On Monday, January 27, 2025, Amy McKechnie made her way to 25 Morton Shulman Ave., Toronto, to bear witness to and participate in her brother Ryan’s inquest. While billion-dollar jails scattered across the province confine and punish the vulnerable, the $1-billion Forensic Services and Coroner’s Complex (FSCC) situated beneath Amy’s trembling feet took care of business on the other end of the carceral spectrum. With 50,000 square-metres to its name, the state-of-the-art complex begs the public to contemplate whether or not we prioritize the living over the dead? Perhaps, the $629,000 dished out on inquests in 2013-2014 alone provides an indispensable clue. The complex’s stature, modern interior and high-tech machinery appears so efficient that onlookers roaming the perimeter attest to hearing the guru of scientific management, Frederick Winslow Taylor, applauding from his grave.

       With the clock sitting five-minutes to 9am, courtroom “A” gradually filled with prominent suits and ties alongside Ryan’s despondent mother and sister. To the front-left of the courtroom stood a 3x3ft. split image of Ryan on a white easel as a firm reminder of the courtroom’s focal point. In tune with the old English royal courts everyone rose up as the presiding officer, Dr. R.W. and a jury of five entered the courtroom. Besides a few members of Ryan’s family, the five-person jury, a couple of witnesses, a Ministry and inquest counsel plus two student lawyers in the making, the courtroom was strikingly empty – a visual reminder, perhaps, of the contagion of public indifference. After the formalities of the presiding officer’s introduction to the inquest proceeding, inquest counsel J.R. defined the scope of the hearing and then doubled back to echo Dr. R.W.’s point pertaining to the inquest’s incapacity to lay blame – a redundancy that rung like a warning for anyone in the courtroom contemplating a challenge to such impotent hearing.

       After all of the introductory formalities, Amy was called up to the podium to share a visual presentation she had made and a few words about her late brother. It was a deeply personal reflection backed by a series of family photos that proved to be one of the most meaningful aspects of the entire inquest. In a shy, choked-up and teary-eyed state, Amy mustered up the courage to share some memories, feelings and long-held regrets. As childhood pictures flashed behind her on a massive white screen she spoke to Ryan’s loving, caring and humorous disposition. “Ryan always knew how to crack a good joke and shed light on days filled with darkness.” The words that spilled from Amy’s heart flooded the cold and detached courtroom with a moment’s warmth. “He was a treasured brother, uncle and father,” she mournfully pronounced. After a moment’s pause, Amy peered back over her right shoulder only to see a picture of Ryan towering over her. She looked into his eyes as if he was there and said, “You will be deeply missed.”

       Near the end of Amy’s impassioned portrayal, she made direct eye-contact with the jury and spelled out two misfortunes and a hope. “Just imagine how it felt for us [as a family] to learn about his [Ryan’s] death after the news had already spread across social media.” What kind of a system would allow for this type of news to spill over into the digital public domain well before being shared with the family of the deceased? Amy continued with another misfortune, “I live inside a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. My only hope is that no other families will have to experience this reality. I would do anything to get my brother back. Anything!” In a choked-up voice Amy thanked the jury and returned to her seat alongside the seemingly never-ending tears that rushed down her face into a white handkerchief that screamed for mercy. 

       Unfortunately, Ryan McKechnie’s inquest appeared trapped, not only in a set of narrowly defined parameters set by the presiding officer and inquest counsel, but also in a fixation on illegible logbooks, clock rounds, triple bunking, contraband, ineffective scanners, lack of training and time pressures acting upon the guards – all of which amounted to a series of distractions from the central question: Why was a vulnerable human being struggling with addiction and mental health issues locked up in a cage in the first place? What will it take for the public to demand more from a system bent on periodic tweaks versus a sweeping transformation?

       Cutting a little closer to the notion of substance, the inquest heard that the jail environment itself was not only unhealthy for inmates but also for the guards. In the words of one guard, S.P., “I don’t work there [Hamiliton-Wentworth] anymore [and] it’s not a good environment to work in.” Similarly, another guard, J.J., commented, “I’m jaded now.” As a testament to the psychologically ruthless conditions that guards are required to endure J.J. stated that right after Ryan’s death it was expected that she writes a report and proceed to complete the scheduled shift – all of which J.J. managed to do on “autopilot.”

       Alongside these testimonies the inquest heard that the jail functioned in accordance with a specific hierarchical structure in which the people being detained had their own rules written on the physical walls of the jail that everyone including the guards were expected to follow. As guard J.J. commented, “It’s all about mutual respect.” J.J. added, “Rapport is big […] we help each other out.” Point being, the guards depended heavily on specific people among the detained population in order to “keep the peace.” Without buy-in from the people being detained the whole jail would be uncontrollable, which begs the question: Who really runs the facility? As mentioned by J.J., with all the time pressures acting upon the guards and chronic understaffing, “We had faith in the inmates to report if something went wrong” – that is, a deep dependence that proved horribly ineffective with respect to saving Ryan’s life.    

       As a formality, prior to a witness stepping down from the stand inquest counsel invited them to make recommendations to improve the existing system. While some guards such as S.P. disinterestedly stated, “No,” other guards such as W.B. reflected and expressed deep-seated frustrations. In the words of W.B., “I don’t think we can prevent this [drug-related overdoses]. What chance do they [people being detained] have? How can we relate to them? Who will hire them with a criminal record? My dad started [working in Hamiliton-Wentworth] in 1965 and the same complaints are still coming through […]!” Unlike many of the other guards who took the witness stand, W.B.’s response fell off the cold and concise Q & A script, defied the inquest parameters and injected the courtroom with some sobering facts: (i) jail guards can feel hopeless, frustrated, disconnected and disempowered, (ii) society is part of the problem in so far as casting judgements and withholding opportunities that could turn a person’s life around and (iii) not much has changed in six decades. Beneath W.B.’s insights existed an intergenerational cry for help and a long overdue transformation of the “correctional” system as well as society itself.

The possibility of hope

After an entire week of digging into the dreadful details of Ryan’s death, Amy dug deep within herself and found the energy – yet again – to rise up and share a powerful closing statement. With a broken yet determined heart she thoughtfully and critically accomplished six challenging tasks: (i) respectfully thanked the jury members and inquest team for their time, skills, professionalism and empathy, (ii) reminded all inquest participants of the “indescribable pain” her and her family continue to experience, (iii) humanized Ryan by emphasizing that he’s not a statistic, but rather “a beloved family member, a cherished soul whose absence is felt deeply every single day,” (iv) focused on the responsibility of the inquest team to ensure that jail-related deaths such as Ryan’s come to an end, (v) articulated the need for accountability in a system full of “abuse” and “neglect,” and (vi) denaturalized Ontario’s existing punishment system by making specific reference to European countries that have found a way to introduce more humanistic practices into their relations with those caught deep within the carceral web.

       In a courageous manner Amy reminded the key players of the inquest that they had the power to do something meaningful in their final deliberations. In the words of Amy, “In your hands, you hold the power to honor his [Ryan’s] memory. Your decision will not bring him back, but it can bring us a measure of peace. It can ensure that justice is served, and that his story becomes a beacon of hope, guiding future generations to a safer and more just world.” Only time will tell if the Ministry of the Solicitor General and Hamiliton-Wentworth will rise to the occasion or fail – as they’ve done in the past – to not only craft and implement effective recommendations but also begin the process of thinking outside the confines of the inquest and find ways to eliminate a dehumanizing system bent on control, punishment and premature death.

       It’s simply not enough for presiding officers, inquest counsels, student lawyers, guards and jury members to “do their job” – just as guard J.J. was ordered to do by her Sergeant the day after Ryan’s death when she found herself short shifting on a search team all while trying to contain the traumatic memories that were resurfacing from the previous shift. As the late German-Jewish philosopher Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) pointed out years ago, people of all walks of life can conduct evil actions without evil intentions (White n.d.). With this in mind, a couple of vital questions arise: What is our individual and collective responsibility in a system that is rotten to its core? How many more Ryan’s, Soleiman’s and Sharp’s need to die before we realize that the bureaucratic machinery responsible for such deaths will not change until society demands otherwise?

       At this point, Amy’s main worry revolves around the idea that Ryan might die in vain. In order to prevent such an occurrence, we must seriously consider the alternatives to Ontario’s existing punishment system. As discussed by Amy and Subramanian (2021), alternatives do exist. For instance, carceral spaces in Northern Europe are built upon the normalization principle, which fully acknowledges “the inherent harms of incarceration and requires that life in prison approximate the positive aspects of life in the community (Subramanian, 2021).” Under the Northern European system, punishment is clearly defined and restricted to one’s separation from society and the conditions of confinement are consciously enhanced as a means of fostering relationships, personal growth, autonomy, a sense of social responsibility and an effective reintegration into society. Similar to the normalization principle, the UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (also referred to as Nelson Mandela Rules) (n.d.), which Canada publicly supported ever since its inception in the early 1950s (Prais 2018), clearly states:

Rule 5(1) – “The prison regime should seek to minimize any differences between prison life and life at liberty that tend to lessen the responsibility of the prisoners or the respect due to their dignity as human beings (3).”

Rule 4(1) – “The purpose of a sentence of imprisonment or similar measures deprivative of a person’s liberty are primarily to protect society against crime and to reduce recidivism. Those purposes can be achieved only if the period of imprisonment is used to ensure, so far as possible, the reintegration of such persons into society upon release so that they can lead a law-abiding and self-supporting life (3).”  

Rule 4(2) – “To this end, prison administrators and other competent authorities should offer education, vocational training and work, as well as other forms of assistance that are appropriate and available, including those of a remedial, moral, spiritual, social and health – and sports-based nature. All such programmes, activities and services should be delivered in line with the individual treatment needs of prisoners (3).”

       According to Prais (2018), when it comes to the protection of prisoners’ rights the UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners are absolutely essential.  Unfortunately, Prais’s work shows that in Canada progress is being paralyzed due to a “lack of political will and low prioritization of prisoners’ rights.” Prais adds, “a lack of material resources and budgets [play] a role in preventing meaningful implementation of the Mandela Rules at both Federal and Provincial level.” In order to achieve a greater degree of meaningful implementation Prais suggests that legal practitioners need to be educated on the Nelson Mandela Rules and begin the process of using them within a legal context on a regular basis.

       While these types of principles and rules may be somewhat effective for some populations on the inside, they fail to address the larger problematic of who ends up being imprisoned? The central question here is: Should people struggling with addiction and mental health issues, among other special populations, be sent to these institutions in the first place? According to the Handbook of Basic Principles and Promising Practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment (2007), “Whatever their [persons struggling with addiction and mental health issues] legal status, prisons are particularly poorly placed to provide the care these prisoners need” (57). With this in mind, Ryan would have been a prime candidate for diversion – that is, an alternative to imprisonment that focuses on some form of intervention versus punishment. According to the Handbook (2007), “Authorities find that treating offenders for their addictions is more effective than processing and eventually punishing them through the criminal justice system” (63).

       Unfortunately, such wisdom appears to be falling upon deaf ears. The Handbook (2007) adds, “Diversion of drug users can take different forms. It can follow the same pattern as other offences where police and prosecutors use their discretion not to arrest or prosecute suspects. In these cases, offenders may need to take part in a drug education or a more formal treatment programme” (64). Overall, research indicates that “drug court programmes are more effective in preventing re-offending than imprisonment and that while they are resource-intensive, cost less than imprisonment in many jurisdictions” (64). As discussed in the Handbook (2007), any country seriously considering alternatives to imprisonment needs to make laws, policies and investments consistent with evidence-based research – all of which points in the direction of keeping people struggling with addiction and mental health issues out of the criminal justice system all together.

       After waiting seven and a half nerve-racking years for her brother’s inquest, which released 18 non-binding recommendations in early February 2025 (O’Reilly 20025), Amy appears more determined than ever to attain some degree of accountability. According to O’Reilly, she’s looking into the details of launching a class-action lawsuit, which might be an effective move not only for the McKechnie’s, but also for the other families pushing tirelessly for accountability and meaningful change.

       If the collective grief of these families materializes into a class-action lawsuit The Honourable Warren K. Winkler (2007) points out that such an approach contains numerous efficiencies (e.g., greater access to justice for an entire group and reduction in legal costs) as well as the legal power to achieve behavioural modification and accountability. In the words of Winkler, “Class actions serve efficiency and justice by providing a mechanism for ensuring that actual and potential wrongdoers do not ignore their obligations to the public and for ensuring that defendants take full account of the cost of their conduct.” At this point, anything less would simply give the Government of Ontario, Ministry of the Solicitor General and Hamiliton-Wentworth – among other jails – a green light to reproduce the status quo.

       Perhaps with mounting prisoner-led class-action lawsuits (Harrison 2024; Koskie Minsky 2025; Richmond 2017) and family-led class-actions the tiresome call for accountability and deep-seated changes will become a living reality. Presumably, this may be the only path to get the Government of Ontario and the Ministry of the Solicitor General to conduct itself in ways that are consistent with the Correctional Services and Reintegration Act, 2018 (Ontario e-laws 2024), which clearly states that the Ontario correctional system’s purpose is to “contribute to public safety” by:

Schedule 2: 1(a) – providing necessary, proportionate and humane [emphasis added] measures of security and control to allow for appropriate supervision of individuals under community supervision and inmates;

Schedule 2: 1(b) – promoting reintegration and rehabilitation through programs and services that address the needs and circumstances of individuals under community supervision and inmates; and

Schedule 2: 1(c) – providing the services and facilities necessary for the safe and humane [emphasis added] custody and care of inmates.

       At this point, one could only imagine where Ryan McKechnie, Soleiman Faqiri, Louis Angelo Unelli, William Acheson, Martin Tykoliz, Stephen Conrad Neeson, David Michael Gillan, Trevor Ronald Burke, Julien Chavaun Walton, Michael McNelis, Jason Archer, Paul Debien, Nathaniel Golden, Igor Petrovic, Christopher Sharp and Robert Soberal would be today if Ontario – or all of Canada for that matter – contained a system built around the normalization principle, UN Standard Minimum Rules and best practices from the Handbook of Basic Principles and Promising Practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment. As mentioned by Amy, while there is nothing any of us can do to bring Ryan back, there is much we can do to ensure that Ryan’s “story becomes a beacon of hope, guiding future generations to a safer and more just world.”

__________

References

CBC News. “Soleiman Faqiri’s family expects ‘full story’ of his death in Ontario jail cell as province sets inquest.” CBC News, 19 May 2023, https://ici.radio-canada.ca/rci/en/news/1980943/soleiman-faqiris-family-expects-full-story-of-his-death-in-ontario-jail-cell-as-province-sets-inquest#:~:text=In%202019%2C%20the%20family%20had,settlement%20were%20not%20made%20public. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Beattie, Samantha. “14 Hamilton jail inmates have died from overdoses since 2012 but Ontario change is slow, inquest hears.” CBC News, 11 December 2024, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/jail-inquest-closing-submissions-1.7407545. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Canadian Mental Health Association. “CMHA Ontario’s recommendations accepted by jury at Faqiri inquest.” CMHA, 13 December 2023, https://ontario.cmha.ca/news/cmha-ontarios-recommendations-accepted-by-jury-at-faqiri-inquest/. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Chandler, Justin. “Jury at inquest for 6 Hamilton jail inmates recommends safe drug supply plan, improving treatment access.” CBC, 13 December 2024, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/hamilton-inquest-deaths-1.7409851. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Dignity Memorial. Obituary Ryan Patrick McKechnie. Dignity Memorial, https://www.dignitymemorial.com/en-ca/obituaries/hamilton-on/ryan-mckechnie-7467853. Accessed 30 January 2025.

“Handbook of Basic Principles and Promising Practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment.” United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime, 2007. https://www.unodc.org/pdf/criminal_justice/Handbook_of_Basic_Principles_and_Promising_Practices_on_Alternatives_to_Imprisonment.pdf. Accessed 26 February 2025.

Harrison, Keren. “From Individual to Collective Justice: How Class Actions Redefine Justice for Ontario Inmates.” Class Action Clinic, 22 October 2024, https://classactionclinic.com/from-individual-to-collective-justice-how-class-actions-redefine-justice-for-ontario-inmates/#:~:text=Class%20actions%20allow%20inmates%20to,identify%20and%20address%20systemic%20issues. Accessed 27 February 2025.

Hudson, Sandy. Why coroner’s inquests in Ontario aren’t as useful as you think.” TVO Today, 2 June 2016, https://www.tvo.org/article/why-coroners-inquests-in-ontario-arent-as-useful-as-you-think. Accessed 30 January 2025.

John Howard Society. “Broken Record: The Continued Criminalization of Mental Health Issues.” JHS, n.d., https://johnhoward.on.ca/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Broken-Record.pdf. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Koskie Minsky. “Ontario Prisoner Class Action.” Koskie Minsky LLP, 2025, https://kmlaw.ca/cases/ontario-prisoner-class-action/. Accessed 27 February 2025.

Landau, Jack. “New Forensic Services and Coroner’s Complex Prepares for Fall Opening.” Urban Toronto, 15 July 2013, https://urbantoronto.ca/news/2013/07/new-forensic-services-and-coroners-complex-prepares-fall-opening.8481. Accessed 30 January 2025.

McClelland, Alexander, Bradley, Jeffrey & Jennings, Lindsay. “What Does the Database Tell Us About Deaths in Custody Across Canada? Provinces/Territories, Jurisdictions & Institutions.” Tracking (In)justice, 9 August 2024, https://trackinginjustice.ca/what-does-the-database-tell-us-about-deaths-in-custody-across-canada-provinces-territories-jurisdictions-institutions/. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Ontario. “Coroner’s inquests.” Government of Ontario, 12 February 2024, https://www.ontario.ca/page/coroners-inquests. Accessed 26 February 2025.

Ontario. “Published plans and annual reports 2023-2024: Ministry of the Solicitor General.” Ministry of the Solicitor General, 06 February 2024, https://www.ontario.ca/page/published-plans-and-annual-reports-2023-2024-ministry-solicitor-general. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Ontario Newsroom. “Virtual Inquest into the death of Soleiman Faqiri Announced.” Ontario, 03 November 2023, https://news.ontario.ca/en/release/1003720/virtual-inquest-into-the-death-of-soleiman-faqiri-announced. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Ontario e-laws. “Correctional Services and Reintegration Act, 2018.” Ontario e-laws, 2024, https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/18c06. Accessed 27 February 2025.

O’Reilly, Nicole and Hayes, Molly. “Dying behind bars: overdose deaths in Ontario jails.” The Hamiton Spectator, 12 December 2015, https://www.cambridgetimes.ca/news/dying-behind-bars-overdose-deaths-in-ontario-jails/article_a0b13acb-db29-541f-bc02-bfb40b526a78.html. Accessed 30 January 2025.

O’Reilly, Nicole. “Jury at inquest into death of man who died at Barton jail makes 18 recommendations.” TheSpec, 6 February 2025, https://www.thespec.com/news/hamilton-region/jury-at-inquest-into-death-of-man-who-died-at-barton-jail-makes-18-recommendations/article_e178b9ea-ea63-50cf-84fd-47436ac845d9.html#:~:text=The%20jury%20at%20the%20inquest,at%20the%20Barton%20Street%20jail. Accessed 27 February 2025.

Pan, Flora. “‘Why did my brother have to die?’ Hamiliton woman asks at Barton jail inquest.” CBC News, 13 April 2018, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/hamilton-jail-overdose-death-inquest-ryan-mckechnie-1.4616529. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Prais, Vicki. “Remembering Nelson Mandela – Prisoners’ Rights in Canada.” Centre of Human Rights & Legal Pluralism McGill University, 12 October 2018, https://www.mcgill.ca/humanrights/article/remembering-nelson-mandela-prisoners-rights-canada#:~:text=Prisoners%20are%20entitled%20to%20a,or%20degrading%20treatment%20or%20punishment. Accessed 26 February 2025.

Raveendran, Rochelle. “Still no accountability for Soleiman Faqiri’s jail death: brother.” CBC News, 15 November 2024, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/soleiman-faqiri-yusuf-faqiri-1.7384544. Accessed 25 February 2025.

Richmond, Randy. “Inmates at London jail sue province for $15M after seeing, hearing fellow prisoner killed.” The London Free Press, 01 December 2017, https://lfpress.com/2017/12/01/inmates-at-london-jail-sue-province-for-15m-after-seeing-hearing-fellow-prisoner-killed. Accessed 27 February 2025.

Robin, Raizel. “The $1-Billion Hellhole.” Toronto Life, 15 February 2017, https://torontolife.com/city/inside-toronto-south-detention-centre-torontos-1-billion-hellhole/. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Stockwoods. “Family of Solieman Faqiri Launches Lawsuit.” CISION, 30 January 2019, https://www.newswire.ca/news-releases/family-of-soleiman-faqiri-launches-lawsuit-816307750.html. Accessed 30 January 2025.

Subramanian, Ram. “How Some European Prisons Are Based on Dignity Instead of Dehumanization.” Brennan Center For Justice, 29 November 2021, https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/how-some-european-prisons-are-based-dignity-instead-dehumanization. Accessed 26 February 2025.

Taekema, Dan. “Family ‘grief stricken’ after HWDC inmate dies of yet another suspected overdose.” CBC News, 12 September 2018, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/john-sharp-overdose-hamilton-detention-centre-1.4820450. Accessed 28 February 2025.

TVO Today. “Transcript: Bonus Episode: Case Closed.” TVO, 10 November 2022, https://www.tvo.org/transcript/138151. Accessed 30 January 2025.

UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners. United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, n.d., https://www.unodc.org/documents/justice-and-prison-reform/Nelson_Mandela_Rules-E-ebook.pdf. Accessed 27 February 2025.

White, Thomas. “What did Hannah Arendt really mean by the banality of evil?” Aeon, n.d., https://aeon.co/ideas/what-did-hannah-arendt-really-mean-by-the-banality-of-evil. Accessed 26 February 2025.

Widra, Emily. Addicted to punishment: Jails and prisons punish drug use far more than they treat it. Prison Policy Initiative, 30 January 2024, https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2024/01/30/punishing-drug-use/. Accessed 28 January 2025.

Wood, J. C. E.. “Discovering the Ontario Inquest.” Osgoode Hall Law Journal 5.2 (1967) : 243-266. DOI: https://doi.org/10.60082/2817-5069.2386 https://digitalcommons.osgoode.yorku.ca/ohlj/vol5/iss2/6. Accessed 30 January 2025.

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“When a soldier or civilian is killed, twenty years or more of the fruits of one woman’s labour is destroyed. The woman will never be able to enjoy seeing her children achieve their full potential. This will be not by accident, but willfully, because someone, somewhere, who could not appreciate the value of human life, issued an order”

(Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group, 1983).

The necessity of dissent and the power of nonviolence

On this Global Day of Action to Close Military Bases around the world we want to recall that “dissent is a hallmark of a democratic society” and that our right and civic responsibly to protest, express ourselves and act in accordance with our political conscience is fully protected in Canada under ss. 2(b) and 2(c) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. We maintain that “nonviolence is a way of strength and not a way for cowards. It is not a lack of power which allows us to be nonviolent, but in fact the discovery of a different kind of power. It is a choice, not a resignation; a spirituality, not just a tactic” (Centre for Action and Contemplation).

Critical land acknowledgement

Our participation in the Global Day of Action to Close Military Bases (and other military installations such as armouries) was grounded in the following critical land acknowledgment:

“We acknowledge the land we are on is the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Metis peoples. We also acknowledge that Etobicoke is covered by Treaty 13 (also known as the Toronto Purchase) with the Mississaugas of the Credit.”

There is no denying the history of settler colonialism – that is, a structure of relentless violence that began as far back as 1525 when the Christian church declared that European powers contained the right to “discover” and claim Indigenous lands as their own. It all began in a racist ideology referred to as the Doctrine of Discovery – that is, a violent doctrine grounded in the ideas of Terra Nullius, which proclaimed that this very land was completely “empty.” In effect, the Doctrine of Discovery conveniently ignored the humanity of millions of Indigeous peoples who lived all across Turtle Island.

Our collective participation on the Global Day of Action to Close Military Bases was not only aimed at closing down and repurposing settler colonial bases and armories around the world but also speaking out against all justifications for settlement, assimilation, militarism and genocide. We also recognized that such violent system(s) is also present in other settler states such as the US, Australia and Palestine – all of which must be challenged and transformed in ways that place the self-determination of Indigenous peoples at the forefront of ALL future social, economic and political planning.

As we gathered on the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, we remembered and honoured those who struggled tirelessly before us to remove Canadian military bases off ancestral lands. For instance, we recalled and honoured the Chippewa Natives who, in the early to mid-90s, successfully launched a nonviolent campaign to push a Canadian military base named Camp Ipperwash off Stony Point First Nation. In 1942 the settler colonial government of Canada instituted the War Measures Act and in the process forced Chippewa families off their land. In good old settler colonial fashion, the government of Canada broke their promise to return the land, which consisted of traditional burial grounds. In response, the Chippewa organized a campaign and issued the Department of National Defence an eviction notice, which was supported by many groups and organizations such as, the National Association of Japanese Canadians, Six Nations Reserve at Brantford and the Canadian Autoworkers Union. Rather than fulfilling their original promise, treaty obligations or evicting the settler colonial state maintained its position under the title “Project Maple,” made arrests with the use of the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP), harassed protesters and, despite having no weapons, eventually shot and killed an Indigenous leader and organizer named Anthony Dudley George. As a rare view into the settler colonial mentality a public inquiry into the death of Anthony Dudley George revealed that hours before his needless death former Premier of Ontario Mike Harris stated, “I want the f***ing Indians out of the park.” In addition to this finding, the inquiry demanded that the settler colonial government of Canada return the land, which it did in 2013. Unfortunately, the Chippewa land was deemed uninhabitable due to all the environmental destruction instituted by the military as well as scattered unexploded devices. Since the return of their land the Chippewas of the Stoney Point First Nation named the land Aushoodaana Anjibaajig, which translates into resting place (Nonviolent Action Database). The Chippewa struggle to shut down Camp Ipperwash and reclaim their traditional land draws our attention to the relationship between decolonization and demilitarization.

When will we recognize that the existing militarist paradigm to human security is in actuality a universal death sentence? True human security is grounded in housing, healthy and accessible food, healthcare, education and meaningful labour for ALL not threats and the use of force! As anti-violence advocates we echo the Peace Science Digest’s insight that “There should be a rejection of the national-militarized-security paradigm and a transformation into a “genuine security.” While our current predicament can be conceptualized as a crisis we maintain that it can also be conceptualized as an opportunity to reimagine the type of world we want to create for ourselves and future generations. Together we will defeat the forces of capitalism, colonialism, militarism and patriarchy (Peace Science Digest) because anything less will only prolong and reproduce the suffering and death induced by these belligerent structures.

As we evolve in our thinking, witnessing and acting in unified ways, we acknowledge our interconnectedness, and so we stand as One on this sacred ground we refer to as Home. Similar to our eternal brother, Dr. Martin L. King Jr., we envision and struggle for the realization of the Beloved Community. As discussed by The King Centre, 

“In the Beloved Community, poverty, hunger and homelessness will not be tolerated because international standards of human decency will not allow it. Racism and all forms of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice will be replaced by an all-inclusive spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood. In the Beloved Community, international disputes will be resolved by peaceful conflict-resolution and reconciliation of adversaries, instead of military power. Love and trust will triumph over fear and hatred. Peace with justice will prevail over war and military conflict.”

As settlers we must fully recognize that a mere acknowledgement does not change the fact that the country known as Canada was built in and through the devastating structures of settler colonialism, racism, assimilation and genocide – all of which continue today. As the late First Nations political leader, Arthur Manuel (1951-2017) stated, “Settler Canadians […] enjoy and benefit from 99.8 per cent of [the] indigenous land base under the federal and provincial governments.” Furthermore, as of 1867, indigenous “lands were put under Crown [control] and [indigenous peoples] were left with 0.2 per cent of the land” – that being, Reserves.

In addition, Arthur Manuel critically stated, “You cannot have reconciliation under the colonial 0.2 per cent Indian Reserve System. It is impossible. Nothing can justify that kind of human degradation. The land issue must be addressed before reconciliation can begin.” And we would like to add that the process of demilitarization, which includes closing colonial bases and armouries is a necessary step in the process of decolonization. We gather here today not only as concerned citizens but also as deeply concerned people willing to do whatever it takes in solidarity with our Indigenous brothers and sisters to fulfill the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), which clearly states, “Indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination” (Article 3). Don’t be discouraged my friends as – in the words of Martin L. King Jr. – “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Deeply concerned citizens

As concerned citizens, we are extremely disturbed by the fact that global military spending has hit a new record high of $2.4 trillion. A global snapshot shows that the biggest military spenders include the United States ($916B), China ($296B), Russia ($109B) and India ($83.6B) (Psaropoulos 2024). With respect to Canadian militarism, the Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, announced in April 2024 new investments of $8.1B over five years and $73B over the next 20 years (Prime Minister 2024). All in, which includes higher NATO and NORAD spending, several procurements such as F-35 fighter jets, P-8A surveillance aircraft and other toys, the military is scheduled to hit as much as $553B over the next 20 years (Global News 2024). Given that there exists “plentiful evidence that the effects of military coercion are highly unpredictable, and that physical violence proves no more reliable a strategy than nonviolent political methods, even in the case of direct confrontations with other violent actors” (Cockburn 2012: 259), such spending is irrational.

Nonviolent community leaders pointed out decades ago that “Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows” (Martin L. King Jr.). In addition to the irrationality of military spending, we maintain that war is inherently immoral and should be abolished as a means of resolving human conflict. According to the Imperial War Museums (2025), “It has been estimated that 187 million people died as a result of war from 1900 to the present. The actual number is likely far higher.” How many more lives will be lost before we realize organized violence is not an inevitability; but rather, a choice (Cockburn 2012)? Alongside the needless loss of life, the Watson Institute for International & Public Affairs (2023) reports that countless people have either died or fallen terribly ill because of war and its relentless destruction of hospitals, infrastructure and the environment. According to the Institute, an incalculable number of people have sustained injuries, illnesses, disabilities and displacement due to the incontestable horrors of war – look no further than Gaza to see these horrors unfold before the world’s eyes.

Global military bases

Unsurprisingly, the United States has the greatest number of overseas military bases in the world. According to World Population Review (2024), the United States has 750 military bases in 80 countries around the world (e.g., the Middle East, Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Pacific). Unlike empires of the past such as, Rome, Persia and China, which were powerful in their own domains, the U.S. exercises a global dominance unlike any country in the course of human history (CATO 2021). In addition to the U.S., countries such as, Russia (two or three dozen), the United Kingdom (145), Turkey and France contain a number of bases in foreign countries (World Population Review 2024) and to a lesser extent, China (5), Iran, India, Italy, Japan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore and the United Arab Emirates (Wikipedia). No matter how you look at it, the U.S. ranks number one in the world when it comes to projecting its power and polluting the world with military installations – all of which cost U.S. taxpayers approximately $80B per year (CATO 2021) (some sources suggest $85-$100B per year).

Canadian military installations

The Canadian war department runs 27 military bases across the entire country (Wikipedia; Office of the Parliamentary Budget Officer) and roughly 136 armouries (Wikipedia) – never mind, Canada’s 7 Defence Research Centres, military universities (Royal Military College of Canada and the Royal Military College Saint-Jean) and twenty six recruiting centres (Ottawa Citizen 2015) all of which work to normalize and glorify war. Again, despite the fact that there exists “plentiful evidence that the effects of military coercion are highly unpredictable, and that physical violence proves no more reliable a strategy than nonviolent political methods” (Cockburn 2012: 259), Canada continues to invest in an infrastructure bent on disseminating pain, suffering and death to anyone labelled as an internal or foreign “enemy.” As yet another act of normalizing belligerence, populist conservative leader, Pierre Poilievre, recently stated that if elected he will build yet another permanent military base in Nunavut and in order to do so he will dramatically cut back on Canada’s foreign aid budget ($15.5B 2022-23) (Baxter 2025). Is this the type of society we want to build?

Global impacts of military bases and specific reasons for closing military installations

Let’s take a moment to reflect on at least 5 reasons why military installations here and around the globe should be closed (World Beyond War).

Reason #1: Bases often perpetuate colonialism, removing Indigenous people from their traditional lands. Across the world militaries have pushed out Indigenous peoples without any form of consent or compensation. There are many examples around the world which include places such as, Panama to Guam (1,500 miles south of Japan) to Puerto Rico to Okinawa to dozens of other locations. One concrete example includes the Chagos Islands (central Indian Ocean) in which the entire population was forced off the island of Diego Garcia by the UK so that it could be leased to the U.S. for an airbase (World Beyond War).  To date, the island of Diego Garcia has been used in a number of wars (e.g., Persian Gulf War 1990-91, U.S.-led strikes on Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003) as an operational launching pad. In 2019, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) recommended that the UK return the island as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the ruling was nonbinding. At the moment, there is no permanent population on the island; however, there are 4,000 U.S. and British military personnel and civilian contractors stationed there (Britannica 2025).

Reason #2: Bases are expensive to build and run. According to the Parliamentary Budget Officer (2021-22), it cost taxpayers roughly $24.1B to run Canada’s military establishment – a cost that is scheduled to go through the roof with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s new settler colonial military policy dubbed Our North, Strong and Free. According to the Trudeau regime, the war department plans on spending an additional $73B over the next 20 years (Prime Minister). In the context of our neighbours to the south it is estimated that U.S. foreign military bases cost $80B per year – all of which are funds that could be more productively spent on education, healthcare and renewable energy sources (World Beyond War).

Reason #3: Bases exacerbate environmental damage and the climate crisis. Can you believe that military greenhouse gas emissions are not included in climate agreements such as the Kyoto Protocol? According Broadview (2024), “Since the Paris Agreement in 2015, reporting military emissions to the United Nations has been voluntary. In its 2023 Emissions Gap report, the UN states that military emissions are likely ‘non trivial’ and continue to be underreported.” Furthermore, the UN’s 2023 Emissions Gap report declared, “Canada’s gap in emissions reporting as ‘very significant’ and gives it a poor data accessibility score.”

Did you know that Canada’s Department of National Defence (DND), “is the largest greenhouse gas (GHG) emitter in the federal government” (Taguibao 2023). Unfortunately, Canada’s war department has a lengthy history of coming out on top. For instance, in 2021-22, Canada spent upwards of $26B on war all while spending $2.73B on combating the real threat: climate change. While it’s true that the federal government increased climate funding in 2023 to $70B over a five-year period it’s too little too late! We don’t want a reactionary government, we want a government that follows the science and knows how to prioritize and plan a future without environmental degradation and war (Broadview 2024).

Research is clear, “The construction of bases has caused irreparable ecological damage, such as the destruction of coral reefs and the environment of endangered species” all around the world. In addition, “it is well documented at hundreds of sites around the world that military bases leach toxic so-called “forever-chemicals” into local water supplies, which has had devastating health consequences for nearby communities” (World Beyond War). As discussed by Nelson (2021), “We tend to forget that all those fighter jets, tanks, naval vessels, air transport vehicles, Jeeps, helicopters, Humvees and drones burn massive amounts of oil, diesel and gas, and are major climate polluters.” In addition, it is imperative to note that Canada provides the U.S. with cobalt, rare-earth metals and minerals for weaponry, armoured vehicles, precision-guided missiles, smart bombs, night-vision goggles, aircraft, lasers, satellite communications and radar and sonar on submarines and ships” (Nelson). 

Reason #4: Bases can have violent and harmful impacts on local communities. According to World Beyond War, “Militaries have a notorious legacy of sexual violence, including kidnapping, rape, and murders of women and girls in nearby communities.” As a case in point consider recent reports linked to sexual assault cases involving U.S. military personnel in Okinawa, Japan (NPR 2024). To make matters worse, “[U.S.] troops stationed at foreign bases are often afforded impunity for their crimes due to Status of Forces Agreements with the so-called ‘host’ country.”

In the country known as Canada, Statistics Canada (2023) reports, “In 2022, approximately 1,960 Regular Force members, or 3.5%, reported that they were sexually assaulted in the military workplace or outside of the workplace in an incident that involved Canadian Armed Forces (CAF) or other military members.” In addition, Statistics Canada states, “This rate of sexual assault […] represents a significant increase from rates reported in 2018 and 2016.” No matter what Statistics Canada reports, it is important to mention that according to McMaster University, “Much of what we know about military sexual misconduct and military sexual trauma comes from what is reported. However, many individuals choose not to report incidents of military sexual misconduct that occur during service for a variety of reasons. The ‘official figures’ may be just the tip of the iceberg. In fact, over half (57%) of sexual assault incidents go unreported.”

Reason #5: Bases heighten tensions and provoke war-making. “The presence of hundreds of thousands of troops, massive arsenals, and thousands of aircraft, tanks, and ships in every corner of the globe facilitates war-making and promotes an arms race” (World Beyond War).

Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury: What type of training and who really benefits?

As we arrived outside Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury we posed some vital questions: What type of training do they do here and who really benefits?

According to the Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury webpage, they have a very specific mandate – that is, DFS, which stands for “Direct Fire Support.” In translation, this is where soldiers learn to kill human beings using a wide range of killing technologies. According to their webpage, “We are trained in the employment of various infantry heavy weapon systems [in other words, trained to kill with hi-tech machines] including the M2 .50 cal HMG (heavy machine gun), the AGLS (automatic grenade launcher system), and the TOW anti-tank missile launcher.” As concerned citizens, we declared that we were not okay with this! In addition, we pondered the type of message, values and worldview that military institutions like this promote in the minds of the young. This armoury – like all military installations – normalizes and glorifies war as a means of resolving human conflict and we were clear about efforts to find constructive, nonviolent and creative ways to end these types of belligerent social practice.

If you flip through the armoury webpage a little more you will notice a string of “incentives” (more accurately, manipulations) such as, subsidized education, full-time summer employment and competitive salaries; however, there is absolutely no mentioned of the private companies that profit from the killing technologies that the people here are trained to use of our “enemies.” Since the Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury failed in this task we gladly engaged the public and shed some light on this problematic.

Let’s begin with the M2A1 .50 Caliber (12.7 MM) Heavy Machine Gun. This technology of death is produced by none other than General Dynamics Ordnance and Tactical Systems – that is, a massive arms dealer that profits handsomely from the sale of these types of systems. Do you really think General Dynamics cares about the people and families its Heavy Machine Gun puts in coffins? No! What they care about is the bottom line: profits. Do you really think General Dynamics cares about Canadian soldiers that return from war with missing limbs after being targeted and shot at by other Heavy Machine Guns? No! What they care about is the bottom line.

Please be clear, we are NOT against the soldiers/labourers that work here at all! What we want is for the soldiers/labourers that work here to realize that we have a common enemy! That’s right, the weapons companies that keep producing, selling and profiting from these technologies of death. If you go to the General Dynamics webpage you will read about their 30 plus years of experience producing Heavy Machine Guns and their so-called “reliability,” “accuracy” and “effectiveness;” however, you will read absolutely nothing about the human lives they have destroyed with their technologies. General Dynamics is in the war business for one single reason: profits. To be more specific, PR Newswire (2025) reports, “General Dynamics […] generated $47.7 billion in revenue in 2024.” Who are the real winners of war? Well, we about know about one for sure, Phebe Novakovic, who is the Chairman and CEO of General Dynamics. This is nothing but corporate tyranny and it will continue until the public unites and consistently demands otherwise.

What about the GMG, which fires 40 mm grenades at a rate of about 340 rounds per minute? Here we have a technology of death made by another private company called Heckler & Koch. If you go to their webpage you will be inundated with fanciful language pertaining to “velocity,” “effectiveness” and “force multipliers;” however, you will read absolutely nothing about the needless pain, suffering and death induced by these brutal technologies. Yet again, we asked: Who are the real winners of war? In this case, it’s Jens Bodo Koch who currently serves as the CEO. According to Aktuell (2024), “The German company […] continued to grow in the first half of 2024. Both sales and incoming orders increased significantly compared to the same period last year,” which is just another way of saying, “WAR IS GOOD FOR A FEW BUT BAD FOR MOST.”

What about the BGM-71 TOW, which is an anti-tank guided missile launcher? Here we have a technology of death produced and sold by none other than a massive weapons dealer named Raytheon. From the killing fields of Vietnam all the way to Iraq, the TOW has been at the forefront of flooding the world with destruction for decades. While the victims of the TOW system live in utter pain and anguish, CEO Chris Calio recently “expressed optimism [for 2025] […] emphasizing the strong market demand for its products.” Furthermore, “The company projects adjusted 2025 sales between $83.0 billion to $84.0 billion” – that is, a projection that has “bolster[ed] investor confidence” (AInvest 2025). 

We gathered here today to not only close military bases around the world but also launch a serious challenge to the private companies that invest, produce and sell the very technologies that make war possible. As the pandemic taught us, there is absolutely nothing inevitable about producing and selling specific products. Put another way, industries are malleable, which is great news! For instance, during the height of the pandemic companies such as, H&M, Honeywell, Ford, Bacardi and GM shifted their focus and began making products such as, N95s, sanitizer and ventilation systems – all of which contained a high social value (Triplepundit 2020). It’s long past the time for weapons dealers to repurpose the human ingenuity they exploit to make technologies of death and destruction.

Gardens NOT Battlefields Action

It is alarming and disheartening to know that one of the sole purpose of 66 Birmingham St. is “Direct Fire Support,” which translates into the training and use of murderous technologies. As concerned citizens we echo our brother Martin L. King Jr.’s insight that “We must pursue peaceful end through peaceful means.” As a step in this direction, we proposed the following:

1. Repurpose Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury located at 66 Birmingham St., Etobicoke, into a community garden and greenhouse for the residents of Toronto. 

-According to Raveendra, “In 2022, some 117,890 children in the city were living in poverty.” As the child poverty capital of Canada (Raveendra 2024), we maintain that repurposing Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury into a community garden will assist in the process of alleviating child poverty.

-According to the Daily Bread Food Bank, “In 2022-23, there were over 2.5 million client visits […].” We maintain that repurposing Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury into a community garden will assist in the process of alleviating hunger throughout the city.

-According to the Daily Bread Food Bank, “In 2022-23, Daily Bread delivered nearly 28 pounds of food. This is a 50% increase compared to the previous year.” We maintain that repurposing Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury into a community garden will enable us to make significant donations of healthy fruits and vegetables to Daily Bread.

-According to the National Observer (2023), “Fruit and vegetable prices are killing us.” We maintain that repurposing Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury into a community garden will assist families in the process of gaining accessibility to healthy fruits and vegetables, which research shows is beneficial for fending off life-threatening chronic illnesses such as cardiovascular diseases and Type-2 diabetes (National Observer).

-According to Shelter Logic Direct (n.d.), greenhouses contain five major benefits: (1) extended growing seasons, (2) effective pest prevention (3) customizable, (4) additional growing options and (5) weather protection for all plants. We maintain that repurposing Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury into a large greenhouse will enable the community to grow and eat healthy food all year long.

• Repurpose Captain B.S. Hutcheson V.C. Armoury website (https://www.torscotr.com/) into an accurate source of information (vs. pro-military propaganda) pertaining to the relationship between war, human misery and environmental destruction. It is our strong belief that the graphics and videos on your website normalize and glorify war in ways that conceal the devastating truth of modern war. 

-According to the Imperial War Museums (2025), “It has been estimated that 187 million people died as a result of war from 1900 to the present. The actual number is likely far higher.”

–Watson Institute for International & Public Affairs (2023) reports that countless people have either died or fallen terribly ill because of war and its relentless destruction of hospitals, infrastructure and the environment. According to the Institute, an incalculable number of people have sustained injuries, illnesses, disabilities and displacement due to the incontestable horrors of war.

-According to the Conflict and Environment Observatory (2020), “Military training creates emissions, disruption to landscapes and terrestrial and marine habitats, and creates chemical and noise pollution from the use of weapons, aircraft and vehicles.”

-According to the Conflict and Environmental Observatory (2020), “Indirectly, high levels of military spending divert resources away from solving environmental problems and away from sustainable development.”

-According to the Surgeon General Report (2024), “For the 2018-2022 period, and for the 2015-2019 and 2020-2022 periods, the suicide rate was higher with statistical significance among Regular Force males who were separated, divorced or widowed when compared to other marital status categories.”

-According to the Surgeon General Report (2024), “The rate of suicide was higher with statistical significance among males who were in the Army combat arms occupation, relative to those in other occupations.”

-According to Dr. Susan L. Ray, “The veterans in this study became homeless many years after their release from the military. Alcoholism, other drug addiction and mental health problems were some of the major issues identified by the participants that lead ultimately to homelessness […]. Alcohol and/or other drugs were used to cope with many problems that occurred while transitioning to civilian life. The difficulty in transitioning to civilian life was one of the major findings that emerged from this study.”

-According to The Guardian (2024), “For years, the country’s armed forces has publicly acknowledged a culture that bred abuse and assault, and a longstanding failure to root it out. The crisis, which promoted a shake-up at the most senior ranks, has eroded public trust in the institution and weakened morale within the military’s ranks.”

-According to CMAJ OPEN (2017), “Canadian military women are at increased risk for sexual assault and military-related sexual assault relative to their male counterparts. Deployments may be a period of elevated risk for military-related sexual assault, and women who reported military related sexual assault are more likely to have experienced mental disorders, especially post-traumatic stress disorder.”

-According to the BBC (2021), “Women in the military are almost twice as likely as the general population to have been victims of sexual assault in the previous year, and nearly 80% of all respondents witnessed or experienced ‘inappropriate sexualized behaviour.’”

-According to Statistics Canada (2022 study), “Among Veterans with a disability, 72% had pain-related disability, 66% had a physical disability and 51% had a sensory disability. Additionally, 23% of Veterans had a mental health-related disability and 29% had a cognitive disability.”

-According to CBC News (2011), “Domestic violence on Canadian military bases has climbed steadily in recent years, coinciding with the return of soldiers who carry physical and psychological battle wounds home.”

• Repurpose military hardware (e.g., metal components) into socially useful tools.

-Collect ALL weapons that you train people to kill and destroy with, including, Browning Hi-Power Pistol, C7A2 Automatic Rifle, Remington 870P Shotgun, C9A2 Light Machine Gun (LMG), M72A5-C1 Short Range Anti-Armour Weapon (Light) (SRAAW(L)), C13 Fragmentation Grenade, C6A1 FLEX General Purpose Machine Gun (GPMG), Carl Gustaf M1 Short Range Anti-Armour Weapon (Medium) (SRAAW(M)), Browning M2 Heavy Machine Gun (HMG), C16 Automatic Grenade Launcher System (AGLS), BGM-71 Tube-Launched Optically-Tracked Wire-Guided (TOW) Anti-Tank Guided Missile (ATGM), melt them down and reuse for the construction of affordable homes.

-According to the New York Times (2018), “For years, firearms at these so-called gun melts have served as an inexpensive supply of scrap metal that can be turned into bars of high-grade steel and later used as components in […] construction and energy projects.”

• Repurpose military labourers into non-military labourers.

-Opportunity to repurpose military labourers into non-military labourers such as Christian Peace Makers (CPT). Accordingly, “CPT places teams at the invitation of local peacemaking communities that are confronting situations of lethal conflict. These teams support and amplify the voices of local peacemakers who risk injury and death by waging nonviolent direct action to confront systems of violence and oppression.” In addition, “CPT enlists spiritual communities and individuals in an organized, nonviolent alternative to war.” Don’t wait, you can join the alternative and start training today!

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“It is said that no one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails. A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones.” – Nelson Mandela

Recollections amid the anonymous

Regrettably, Canadians have nothing respectable to say about those who live and die in carceral spaces. That’s right, mysterious zones of complete abandonment that chew up and swallow the nameless and faceless objects of a society gone astray. Amy McKechnie’s experience is a living testimony to such a cold reality. After her 34-year-old brother Ryan Patrick McKechnie died from an overdose at the infamous Hamilton-Wentworth Detention Centre (locally referred to as Barton Street jail) she bore witness to a string of cruel and insensitive online commentary regarding a memorial site she setup alongside other families struggling to honor those who suffered a similar fate.

       Instead of kindhearted remarks related to the white crosses and flowers stationed on the front lawn of the jail, Amy was subjected to a surge of comments that completed the crack in an already deeply severed heart. “They were created by the meth loving families of the dirtbags they represent!” read one post. With respect to the white crosses and the names they held high towards the light teal sky, another post stated, “These crosses signify the many men and women of society’s underbelly who are taking a dirt nap due to their unwavering addiction to self-destruction.” In addition to these debasing remarks, Amy recalled stumbling across messages that read, “waste of taxpayer dollars” and “good riddance” (Taekema 2019).

       For certain, it’s one thing to not care in silence and yet another to publicize it in such a brazen way. Shame on who? The individuals who sprayed their poisonous online venom or the pacified masses that lock it all up in their containers of willful ignorance. What to make of a society that shamelessly advertises its dislike of the vulnerable. Fluffy academic discourses pertaining to human nature aside, perhaps, it’s the prevailing superstructural paradigm that defines who has value and who has our unspoken collective permission to get high and die without rudimentary reverence. Let’s be honest, we remember, romanticize, scream and shed tears for the Hollywood stars that saturate our screens but fall utterly silent in the face of an underclass struggling to survive in the cages we subsidize through our labour. With a Ministry that soaks up nearly $3.5 billion per year on “public safety” (Ontario 2023), Ontario should be a paradise with a recidivism rate next to nil.  

       The decay and death of people like Ryan is symptomatic of a society that has perfected the appearance of progress. Is it too much to ask society to look into the mirror and ponder the notion of collective culpability? Please, don’t look away! This mirror belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. How many more Ryan’s will there be? All the talk about human rights amounts to nothing more than another shadow flickering off the wall inside of Plato’s cave.

       It’s not only that Canadians don’t care about those who occupy these death dispensing spaces, but also their unverbalized consent that makes the prematurely departed turnover in their graves at night. What will it take for the public to wake up and fight? Without a conscious struggle against such tyranny, we all lose although unevenly. I’m waiting for the day that we standup and say, “We are all related to the McKechnie family and refuse to let Ryan die in vain.”

Recollections amid the guards

While many hide behind the mask of digital anonymity, others divulge their shallowness in an open manner. For instance, after 53-year-old Christopher Sharp died due to fentanyl poisoning at Barton Street jail, his family got hold of an online post that read, “Who cares,” by Kevin Hale, a worker for the Ministry of the Solicitor General. In a desperate attempt to save face, the Ministry quickly responded stating, “The personal opinions expressed by our employee do not reflect the values of our ministry nor of the vast majority of correctional staff” (Taekema 2018) – a defensive response that only stirs the pot of skepticism with respect to guard-inmate relations.

       Don’t be fooled by Ministry propaganda as Mr. Hale’s remarks tell us more than meets the eye. Speculation and defensiveness aside, it’s important to face the fact that guard-inmate interactions can morph into violent and misplaced human relations: rapes, pregnancies, escapes, contraband favours and more (Lexipol 2023). Mr. Hale’s remarks provide a rare opening into the power dynamics built into the overall machinery of fear, punishment and social control. To be more precise, what exists is a widely accepted hierarchical structure overflowing with abuses concealed behind notions of “public safety” and wardrobes filled with shining badges and spotless professional attire. I’m so tired of a system that assimilates us into a fraudulent and violent legal logic bent on the banishment of any person or group demarcated as “barbaric” and “evil.”  It’s an inescapable and sadistic logic deeply rooted in a settler colonial project that continually remodels itself under the liberal guise of “truth” and “reconciliation.” When will we realize the impossibility of humanizing such inhumane, violent and callous structure. Such credulous attempts are analogous to living in a mass cycle of abuse in which the honeymoon phase is reserved for a select class of people.       

       Irrespective of the days, months and years of training, guards drink from the cup of filthy power, which fills them with a sense of superiority over a fantasized object deserving of nothing more than institutional barbarity. It’s not so much Mr. Hale’s words, but rather everything that exists behind them. Perhaps we owe Mr. Hale a thank you for his remarkable bluntness, which stands slightly ahead of the plastic smiles, drained eyes and deceitfulness built into every nook and cranny of modern bureaucracies. Indeed, it’s an unnerving truth to swallow; nevertheless, essential if we are truly interested in understanding why we live in a society that recklessly reproduces a system build to humiliate, cage and kill those deemed “undesirable.”

       Under existing conditions Ryan will never rest in peace, nor shall we live in peace. In late 2024, family members of five men who lost their lives to drug toxicity between 2018-2022 at Niagara Detention Centre in Thorold, Ont., held signs that read, “SPEAK FOR THE DEAD TO PROTECT THE LIVING;” however, they failed to recognize the prerequisites for the actualization of such protection: public interest and sustained political mobilization. If the Canadian Encyclopedia can be counted as a reliable source we must acknowledge its claim: “Citizens in general […] tend to know little and seem to care even less about who is in prison, what happens there and what happens to people after they leave.” Perhaps, it would be wise for citizens to recognize that the privilege of disinterest relies on a taken-for-granted proximity from a widening carceral web. Ask Beverly Murphy who’s currently fighting for her 32-year-old son Mitchell’s life outside Her Majesty’s Penitentiary in St. John’s, N.L. As a person struggling with mental illness, addiction and rapid weight loss inside of Newfoundland’s largest jail, Beverly has gone public stating, “I don’t want to bury him” (Vallee 2025).

Recollections and false promises in the upper echelon

These types of vilifying articulations are not confined to online posts. At the level of provincial politics, Ontario Premier Doug Ford has expressed clear contempt for people caught up in Ontario’s creeping carceral web. In response to questions pertaining to overcrowded jails the Premier asserted, “I’ll build as many jails as we need to put these criminals behind bars for a long time” (The Canadian Press 2024). Similarly, Premier Ford’s right-hand man Solicitor General Michael Kerzner declared, “When it comes to keeping people safe and addressing crime in our communities, we’ll stop at nothing” (Kerzner n.d.) – that is, a “tough on crime” approach built around the glorification of hyper-masculinity. With the political power to inject the drug of othering into public consciousness, the bullies in suits celebrate yet another victory built upon pro-carceral myths. In a decent society, the pushers of such drug would face relentless condemnation and political demands aimed at abolishing their mythological system.

       Unfortunately, the Ford-Kerzner approach is nothing new. The strongman politics of Ontario’s political elites is merely a continuation of former Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s misguided regime that worked tirelessly to implement a “tough on crime” approach between 2006 and 2015. As mentioned by Comack at al. (2015), “[Harper’s] ‘tough on crime’ measures and budget cuts have shifted the orientation from rehabilitation to warehousing prisoners. Reduced access to meaningful programming, along with other cost-cutting measures – charging inmates more for room and board and the use of phones, closing full kitchens in the prisons and trucking in frozen meals, and reducing pay levels of prison work – has heightened prisoners’ levels of frustration, creating conditions for unrest and violence within the prisons” (1). Under the rubric of “tackling crime” and “making communities safer,” the Harper regime weakened an already futile “correctional system,” made communities less safe, overloaded prisons and increased the chances of a life of poverty and homelessness for formerly incarcerated people (Comack et al. 2015). Harper’s successor, “Sunny Ways” Trudeau, managed to dupe the public with a political campaign that called for the resumption of evidence-based policies – all of which turned out to be hollow as an actor’s laugh. As Trudeau’s regime comes to an end there remains an over-representation of Indigenous folks among other vulnerable groups. In short, Trudeau failed to deliver (Gerster 2019). In actuality, the only thing being delivered are body bags filled with the political fodder used to advance and rehabilitate careers. Look no further than Pierre Poilievre’s populist regime that recently announced its vision to hit those caught up in the drug trade with mandatory life sentences (Tasker 2025). It’s a cheap political move straight out of Harper’s playbook. In the words of Poilievre, “I will lock up fentanyl kingpins and throw away the key” (Tasker 2025). I suppose every “small man” needs to portray himself as a “big man” in a socio-economic and political structure bent on listening to and rewarding the “strong” over the “weak.” When will we acknowledge that the pseudoscience of Social Darwinism is well and alive. Have you heard of the names Trump, Netanyahu and Putin? Shall I go on?

       Unlike Ford and Kerzner’s somewhat sanitized political rhetoric, representatives from Canada’s adjacent heavy-handed institutions such as the military have been much more direct about their conceptualizations of those deemed “criminal” on the world stage. For instance, during General Rick Hillier’s short stint as Canada’s top military dog he stated, “We are not the public service of Canada…our job is to be able to kill people,” or more specifically, members of the Taliban who he categorized as “detestable murderers and scumbags” (Sheharyar 2014). How do we begin to explain the roots of a political paradigm built around simplistic labels (e.g., “dirtbags,” “society’s underbelly,” “unwavering addiction to self-destruction,” “waste,” “criminals,” “detestable murderers and scumbags”) that conceal the complexities of human affairs and the political interests that exist therein?

       Looking far beyond the simplistic and dehumanizing rhetoric of anonymous online actors, jaded guards and political elites, late American anthropologist and anarchist David Graeber (1961-2020) points out that these conceptualizations are part and parcel of what he calls a right-wing political ontology that normalizes the use of aggression. In the words of Graeber, “Whenever we hear this word [force] invoked, we find ourselves in the presence of a political ontology in which the power to destroy, to cause others pain or to threaten to break, damage, or mangle others’ bodies (or just lock them in a tiny room for the rest of their lives) is treated as the social equivalent of the very energy that drives the cosmos” (87). Once force, threat, pain and punishment are stitched deep into the fabric of society we give ourselves permission to disregard, neglect and forget those ideologically pigeon-holed as “irredeemable” and “eternally wicked.” Such poisonous psychological infrastructure perceives the Other as nothing more than waste awaiting disposal in a system fixated on unapologetically criminalizing, confining and intombing six feet under. If such toxic psyche was stitched together over time it can be unstitched and made anew. A good starting point for such psychic restructuring lies in problematizing the language embedded in the right-wing political ontology that plagues us like an unstoppable virus.

       In less ambiguous times language was a little more direct, which gave the public a more accurate understanding of institutional functionality. For instance, prior to the mid-twentieth century so-called departments of defence were referred to by their proper name, war departments (Madwar 2024) and “correctional systems” were called prisons (Government of Canada 2009). In more recent history, the School of the Americas (SOA) (dubbed the School of Assassins by its critics) was rebranded the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC).

       While decision makers attempted to deceive the public in a game of institutional charades, the internal language and logic remained the same: kill the “enemies” and cage the “animals.”  As mentioned by Mangla and George (2019), history is filled with examples in which dehumanizing language was instrumentalized as a means to justify grave acts of violence. “During World II, Nazi Germany used the term mischling, which roughly translates to “mongrel” [mutt, dog or crossbreed], to legally classify people of part-Jewish ancestry. Following the war, the term was used for babies born to non-white soldiers and German women. During the Rwandan genocide, Tutsi people were regularly referred to as inyenzi, or cockroaches” (Mangla & George 2019). In more recent times we read about instances in which far-right Jewish groups chant slogans such as, “Death to Arabs,” “Mohammed is Dead” and “May Your Village Burn” (Zion 2023) – all of which expose the significance of racist ideological structures in the political process of domination, control and outright extermination (as of early February Aljazeera (2025) reported that 62,000 men, women and children have been utterly massacred throughout the Gaza Strip).

       Similarly, words such as, “perpetrator,” “offender,” “prisoner,” “criminal,” “convict,” and “felon” generate a conceptual framework devoid of a person’s complex history, identity and socio-economic context all of which amounts to the ideological backbone of mass incarceration (Mangla & George 2019). Without the political power tools of essentialization, oversimplification and misrepresentation the inner logic of mass incarceration withers away and we begin to see a humanity that is arguably more difficult to brush-off. As discussed by Eddie Ellis, who wore many hats (e.g., son, father, community leader, founder of the Center for NuLeadership on Urban Solutions as well as a formerly incarcerated person), if we are serious about employing effective transitions from prisons to communities, academics, activists and formerly incarcerated people need to pay close attention to the power of language. In the words of Ellis (2020), “When we are not called mad dogs, animals, predators, offenders and other derogatory terms, we are referred to as inmates, convicts, prisoners and felons. All terms devoid of humanness which identify us as “things” rather than as people. These terms are accepted as the “official” language of the media, law enforcement, prison industrial complex and public policy agencies. However, they are no longer acceptable for us and we are asking people to stop using them [original italics]” (1). Ellis adds, “In an effort to assist our transition from prison to our communities as responsible citizens and to create a more positive human image to ourselves, we are asking everyone to stop using these negative terms and to simply refer to us as PEOPLE. People currently or formerly incarcerated, PEOPLE on parole, PEOPLE recently released from prison, PEOPLE in prison, PEOPLE with criminal convictions, but PEOPLE” (1). Eddie Ellis’s plea to public consciousness is no different than Amy McKechnie’s. When questioned by the mainstream media about her younger brother Ryan she always centered the conversation around his humanity. In the words of Amy, “He had a larger-than-life personality.” Now that Ryan’s gone, “a giant piece of the family [is] missing.” “He was always my best friend” (Pan 2018).

       In a tactful way, Amy reminds us that the act of remembering is not only personal but simultaneously political. In the words of Schwartz (as quoted in Maurantonio 2014: 1), “To remember is to place a part of the past in the service of conceptions and needs of the present.” With this in mind, Amy’s remembrance can be conceptualized as a political demand for the birth of a set of new societal values, beliefs and cultural practices that reject the disposability of all forms of human life. Ryan’s personality and friendship is still with us and yearns to serve us; however, it appears that we are collectively unwilling to listen, remember and act in accordance with his now voiceless plea to fight against a political ontology that normalizes force, punishment and death among those deemed the “underbelly” of society. What will it take to defrost the frozen hearts of the masses? If there is nothing preordained about Canadian disinterest, why do we wait? In the words of Amy, “If it was your loved one in there wouldn’t you want us fighting for them?” “It’s better than your loved one coming out in a body bag like ours did” (Taekema 2019).

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References

Aljazeera. “Deaths from Israel’s attacks on Gaza close to 62,000 as missing added.” Aljazeera, 3 February 2025, https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/2/3/gaza-death-toll-rises-close-to-62000-as-missing-added#:~:text=Israel%2DPalestine%20conflict-,Deaths%20from%20Israel’s%20attacks%20on%20Gaza%20close%20to%2062%2C000%20as,presumed%20dead%2C%20to%20the%20list.&text=Authorities%20in%20Gaza%20have%20updated,missing%20and%20now%20presumed%20dead. Accessed 6 February 2025.

Comack, Elizabeth, Fabre, Cara & Burgher, Shanise. “The Impact of the Harper Government’s ‘Tough on Crime’ Strategy: Hearing from Frontline Worker.” Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives, September 2015, https://policyalternatives.ca/sites/default/files/uploads/publications/Manitoba%20Office/2015/09/Tough%20on%20Crime%20WEB.pdfAccessed 4 February 2025.

Duckett, M.T. and Mohr, J.W. “Prison.” The Canadian Encyclopedia, 8 June 2015, https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/prison. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Ellis, Eddie. “An Open Letter to Our Friends on the Question of Language.” Centre for NuLeadership on Urban Solutions, January 2020, https://ir.lawnet.fordham.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1004&context=pp. Accessed 2 February 2025.

Gerster, Jane. “Harper was tough on crime, Trudeau promised a new approach – did he deliver?” Global News, 6 October 2019, https://globalnews.ca/news/5887695/criminal-justice-policy/. Accessed 4 February 2025.

Graeber, David. The Utopia of Rules: On Technology, Stupidity, and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy. Melville House, 2016.

Government of Canada. “History of the Canadian Correctional System.” Government of Canada, 18 September 2009, https://www.canada.ca/en/correctional-service/corporate/education/history/module.html. Accessed 13 January 2025.

Kerzner, Michael. “Ontario Takes Action on High-Risk and Repeat Violent Offenders.” Michael Kerzner Member of Provincial Parliament, n.d., https://michaelkerznermpp.ca/ontario-takes-action-on-high-risk-and-repeat-violent-offenders/. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Lexipol. Why Do Correctional Officers Have Inappropriate Relationships With Inmates?” Lexipol Team, 8 December 2023, https://www.lexipol.com/resources/blog/why-do-correctional-officers-have-inappropriate-relationships-with-inmates/#:~:text=Power%20dynamics%3A%20In%20some%20cases,may%20lead%20to%20inappropriate%20behavior. Accessed 1 February 2025.

Madwar, Samia. “Words of Mass Destruction.” The Walrus, vol. 21, no. 2, March/April 2024, pp. 15-17.

Mangla, Ravi & George, Erin. “How dehumanizing language fuels mass incarceration.” Common Dreams, 1 October 2019, https://www.commondreams.org/views/2019/10/01/how-dehumanizing-language-fuels-mass-incarceration#:~:text=a%20single%20experience.-,The%20mass%20incarceration%20system%20has%20relied%20on%20the%20same%20kind,defined%20by%20a%20single%20experience. Accessed 2 January 2025.

Maurantonio, Nicole. “The Politics of Memory.” In The Oxford Handbook of Political Communication, edited by Kate Kenski and Kathleen Hall Jamieson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014, https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/232778581.pdf. Accessed 2 February 2025.

Ontario. “Expenditure Estimates for the Ministry of Solicitor General (2023-24).” Ontario Government, 20 April 2023, https://www.ontario.ca/page/expenditure-estimates-ministry-solicitor-general-2023-24. Accessed 6 February 2025.

O’Reilly, Nicole & Hayes, Molly. “Dying behind bars: overdose deaths in Ontario jails.” The Hamiliton Spectator, 15 December 2015, https://www.cambridgetimes.ca/news/dying-behind-bars-overdose-deaths-in-ontario-jails/article_a0b13acb-db29-541f-bc02-bfb40b526a78.html. Accessed 5 February 2025.

Pan, Flora. “‘Why did my brother have to die?’ Hamiton woman asks at Barton jail inquest.” CBC News, 13 April 2018, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/hamilton-jail-overdose-death-inquest-ryan-mckechnie-1.4616529. Accessed 2 February 2025.

Sheharyar, Imam. “Why Canada Attacks Are Not Surprising.” Clarion, 24 October 2014, https://clarionindia.net/why-canada-attacks-are-not-surprising-imam-sheharyar/. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Taekema, Dan. “‘Who cares?’ asks corrections worker after inmate dies inside Hamilton jail.” CBC News, 14 September 2018, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/johnny-sharp-hamilton-jail-death-comments-1.4822501. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Taekema, Dan. “Fake Kijiji ads sell Barton jail memorial crosses as firewood, Halloween decorations.” CBC News, 3 June 2019, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/barton-jail-crosses-ads-kijiji-1.5158807. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Tasker, John P. “Poilievre promises to hit fentanyl ‘kingpins’ with mandatory life sentences.” CBC News, 5 February 2025. https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/poilievre-fentanyl-mandatory-life-sentence-1.7450915. Accessed 6 February 2025.

The Canadian Press. “Doug Ford promises to build as many jails as needed to keep criminals behind bars.” CTV News, 8 March 2024, https://www.ctvnews.ca/toronto/article/doug-ford-promises-to-build-as-many-jails-as-needed-to-keep-criminals-behind-bars/. Accessed 31 January 2025.

Vallee, Anasophie. “‘I’m scared for my son’s life’: Rally held outside HMP protesting prison conditions.” The Telegram, 30 January 2025, https://www.saltwire.com/newfoundland-labrador/protest-held-at-hmp. Accessed 6 February 2025.

Zion, Ilan Ben. “Israeli crowds chant racist slogans, taunt Palestinians during Jerusalem Day march.” PBS News, 18 May 2023, https://www.pbs.org/newshour/world/israeli-crowds-chant-racist-slogans-taunt-palestinians-during-jerusalem-day-march. Accessed 2 February 2025.

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“When a soldier or civilian is killed, twenty years or more of the fruits of one woman’s labour is destroyed. The woman will never be able to enjoy seeing her children achieve their full potential. This will be not by accident, but wilfully, because someone, somewhere, who could not appreciate the value of human life, issued an order”

(Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group, 1983).

Introduction: Welcome to the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA)

The Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) is a form of unified “hard power” (e.g., government, administration, prisons, military, police) that ultimately uses domination, control and violence as a means of achieving specific political objectives. As a form of political machinery designed to protect and advance elite ideas, values and interests, the RSA never works alone; but rather, in tandem with Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) or “soft powers” designed to foster social cohesion, legitimacy and reproduction of the RSA. Without such blend of physical and non-physical forces how would the current socio-economic arrangement stay afloat? Together, the RSA and ISAs work to normalize, and ultimately, reproduce a set of exploitative social relations that overwhelmingly benefit small-scale segments of the population (Oxford Reference, 2025; Althusser, 1970).

Despite the popular conception that Althusser’s (1970) theory leaves no room for human agency, Ryder (n.d.) maintains that Althusser is crystal clear “that the ISAs are not permanent or stable; their ability to produce ideological practices is always limited.” With this in mind, the following write-up adopts the approach that while ISAs work to promote ruling ideas, they can also be challenged, cultivated, adopted and applied in ways that destabilize existing power relations and pave the way towards a more egalitarian society. What determines the substance of ideology on a more general level has much to do with whether or not the populace at large adopts a critical stance and organizational struggle against the power of capitalist social relations versus the mere acceptance of the status quo. As Ryder (n.d.) points out, “there would be no need for ISAs at all if resistance and struggle were not always present and in need of pacification.”  

With this framework in mind, the following write-up aims to explore the ways in which particular aspects of the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) – namely, prisons and the military – are legitimized and reproduced in and through Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) or “soft powers” such as state-based propaganda and academic complexes bent on recruiting more guards and soldiers to be chewed up by RSA. Ultimately, the politics of this write-up openly strive to deter the young from internalizing ISA structures that glorify occupations directly linked to some of the most belligerent aspects of the RSA. Without the raw material of labour power, the RSA can be significantly weakened and eventually replaced with socially useful organizations focused on healing our individual and collective wounds, reclaiming what has been stolen and creating a more peaceful and equitable world versus our current predicament: the ongoing production of hell on earth.

From an abolitionist standpoint, it is conceivable and politically desirable to cut the pipelines responsible for training, manipulating and positioning labour into hierarchical arrangements of nearly absolute power. As mentioned by Michigan Abolition and Prisoner Solidarity (2024), exacerbating the crisis of labour shortages in these areas “seems like one of the most promising, and perhaps more realistic, paths to […]” releasing people from cages, shutting down prisons and military installations across this country and around the world. It is important to note that cutting off such pipelines should not be misread as a personal hatred or dislike of individual guards, soldiers or police; but rather, a clear recognition of the real opponent – that is, “the system which creates their job[s] and arms them with the authority to oppress” (Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group, 1983).

Notable challenges: Dependency and identity

Clearly, one of the major challenges to cutting off such pipelines revolves around problematizing and abolishing relations of dependency within the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA). Put another way, many labourers depend on the RSA and the wages it dishes out in good old carrot-and-stick fashion (also referred to in neoliberal terminology as “incentivization”) as a means of reproducing both personal and familial survival. In concrete terms, Canada’s carceral system contains – or more precisely, feeds and houses – roughly 18,000 employees (Government of Canada, 2021) with a median wage of $36.00/hr. (Government of Canada, 2024). With respect to Canada’s Armed Forces, 68,000 Regular Force and 27,000 Reserve Force members depend on military wages for their survival (Government of Canada, 2021) – a complex conundrum with no easily identifiable solutions. What about Universal Basic Income (UBI)? While guaranteeing people a living wage under a UBI scheme would enhance economic security and buy some time for the exploration of different forms of labour (O’Dell, 2023) there is no evidence that such approach would result in people walking away en masse from the RSA – particularly, if notions of identity, belonging, meaning and purpose are securely attached to their roles (e.g., as guards and soldiers) and the social networks therein. In the words of Ryder (n.d.), “Our conscious experience of the world and sense of individual personhood is always bound up in effects of the social institutions that have raised and educated us. Furthermore, it is in the nature of ideology to conceal this basically artificial and imposed nature.”

Arguably, what we need goes well beyond UBI schemes. What we need revolves around a deeper understanding of subject formation and its relationship to the reproduction of the RSA and the socio-economic system as a whole. In concrete terms, if a person internalizes the idea, “once a Marine, always a Marine,” that equates to one more person working to sustain the RSA, which also translates into one less person consciously working towards its demise. As unthreatening as it seems, one of our greatest enemies lies in the answer to the question: Who am I? The answer to such basic question contains the power to reveal not only where our loyalties lie; but also, what our loyalties reproduce. The reason why this seemingly simple task is in actuality highly demanding is because nobody intuitively scrutinizes what they believe to be the “self” (e.g., “I am a Marine”). In fact, people are more likely to defend “their” dominant notion of “selfhood.”

Undoubtedly, identity disruption is an incredibly taxing process that contains the potential to leave a person feeling socially dislocated and psychologically stressed beyond repair. As a case in point, consider the relationship between identity, mental distress and American war veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan. In the words of Smith and True (2014), “We find that the postwar transition causes adverse mental health effects that stem from contrasts between the military’s demands for deindividuation, obedience, chain-of-command, and dissociation and the civilian identity expectations of autonomy, self-advocacy, and being relational” – that is, a series of conflicting orientations grounded in different ISAs that result in what Smith and True refer to as “warring identities.” As a point of critique, it is important to note two specific insights: (1) the distinction between military and civilian demands is not always clearcut (e.g., there are many chains-of-command in “ordinary life”) and (2) while the ISAs involved in the “military” and “civilian” field appear categorically unlike, they both work towards – although in different ways – reproducing the social relations of production (e.g., in the less obvious context of “civilian” life being relational has always been a significant tool in the “art” of sales). 

Conversely, identity disruption contains the potential to be a liberating process in which one frees themselves of the ideological forces and habitual practices that attempt to define and control one’s existential parameters. What determines whether or not a person experiences identity disruption as a crisis versus a form of liberation is arguably dependent upon a person’s ability to become aware of and fearlessly scrutinize ISAs working to instrumentalize them. Consider the case of Iraq war resisters such as Joshua Key and Rodney Watson. According to Kassam (2016), Key “chose to cross into Canada rather than continue as a US soldier in the Iraq war.” In Watson’s case, he deserted the US military and made his way to Vancouver in an attempt to find sanctuary. According to CBC News (2009), Watson “deserted because of the racial hatred he witnessed against the Iraqis during his first tour of duty.” In both cases, Key and Watson could have remained loyal to their military commitments and identities; however, their direct experiences, awareness and ability to scrutinize the ISAs working upon them enabled them to breakaway – a clear cut example of Althusser’s insight “that the ISAs are not permanent or stable; their ability to produce ideological practices is always limited” (Ryder, n.d.).

It is important to note that Key and Watson’s experiences teach us something valuable about the limitations and flexibility built into Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) and the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA). With respect to limitations, Kassam (2016) states that there were approximately 200 Iraq war resisters and in the case of Vietnam roughly 90,000 draft dodgers, which is a testament to the ISAs relative instability and limitation. Concisely stated, while ISAs function as extremely powerful forces over human cognition, there is no such thing as impenetrable ideological dominance and control. As discussed by the Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group (1983), “Many people label conscientious objectors as cowards, with little conception of the courage and human and political insight they need to resist the wartime propaganda machine and its attendant social values.” When it comes to the RSAs flexibility, we can see how quickly American soldiers were turned into “traitors” or “enemies of the state” supposedly deserving of serious punishment (e.g., deportation and incarceration) by the very system that initially trained and deployed them to dish out state-sanctioned murder in places like Iraq. Duly noted: While you might be loyal to the system as a willing guard or soldier, the system will NEVER be loyal to you. Ask ex-solider Shane Nedohin about the system’s loyalty and he will tell you that after years of working in the Canadian military special operations force as a breacher, Veterans Affairs Canada failed “to accept he has a traumatic brain injury caused by 22 years of exposure to blasts” (Levitz, 2024: A3). Instead of loyalty, compassion and practical support for such injury Veterans Affairs Canada pushed back with tactics best described as a denial of science and trivialization of root causes – all of which pushed Nedohin into a state of suicidal ideation. In the words of Nedohin (as quoted in Levitz, 2024: A3), “Quite a few friends I know have been to the edge and back, and how many more dead veterans do we have to see before somebody will care?” – all of which amounts to a stark reminder that the notion of loyalty in the RSA is an unapologetic one way street. 

Nedohin reflects (as quoted in Levitz, 2024: A3), “Every flash-bang grenade tossed to clear a path. The echoes of gunfire during close-quarter-battle. Mixed martial arts moves during training. Over the decades those blasts piled up – as did other symptoms: violent nightmares, vicious mood swings, crushing exhaustion, sudden weight gain, severe vertigo, movements where he had no idea where he was or what he was doing.” The Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group (1983) adds, “Men are taught a value system where basic common sense is contradicted again and again.” Furthermore, “Love of one’s country turns into aggression towards foreigners, and, whilst it is possible to die honourably for a cause, deaths in conventional war have much more to do with preserving territory for the ruling class than with honour. Men are encouraged to be confident, but also to be insensitive to other people’s needs, to act fearlessly, but not to show they are scared. They learn the supposed virtue of scientific detachment, then cannot relate their findings to human need and ecological balance.” In essence, such military-based socialization and experience gives rise to a host of observable and non-observable deformities e.g., Nedohin’s traumatic brain injury, reduction in his quality of life and relationship with loved ones such as his two daughters. The impacts of the violence dished out by the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) go well beyond individual soldiers suffering with traumatic brain injuries – a truism that the RSA brushes off all while training and deploying the next state-sanctioned gang.

At the end of the day, one might argue that a secure job in the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) sure beats the psychological roller-coater many experience when trying to secure a well-paying – never mind fulfilling – job in a country like Canada – that is, a torturous economic reality that hits many hard over the head including highly educated and skilled immigrants. Consider the story of 48-year-old Mani Bhandari. As an immigrant for nearly five years with a master’s degree in business management, Bhandari has “done everything she can to stand out to employers: attending trainings and webinars during the pandemic to boost her skills, and networking and volunteering with several organizations” (Alsharif, 2025: B1). In the words of Bhandari, “When I send in applications I put all my heart and hard work into it – but I never get responses back” (as quoted in Alsharif, 2025 B1).

For many newcomers, the myth of Canada as a land of opportunity functions as a major pull factor; however, the reality of unemployment, which is double for newcomers, discrimination and systematic rejection of credentials quickly shatters the illusion (Alsharif, 2025). Despite popular opinion, this is not about choices; but rather, economic compulsions that result in people filling the ranks of unstable and risky forms of labour. As mentioned by the director of the Centre for Future Work, Jim Stanford (as quoted in Alsharif, 2025: B2), “Newcomers are economically compelled to take any [emphasis added] jobs they can find” – far from the utopia envisioned by many that make the trip for a “bigger and brighter future.”

But not to worry! If you are struggling to find employment the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) will gladly absorb your time, energy and skills. As mentioned by Ballingall (2024), “As part of its efforts to increase intake, the military has kick-started ad campaigns to increase awareness about education benefits, reserve forces and ‘priority occupations’” – that is, more and more carrots dangling from the sticks of increasingly desperate institutions within the RSA. Similarly, back in April 2024, the Ontario government mainstreamed a call for additional guards. As an attempt to lure in potential candidates the government posted the following message, “Do you have a passion for making a difference in the lives of others? Do you enjoy working with diverse people? If so, then consider this opportunity with the Ministry of the Solicitor General, where you will support the correctional system in Ontario and contribute to the safety of your community” (as quoted in Jassal, 2024).

Due to the shortages of guards the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) makes it a point to emphasize that potential recruits only need a secondary school diploma to apply (Jassal, 2024). In the case of the military, desperation has led to “open[ing] recruitment to permanent residents and loosened rules for hairstyles and tattoos” (Ballingall, 2024) – nearly anything to manipulate people into the RSA. What could be next? Reintroduction of the draft (which was invoked during WWI and WWII)? In the words of Smith (2024), “Talk of conscription comes at a time when attracting and retaining full-time, quality soldiers is a big challenge for many countries, including Canada.” When it comes to fulfilling the needs of the RSA, anything is possible!

“Soft power” and the politics of rebranding

Repressive systems like the prison-industrial complex (PIC) and military-industrial complex (MIC) are regularly branded and rebranded by the ruling establishment in more and more innocuous ways. As a result, segments of the population are coaxed into believing that these complexes do more good than harm. In the naivest of minds, it may be believed that the PIC and MIC are producers of social harmony and that without such complexes society would fall into an irreversible state of chaos reflective of the 1979 dystopian action film Mad Max.

Unfortunately, no matter how much evidence exists suggesting that prisons are ineffective and counterproductive (Handbook of Basic Principles and Promising Practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment, 2007) and that military intervention “proves no more reliable a strategy than nonviolent political methods, even in the case of direct confrontations with other violent actors” (Cockburn, 2012: 259), it appears that there will always be people ready to swallow the pro-repression pill produced and distributed by the right-wing mythmakers of our time.

Arguably, such unnerving realization ought to necessitate a serious examination and radical transformation of a mass schooling system utterly obsessed with mind-numbing quizzes, tests and job preparation versus debunking the myths and predatory economic logics that are leading our society astray. On second thought, perhaps such examination and transformation constitute an unrealistic strategy. As an alternative approach, perhaps we should focus our energy on supporting the minority of teachers pushing back against the dictates of neoliberalism from the inside. As mentioned by Althusser (1970), “I ask pardon of those teachers who, in dreadful conditions, attempt to turn the few weapons they can find in the history and learning they ‘teach’ against the ideology, the system and the practices in which they are trapped. They are a kind of hero. But they are rare and how many (the majority) do not even begin to suspect the ‘work’ the system (which is bigger than they are and crushes them) forces them to do, or worse, put all their heart and ingenuity into performing it with the most advanced awareness (the famous new methods).”

Building on Althusser’s insight, Stanley (2024) perceptibly observes, “Today we are unquestioningly returning to something like the era of the Red Scare. Right-wing activists and politicians are targeting educators at all levels for their supposedly leftist ideologies, with the goal of suppressing any teaching that challenges racial hierarchy or patriarchy” (xviii) – which are both fundamental aspects of and key ingredients to a well-functioning Repressive State Apparatus (RSA). Without the normalization of hierarchy and patriarchy the RSA will end up in intensive care – a risk that the ruling class clearly refuses to entertain (e.g., recall how nonviolent protesters were treated during Occupy Wall Street back in 2011).  

In terms of the trend towards innocuous rebranding, it is important to point out that popular and inoffensive notions such as “correctional system” emerged between 1920-1960 – that is, a stage of Canadian penal history that followed an era of brutal public punishments, penal colonies and the birth of the penitentiary (Government of Canada, 2009). Similarly, departments or ministries of war were rebranded as “departments of defence” in the post-WWII era (Madwar, 2024) – a twentieth century restructuring strategy that essentially inverted public views pertaining to some of the most belligerent dimensions of the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA).

Today, the inversion of repression continues with ever-present state-based and academic-based propaganda that attempts to dilute the belligerent nature of the punishment and military system. Consider the following examples: (1) According to the Government of Ontario’s (2024) online recruitment ad, “Correctional officers work with inmates in Ontario correctional centres, detention centres and jails. They ensure the security and custody of inmates and make sure inmates have what they need for a successful rehabilitation.” (2) According to Holland College Prince Edward Island Canada, which offers a 24-week correctional officer certificate, “The primary responsibility of a correctional officer is to monitor, supervise, and interact with incarcerated offenders and prepare them to become law-abiding citizens after serving their sentences” (Holland College, n.d.). (3) According to the Government of Canada’s webpage, Joining the Canadian Armed Forces, basic training (or Basic Military Qualification) will teach you “[…] professional conduct, resiliency, physical fitness, and military skills.” In addition, the Government states, “As you progress through basic training, you will learn how to conduct drill, properly handle a weapon, and apply first aid.” Finally, (4) according to the Royal Military College of Canada (2024), “As a ROTP Naval and Officer Cadet (N/OCdt) at a Canadian Military College (CMC), you will embark on an invigorating journey to become a part of a proud heritage. N/OCdts are enabled to excel by being immersed in an environment that values excellence in academics, military training, physical fitness, second language proficiency and leadership. The CMC environment cultivates self-discipline, self-motivation and mutual respect, and the Colleges Motto – Truth, Duty, Valour – guides staff and N/OCdts in everything they do.” Don’t be fooled! Now let’s see what happens when we make an attempt to crack through such glorious sounding recruitment narratives. 

Cracking through the Ideological State Apparatus (ISA)

Critically speaking, whether we’re talking about becoming a guard or a soldier one thing remains clear: The punishment/military system and their academic-industrial counterparts, regularly deploy ideas that soften our conceptions and camouflage truths pertaining to the outright violence inherent to the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA). This is ideology at work! In the words of English philosopher and literary theorist, Terry Eagleton (as quoted in Cole, 2019), “Ideology is a system of concepts and views which serves to make sense of the world while obscuring the social interests [original italics] that are expressed therein, and by its completeness and relative internal consistency tends to form a closed [original italics] system and maintain itself in the face of contradictory or inconsistent experience.” Put another way, while there are countless social interests and contradictory experiences awaiting revelation, the power of ideology rests in its ability to perpetually reduce and erase the immoral interests and concrete realities that in theory should bring about the complete demise of the RSA and the socio-economic order that it works tirelessly to protect. What follows is an exploration of the political interests and contradictory experiences awaiting revelation and some general ideas related to the possibility of accelerating the demise.

Let’s get cracking…

Continually rebranding archaic institutions is a highly demanding process that requires a perpetual stream of knowledge production in a multitude of forms e.g., print, electronic, audio, visual, tactile, etc. In order to exert influence, pro-prison and pro-military knowledge must be perpetually generated, disseminated and consumed by the civic body until the populace reaches a satisfactory level of pro-prison and pro-military consciousness e.g., full acceptance all the way down to political pacification all of which are unthreatening to the status quo.

Dominant notions (revisit examples 1-4 above) such as, “correctional system,” “working with inmates,” “successful rehabilitation,” “effective communication,” “fitness,” “preparation,” “certifications,” “fun,” “excitement,” “teamwork,” “responsibility, “resiliency,” “professionalism” and the tiresome post-9/11 “public safety” line, work in and through each other in a largely subliminal process that fabricates an unavoidable and nearly inescapable ideological web saturated in pro-prison and pro-military myths e.g., prisons rehabilitate and reduce crime rates all while the military with all of its technological toys (guns, grenades, drones, missiles and nuclear weapons) keep us all safe. The wider the ideological web casts itself the more legitimate, justified and necessary the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) appears. Again, the strength of the Ideological State Apparatus (ISA) lies in its ability to sustain the RSA even in the face of contradictory experiences (e.g., lived experiences of guards, the caged, soldiers, etc.) and perverse political interests.

Consider the manner in which the Government of Ontario (2024) proclaims, “They [guards] ensure the security and custody of inmates and make sure inmates have what they need for a successful rehabilitation,” all while men such as, Jason Archer, Paul Debien, Nathaniel Golden, Igor Petrovic, Christopher Johnny Sharp and Robert Soberal drop dead from blood toxicity in notorious detention centres like Hamilton-Wentworth between 2017-2021 (Chandler, 2024). As discussed in Chandler’s reporting, these men were so much more than “inmates,” they were fathers, brothers and sons that should still be with us and their now grief-stricken families. The contradictions at play here scream deceit and duplicity!

If people in cages were given “what they need for a successful rehabilitation” the public would not be subjected to heartbreaking headlines that read, 14 Hamilton jail inmates have died from overdoses since 2012 but Ontario change is slow, inquest hears (CBC, 2024). If people in cages were given “what they need for a successful rehabilitation” why didn’t the Government of Ontario implement a long list of jury recommendations intended to improve the conditions of Hamilton-Wentworth back 2018? – that is, recommendations that could have saved lives (e.g., equipping all corrections officers with naloxone, hold weekly meetings between corrections and health-care staff regarding needs of all inmates and doctor assessments of all inmates within 24 hours of admission). What about the late Soleiman Faqiri, who suffered from schizoaffective disorder? Did he get what he needed from the guards at the Central East Correctional Centre in Lindsay, Ont. back in December 2016? No, he was pepper-sprayed, covered with a spit hood and beaten to death in a segregation unit, which lead to a toothless mandatory coroner’s inquest that produced 57 non-binding recommendations that the family is still fighting to see implemented (Raveendran, 2024).

In yet another stark example, the Government of Ontario’s (2024) online recruiting page states, “Correctional officer work can be physically demanding” without a single mention of the unforgiving psychological toll the job takes on guards and their families. Similarly, Holland College (n.d.) states, “you will learn the skills you need to work in a federal or provincial correctional facility while ensuring the safety and well-being of inmates, your colleagues, and yourself” and “[y]ou will study the principles of human relations and receive mental health training” without a single mention of the absolutely brutal psychological impacts associated with working inside the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA). Truth be told, Ricciardelli et al. (2022) state, “Relative to other public safety personnel and the general public, correctional workers appear to have a higher prevalence of mental health disorders and suicidal behaviours.” Likewise, Carleton et al. (2022) report, “Correctional service workers report stressful work environments that include repeated exposures to potentially psychologically traumatic events (PPTEs), shift work and long working hours, and pervasive unpredictability of threat, which may increase their risk for mental disorders and death by suicide.” With respect to carceral institutions such as Toronto South Detention Centre (TSDC) in Etobicoke, Ont., the Ontario Human Rights Commission (n.d.) reports, “high levels of occupational stress, including violence and abuse from prisoners, contributes to use of sick days and long-term disability leaves” – findings that collectively disrupt state-based and academic recruitment propaganda. But the question remains: Are these uncomfortable and distressing truths enough to puncture a significant sized hole through the pro-carceral ideological web?

In terms of the military-industrial complex (MIC), the Government of Canada’s (n.d.) online recruitment page contains a wide range of careers spanning from Gunner, Air Combat Systems Operator, Armour Officer to Arterially Officer, Pilot and Infanteer. In all cases, the Government of Canada places emphasis on key responsibilities, general work environment as well as pay and benefits, which include the following categories: competitive salary, paid education, signing bonus and pay rates. In the case of a Pilot, for instance, the state-based propaganda machine suggests, “The primary responsibilities of a Pilot are to plan, communicate, coordinate and execute tactical missions in support of civil authority or military objectives, such as humanitarian and disaster relief, and air intercept operation.” While much emphasis is placed on things such as “communication,” “coordination” and “disaster relief” there is no meaningful mention of the military’s undeniable primary function: systematic application of brute force.

As a case in point, beyond the hypnotic emphasis of “disaster relief,” which could be accomplished through the application of non-military organizations, Canadian pilots engaged in roughly 1,598 bombing missions over the last 30-years in distant lands such as, Yugoslavia, Iraq, Libya and Syria (Patterson, 2021). In the case of Libya, which suffered tremendously on multiple fronts (e.g., destruction of public water supplies, mass internal displacement, humanitarian crisis, migration deaths, forceful migration returns, arbitrary detention, extortion, disappearances and torture), Patterson asks, “did the 696 bombs we dropped [alongside the belligerent North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)] on Libya bring peace and human rights?” and “Do we bear some responsibility for the migrants […] fleeing Libya and drowning in the Mediterranean Sea?” While relevant political inquires of this nature are nowhere to be found on recruitment ads or government-based websites, what you will find are concise narratives concerning the Canadian government’s underlying political interests in distant places like Libya. Beneath all the political rhetoric pertaining to spreading “democracy” and “freedom,” Canada openly states, “Libya […] has Africa’s largest proven oil reserves and the ninth largest globally.” Furthermore, “Despite […] challenges, there remain significant commercial opportunities in Libya for Canadian companies in the oil and gas, infrastructure and education sectors” (Government of Canada, 2022). The truth of the matter always hurts: Canadian militarism is in the business of securing commercial opportunities.

When it comes to training for the position of Infanteer, the Government of Canada (n.d.) states, “As a member of the military, Infantry Soldiers are the Army’s primary combat fighters and are responsible for closing with and engaging the enemy,” without a single reference to the heart shattering facts: 158 Canadian Armed Forces personnel that suffered a premature death in Afghanistan (The Canadian Press, 2017), the more than 2,000 personnel that were wounded or injured in Afghanistan (Azzi & Foot, 2021), a review of records spanning 1976-2012, which reported, “the risk of suicide among male veterans of all ages was 36 per cent higher than in men who had never served in the Canadian military” (Berthiaume, 2019). It is worth mentioning, while the Government of Canada (n.d.) enjoys drawing attention to the notion of gender inclusivity in the military they fail to mention that the risk for suicide is significantly high for female veterans. As mentioned by Berthiaume (2019), the suicide risk for female veterans is “81 per cent greater than for women who hadn’t served.” On the topic of gender, it is equally important to ask: Why do recruitment ads fall completely silent on the topic of another military crisis: sexual misconduct and assault, which is the most common euphemism for rape? As mentioned by Burke and Brewster (2021), “Since early February 2021, 13 senior Canadian military officers – current and former have been sidelined, investigated or forced into retirement from some of the most powerful and prestigious posts in the defence establishment.” In addition, Watkins et al. (2017) reports “that military-related sexual assault has been reported by a sizeable fraction of Canadian military women [and] is associated with mental disorders and may be especially likely to occur on deployment. Is this the Canadian military’s understanding of gender inclusivity? 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop with premature death, lifetime battle wounds, mental disorders, suicide and rape. While the Government of Canada (n.d.) rants on about “professional conduct” in their new recruitment ads, they fail to make a single reference to Canada’s record of detainee scandals (Azzi & Foot, 2021) in which “Canada knowingly transferred detainees in Afghanistan to facilities where torture was rife” (Sabry & Mason, 2015) – a horrifying reality that brings back memories of yet another horrific occurrence in which Canadian soldiers in the early 1990s tortured and eventually killed Somali teen Shidane Arone (Foot, 2019). It is important to note that scandals such as these are not sufficiently explained through some “bad apples” theory, which suggests that everything would be fine if the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) simply removed undesirable personnel. Such theory fails to examine the broader problem of a specific power structure called the state that systematically trains and arms men – for the most part – to spread the virus of violence at home and abroad. 

In addition to strategic attempts designed to conceal the outright violence of the carceral and military system, Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) work incredibly hard to mask a wide range of ruling class interests. For instance, while potential recruits focus on notions of “correction,” “rehabilitation,” “communication,” “fun” and “fitness,” political and business elites move forward unhindered with their cold calculations and profit driven logics. For instance, in the case of Ontario’s jails mega companies such as EllisDon, Zeidler Architecture Inc. and DLR Group cash in on new projects such as Thunder Bay’s new $1.2 billion correctional centre slated to open in 2026 (Cameron, 2023). Much like government and academic propaganda linked to becoming an agent of state repression (e.g., guard, soldier, police), Cameron (2023) gives us a clearcut example of the Ontario Ministry of the Solicitor General’s propaganda pertaining to new jail installations. According to Andrew Morrison, a spokesperson for the Ministry (as quoted in Cameron, 2023), “The new Thunder Bay Correctional Complex will be a state-of-the-art facility, and the first of its kind for an Ontario correctional facility incorporating unique design features that promote rehabilitation of inmates along with traditional elements found in modern correctional facilities” – all of which conceals the fact that the last time the Ministry constructed a “state-of-the-art facility,” which was Toronto South Detention Centre (TSDC) in Etobicoke, Ont., it turned out to be a “$1-Billion Hellhole” (Robin, 2017) filled with major issues linked to the routine application of “segregation, restrictive confinement, lockdowns and ‘time in cell’ sanctions to manage the prison population” (Ontario Human Rights Commission, n.d.). Instead of “rehabilitation” the celebrated facility dished out extraordinary harm. In the words of McGillivray (2018), “Between 2016 and 2017, the Toronto South Detention Centre (TSDC) saw an 85 per cent jump in inmate-on-staff violence – the highest number and greatest rate of increase for any institution in Ontario.” Some staff members went as far as to describe TSDC as a “ticking time bomb” (as quoted in McGillivray, 2018) – a rather insightful articulation that cuts straight through all the Ministry propaganda. 

Similar to the mega companies that benefit from the ongoing construction of “new” and “improved” jails (e.g., EllisDon, Zeidler Architecture Inc. and DLR Group), companies such as Lockheed Martin are set to collect a massive payout through the lifespan of Canada’s newly purchased F-35 warplanes – all of which could amount to $90.4 billion (Patterson, 2023) – a discourse that is completely absent from recruiter ads designed to narrow and control the cognitive field of potential recruits. Alongside companies such as Lockheed Martin, which unapologetically rant on about their commitment to “driving free cash flow per share growth to generate returns for shareholders” (Lockheed Martin, 2024), a long list of Canadian companies such as, Ultra Electronics TCS, Wescam Inc., General Dynamics OTS – Canada Inc., General Dynamics Land Systems – Canada Corp., Emergent BioSolutions Canada Inc., Indal Technologies Inc., Lockheed Martin Canada Inc. (Commercial Engine Solutions), General Dynamic OTS – Canada Valleyfield Inc., General Dynamics Mission Systems – Canada, EMS Technologies Canada Ltd. (SATCOM Division), Rolls-Royce Canada Ltd., CMC Electronics Inc., MDA systems Ltd. and 3M Canada Co. stand to cash out from their economic dealings with the greatest terror distribution centre in the world – that being, the United States of America (Gallagher, 2023). When it comes to brokering arms deals with Canada’s military-industrial complex, Gallagher (2023) points out, “Prime contracts for many large-value Canadian exports and services are directly brokered by the Canadian Commercial Corporation (CCC), a crown corporation. The CCC not only sets the table for these deals but guarantees that the Canadian manufacturer will be paid the amount specified in the contract, and the foreign recipient will receive the services laid out in that contract” – all of which shows just how deeply ingrained the economics of warfare is in Canada’s infrastructure.  

It is worth noting that those in uniform constitute the most visible segment of a much larger military labour phenomenon. Similar to government and academic recruitment tactics targeting potential violence workers, weapons dealers require a substantial workforce with highly specialized skills in order to produce the technological software and hardware that is used on the frontlines of organized violence. For instance, Ultra Maritime (UM) (2025) put out a job posting on 14 January 2025 for a full-time Manufacturing Engineer in Dartmouth, N.S., Canada. According to the job description, UM is looking for an engineer that “works with Design Engineering, Quality Assurance and Production Support to design, monitor and optimize the manufacturing processes for existing and new product lines” – all of which amounts to a form of double-talk that conceals the real commodity: technologies of death. Unlike government and academic propaganda, which attempts to steer clear of discourses that reveal their relationship to violence, weapons dealers such as UM brazenly state, “Join us in shaping the future of naval warfare and together, we will safeguard the seas and empower navies worldwide!” – indeed, a true testament to the profound normalization of organized violence.

As demonstrated, the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) relies on both interlocking institutions as well as a relatively steady supply of diverse forms of labour (guards, soldiers, police, manufacturing engineers, etc.) as a means of both institutional reproduction as well as product advancement. Without cooperative institutions and a steady supply of labour across the entire production chain (extraction, manufacturing, distribution, consumption and disposal) organized violence would cease to exist. For anti-repression activists, this would be a welcomed shift and opportunity to actively create a world without such belligerent institutions.

The seemingly impossible: Accelerating the demise of the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA)

When it comes to the big question of accelerating the demise of the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) it is important to start with a truism observed by the Michigan Abolition and Prisoner Solidarity (2024), “Over the longer term, one of the most important factors is that you don’t get into the business of torturing and caging people without inflicting harm on yourself as well.” While there is absolutely no need to lecture people like ex-soldier Shane Nedohin (Levitz, 2024) about the harms associated with working in the business of violence, there is a need to critically engage with would-be recruits and inexperienced members that may have swallowed the right-wing pill of glorified repression. Whether you’re a guard, incarcerated person, soldier or one of many women, men and children that die as “collateral damage” on the killing fields of Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan or Gaza, one thing remains: the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) dishes out an incalculable amount of harm, pain, suffering and death to all involved – albeit unevenly. The recognition of this truism is but a crack that should be made wider and wider until the demise of such system becomes a living reality alongside the creation and implementation of nonviolent alternatives. As mentioned earlier in this writeup, the yearning for such demise is not rooted in some personal hatred or disklike of individual guards, soldiers or police; but rather, a clear recognition of the real opponent – that is, “the system which creates their job[s] and arms them with the authority to oppress” (Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group, 1983).

The concrete reality of pervasive pain and suffering meted out by the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA) is a truth that undermines its dissemination of almighty myths pertaining to the “safety” and “protection” of the population. Given that the Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) involved with the reproduction of such myths are not eternal or stable (Ryder, n.d.), there are many points of critical intervention. As stated by Cockburn (2012), “It may be useful to think of the inevitability of violence as a hegemonic idea, one that holds sway over the minds of the majority in our societies at the present time” (260) – that is, a very powerful idea indeed that can nevertheless be disrupted and exposed as a fraudulent scheme designed to maximize fear and political paralysis among the populace. In order to counter such dominant idea, it is vital for anti-repression activists to continually challenge the state and consumer markets relentless reproduction and distribution of materials that work to normalize pro-repression attitudes, beliefs, values and institutions. Cockburn (2012) adds, “The inevitability of violence is one of these pervasive and persuasive ideas that forestall progressive change. It serves ruling interests by legitimizing a state with a strong security sector, capable of imposing internal order as well as defending investments, markets and other national interests abroad. It fosters a lucrative industry manufacturing warships and planes, weapons and ammunition, for domestic use and export. It favours racist suspicion and foreign ‘others’ and ‘the enemy within.’ Calling for tough leadership, it fosters the patriarchal gender order, bolstered by a ‘hegemonic masculinity’ that is combative and authoritarian. It makes it seem reasonable to train a proportion of the citizenry in military values and fighting techniques, and prepares the remainder to sacrifice them to the interests of the nation, should the need arise” (260).

Building on Cockburn’s reference to ‘hegemonic masculinity’ and authoritarianism, Repucci and Slipowitz (2022) observe, “Global freedom faces a dire threat. Around the world, the enemies of liberal democracy – a form of self-government in which human rights are recognized and every individual is entitled to equal treatment under law – are accelerating their attacks. Authoritarian regimes have become more effective at co-opting or circumventing the norms and institutions meant to support basic liberties, and at providing aid to others who wish to do the same. In countries with long-established democracies, internal forces have exploited the shortcomings in their systems, distorting national politics to promote hatred, violence, and unbridled power” – a clear example of this being in Canada’s neighbour to the south in which Donald Trump prepares to take on the position of US president for a second time as of today!

As noted by Repucci and Slipowitz, “The present threat to democracy is the product of 16 consecutive years of decline in global freedom. A total of 60 countries suffered declines over the past year, while only 25 improved” – certainly, a concerning political reality at this particular juncture in human history. That is, a point in human history in which notions of “inherent dignity” and “equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family” have been mainstreamed in and through international documents such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) (United Nations, n.d.). Unfortunately, the disdain for human rights, barbarism, tyranny and oppression that the Declaration was meant to eradicate is on the rise, a disturbing reality that places the United Nations’s ideals and influence into serious question. Under such conditions, the social, economic and political necessities for freedom are in a state of acute atrophy – all of which ought to ignite the opposite of passivity and obedience to the Repressive State Apparatus (RSA): mass non-compliance, political organization and action against repression everywhere.

Anything less constitutes a form of complicity in our own collective demise. As Cockburn (2012) points out, violence and repression is a choice not an inevitability. In the words of Cockburn, “The woman can choose not to slap the child. The man can choose to put down the gun. The cabinet can choose to cancel the contract for the aircraft carrier. Violence is discretionary [original italics]” (261). For some, “peace” means the nonappearance of war; however, the Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group (1983) observe that such conceptualization is inadequate in so far as the presence of a denial linked to the role that both patriarchy and capitalism play in reproducing war and violence around the globe. Point being, without the abolition of both patriarchy and capitalism, organized violence will persist well into the future. Furthermore, the Feminism and Nonviolence Study Group (1983) state, “Underlying patriarchy, capitalism and the State is the most pervasive assumption of all: that some people are better than others and are therefore more important and valuable” – that is, an ideological structure that feeds directly into the justification and legitimization of caging and state-sanctioned murder. As demonstrated by Ferguson (2008), there is nothing “natural” about war. On the contrary, it is a social process in which opponents are systematically fabricated. In the words of Ferguson, “In war, a line must be clear between “us” and “them,” otherwise one would not know whom to kill” (42).

Finally, if the rules and social practices of repression constitute a form of social engineering, we can unlearn and repurpose all the structures, people, time, energy and skill we assigned to repression. Of course, the challenge ahead is immense. As observed by Ferguson, “Once a given society is internally adapted for war [and repression], making war [and repressing] becomes much easier – a necessity, even, for the reproduction of existing social relations. Commentators have compared war to a disease, but a more apt analogy is an addiction” (40). The question remains: How do we break our addiction and dependency on the potency of repression? – a question we might be able to address en masse once we disarm the Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) responsible for making us believe that we have no addiction and dependency to be dealt with.

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“Without concerted action, Canada’s […] system will continue to penalize our society’s most vulnerable and marginalized people” (Canadian Civil Liberties Association, 2024: viii).

Regrettably, prisons can be found in every single country around the world (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007). Despite the challenges associated with calculating the global prison population with pinpoint accuracy – for instance, no data or incomplete data for countries such as North Korea, Eritrea, Somalia and China – Walmsley (n.d.) maintains that there are well over 11 million people incarcerated around the globe. Given the pervasiveness of prisons some suggest that policymakers and administrators have come to conceptualize them as inevitable and inescapable, which works against any local and global efforts to deliberate and implement well-founded alternatives (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007). The Handbook of basic principles and promising practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment (2007) asserts, “imprisonment should not be taken for granted as the natural form of punishment” (3). As the Handbook of basic principles (2007) points out,

“In many countries the use of imprisonment as a form of punishment is relatively recent. It may be alien to local cultural traditions that for millennia have relied on alternative ways of dealing with crime. Further, imprisonment has been shown to be counterproductive in the rehabilitation and reintegration of those charged with minor crimes, as well as for certain vulnerable populations” (3).

Irrespective of their counterproductivity and general ineffectiveness to enhance public safety, global use of imprisonment is on the rise (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007). As reflected in the astute and timeless thoughts of Judge Bruce McM. Wright (as quoted in Instead of Prisons: A Handbook for Abolitionists, 1976: 34), “The myth that prison protects is widespread. To a public immersed in the myths of prison protection, the image of prison walls suddenly being torn down can create unnecessary fear and a backlash that ultimately may inhibit change.” Without the realization that “[m]ost changes needed to reduce crime and eliminate prisons lie outside the criminal (in)justice systems—in the cultural values and institutions of society,” (Instead of Prisons, 1976: 41) we are doomed to repeat the process of blindly organizing society in accordance with a wide range of prison mythologies (for a detailed version of prison mythologies see Chapter 2: Demythologizing Our Views of Prison in the handbook Instead of Prisons). As a case in point, the myth that prisons keep society safe from “criminals” is rampant, but in reality,

“Prisons fail to protect society from “criminals,” except for a very small percentage and only temporarily. Prisons “protect” the public only from those few who get caught and convicted, thereby [contrary to popular belief] serving the primary function of control over certain segments of society” (Instead of Prisons, 1976: 51).

As stated in the abolitionist handbook, Instead of Prisons (1976), “We must keep in mind that […] prison is the ultimate power the democratic state exercises over a citizen. That prisons fail miserably at their professed objectives—rehabilitation, deterrence and protection—is immaterial to their survival” (31). In order to reverse the material trends of building more cages around the world and filling them to the brim, it is necessary to attack the prison mythologies that generate the ideological backdrop or legitimizations that support such dehumanizing material structure as well as the social practices therein that keep them functioning on the quotidian level. Without the development and mainstreaming of counter-hegemonic narratives that push back against such pro-prison mythologies we run the risk of falling even deeper into the prison hellhole.  

Perpetual punishment beyond the removal of liberty

Rising global imprisonment rates result in conditions that violate international norms linked to universal notions of human dignity and respect for all persons as well as universal minimum prison standards (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007). According to the Preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights(UDHR), “Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.” Similarly, The United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (also referred to as the Nelson Mandela Rules) (n.d.) states, “All prisoners shall be treated with the respect due to their inherent dignity and value as human beings.” As will be demonstrated, despite such universal standards prisons punish well beyond the removal of individual liberty. 

As suggested in the Handbook of basic principles (2007), liberty is one of the most important human rights, which is fully acknowledged in both universal human rights documents and national constitutions around the globe. For instance, Article #3 in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) (n.d.) states, “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.” Similarly, Section #7 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms states, “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person and the right not to be deprived thereof except in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice.”

As discussed in the Handbook of basic principles (2007), removing such fundamental right requires a clear justification by governing bodies with the power to impose such restrictions. In the words of the Handbook of basic principles, “governments have a duty to justify the use of imprisonment as necessary to achieve an important societal objective for which there are no less restrictive means [emphasis added] with which the objective can be achieved” (4). In the case of imprisonment, the involuntary removal of liberty rarely occurs in isolation as many other deprivations occur simultaneously (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007). For instance, the Handbook of basic principles states,

“In many countries of the world, prisoners are deprived of basic amenities of life. They are often held in grossly overcrowded conditions, poorly clothed and underfed. They are particularly vulnerable to disease and yet are given poor medical treatment. They find it difficult to keep in contact with their children and other family members. Such conditions may literally place the lives of prisoners at risk” (4).

Case study: Ontario’s carceral hellhole

As a case in point, consider the harmful conditions and unjustified deprivations beyond the removal of a person’s fundamental right to liberty in the Canadian context. With respect to Ontario’s jails, for instance, Ferguson (2024) reports that there are a number of serious concerns pertaining to unsatisfactory living conditions, overcrowding, rodent infestations, insufficient medical care, issues surrounding access to prescription medication, bureaucratic delays linked to file transfers to Ontario’s Disability Support Program (ODSP), lack of access to showers due to construction, overuse of solitary confinement and use of force by guards. Furthermore, Ferguson adds, “Despite regulations making it unlawful for jails to put inmates known to have “serious mental illness” [SMI] in segregation, complaints about this happening continue to come in,” which points to serious institutional issues related to a lack of compliance with regulations, access to services and effective oversight. Similarly, McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021) observe, “[jail] conditions are often described as bleak and bare, marked by overcrowding, extended periods of cell confinement, minimal medical and mental health services, and few opportunities for mental and physical stimulation” (530). The Canadian Civil Liberties Association (2024) adds, “Over-crowding and under-staffing continue to be significant concerns. […] courts have repeatedly decried the frequent lockdowns caused by inadequate staffing. During lockdowns, prisoners may receive only 30 minutes outside of their cells each day, and may be forced to go days without showers, recreation, or phone time” (vi) – conditions that fail to comply with basic minimum standards as outlined in documents such as the Nelson Mandela Rules.

In addition to this long list of unjustified and superfluous harms, which go well beyond the removal of liberty, McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021) observe, “[provincial/territorial] detention centres are typically designed as holding facilities, thus tend to offer little in the way of correctional programming or interventions in comparison to the federal system” (530). As research demonstrates, warehousing human beings in such facilities generates a number of psychological, social and physical impacts ranging from a deep sense of social uncertainty, heighted tension and fear, physical violence and in some cases death (McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021).

Warehousing and overcrowding in provincial institutions generate highly toxic conditions, which is a serious risk for all people on the inside. In some cases, cells built for a single person are holding three people and cells built for two are housing up to four (McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021). Research shows that overcrowding is a widespread problem in provinces such as Ontario. In 2023, Ontario’s jails were operating well over their structured capacity (avg. 8,889 people vs. 7,848 capacity). In the case of Maplehurst Correction Complex in Milton, Ont., there was an average population of 1,188, which is well over its 887-maximum capacity. Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre in London, Ont., was housing 471 people, which is over its 353 person limit and South West Detention Centre in Windsor, Ont., contained 337 people despite a maximum capacity of 262 (Casey, 2024). According to Casey (2024), criminal lawyers and guards are on the same page with their general assessment of the situation. In essence, the reality of warehousing and overcrowding in provincial institutions results not only in more restrictive living conditions for those in captivity; but also, more work-related stress injuries, post-traumatic stress, suicides, staff shortages and assaults on guards. In the words of Chad Oldfield (as quoted in Casey, 2024: para. 11), an Ontario Public Service Employees Union (OPSEU) spokesperson for the guards, “it’s just a recipe for disaster.” According to Casey (2024), when it comes to high levels of work-related stress injury claims registered with the Workplace Safety and Insurance Board (WSIB), guards are right up there with police officers and paramedics. Point being, the existing system is destroying prisoners and guards – albeit unevenly.

Unfortunately, those with the political power to address the situation in Ontario are too busy spewing out the “public safety” line, making promises to hire more contracted guards and touring jails versus taking substantive steps towards reducing the use of jails in the first place. When asked by reporters about jail population numbers and the issue of overcrowding, Ontario’s Solicitor General Michael Kerzner simply failed to respond (Casey, 2024) – indeed, a luxury seemingly afforded to those with the political power to decide the fate of thousands.

While there is no evidence of political plans to reduce or close jails across the province of Ontario, there are definite plans to do the exact opposite: construct more jails! According to Casey (2024), the province is constructing a new jail in Thunder Bay, Ont. with a maximum capacity of 345 and planning to build yet another in eastern Ontario with 235-beds. Instead of a critical public discourse pertaining to the history and harm of jails in society the public is pounded over the head with mind numbing government propaganda about “state-of-the-art facilities,” “money savings,” “green jails,” “sustainable features,” “square footage” and the dead promise of “rehabilitation” (Cameron, 2023), – all of which conceal the names of the big winners that profit from jail construction projects such as, EllisDon companies, Zeidler Architecture Inc. and DLR Group. Why would Thunder Bay’s new $1.2B jail, which is scheduled to open in 2026 (Cameron, 2023), be any different from Toronto South Detention Centre’s (TSDC) “$1-Billion Hellhole” (Robin, 2017), which opened in 2014? 

Similar to Thunder Bay’s up and coming jail, TSDC was designed by Zeidler Architecture and touted by government mouthpieces as a modern facility focused on rehabilitation. The research is clear, instead of rehabilitation people inside of TSDC got the usual: hyper-punishment, violence, trauma and death. As documented by Robin (2017), TSDC was (and still is) plagued by staff shortages, lockdowns, overuse of segregation, sensory deprivation, attempted suicides, riots and an all-encompassing culture of threat and fear. Clearly, not the most productive environment for people with a history of neglect, emotional abuse, sexual abuse and physical violence (“McMaster University,” 2019). While some survive the trauma of the system, others die in custody. As mentioned by the Tracking (In)justice Project, since 2014, 16 people died inside of Toronto South’s super cage (McClelland et al., 2024), which is a far cry from the government’s publicly stated intentions.

Much like Toronto South, it is likely that Thunder Bay’s new facility will end up being yet another “plea factory” (Robin, 2017) in which people on remand strategically plead guilty as a means of getting out of hell on earth. As in Jonathan’s (pseudonym for a formerly incarcerated person) case, McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021) observe, while in provincial custody he decided to “plead guilty – waving his right to a fair trial – in order to be transferred to federal custody” (539) – essentially, for a greater level of “comfort” and “opportunity.”

In addition to warehousing and overcrowding, McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021) observe, people in provincial/territorial jails live in a state of perpetual “ontological uncertainty” due to a constantly changing environment e.g., ongoing admissions, discharges and transfers. Alongside these conditions exists a deep sense of legal uncertainty and doubts about the future. In the words of McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021), “Such conditions place prisoners in a continual state of perceived social, emotional, and physical insecurity, all states of being that are only intensified by institutional conditions” (536). In essence, life in pre-trial detention (or remand) is systematically reduced to a massive “waiting game” (McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021: 536) – that is, a cruel, stressful, boring and meaningless game in which human beings – who are legally defined as innocent until proven guilty – sit idle and deteriorate day-after-day.

At the federal level, McKendy and Ricciardelli (2021) observe that people in prisons “may be fearful that their eligibility may be compromised by institutional happenings, such as another prisoner sabotaging their case for release […] or being confronted with institutional charges for which they must take responsibility” (537) – even if they did not participate in a particular incident. For instance, Smith (pseudonym for a former federal inmate as quoted in McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021: 538) claims, “you can’t tell your Parole Officer ‘I’m not guilty.’ If you tell them that, they don’t give you parole… they send you to medium security to do the denial program.”

While notions of “release” from prison and “reintegration” into society may spawn celebratory images in the popular imagination, research shows that merely qualifying for release produces new levels of stress, anxiety and fear among people in federal prisons. In the words of McKendy & Ricciardelli (2021),

“Given they have likely been incarcerated longer than provincial releases, federal prisoners may be more disconnected from their pre-incarceration lives and/or the current dynamics (social, technological, economic, cultural) of the outside world. Thus, much like the shock they may experience at the early stages of incarceration, they may likewise experience apprehension and anxiety as they face re-entry into the outside world” (538).

As if warehousing people like animals in overcrowded conditions of fear and ontological uncertainty are not enough, research shows that food in provincial jails are best described as low in quality, scarce and often a source of conflict due to steeling and hoarding. Through the systemic production of hunger people behind provincial bars are pushed to the edge, which is reflected in pessimistic moods, harmful attitudes, dissatisfaction and outbursts of violence (McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021). In the words of Blake and Floyd (pseudonyms for two formerly incarcerated people) (as quoted in McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021: 541), “I mean it will get you through the day but it’s just barely enough to pretty much get you through the day. If you don’t have money for canteen, you’re pretty much feeling like you’re starving all the time (Blake).” “It’s just enough to keep you alive; it’s not very much… You starve in there basically” (Floyd).

As mentioned by Joseph (pseudonym for a formally incarcerated person at the provincial level), the carceral space is best described as “mental abuse” (McKendy & Ricciardelli) – a reality that works against any meaningful notion of “safety,” “humaneness,” “care,” “rehabilitation” and “reintegration,” all of which are clearly stated objectives in, for instance, Ontario’s Correctional Services and Reintegration Act (2018). As observed by Gresham M. Sykes, (as cited in McKendy & Ricciardelli, 2021: 531), modern penal apparatuses are in the business of dishing out a specific form of punishment best described as a complete “destruction of the psyche.” For many in Ontario’s cages, the system dishes out a double, triple, if not quadruple dose of trauma and punishment. As discussed by the John Howard Society of Ontario (n.d.), people without stable housing, unstable family conditions, history of trauma, marginalization, racism, poverty, and consequently, mental health issues “[…] end up more frequently in jail” (6). Furthermore, the John Howard Society of Ontario states,

“Many individuals enter the correctional system with pre-existing mental health issues, which are typically worsened during their incarceration. Other people develop new symptoms due to the negative psychological effects of jail. Whether it is through the imposition of strict conditions of bail or probation, or through segregation and isolation in jails, practices rooted in punishment and control often only exacerbate the challenges facing people with mental health issues and further enmesh them in a system that was never designed to meet their needs” (6).

The literature is clear: incarcerated people in places like Ontario, Canada, – and all around the world for that matter – are punished well beyond the removal of their liberty, which strips them of basic human rights and a sense of dignity and worth. Given the grand inefficiencies of incarceration e.g., ineffective at achieving their stated objectives, human rights violations, expensive and overused (“Handbook of basic principles,” 2007) it is disgraceful that Canadians permit for their ongoing use and expansion. Perhaps Dukett and Mohr’s (2015) articulation hits the nail on the head: Canadian citizens “[…] tend to know little and seem to care even less about who is in prison, what happens there and what happens to people after they leave” (para. 10). While an exploration of the reasons behind such disinterest falls beyond the scope of this writeup, it is important to emphasize that uncovering these reasons is vital for any meaningful transformations in the near and distant future. In the meantime, it is important to advance the immediate concerns expressed herein to the issue of alternatives to incarceration – that is, until we fully realize the abolitionist objective of constructing a society without cages.

The possibility of alternatives

According to the Handbook of basic principles (2007), effective alternatives to incarceration exist; however, the design and implementation of such alternatives depends on the coordination and focus of several key players e.g., legislators, judicial officers, lawyers, administrators, politicians, non-governmental organizations and community involvement. According to the Handbook of basic principles, the application of alternatives to incarceration is an absolute necessity due to the following facts: people in cages are disproportionately drawn from the most vulnerable communities, the vast majority of people in cages will return to civil society and incarceration has long been considered  counterproductive when it comes to achieving objectives such as rehabilitation and reintegration – particularly among vulnerable populations and those charged with minor offences.

If any society, including the province of Ontario, is serious about notions of public safety, rehabilitation and reintegration then a societal wide commitment must be made to abandoning the right-wing ideological default that falsely equates punishment, jails and prisons to safer communities. Instead, society needs to make a concerted effort to teach and learn about and adopt evidence-based approaches that speak directly to human histories, needs and the overall organization of society. Without the prioritization of evidence-based measures we run the collective risk of wasting more public funds and human lives.   

If incarceration is to be avoided what are the alternatives? An effective departure point for this discussion revolves around international norms and recommendations. For instance, the Handbook of basic principles (2007) draws explicit attention to The United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for Non-custodial Measures (the Tokyo Rules), which was adopted by the General Assembly on December 14, 1990. The Tokyo Rules present the international community with a host of non-binding recommendations geared towards the design and normalization of non-custodial measures. According to the Handbook of basic principles, one of the most effective measures for avoiding incarceration revolves around the implementation of strategies that reduce the criminal (in)justice system’s reach. Two vital strategies consist of decriminalization and diversion.

When it comes to the process of decriminalization, the Handbook of basic principles states, “Not all socially undesirable conduct needs to be classified as a crime” (13) and when it comes to diversion, the Handbook of basic principles states, “Under diversion strategies, authorities focus on dealing in other ways with people who could be processed through the criminal [in]justice system” (14). Outside the scope of decriminalization and diversion strategies the Handbook of basic principles recognizes that some individuals will in fact be charged and prosecuted, which poses the challenge of deciding what to do with people during the pre-trial, pre-conviction and pre-sentencing stages e.g., cage them or implement alternatives? With this quandary in mind the Tokyo Rules explicitly states (as quoted in Handbook of basic principles, 2007: 17), “Pre-trial detention shall be used as a means of last resort [emphasis added] in criminal proceedings, with due regard for the investigation of the alleged offence and for the protection of society and the victim.”

As demonstrated, the notion of last resort (also referred to as parsimony) is a vital guiding principle that must be honoured for two reasons: firstly, pre-trial detention deals with people who are in fact presumed innocent by law, and secondly, detention is a serious violation of human liberty. With this in mind, one significant question arises: What justifies detention? While this is a pertinent question to deliberate, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) clearly states (as quoted in Handbook of basic principles, 2007: 17), “It shall not [emphasis added] be the general rule that persons awaiting trial shall be detained in custody, but release may be subject to guarantees to appear for trial, at any other stage of the judicial proceedings, and, should occasion arise, for execution of the judgement.” For instance, people could be situated at a specific address, report on a daily basis to a court, pay a bail bond (if not overly burdensome) or accept supervision by an agency among many other practical options. Furthermore, the ICCPR states that people on a criminal charge must be given a speedy trial, which would reduce the amount of time a person spends in detention if they are justifiably detained. The Handbook of basic principles explicitly states, “In cases where a person is known in the community, has a job, a family to support, and is a first offender, authorities should consider unconditional bail” (20). In such cases, people are released under personal recognizance and vow to appear in court.

When it comes to sentencing practices, the Handbook of basic principles maintains that non-custodial sentences should be the main priority, which is consistent with the guiding principle of last resort. As stated in the Tokyo Rules (as quoted in the Handbook of basic principles, 2007: 26), “Non-custodial measures should be used in accordance with the principle of minimum intervention.” Similar to pre-trial, pre-conviction and pre-sentencing alternatives to detention, there are a host of alternatives for people who are found guilty by the legal apparatus. For instance, sentencing may include economic sanctions, confiscation, restitution to the victim, conditional discharge, suspended sentence, probation, community service or referral to an attendance centre among many other options – all of which contain a punitive element lesser than imprisonment. In all of these cases the sentenced person retains a sense of dignity, which is consistent with the Tokyo Rules (Handbook of basic principles, 2007). As a means of upholding the basic rule of law it is important for all non-custodial alternatives to be clearly defined e.g., days of week, hours, location, task, etc.

When it comes to special populations such as, drug users, people struggling with mental illness, women and overrepresented groups, the Handbook of basic principles (2007) stresses the need to consider the effective design and implementation of decriminalization and diversion strategies and in some cases pardons. In terms of drug users, the Handbook of basic principles clearly states, “[…] treating offenders for their addictions is more effective than processing and eventually punishing them through the criminal [in]justice system” (63). Furthermore the Handbook of basic principles states, “While drug courts are powerful tools for making use of alternatives to imprisonment, there are also other methods to ensure that drug addicts who enter the criminal justice system are not imprisoned unnecessarily. This is important because, despite authorities’ best efforts, drugs are often freely available inside prisons” (65). When it comes to people struggling with mental illness, the Handbook of basic principles states, “mentally ill persons are better treated outside than inside prison” (66). In all cases involving mental illness the Handbook of basic principles maintains, “[…] authorities should make special efforts to divert persons in this intermediate category from the criminal [in]justice system entirely” (67).

When it comes to women the Handbook of basic principles recognizes that the decriminalization of various non-violent offences (e.g., drug mules) may be an effective strategy. In addition, women with children may benefit from diversion strategies aimed at keeping families together. In the case of fines (versus imprisonment) the Handbook of basic principles warns, “As women tend to be poorer than men overall, particular attention may need to be focused upon ensuring that, if they default on fines, they do not end up in prison automatically” (70) e.g., “administrative of justice offences.” The Handbook of basic principles also recognizes, “Women are often good candidates for early release, be it conditionally or unconditionally. Systems that use amnesties or pardons by the head of state may give them special consideration” (70).

In terms of over-represented groups, such as Indigenous peoples in Canada, the Handbook of basic principles stresses the application of effective diversion strategies designed to keep Indigenous peoples out of the criminal (in)justice system. While the examples in this section do not work towards abolishing the existing cages in our society, which is the long-term objective, they do highlight some effective normative alternatives – all of which are designed to keep people out of a system historically bent on punishment, isolation, exclusion and premature death.

Back to Ontario’s carceral hellhole

When it comes to Ontario, Canada, the John Howard Society (n.d.) has meticulously documented the fact that while Ontario contains some alternative measures to incarceration the entire system is best described as outright broken (findings that are confirmed by the Canadian Civil Liberties Association’s 2024 document Still Failing: The Deepening Crisis of Bail and Pre-Trial Detention in Canada).

According to the John Howard Society, the system is dysfunctional at all levels e.g., police, courts, bail and jail, simply put, the entire criminal (in)justice system. According to the John Howard Society (2013), the criminal (in)justice system is suffering from “organizational risk aversion” (5) – that is, at every stage of the system decision-makers are “playing it safe” and dishing out harsh punishments versus using a greater level of discretion (e.g., police laying charges and dumping people in jails versus issuing a “promise to appear”). Another example of organizational risk aversion occurs during the bail stage when the court is assessing “risk” levels. At this stage in the process, John Howard Society (2013) maintains, “subjective assessments of accused persons, rather than objective processes or facts, are determining factors in decisions to ultimately release or detain individuals” (8). To make matters worse, John Howard Society (2013) also points out that instead of calculating objective risk courts are making decisions pertaining to bail based on whether or not their decision will negatively impact the overall reputation of the criminal (in)justice system. It is worth asking: How did Ontario end up with a system that prioritizes the subjective risk to public image over the objective risk of the accused? Clearly, the infusion and normalization of subjective standards (versus objective standards) is concerning. In the words of John Howard Society (2013), “In order to successfully implement a ladder approach, a serious re-examination of how “risk” is defined by criminal court professionals, and the polices informing them, is required” (8).

As gatekeepers, police need to learn how to use their discretion in ways that reduce unnecessary involvement with the criminal (in)justice system. Despite popular conceptions, police have a fairly wide range of options at their disposal such as, taking no action at all, issuing a verbal warning, arrest or mental health diversion among others. As stated by the John Howard Society, when it comes to Ontario’s courts and the bail system, “Most people with mental health issues go through the regular court process, despite needing more treatment-based options. Accessing bail is a challenge and when they are released, people with mental health issues are often given conditions that are difficult to adhere to,” (10) which sets people up for failure in the form of mounting “administrative charges.” In the words of the John Howard Society, “People will often agree to all conditions requested by the courts, since the alternative is staying in jail” (11). As observed by the Canadian Liberties Association, “[…] bail courts are filled with people who are struggling to survive – grappling with mental illness, trauma, and the criminalization of substance use and poverty. People cycling through bail court are often facing multiple intersecting crises in different areas of their lives. These crises drive people into bail courts and have a direct impact on their trajectory through the criminal [in]justice system” (vii). In addition to the unrelenting chaos of the bail system (versus the often assumed functionality and effectiveness of it all), the Canadian Civil Liberties Association (2024) points out that despite the courts persistent denunciation of using jails as a stand-in for food, shelter and mental health services, the inhumane and debasing practice of jailing the most vulnerable groups continues.

Adding salt to injury, John Howard Society (2013) states, “Ontario has witnessed the erosion of the presumption of release before trial, as well as the disregard for the letter of the law outlining a ladder approach to forms of release” (7). As a case in point, John Howard Society (2013) states, “[…] studies have demonstrated, the presumption of surety release in Ontario (without even considering less onerous [emphasis added] forms of release) has become increasingly entrenched, irrespective of the ladder approach that the Criminal Code directs” (7).

In addition, John Howard Society (2013) points out that one of the root problems revolves around a greater application of reverse onus measures, which require the accused person to demonstrate why they should be released – particularly in the case of enumerated offences. In the words of John Howard Society (2013), “The reverse onus provision set out in Section 515(6)(c) of the Criminal Code – which includes all administrative of justice charges – casts a particularly wide net” (7). Systematically setting people up for failure in this manner overloads the courts and fills Ontario’s cages with people who are – for the most part – low risk, vulnerable and struggling with mental illness and substance use. The research is clear, “over-supervising or over-treating individuals who are low-risk can actually do more harm than good, which is counter-productive to the Ministry’s objectives” (John Howard Society, 2013: 8). 

When it comes to Ontario’s jails, the John Howard Society maintains, “Jails are not designed to provide care to people with mental health issues. Conditions associated with incarceration can create mental health issues or make existing issues worse” (13). While some attempts have been made to address this issue at both the provincial and federal levels, understaffing, overuse of segregation, lack of resources and treatment options pose significant barriers to administering effective and consistent health care inside environments built to control and punish. Upon release, the John Howard Societymaintains, “Homelessness is what awaits many individuals with mental health issues exiting jail” (16). Unfortunately, Ontario’s discharge and planning system from jails is inadequate at best and leaves formerly caged people in – yet again – a vulnerable position. Where exactly is a person with no social supports supposed to go?

When it comes to the relationship between release and housing, the John Howard Society states, “A primary concern for individuals leaving jail is lack of adequate housing. Homelessness and mental health are closely intertwined, as housing instability can create or further intensify mental health and addiction problems, while having mental health problems increases the likelihood of experiencing homelessness” (17). In addition, the forces of social stigma are ever-present and add yet another barrier to life on the outside (John Howard Society).

Conclusion

Despite popular perception, prisons are not inevitable, rehabilitative or productive. If policymakers and administrators have come to conceptualize carceral spaces as inescapable the question arises: How can civil society breakdown such self-defeating political position? If well-founded alternatives to caging human beings exist, why are we stalling? While this is a complex question, I suggest that one reason we might be stalling is related to an overarching force called neoliberalism – that is, an ideology that has not only leveled any meaningful dialogue and construction of the common good and community, but also, transferred all notions of social failure and blame onto the individual. Point being, without any meaningful conceptualization of the common good and community we are likely to remain stuck in a position that perpetually ponders, “As a person on the “outside,” what do prisons have to do with me?” Without a deep sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, we are doomed to replicate (versus challenge and transform) longstanding prison mythologies, prison construction projects and the long list of human rights violations that go far beyond the removal of liberty. With this in mind a final question arises: If carceral spaces do not work for those on the “inside,” do not work to reduce crime and do not work to keep communities safe, who do they work for?

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References

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Casey, Liam. “Ontario jails, including Windsor’s, operated over capacity last year.” CBC, 7 March 2024, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/windsor/ontario-jails-windsor-overcrowding-1.7136660#:~:text=As%20of%20Sept.,cent%20capacity%20at%20that%20time. Accessed 17 December 2024.

Correctional Services and Reintegration Act. Correctional Services and Reintegration Act, 2018, S.O, 2018, c. 6, Sched.2. Ontario e-Laws, https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/18c06. Accessed 19 December 2024.

Dukett, Mona T. & Mohr, Johann W. “Prison.” The Canadian Encyclopedia, 08 June 2015, Historica Canada. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/prison. Accessed 03 January 2025.

Ferguson, Rob. “‘Poor living conditions’ in Ontario’s overcrowded jails top complaints to ombudsman.” The Star, 26 June 2024, https://www.ombudsman.on.ca/resources/news/in-the-news/2024/%E2%80%98poor-living-conditions%E2%80%99-in-ontario%E2%80%99s-overcrowded-jails-top-complaints-to-ombudsman-(the-star). Accessed 10 December 2024.

Cameron, Grant. “New $1.2B Thunder Bay correctional centre the first of its kind in Ontario.” ConstructConnect, 20 Sept. 2023, https://canada.constructconnect.com/dcn/news/infrastructure/2023/09/new-1-2b-thunder-bay-correctional-centre-the-first-of-its-kind-in-ontario#:~:text=Construction%20crews%20are%20presently%20doing,many%20green%20and%20sustainable%20features. Accessed 17 December 2024. 

Canadian Civil Liberties Association. Still Failing: The Deepening Crisis of Bail and Pre-Trial Detention in Canada.” Canadian Civil Liberties Association and the Canadian Civil Liberties Education Trust, 2024, https://ccla.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/CCLA_Bail-Report-V2.pdf. Accessed 03 January 2025.

Handbook of basic principles and promising practices on Alternatives to Imprisonment. United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, 2007, https://www.unodc.org/pdf/criminal_justice/Handbook_of_Basic_Principles_and_Promising_Practices_on_Alternatives_to_Imprisonment.pdf. Accessed 10 December 2024.

John Howard Society of Ontario. “Broken Record: The Continued Criminalization of Mental Health Issues.” JHS Ontario, n.d., https://johnhoward.on.ca/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Broken-Record.pdf. Accessed 19 December 2024.

John Howard Society. “Reasonable Bail?” JHS of Ontario, 2013, https://johnhoward.on.ca/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/JHSO-Reasonable-Bail-report-final.pdf. Accessed 03 January 2025.

McClelland, Alexander, Bradley, Jeffery & Jennings, Lindsay. “What Does the Database Tell Us About Deaths in Custody Across Canada?” Tracking (In)justice Project, 9 August 2024, https://trackinginjustice.ca/what-does-the-database-tell-us-about-deaths-in-custody-across-canada-provinces-territories-jurisdictions-institutions/. Accessed 18 December 2024.

“McMaster University.” Half of people in Canadian prisons were abused as children: McMaster research. McMaster University, 24 January 2019, https://healthsci.mcmaster.ca/half-of-people-in-canadian-prisons-were-abused-as-children-mcmaster-research/#:~:text=Based%20on%20these%20studies%2C%20the,third%20(35.5%20per%20cent). Accessed 18 December 2024.

McKendy, Laura, and Ricciardelli, Rosemary. “The Pains of Imprisonment and Contemporary Prisoner Culture in Canada.” The Prisons Journal, vol. 101, no. 5, 2021, pp. 528-552. Sage Publications, https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/00328855211048166. Accessed 11 December 2024.

Robin, Raizel. “The $1-Billion Hellhole.” Toronto Life, 15 Feb. 2017, https://torontolife.com/city/inside-toronto-south-detention-centre-torontos-1-billion-hellhole/. Accessed 18 December 2024.

The United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (the Nelson Madela Rules). United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, n.d., https://www.unodc.org/documents/justice-and-prison-reform/Nelson_Mandela_Rules-E-ebook.pdf. Accessed 10 December 2024.

Universal Declaration of Human of Human Rights (UDHR). United Nations, n.d., https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights. Accessed 10 December 2024.

Walmsley, Roy. World Prison Population List. Institute for Criminal Policy Research (ICPR), n.d., https://www.prisonstudies.org/sites/default/files/resources/downloads/world_prison_population_list_11th_edition_0.pdf. Accessed 10 December 2024.

Wright, B. McM. “Instead of Prisons: A Handbook for Abolitionists.” Prison Research Education Action Project, 1976, https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/prison-research-education-action-project-instead-of-prisons.a4.pdf. Accessed 10 December 2024.

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On Friday, Nov. 29^th, 2024, concerned citizens gathered outside Hamilton-Wentworth Detention Centre calling attention to Ontario’s failing jail system.

Participants (left to right): Gregg Gillis, Jozef Konyari, John and Jean Ouellette.  

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The Ministry of the Solicitor General’s (2024) mandate is crystal clear: to operate “a safe, effective and accountable adult corrections system […] across the province [of Ontario].” The problem is: the ministry is failing on all three accounts.

Recent victims of Ontario’s jails include five men (Timothy Anderson, Murray Balogh, David Cowe, Michael Croft and Jahrell Lungs) at the Niagara Detention Centre (NDC) between 2018-2022 and another six men (Jason Archer, Paul Debien, Nathaniel Golden, Igor Petrovic, Christopher Sharp and Robert Soberal) at the Hamiliton-Wentworth Detention Centre between 2017-2021, which places the ministry’s ability to meet its obligations into serious question.

Unfortunately, these deaths are only tip of the iceberg. According to Tracking (In)justice (2024), there have been a number of deaths in provincial custody since the year 2000. For instance, Maplehurst Correctional Complex, Milton, Ontario: 45 deaths, Hamiliton-Wentworth Detention Centre, Hamiliton, Ontario: 35 deaths, Ottawa-Carleton Detention Centre, Ottawa, Ontario: 28 deaths, Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre, London, Ontario: 25 deaths and Central North Correctional Centre, Penetanguishene, Ontario: 25 deaths.

According to the ministry, a mandatory coroner’s inquest is held when “a death occurs while a person is in custody or being detained (unless, in some circumstances, a death investigation determines the death occurred from natural causes in which case the inquest is discretionary).”

Typically, there is a verdict and a series of jury recommendations on how to prevent similar deaths. Problem is, jury recommendations are non-binding, which has led some lawyers to conclude that mandatory inquests are both worthwhile and worthless. Worthwhile in so far as getting to the root cause of a death in custody or detention and worthless in so far as the ministry’s failure to implement jury recommendations.

According to the grassroots organization, Seek The Alternatives (STA), “a failure to implement a legally binding approach that guarantees the full implementation of jury recommendations is negligent and works against the ministry’s mandate to ensure community safety for all people.”

Organizers believe that the notion of non-binding recommendations is offensive to family members of the deceased struggling to ensure that their loved ones don’t die in vain. Organizers maintain that if the ministry is truly interested in fulfilling its mandate, making all jury recommendations legally binding would be a step in the right direction.

According to one organizer, “the ministry can begin without further delay by implementing all 57 recommendations made to prevent tragic deaths similar to that of Soleiman Faqiri at the Central East Correctional Centre in Lindsay, Ontario, in 2016. And once those are implemented, the ministry can adopt all 66 recommendations made to prevent deaths similar to the five men at the Niagara Detention Centre between 2018-2022.”

Similar to INQUEST, a UK-based charity that struggles for policy change alongside families of those who have died in prison, STA aims to support families struggling to bring about constructive policy changes to Ontario’s failing jail system.

*Interested in supporting STA’s call for legally binding jury recommendations? Go to: https://www.change.org/p/make-all-coroner-jury-recommendations-legally-binding.

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“It is not enough just to endorse a movement, support an issue or reach out among ourselves, inside and outside prisons. As abolitionists we must look to the future and examine the long-term impact of their present reality. We must be creative and inquisitive. We must understand our direction and abolition must be that direction because the entire system of punishment has failed. Abolition is not a toothache, but a people’s right to erase useless waste of human life, time and money.”

– M. Sharon Smolick #AF01850 (Prolog to Instead of Prisons: A Handbook for Abolitionists)

“Conceptualizing abolition as presence, not an absence, is key to understanding the work prison abolitionists do. Buring down the prison is meaningless if the people know nothing other than how to rebuilt it.” – Lex Moulton (Contributor to SUNFLOWER Radical Journal)

Skin-deep carcerality

On one level, the notion of carcerality refers to imprisonment or organized punishment for those deemed “guilty” (Moulton, 2020) by the overarching Eurocentric legal apparatus. As a structure of perpetual dominance and control, the Eurocentric legal machinery is bent on heavy-handed laws and notions of retribution, proof, guilt and punishment versus Indigenous ways of life founded on relational accountability, trust, understanding and respect” (Fox et al., n.d.).

When a person is incarcerated, they are forced to exist in a confined space (more precisely referred to as a cage). Upon confinement to a cage, two fundamental rights are immediately eliminated: freedom of movement and agency (Moulton, 2020). In the words of Moulton (2020), “Incarceration demands control of an individual’s movement and actions, confining them to a specific location and restricting who they can interact with and what they can do” – an approach that lies in stark contrast to the abolitionist principle of maximum care and minimum intervention in the lives of all people (Davidson et al., 1976).

In essence, the cage is a technique of social control and domination (Moulton, 2020) over “criminalized populations and marginalized people deemed disposable” (Ayers, 2024) – that is, a system designed to intensify fear, conformity and passivity under the liberal falsehoods of “order,” “peace,” “protection” and “safety.”

Exposing the complexity of carcerality

On another level, the notion of carcerality goes far beyond the use of federal prisons, local jails, immigrant and juvenile detention centres, military prisons (Tapia, 2020) and carceral control schemes such as, parole, offender registries, cash bail, house arrest and voter disenfranchisement (Moulton, 2020). According to Tapia, “carcerality captures the many ways in which the carceral state shapes and organizes society and culture through policies and logic[s] of control, surveillance, criminalization, and un-freedom.” For Tapia, the carceral state’s use of “punitive orientations” obscures the possibility of humane approaches to social issues.

In addition to Tapia’s notion of “punitive orientations,” which is the state’s never-ending scare tactic of criminalization and incarceration, Moulton (2020) maintains that carceral logics are unconsciously internalized in the process of growing up in a modern state. In the words of Moulton, “Early in their adolescence, most children have already internalized the concept of the “bad guy” – an irredeemably evil character who must be punished and captured.” Similarly, schools – among other social structures – reproduce and normalize carceral logics every time they threaten, punish, detain and suspend “delinquent” youth (Moulton).

In the words of Moulton (2020), “Once we have an understanding of the carceral, we begin to see its influence all over. Homeless shelters. Factory jobs. Zoos. The prison’s presence can be found anywhere.” As a set of disciplinary orientations and logics, Tapia adds, “carcerality is […] a central organizing principle of our society and culture, and therefore affects and diminishes us all” – albeit unevenly.

Digging deeper: History, carcerality, genocide and slavery

Case A: America’s captivity machine

Beyond the discourse of Eurocentric organized punishment, punitive orientations and carceral logics exists an historical relationship between carcerality and “[…] the native American genocide, trans-Atlantic slave trade, imperialist expansion, and capitalist exploitation” (Moulton, 2020). As discussed by Fox et al. (n.d.),

“Native people have a long history of forced confinement resulting from government policies. Forms of confinement included removal and relocation from home territories, internment in forts and on reservations, forced placement of children in boarding schools and orphanages, commitments to “insane asylums,” mental hospitals and incarceration in jails and prisons. It is no surprise that the effects of these practices continue to reverberate in the lives of Native people today, contributing to disproportionate incarceration rates and systemic inequities” (2).

With respect to disproportionate incarceration rates in the United States, Prison Policy Initiative reports,

“Native people are vastly overrepresented in the criminal legal system. Native people are incarcerated in state and federal prisons at a rate of 763 per 100,000 people. This is double the national rate […] and more than four times higher than the state and federal prison incarceration rate of white people […]. These disparities exist in jails as well, with Native people being detained in local jails at a rate of 316 per 100,000” (“Native Incarceration in the U.S.”). 

When it comes to understanding the practice of over-incarceration of Indigenous peoples in the United States, Fox et al. (n.d.) stresses that the “incongruence between Western and Indigenous ideologies and worldview, inherent systemic racism, and a legacy of ongoing violence toward Native people” provides the historical context. Similarly, Dr. Ciara Hansen (as quoted in Davis 2023) states, “Like many modern challenges in Indian Country, over-incarceration of Indigenous people is intimately tied to colonial violence and upheld by policies throughout the years.” Hansen adds, “Paternalistic solutions applied to Native communities often miss the important step of seeking to understand the issue from the community’s perspective” (Davis 2023).

With respect to slavery, mass incarceration and prison abolition in the American context, Ayers (2024) observes that caging, controlling and dominating

“[…] is a major part of the afterlife of slavery, and prison abolition is the next step in that long historic project of abolition and Black freedom. And, as we imagine dramatic change, we should also anticipate future attempts to contain and control, for just as Jim Crow followed abolition, and mass incarceration followed Jim Crow, some evil expression of white supremacy and Black containment yet unseen lurks just around the corner.”

Furthermore, Ayers (2024) adds,

“The ‘prison nation’ is an intolerable abomination. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it, and joining the insurgency becomes an urgent necessity. Modern misdemeanor law can be traced directly to the Black Codes after slavery that criminalized ordinary actions […] precisely to control formerly enslaved people.”

In Ayers’s reading of history, every century of a nation’s evolution contains defining features. While slavery was a defining aspect of American history from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, mass incarceration and racialized un-freedom are defining characteristics of America today. In the words of Ayers,

“We may look back, just as we look back at slavery, with astonishment and anguish as we realize that the prison-industrial complex was a bad choice: it generated super-profits for a few while it vitalized white supremacy, ruined millions of human lives, devastated social capital, destroyed entire communities, and diminished our society.”

In order to abolish carcerality as an organizing force of control and domination, Nkechi Taifa (2016), Advocacy Director for Criminal Justice at the Open Society Foundations, argues that an examination of U.S. history reveals that the “cumulative impact of destructive treatment against Blacks in the criminal [in]justice system, combined with challenging conditions of life negatively impacting generations, constitutes institutionalized genocide” (14).

While the notion of “institutionalized genocide” remains a highly contested concept due to the challenge of proving an “intent to destroy,” Taifa maintains, “In the criminal punishment context, institutionalized genocide is the aggregate impact of discriminatory treatment of a community – embedded in laws, policies, and practices of institutions involved in policing, prosecution, and sanctions – which has the effect of destroying, in whole or substantial part, a racial, ethnic or religious group” (7).

Taifa (2016) makes the case that the UN General Assembly’s 1948 International Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, which includes destructive acts such as, (a) killing members of the group; (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; [or] (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group, constitute the ongoing material reality of African Americans. As a case in point, Taifa states, “the conditions of life in neighborhoods of concentrated poverty often result in the destruction of not only individuals, but also entire families and generations. The cumulative effect of these conditions almost guarantees the involvement of many young inner-city Blacks in the criminal justice system” (7). Put succinctly, “unmet social needs provide fuel for the cycle of incarceration” (Taifa, 2016: 7).

Case B: Canada’s captivity machine

In the settler colonial context of Canada, a report from the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples unequivocally states (as quoted in Beaver, 2024), “the most fundamental explanation for Indigenous overrepresentation in the criminal [in]justice system is colonialism.” Similarly, Clark (2019) states, “The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) identified three viable explanations […] colonialism, socio-economic marginalization, and culture clash. Systemic discrimination against Indigenous people is also a serious problem” (2). In the clear-cut words of Pam Palmater, the chair in Indigenous governance at Toronto Metropolitan University (as quoted in Beaver, 2024),

“In order to truly understand the over-incarceration of Indigenous peoples in Canada […] you have to go back to contact. When colonial governments established themselves on native territories in order to steal our territories and our resources, they had to find ways to oppress us, contain us, control us, and remove us from those territories: trapping us on reserves, sending our kids to residential schools, scalping bounties, forced sterilization.”

Palmater adds (as quoted in Beaver, 2024), “It’s always for the same purpose: to get our lands and resources.” While some may conceptualize the issues of over-incarceration of Indigenous peoples in Canada and genocide as unrelated, Palmater points out that the over-incarceration of Indigenous peoples is a “form of genocide” (recall Taifa’s notion of “institutional genocide,” which draws specific attention to the “aggregate impact of discriminatory treatment of a community”).

As the late Australian Historian Patrick Wolfe (1949 – 2016) points out, the ongoing and complex construction of European settler colonial society is a violent process that involves constantly shifting strategies. In the words of Wolfe, “As a process, invasion occurs first, and it is generally a violent process because nobody gives up their land voluntarily. Whatever the Europeans say about Natives rolling up their blankets and fading away, like the Israelis say about Palestinians, dissolving into the night – that doesn’t happen” (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018: 347). What does happen is best articulated by the late Indigenous leader and activist from the Secwepemc Nation in British Colombia, Arthur Manuel (2017), “Indigenous peoples who try to defend their land are met with swift repression and land defenders are overwhelmed by military or paramilitary forces and carted off to jail” (72).

As a system, settler colonialism required (and continues to require) expropriated land, subordinate labour and the complete elimination of Indigenous peoples as a means of maximizing surplus profit for the dominating class (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018). Since Indigenous peoples do not simply disappear “give up places where their old people are buried, where they have been born and bred for generations, where they’ve lived, where their gods are” (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018: 347), the colonizer imposes a Eurocentric way of life and goes to extraordinary lengths to ensure that Indigenous peoples make the “right choice” between complete assimilation or premature death. Either way you conceptualize it, it boils down to gradual versus fastmoving forms of annihilation. In the words of Wolfe,

“Now, the colonizers have to establish a colonial society in their place, on their land. To do that, you have to have a system of laws and regulations; the playing field has got to look level […] A rule of law has to be applied and applied consistently, otherwise the incoming settler society would get out of order. Therefore, the Natives who have survived the initial catastrophe of invasion and violent dispossession, you can’t just carry on shooting them on sight. It doesn’t work for the settler rule of law that has to appear to be conducted fairly and legitimately” (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018: 347).

As a contemporary case in point, McGuire & Murdoch’s (2022) work demonstrates the way Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) co-opts Indigenous cultural practices under the seemingly polite liberal rubric of “cultural sensitivity.” In the words of CSC (2024),

“Federally, sentenced Indigenous peoples have unique cultural and spiritual needs. Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) actively provides culturally specific interventions, support and resources to address these needs. This helps them return to and remain in their communities as law-abiding, contributing members of society.”  

According to McGuire & Murdoch (2022), these claims amount to nothing more than “a generic pan-Indigenized approach that permeates its policy and programming” (541). As discussed by McGuire & Murdoch,

“No amount of appropriated items and practices – eagle feathers, circles, or red roads – embedded in pan-Indigenized correctional programming will do anything to heal Indigenous women [and peoples]. These women [and peoples] have sustained compounded trauma and CSC’s programs reinforce and perpetuate harm while continuing to subjugate Indigenous women [and peoples] in Canada to state rule” (539).

Powered by “goodwill” and “good intentions” CSC employs programs with tender titles such as, Continuum of Care, Circles of Change, Pathways, Spirit of the Warrior, Red Road and Healing Path (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022) as a means of softening the ceaseless colonial blow. As mentioned by McGuire & Murdoch, “These terms suggest some sort of singular Indigenous identity. The reality is that most unifying factors among Indigenous people are their experiences with racism, genocide, and trauma” (540).

Such wholesale construction of Indigenous identity fulfills the settler state’s late-stage commitment to a “softer” form of control and dominance. On the surface, nobody can claim outright violence and extermination; however, a deeper look reveals an array of “assimilatory destructive programs tak[ing] place within the carceral space of the prison” (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022: 540). The concrete reality is: “CSC is part of the settler state that has granted itself the authority to control and imprison Indigenous women [and peoples] from hundreds of sovereign First Nations bands (upwards of 50 Nations) across the land they now call Canada” (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022: 541).

To add salt to injury, McGuire & Murdoch (2022) point out that CSC engages in hiring practices of institutional elders to pose as counsellors and guides. Instead of adhering to cultural norms connected to earning the status of a respected community elder based on the acquisition and application of intergenerational knowledge, CSC hires Indigenous peoples based on responses to competitive job postings. When institutional elders are hired, McGuire & Murdoch report, “Elders are employed by CSC, and thus, are a part of the system that many prisoners have a ‘long-standing mistrust’ of, thereby leading to issues in establishing trusting relationships” (542). Restricted by CSC-approved directives, McGuire & Murdoch state, “Elders working for CSC report feeling isolated, vulnerable, and uncertain […]” (542).

In this instance, Indigenous folks are forced into the seemingly inescapable settler colonial system through both incarceration and wage-based slavery. Point being, Indigenous peoples are held captive on both ends of the system “inside” and “outside” – that is, a violent dynamic that can be more accurately conceptualized as the antithesis of truth and reconciliation. In the words of the Preface to, Honouring the Truth, Reconciling for the Future: Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada(2015),

“Getting to the truth was hard, but getting to reconciliation will be harder. It requires that the paternalistic and racist foundations of the residential school system be rejected as the basis for an ongoing relationship. Reconciliation requires that a new vision, based on a commitment to mutual respect, be developed. It also requires an understanding that the most harmful impacts of residential schools have been the loss of pride and self-respect of Aboriginal people, and the lack of respect that non-Aboriginal people have been raised to have for their Aboriginal neighbours. Reconciliation is not an Aboriginal problem; it is a Canadian one. Virtually all aspects of Canadian society may need to be reconsidered [emphasis added]” (VI).

Unfortunately, instead of reconciliation and a future worth looking forward to, MacDonald’s (2016) work suggests that Indigenous peoples are getting “new residential schools” in the form of state jails and prisons – a grim reality that echoes Dr. Taiaiake Alfred’s (as quoted in Manuel, 2017: 201) description of “ reconciliation as recolonization.” According to Clark (2019), “The incarceration numbers for Indigenous people are worsening year by year” (1). In the words of MacDonald,

“While admission of white adults to Canadian prisons declined through the last decade, Indigenous incarceration rates were surging: Up 112 per cent for women. Already, 36 per cent of the women and 25 per cent men sentenced to provincial and territorial custody in Canada are Indigenous – a group that makes up just four per cent of the national population. Add in federal prisons, and Indigenous inmates account for 22.8 per cent of the total incarcerated population.”

With respect to Indigenous youth, Clark (2019) states, “In 2016-2017, Indigenous youth (12 to 17) accounted for 8 percent of all youth in the provinces and territories. However, in 2016-2017 they accounted for 46 percent of young people admitted to the corrections system” (1). In terms of the Indigenous female youth population, Clark observes, “In 2016-2017 [they] accounted for 60 percent of all female youth admitted to provincial and territorial corrections systems” (1). As discussed by the Arthur Manuel, “Canadian jails are full of our young men and women. That is colonialism. That is oppression. One breeds the other” (73).

When it comes to policing and bail practices the system is equally cruel. According to Clark’s (2019) assessment, state policing practices are troublesome as Indigenous peoples are both targeted and neglected. In terms of bail practices, Clark maintains, “They [Indigenous peoples] are also denied bail more frequently and therefore held in remand […] or pre-trial detention […] more frequently and for longer periods than non-Indigenous offenders” (2).

When it comes to so-called collaborative approaches, McGuire & Murdoch (2022) observe, despite CSC’s requirement under section 82 of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (1992) to seek insight and advice from Indigenous groups such as the National Aboriginal Advisory Committee (NAAC), CSC “continues to hold infrequent meetings with the NAAC and to ignore their recommendations regarding correctional services for Indigenous offenders” (539). At this stage of the settlement project, it is evident that the “indigenization of corrections” (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022: 539) plays an integral part in what historian Patrick Wolfe refers to as the appearance of fairness and legitimacy (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018).

In the words of Alex Birrell (as quoted in McGuire & Murdoch, 2022: 540), no matter the so-called good CSC claims to do it is “a means of controlling the lives of Indigenous people, providing the state with a new pass system, allowing it to regulate the movements of First Nations people by invoking a Criminal Code […] they never consented to.” Similarly, Patrick Wolfe observes,

“[Historically] If you’re a settler, theoretically at least, you’ve come with a social contract, you’ve done all those European things involving subjecting yourself to the rule of the sovereign and you’ve consented, the whole deal. Natives never did that; their rule of law was prior to colonial rule, independent of it. It springs from a separate source. The colonizers’ legal system simply can’t deal with that. It can’t deal with something that originates outside of itself” (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018: 347).  

McGuire & Murdoch (2022) suggest that if Indigenous peoples have access to CSC programs, they may implement strategies of refusal among other tactics such as full or partial compliance as a means of fulfilling specific requirements built into release conditions. In the words of McGuire & Murdoch, “Coercing participation in Indigenous programming and forcing identity upon Indigenous individuals in custody is oppressive” (541).

Taken collectively, the generic pan-Indigenous framework enforced by CSC amounts to nothing more than an “Indigenous prison” running within the highly regulated and guarded boundaries of CSC (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022). As discussed by McGuire & Murdoch, “it is important that Canadians recognize that Indigenous peoples cannot simply get over past injustices when genocidal harms are ongoing” (544).

Moving beyond genocidal carceralities

Abolishing “genocidal carceralities” (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022: 543) in settler colonial states such as, United States, Canada, New Zealand, Australia and Israel-Palestine, will not only take time; but also, high levels of political organization and an anti-colonial mentality capable of resisting and radically transforming everything that has come to appear inescapable. Without such resistance settler states will continue to advance the settler objectives of control, dominance, assimilation, dehumanization (McGuire & Murdoch, 2022) and extermination (Kauanui & Wolfe, 2018).

With international declarations such as, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) (2007), which received Royal Assent in Canada on June 21, 2021 (Government of Canada, 2021), Indigenous peoples and their aligned comrades have at their fingertips a powerful political instrument for universalizing all 46 Articles including Article #3, which states, “Indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination. By virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development” (8). In the words of Arthur Manuel (2017), “UNDRIP calls for the cessation of violence against us […]. It demands our protection from ‘any action which has the aim or effect of dispossessing us of our lands, territories or resources’” (52). With the complete implementation of the UNDRIP we can take a vital step in the long march towards ending genocidal carceralities and get substantively closer to achieving the broader anti-colonial objective of complete decolonization. 

References

Ayers, Bill. “A Thousand Possibilities.” INQUEST: A Decarceral Brainstorm, 24 Sept. 2024, https://inquest.org/a-thousand-possibilities/. Accessed 3 December 2024.

Clark, Scott. “Overrepresentation of Indigenous People in the Canadian Criminal Justice System: Causes and Responses.” Research and Statistics Division, Department of Justice Canada, 2019, https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/rp-pr/jr/oip-cjs/oip-cjs-en.pdf. Accessed 4 December 2024.

CSC. “Indigenous corrections.” Government of Canada, 28 Aug. 2024, https://www.canada.ca/en/correctional-service/programs/offenders/indigenous-corrections.html. Accessed 4 December 2024.

Davidson, Amy, et al. Instead of Prisons: A Handbook for Abolitionists. Faculty Press, 1976. The Anarchist Library Online, https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/prison-research-education-action-project-instead-of-prisons. PDF Download.

Davis, Matt. “Over-Incarceration of Native Americans: Roots, Inequities, and Solutions.” Safety + Justice Challenge, 13 January 2023, https://safetyandjusticechallenge.org/blog/over-incarceration-of-native-americans-roots-inequities-and-solutions/. Accessed 3 December 2024.

Fox, L. Desiree, Hansen, D. Ciara & Miller, M. Ann. “Over-Incarceration of Native Americans: Roots, Inequalities, and Solutions.? Safety and Justice Challenge, n.d., pp. 1-17, https://safetyandjusticechallenge.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/OverIncarcerationOfNativeAmericans.pdf. Accessed 3 December 2024.

Government of Canada. “Backgrounder: United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act.” Canada, 12 Oct. 2021, https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/declaration/about-apropos.html. Accessed 4 December 2024.

Honouring the Truth, Reconciling for the Future: Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, 2015, https://ehprnh2mwo3.exactdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Executive_Summary_English_Web.pdf. Accessed 4 December 2024.

Kauanui, Kehaulani and Wolfe, Patrick. “Patrick Wolfe on Settler Colonialism.” Speaking of Indigenous Politics: Conversations with Activists, Scholars, and Tribal Leaders, edited by J. Kehaulani Kauanui, University of Minnesota Press Stable, 2018, pp. 343-360, https://www.mauicounty.us/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Wolfe_Interview.pdf. Accessed 3 December 2024.

MacDonald, Nancy. “Canada’s prisons are the ‘new residential schools.” MacLean’s, 18 Feb. 2016, https://macleans.ca/news/canada/canadas-prisons-are-the-new-residential-schools/. Accessed 4 December 2024.

Manuel, Arthur. The Reconciliation Manifesto: Recovering the Land Rebuilding the Economy. James Lorimer & Company, 2017.

McGuire, M. Michaela & Murdoch, J. Danielle. “(In)-justice: An exploration of the dehumanization, victimization, criminalization, and over-incarceration of indigenous women in Canada.” Punishment & Society, vol. 24, no. 4, 2022, pp. 529-550. Sage Journals, http://doi.org/10.1177/14624745211001685.

Moulton, Lex. “What Do We Mean When We Use the Word ‘Carceral?’” SUNFLOWER Radical Journal, 2 Dec. 2020, https://sunflowerradicaljournal.medium.com/what-do-we-mean-when-we-use-the-word-carceral-8da00333d8f3. Accessed 2 December 2024.

“Native Incarceration in the U.S.” Prison Policy Initiative, https://www.prisonpolicy.org/profiles/native.html. Accessed 3 December 2024.

Ruby, Tapia. “Introduction: What is the carceral state?” Documenting Criminalization and Confinement, a research initiative of the U-M Carceral State Project, Oct. 2020, https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/7ab5f5c3fbca46c38f0b2496bcaa5ab0. Accessed 2 December 2024.

Taifa, Nkechi. “Racism in the U.S. Criminal Justice System: Institutionalized Genocide?” American Constitution for Law and Policy, 2016, pp. 1-15, https://www.acslaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Racism_in_the_U.S._Criminal_Justice_System.pdf. Accessed 3 December 2024.

United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. United Nations, 13 Sept. 2007, https://www.un.org/development/desa/indigenouspeoples/wp-content/uploads/sites/19/2018/11/UNDRIP_E_web.pdf. Accessed 4. December 2024.

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“Incarceration is so embedded in our society – even in our way of looking at the world – it may seem hard to even broach a conversation on abolition.” – John Washington (staff writer at Arizona Luminaria and author of The Case for Open Borders)

On Sunday, Nov. 24^th, 2024, concerned citizens staged a die-in outside the

notorious Toronto South Detention Centre (TSDC) in Etobicoke, ON. Concerned

citizens posed the question: How many more coroner inquests will it take

before people stop dying in Ontario’s jails?

If one were brave enough to contemplate prison abolition they might conceptualize a society without physical prisons; however, prison abolition is much broader in scope. According to John Washington (2018), prison abolition includes, “addressing community tensions, understanding why people turn to police, and trying to break the self-perpetuating cycle of violence and imprisonment,” which is normalized in and through our everyday lives. Mia Mingus (2019) adds, prison abolition recognizes the necessity of bringing numerous structures of violence to their knees, which includes, capitalism, poverty, trauma, isolation, sexism, transphobia, white supremacy, misogyny, ableism, mass incarceration, displacement, war, gender oppression and xenophobia.

Similarly, Julia Sudbury (2005) maintains that prison abolition work on a local and global scale demands an understanding of “the ways in which punishment regimes are shaped by global capitalism, dominant and subordinate patriarchies, and neocolonial racialized ideologies.” Point being, “Violence does not happen in a vacuum” (Mingus, 2019); but rather, arises out of specific socio-economic, political and cultural conditions. Expanding on this insight, Patrisse Cullors (2021) adds, “It [violence] is connected to the conditions that we live in, and we all participate in creating those conditions, and we all have a collective responsibility for ending violence, harm and abuse” (161).

With respect to larger institutional power structures Mingus (2019) argues that we must move beyond the popular perception that prisons, police and border patrols constitute some form of safety and protection. On the contrary, such violent systems produce the very forms of harm they claim to be against and do so as a means of sustaining social control over mass populations. As a case in point, Mingus (2019) states,

“State responses to violence reproduce violence and often traumatize those who are exposed to them, especially oppressed communities who are already targeted by the state. It is important to remember that while many people choose not to call the police, many communities can’t call the police because of reasons such as fear of deportation, harassment, state sanctioned violence, sexual violence, previous convictions or inaccessibility.”

Linda Evans points out (as cited in Sudbury, 2005: xxvi), “penal institutions are the embodiment of a militarized society,” which reinforces the critical point that prison abolition cannot be realized without the complete dismantlement of symbiotic structures of belligerence such as militarism.

According to Washington (2018), prison abolition is about consciously challenging and rethinking our conceptualizations associated to the notion of “crime.” Without such examination of long held beliefs and assumptions we fall victim to what the late American anthropologist and anarchist activist David Graeber (1961 – 2020) refers to as a right-wing political ontology that normalizes the use of force. In the words of Greber,

“Whenever we hear this word [force] invoked, we find ourselves in the presence of a political ontology in which the power to destroy, to cause others pain or to threaten to break, damage, or mangle others’ bodies (or just lock them in a tiny room for the rest of their lives) is treated as the social equivalent of the very energy that drives the cosmos” (87).

Washington (2018) points out that the abolitionist refusal to label human actions a “crime” creates a critical space to see and understand things in a new manner, which enables us all to respond versus passively turning things over to institutions of hyper-power and force such as armed police and prisons. According to Justin Piche, (as cited in Washington, 2018),

“If a population stops thinking of vagrancy or sleeping on a park bench as crimes, and instead considers them problems with unemployment, inequality, and a paucity of mental-health services, we can stop hailing the cops so much. We need to open up the possibility to react to wrongdoing, injury, difference and culturally ingrained prejudice without merely seeking to punish or encage someone.”

The Prison Research Education Action Project (1976) draws attention to the importance of all people critically examining (i) society and its connection (or lack thereof) to people categorized as “criminal,” (ii) our ideals, perceptions and beliefs about the incarcerated and the incarceration system as a whole, and (iii) our sense of responsibility to local and global social change. As discussed by the Prison Research Education Action Project,

“It is important that we learn to conceptualize how a series of abolition-type reforms, partial abolitions of the system, and particular alternatives can lead toward the elimination of prisons. Abolitionists advocate maximum amounts of caring for all people (including the victims of crime) and minimum intervention in the lives of all people, including lawbreakers. In the minds of some, this may pose a paradox, but not for us, because we examine the underlying causes of crime and seek new responses to build a safer community.”

The prerequisite for such radical alternative relies heavily upon the recognition that there is nothing inevitable about the dehumanizing and barbaric aspects of the social world that we live in. In the words of Bill Ayers (2024),

“The way things are is not the way things have to be. We have choices to make and worlds to build. And none of this is possible in the absence of collective action and a social movement for radical transformation – we need to work collectively on a vision as part of the fight for abolition. We can abolish the ironclad logic of misbehaviour = police = punishment = the cage, which leads onward and downward without end, and replace it with a logic of compassion and repair with incarceration as the last and least worthy alternative before us.”

Of course, such radical shift in our thinking and social relations is difficult and exhausting due to what Ayers (2024) refers to as a longstanding “culture of discipline and punish” and pro-police propaganda (“copaganda”). Point being, if our individual and collective political imaginations fail to construct and yearn for what lies beyond the current hyper-violence, chaos and control we will never liberate ourselves. In the words of Ayers, “Without alternative ways of thinking and being, we become destined to be confined in a lockup state of mind,” and consequently, a locked up materiality that is destroying us all – albeit unevenly due to varying social locations within the belly of the beast. As mentioned by Ruth Wilson Gilmore, (as cited in Ayers, 2024),

“Abolition is not best understood as a deletion or an erasure, but rather as a collection of creative and complex acts of ‘world-building.’ What kind of world would we need to build in order to have no slavery? our forebears asked. And what kind of world could we begin to create today that would render prisons and police and militarism obsolete, predation and exploitation relics of a cruel past?”

Making the leap from the current social disorder to a decarcerated future requires us to recognize that our efforts are not entirely new as our abolitionist forebears have laid the groundwork. For instance, Ayers points out that “[…] just as the abolition of slavery was unimaginable to most Americans then, a society with no prisons or no police is difficult for many people to wrap their heads around now.” In order to get the motionless abolitionist wheels turning we need to liberate ourselves from what Ayers (2024) refers to as the “[…] dogma of incarceration and the totalizing logic of captivity and control.” How are we going to shut down the carceral state if we cannot shut down the totalizing logic of detention and control? A failure to see the critical connection between the two renders us all captive to pro-carceral worldviews, beliefs, assumptions and institutional practices. As Karl Marx pointed out in the mid-19^th century,

“Men [people] make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.”

Abolitionist movements and organizations such as, Critical Resistance, INCITE!, the Movement for Black Lives, the National Lawyers Guild, and Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee (Washington, 2018), are working tirelessly to confront the nightmare of carcerality and introduce the world to a vision and a set of human relations that permit for everyone to flourish. Without such radical thinking, organization and struggle we run the risk of perpetuating and intensifying existing inequalities, which render some people worthy and others disposable. In principle, abolitionists reject the notion of disposability and struggle to replace it with material conditions aligned with universal notions of dignity, worth and respect. It is one thing to preach notions of “inherent dignity” and “inalienable rights of all members of the human family […]” (see preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights) and another to make it a concrete reality. This is not a theoretical question; but rather, an invitation to political unity and direct action!

According to the Prison Research Education Action Project (1976) (as cited in Washington, 2018), there are three identifiable pillars of abolitionism (also referred to as the “Attrition Model”): (i) moratorium, (ii) decarceration and (iii) excarceration. The first pillar, moratorium, refers to ending the practice of constructing carceral spaces. Point being, if there are no additional carceral spaces less people will be caged. Decarceration, which is more complex, refers to discovering ways to get people out of existing carceral spaces. According to Washington, abolitionists maintain that “a lot of people in prison right now represent no threat to society, and therefore shouldn’t be languishing behind bars” (e.g., imprisonment for the possession and/or use of illicit drugs). The final pillar, excarceration, refers to discovering ways of preventing people from entering the carceral complex in the first place. As discussed by Washington, abolitionists maintain, “[…] many of the reasons people end up coming into contact with law enforcement can be solved through more humane means” (e.g., decriminalizing drug use, combating homelessness and decriminalizing mental-health episodes, which all function like a drainpipe into various carceral institutions).      

Unlike the neoliberal consumer ethic of our time, which promotes instant results, abolitionist work moves at a snail’s pace. According to Critical Resistance’s “Abolitionist Toolkit” (as cited in Washington, 2018), the ethic of abolitionism is “[…] not a hierarchical strategy with a single key or solution, but an alternative way of thinking about society.” As discussed by Washington (2018), the “Abolitionist Toolkit” is all about “chipping away at oppressive institutions rather than helping them live longer.” Similarly, Andrej Grubacic’s preface to John Holloway’s 2016 book, In, Against, And Beyond Capitalism: The San Francisco Lectures, states, “Revolution [like abolition] is imagined as a double movement, negative and creative, an interstitial movement that creates cracks in the texture of domination” (xv).

In short, “Abolitionists don’t stop at the prison walls, however: They aim to reshape our society as a whole” (Washington, 2018). We are constantly challenged to ask ourselves: Are we treating the symptoms or the illness at its core? In the words of Italian political theorist and activist, Antonio Gramsci (1891 – 1937), “The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.”

References

Cullors, Patrisse. 12 Steps to Changing Yourself and the World: An Abolitionist’s Handbook. St. Martin’s Griffin, 2021.

Graeber, David. The Utopia of Rules: On Technology, Stupidity, and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy. Melville House, 2016.

Grubacic, Andrej. Preface. In, Against, And Beyond Capitalism: The San Francisco Lectures, by John Holloway, Kairos, 2016, pp. vii-xvii.

Sudbury, Julia. “Introduction: Feminists Critiques, Transnational Landscapes, Abolitionist Visions.” Global Lockdown: Race, Gender, and the Prison-Industrial Complex, edited by Julia Sudbury, Routledge, 2005, pp. xi-xxviii.

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The overarching problematic: Carcerality

According to Ruby Tapia (2018), Professor of English and Women’s Studies at the University of Michigan, carcerality is pervasive and goes well beyond our normative conceptualization, which is often connected to specific spaces such as, prisons, jails, immigrant and juvenile detention centres and military prisons as well as programs like probation and parole. As discussed by Ji Seon Song (2023), healthcare spaces should be added to this list as they are vital to any system of mass incarceration. In the words of Song, “Like police interrogation rooms, jails, and prisons, hospitals often incorporate carceral practices.” For instance, Song adds, “They care for injured and ill people on their way to and from jails and prisons. Such patients are often shackled to their beds, no matter how ill they are or how little danger they pose.” But it doesn’t end there. For Tapia, “The concept of carcerality captures the many ways in which the carceral state shapes and organizes society and culture through policies and logic of control, surveillance, criminalization, and un-freedom.” Instead of constructing and implementing humane approaches to social problems the carceral state employs “‘punitive orientations’ that revolve around the ‘promise and threat of criminalization’ and the ‘possibility/solution of incarceration.’”

While abolishing the overarching problematic of carcerality remains the central objective for abolitionists, Julia Sudbury (2005) points out that, “This abolitionist vision does not reject legal reform and service delivery but rather views them as stepping stones on the path to a broader, more radical vision of social change” (xxvi). Similarly, Bill Ayers (2024) states, “Some of this [legal reform] may sound a bit like fiddling with the machinery of caging, but let’s not be dogmatic hard-liners when actual people could breathe more freely with just a bit of tinkering.”

With this in mind, the following article explores the social issue of pervasive custodial deaths in Canada and advocates for a long overdue legal reform to the province of Ontario’s mandatory inquest process that produces non-binding jury recommendations linked to, for instance, an “unnatural” death in a provincial jail. It is important to note that, according to Tracking (In)justice (2022), mandatory inquests in provinces like Ontario are conducted by the Office of the Chief Coroner, Solicitor General’s (SOLGEN) Correctional Services Oversight and Investigations (CSOI) office and SOLGEN Corporate Healthcare (versus federal penitentiaries, which are overseen by Correctional Service Canada (CSC), a Coroner and the Office of the Correctional Investigator (OCI)).

Until the day we radically transform the carceral state let us do what we can to put a stop to custodial deaths and permit human beings on the “inside” to “breathe more freely.”

From federal and provincial “guardianship” to graveyard

According to Tracking (In)justice (2023), Canada incarcerates thousands of people every single day in a number of carceral spaces such as, federal prisons, provincial/territorial jails, police holding cells, immigration detention centres, hospitals and forensic psychiatric facilities.

On average, Canada’s prison population, which includes pre-trial detainees, hovers around 35,485 (34,986 adult and 499 in youth custody) (World Prison Brief). According to the Peter A. Allard School of Law at the University of British Columbia (2023), “as many as 8,000 migrants are detained in Canada annually, either in immigration holding centres or in criminal facilities like provincial jails” (an inhumane and degrading practice that Canada’s provinces have vowed to end).   

Adults and youth caught up in Canada’s carceral machinery do not only live under conditions of hostility, hyper-surveillance and control, they also die.

Custodial fatality figures

According to Tracking (In)justice (2024), there are more than “2,131 deaths in [federal, provincial/territorial and police] custody across Canada since the year 2000.” Some of the institutions and number of custodial deaths include, Millhaven Institution, Bath, Ont. (58 deaths); Pacific Institution, Abbotsford, B.C. (52 deaths); Maplehurst Correctional Complex, Milton, Ont. (45 deaths); Hamilton-Wentworth Detention Centre, Hamilton, Ont. (35 deaths); Regional Psychiatric Centre, Saskatoon, Sask. (33 deaths); Royal Canadian Mounted Police (145 deaths); Ontario Provincial Police (15 deaths); and in my own backyard Toronto South Detention Centre, Etobicoke, Ont.(16 deaths since the “$1-Billion Hellhole” opened in 2014) (see full list of institutions at Tracking (In)justice).

Beyond the chilling fatality facts and figures lies countless heart-wrenching stories of the struggles that families of the deceased go through to make sense and meaning of custodial deaths – many of which have been deemed avoidable. According to Associate Professor Alexander McClelland’s research team on the Tracking (In)justice project at Carleton University, “910 deaths [nearly half of the 2,131] were ‘potentially preventable.’”

As a case in point, consider the inexcusable and horrendous death of 30-year-old Soleiman Faqiri in the Central East Correctional Centre in Kawartha Lakes, Ont. on December 15, 2016. According to reporter-editor Shanifa Nasser (2023), “Faqiri died after being repeatedly struck by guards, pepper sprayed twice, covered with a spit hood and left shackled on his stomach on the floor of a segregation cell after being moved from a shower stall […].” In the end, it was determined that Faqiri’s death was a homicide.

Like Faqiri’s tragic outcome in Ontario’s deplorable jail system, five men (Timonthy Anderson, Murray Balogh, David Cowe, Michael Croft and Jahrell Lungs) who tragically died in Niagara Detention Centre (NDC) between 2018-2022 may still be alive today if it weren’t for Ontario’s normalization of “punitive orientations” (Tapia) – an orientation that is clearly exemplified by Patrick Sproat, NDC’s deputy superintendent, when he says, “They’re here as punishment, not for punishment” (as quoted in Chandler, 2024). According to Chandler, “None [of the men] were more than 10 days into their time at the facility when they died.” Could these deaths have been prevented too?

Unfortunately, jail-related deaths like these are only the tip of the iceberg: 39-year-old Abduraham Ibrahim Hassan, 31-year-old Justin St. Amour, 59-year-old Moses Amik Beaver, 26-year-old Jordan Sheard, 30-year-old Cleve Geddes, 27-year-old Yousef Hussein, 30-year-old Adam Kenneth Reed, 23-year-old Clayton Cromwell, 24-year-old Murray James Davis, 24-year-old Kevon Junior O’Brien-Phillip, 36-year-old Dustin McMillan, 69-year-old Euplio Cusano and many more (see detailed provincial/territorial online memorial at Tracking (In)justice).

As McClelland’s work suggests, there are systemic factors behind these tragedies and much of the information about custodial deaths is concealed from public view. If Canada is to meet its domestic Constitutional (e.g., Charter sections 7, 12 and 15) and international obligations (e.g., Mandela Rules) it needs to be transparent. As mentioned by Jackson (2023), “In the complex world of democracy, transparency and ethics serve as the guiding principles that ensure government accountability and trustworthiness. These two elements are the heart and soul of good governance.” Evidently, without transparency legal notions of accountability and responsibility fall flat on their faces, which jeopardizes Canada’s claim to democracy.

Time to ditch the non-binding jury recommendations

Typically, in a province like Ontario, when a death in custody occurs (unless the cause is labelled a “natural” death, which is a highly contested term) a mandatory coroner inquest takes place to determine the facts of the case. While one might expect this to be a legal norm McClelland points out that provinces such as, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland and Labrador, do not have this mandatory legal mechanism. Often, directed by a coroner before a jury, the public hearing concludes with a list of jury recommendations designed to prevent future tragedies (Ministry of the Solicitor General).

Clearly, inquests are a public good because they have the potential to save lives; however, there is one major problem built into the bureaucratic machinery: jury recommendations are non-binding, which translates into a slap in the face of every family fighting to ensure that the fatally departed do not die in vain.

According to the Ministry of the Solicitor General, “Although the jury’s conclusions are not binding, it is hoped that any recommendations suggested, if implemented, will prevent further deaths.” Such wording trivializes the importance of jury recommendations and implies that the families of the deceased should be content with mere hope versus a legallybinding guarantee of adoption and immediate implementation.

All the Ministry rhetoric about “careful review” of inquest recommendations and “potential ways to inform policies and procedures” plays out like a cruel joke. If anything, the non-binding structure of jury recommendations functions like a double-edged sword.   

Consider three (out of 57) recommendations that came out of Soleiman Faqiri’s 2023 verdict of inquest:

-Take immediate steps to make sure anyone suffering an acute mental health crisis in custody is admitted to hospital for assessment and, where appropriate, treatment.

-Adopt a principle of equivalence so that those in custody receive equal quality health care as they would outside.

-Establish an independent provincial corrections inspectorate with the power to investigate individual and systemic complaints in correctional facilities.

If jury recommendations such as the implementation of an independent provincial corrections inspectorate would save lives, why would the recommendation be classified as non-binding? The bureaucratic violence of non-binding jury recommendations rests on the absurdity of trivializing lifesaving measures after a life was tragically lost. Such institutional incompetence should be changed to a system of legally-binding recommendations without delay for three obvious reasons: (a) increase the probability of saving lives on the “inside”, (b) out of respect for the families of the deceased and (c) fulfill Ontario’s Ministry of the Solicitor General’s mandate, which revolves around operating “a safe, effective and accountable adult corrections system.” Replacing a non-binding framework with a legally-binding one seems like an effective move for an institution caught up in producing rampant custodial deaths. How many more Faqiri’s will there be before jury recommendations are made legally-binding?

Step-by-step towards a decarceral future

Despite popular perception, there is absolutely nothing inevitable about prisons, jails, immigrant and juvenile detention centres and military prisons. Similarly, there is nothing inevitable about Ontario’s non-binding jury recommendations. Taking the necessary and overdue step of making all non-binding recommendations legally-binding does not abolish jails; however, it is a “stepping stone on the path to a broader, more radical vision of social change” (Sudbury, 2005). In the words of Bill Ayers (2024), alternatives to the existing carceral state “liberate all of us from our own culturally imposed mental prisons, our dimmed consciousness and constrained imaginations. Without alternative ways of thinking and being, we become destined to be confined in a lockup state of mind.”

References

Sudbury, Julia. “Introduction: Feminists Critiques, Transnational Landscapes, Abolitionist Visions.” Global Lockdown: Race, Gender, and the Prison-Industrial Complex, edited by Julia Sudbury, Routledge, 2005, pp. xi-xxviii.

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Locals paid tribute to Euplio Cusano, a former long-term care resident killed in a jailhouse attack on Oct. 3. 

A makeshift memorial for Euplio Cusano, a former long-term care resident and “beloved” hairdresser, after he was killed in an attack inside the walls of the Toronto South Detention Centre earlier this month.

Outside the Toronto South Detention Centre, a small handful of observers laid flowers and lit candles on Sunday as part of a makeshift memorial for Euplio Cusano, a brain-injured senior killed inside the walls of the Etobicoke jail earlier this month.

As organizer and Toronto-area school teacher Jozef Konyari read out a list of those who have lost their lives inside the walls of the facility, he marked Cusano, a former long-term care resident, as the latest addition.

“As a person who lives in Etobicoke South, this is happening in our backyards and it’s absolutely heart wrenching,” Jozef Konyari, a Toronto area high school teacher and organizer of the vigil, told the Star. 

A handful of people gathered outside the Toronto South Detention Centre on Sunday afternoon to hold a vigil for Euplio Cusano. 

Cusano, a 69-year-old man who’d lived with a brain injury for decades, was killed in an attack at the jail on Oct. 3. 

Arrested after an altercation with two fellow long-term care residents in March, Cusano spent seven months in custody without a bail hearing. Repeatedly, Cusano’s counsel told court that a bail plan was in the works, but that more time was needed to review case files and secure his client a new housing arrangement outside of the jail.

In all, the proceedings were delayed more than 30 times before Cusano, considered legally innocent, was killed in a case experts have called “horrendous.” 

After reading the Star’s coverage on the case, Konyari said he was struck by a desire to take action, so he called upon his loved ones, neighbours and colleagues to join him in commemorating Cusano.

“I just felt that we had to do something,” he said. “We can’t have any more of these stories – this needs to stop.”

Armed with flyers and signs reading, “Is This Ontario’s Definition of ‘Provincial Supervision?’” and “Why Are Legally Innocent People Dying In Ontario?”, the group arrived at the corner of Horner and Kipling Avenues late Sunday afternoon. While unsure of what to expect initially, Konyari said many passersby shared their concerns.

“People were rolling their windows down, they were taking flyers, they were asking who died and what had happened,” he said.

On one side of the handouts was Cusano’s photograph and, on the other, statistics from the Ontario Human Rights Commission’s report on conditions at Toronto South. Authored in 2020, the report found that inmates at the facility were subject to confinement, outbreaks of diseases, and undue stress caused by repeated lockdowns – a set of ongoing conditions that have since been repeatedly disavowed by Ontario judges within public court rulings.

“What kind of society do you have to live in for an elderly person to go from a long-term care facility into one of Ontario’s worst detention centres? It literally makes no sense,” Konyari said.

As they neared the front of the detention centre, participants set up a vigil with pictures, candles, and art pieces, along with combs and a blue-framed mirror to honour Cusano’s time as a hairdresser.

“For me, there’s a rage that exists, that should exist within everybody,” Konyari said. “Because, I may not have met Mr. Cusano or his family, but it doesn’t take me very long to realize that we’re related by the virtue of living in a community together.”

On Monday, when Konyari returned to the site of the vigil less than 24 hours later, he said it had been removed.

“Are you telling me that Mr. Cusano’s life is not worth one day? Even a single day?” he told the Star following the discovery.

The experience, he said, has sparked a desire to launch a community organization geared toward breaking down the barriers between the public and incarcerated population.

“That’s what I’m thinking, because we all want to know how many more inquests it’s going to take,” Konyari said. “We’ve had so many, but the deaths keep coming.”

A sign commemorating the life of Euplio Cusano can be seen, right, alongside a handful of attendees at a vigil held for the former long-term care resident on Sunday.

Source: O’Brien, Abby. “‘It’s absolutely heart wrenching’: Locals hold vigil for Toronto senior killed in jailhouse attack.” Toronto Star, 28 Oct. 2024. Retrieved from: https://www.thestar.com/news/gta/it-s-absolutely-heart-wrenching-locals-hold-vigil-for-toronto-senior-killed-in-jailhouse-attack/article_a6fb1ea4-955a-11ef-bc46-33145e6b3180.html.

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The fatality machine strikes again

69-year-old Euplio Cusano (September 15, 1955 – October 4, 2024) was a man that family and friends described as a creative soul filled with love, appreciation, devotion and joy. As a son, brother and beloved uncle to many, Cusano will be deeply missed after his life was cut short in one of Ontario’s most notorious jails, Toronto South Detention Centre (TSDC). Tragically, instead of making it to his 70^th birthday he became the city’s 70^th murder victim.

Despite Toronto South’s elegant and sophisticated exterior (compliments of former Premier Dalton McGuinty and Zeidler Architecture), surviving it is no walk-in the park. According to a 2020 report conducted by the Ontario Human Rights Commission (OHRC), TSDC contains a “high proportion of Indigenous and Black prisoners,” which speaks volumes about the system’s relentless racial violence, as well as a “high prevalence of mental health disabilities and addictions among the provincial remand population.”

Despite the Canadian Civil Liberties Association’s (CCLA) longstanding battle to raise awareness and curtail the use of segregation in Ontario’s adult correctional facilities (see  CCLA’s 2016 submission to the Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services), the OHRC notes, “[…] TSDC management and front-line workers routinely use segregation, restrictive confinement, lockdowns and “time in cell” sanctions that raise serious human rights concerns” – a disturbing practice that is difficult to track due to an overall lack of institutional transparency (CCLA). In the eyes of the CCLA, all forms of segregation are “seriously concerning, given the impact they may have on inmates’ health and well-being.” As demonstrated in the OHRC’s report, the CCLA observes, “Yet despite the profusion of reports, taskforces, studies and coroners’ inquests, the practice of segregation remains common in Canadian prisons and jails.”

To make matters worse the OHRC reports, “Prisoners face several systemic challenges to maintaining family and community contact, which has a disparate negative impact on prisoners with caregiving responsibilities.”

In an attempt to shatter the falsehood that Ontario’s correctional system is akin to a vacation, the John Howard Society of Ontario states,

Some people think that prisons in Ontario are easy places to “do time” – using the metaphor of a country club to describe what they think it is like inside a prison. Anyone who have actually been to a prison knows the reality and doesn’t for a moment imagine they’re like a trip to Club Med. These are tough, punitive and overcrowded places.”

The John Howard Society of Ontario adds, “You might expect that there are numerous programs dedicated to education, counselling and rehabilitation. You would be wrong.” While the Ministry of the Solicitor General’s mandate states, “[…] the ministry operates a safe, effective and accountable adult corrections system that includes correctional facilities and probation and parole offices across the province,” the concrete reality on the “inside” shows the complete opposite. Under the existing leadership public pronouncements of “safety,” “effectiveness,” “accountability,” and “integration” act as a cruel joke cast upon some of our society’s most marginalized and vulnerable groups.

While Cusano, who suffered from a long-term brain injury, was apprehended and charged (not convicted) with two counts of assault and one count of assaulting a police officer outside his former living quarters at Hawthrone Place Care Centre (O’Brien, 2024), the question remains: Was Toronto South the best place for Ontario’s legal apparatus to house a 69-year-old with complex mental health needs (or any other human being for that matter)?

While earlier media accounts emphasize that a 54-year-old inmate had been charged in connection to Cusano’s death there were no accounts that drew attention to Patrisse Cullors’s political insight that “Violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum” (151).

The pervasiveness of violence

While a 54-year-old inmate may eventually be held accountable for Cusano’s final breath the question remains: Who will be held accountable for a system that authorized the detention of an elder with complex mental health needs in a notorious jail without a bail hearing for several months? Any suggestions?

Well, here is a running list of possibilities: Toronto South Detention Centre’s (TSDC’s) Superintendent and senior command, Ministry of the Solicitor General (SOLGEN) leadership, Deputy Solicitor General (Correctional Services), Assistant Deputy Minister (Institutional Services) and Directory (Toronto Regional Institutional Services), members of the TSDC Community Advisory Board (CAB), Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services (MCSCS), Ministry of Long-Term Care and the Premier of Ontario.

With so much attention focused on Cusano’s alleged murderer the public may be blind to what Austrian philosopher and theologian Ivan Illich (1926 – 2002) refers to as “disabling professions.” In the words of Illich et al., “a profession, like a priesthood, holds power by concession from an elite whose interests it props up. As a priesthood provides eternal salvation, so a profession claims legitimacy as the interpreter, protector and supplier of a special, this-worldly interest of the public at large” (17).

With Illich’s insight in mind, a couple of questions arise: Whose political interests are truly protected and advanced in and through Ontario’s jail system? If we peel back shallow notions of “community safety” and “correctional services” we might see what Illich et al. refer to as, “The business of modern society” (69). In the words of Illich et al.,

Within this [business] framework, the client is less a person in need than a person who is needed. In business terms, the client is less the consumer then the raw material for the servicing system. In management terms, the client becomes both the output and the input. His [her/they/them] essential function is to meet the needs of servicers, the servicing system and the national economy. The central political issue becomes the servicers’ capacity to manufacture needs in order to expand the economy of the servicing system (74).

As the “raw material” for the servicing system, people in jails are an economic necessity for Superintendents, politicians of all stripes and construction companies to list a few. In the case of the steady and reliable work of Superintendents and politicians in Ontario, Glassdoor estimates that a jail Superintendent makes between $100K – $159K/yr. while, according to Ontario’s Sunshine List, the Premier of Ontario makes $208.974K/yr., which is a lot better than what formerly incarcerated people in this country make after serving time in Canada’s “correctional” system.

According to Prison Policy Initiative (2022), “Formerly incarcerated people face huge obstacles to finding stable employment, leading to detrimental society-wide effects.” Furthermore, Prison Policy Initiative draws critical attention to the alarming fact that,

Harsh parole conditions, a lack of social welfare programs, and a tough job market are forcing formerly incarcerated people – already a low-income, majority-minority demographic – into the least desirable jobs. But not everybody is losing: Businesses have found a way to capitalize on the desperation of applicants with conviction histories and exploit the fact that these individuals have less bargaining power to demand changes in conditions of employment, such as better wages benefits and protections. This results in lower overall wages and more harmful working conditions in certain industries.   

In addition to Superintendents and politicians who benefit directly from our existing punishment system, there are a host of companies that make funds from jail construction contracts. For instance, former Premier Dalton McGuinty’s fantasy to build Toronto South would not have been possible without the cooperation of EllisDon Corporation and Fengate Capital, Zeidler Partnership Architects, Johnson Controls LP, RBC Dominion Securities among other players that got a piece of the wretched profit pie (Infrastructure Ontario).

You never know, perhaps, Superintendents, Premiers and cooperating companies could share some of their wealth? Afterall, their personal accumulation of wealth would not have been possible without the “raw materials” (inmates) essential to the “correctional” business. Instead of redistributing some of the wealth, Prison Policy Initiative points out,

It’s true that industries like manufacturing and construction tend to boost employment and reduce recidivism for those leaving prison. But while these jobs did, at one time, allow people to build wealth and support a family, they don’t as much anymore, meaning that they are likely not alleviating poverty among formerly incarcerated people. The fact that formerly incarcerated people are not obtaining steady, reliable work is likely related to the industries in which they’re most commonly employed.

The above-mentioned examples point directly to an often-hidden form of violence referred to as structural violence. According to David Gil (as quoted in Johnson, 2023), structural violence can be accurately conceptualized as the “extent to which fundamental human needs tend to be frustrated and human development tends to be inhibited as a result of the normal working of social institutions.” Furthermore, Jason Springs (as cited in Johnson, 2023) adds, “the power of structural violence lies in the fact that dehumanizing, repressive and exploitative conditions can seem like business as usual – to perpetrators, victims, and outsiders.” With this in mind, the question of accountability proves somewhat elusive. According to Oxford Reference, “It is difficult to pinpoint where the blame lies for this harm because the cause comes from social structures rather than any individual.” Similarly, Lee (2019) states, “Structural violence is […] the most potent stimulant of behavioral violence in the form of homicides, suicides, mass murders, and war,” – which could be highly instructive for a provincial government presumably attempting to achieve community safety.

In the words of Maya Schenwar and Victoria Law (2020) what we are really dealing with here is a “prison industrial complex […] targeting people who are marginalized by race, class, gender identity, disability, or immigration status, and who are considered to be simply a surplus to society” (9). In light of such insights, one must ponder how in the world Ontario’s “correctional” system maintains its claim to legitimacy?

Adding salt to injury

Cusano’s tragic story is only the latest in a growing list of people that have fallen victim to Ontario’s broken jail system. Many in our community are still remembering and mourning the loss of 39-year-old Abduraham Ibrahim Hassan, 31-year-old Justin St. Amour, 59-year-old Moses Amik Beaver, 26-year-old Jordan Sheard, 30-year-old Cleve Geddes, 27-year-old Yousef Hussein, 30-year-old Adam Kenneth Reed, 23-year-old Clayton Cromwell, 24-year-old Murray James Davis, 24-year-old Kevon Junior O’Brien-Phillip, 36-year-old Dustin McMillan and 30-year-old Soleiman Faqiri and many more.

To add salt to injury, when family members of those dying in our jails attempt to fight for some modicum of justice, they are expected to endure a legal process best described as excessively time-consuming, exhausting, frustrating and retraumatizing – to say the least.

At the federal level, a 2016 report titled, In the Dark: An Investigation of Death in Custody information Sharing and Disclosure Practices in Federal Corrections, reveals that when inmates die in Canadian prisons the Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) interact with next of kin in ways that lack transparency and compassion (Crawford, 2016). According to the report’s author, former Office of the Correctional Investigatory (OCI), Howard Sapers,

The refusal, denial or delays to proactively share information with next of kin often leads them to suspect the worse, feel suspicious or apprehensive about what may have transpired behind bars and impedes their ability to pursue legal remedies. In cases of in-custody death (or serious bodily injury), openness, transparency, accountability, compassion, timelines and respect are important organizational and humanitarian principles that should weigh positively in the decision to release as much information as possible as it becomes available. Withholding information leads to unnecessary frustration and distrust and denies families closure as they grieve their loss (3).

At the provincial level, consider the Faqiri family’s agonizing fight for truth and accountability linked to the preventable death of 30-year-old Soleiman Faqiri in yet another one of Ontario’s notorious jails, Central East Correctional Centre in Lindsay, Ont.

After nearly seven years of fighting for accountability they finally received an inquest verdict that validated what they knew all along, Faqiri’s death was a homicide. While this was deemed a significant step forward in the case the family came forward in May 2024 stating that the Ontario government failed to institute any of the recommendations geared towards eliminating similar outcomes.  

After reading through the list of recommendations it seems that Mr. Cusano’s death could have been prevented with the implementation of at least a few of the 57 recommendations listed under the categories of oversight and accountability, coordination between sectors, courts and mental health assessments, training and education.

Arguably, Recommendation #9, which calls for the implementation of “an independent Rights Advisor and Prisoner advocate at all correctional facilities for all persons in custody, regardless of security classification, status, or placement,” could have gone a long way in terms of altering Cusano tragic fate inside of Toronto South.

What we have here is best articulated by Justice Arbour (as cited in CCLA’s 2016 submission), “[t]he Rule of Law [and inquest recommendations] is absent, although rules [and recommendations] are everywhere.” As a result of this absurdity, CCLA has called for the complete abandonment of more incremental reform. In the words of CCLA, “a decisive change in direction […] is needed to adequately address the deep-seated concerns that exist […].” Furthermore, CCLA points out, “Legislative and policy protections are vital, but in order to ensure that rules on paper are translated into practice, they must be accompanied by a profound culture shift and backed by rigorous, effective oversight and accountability mechanisms” – a significant and meaningful recommendation that ought to be applied across the entire “correctional” landscape.

Unfortunately, while inquests into jail-based deaths are mandatory the detailed life saving recommendations that emanate from them are not legally-binding. How do we make sense of the futility of it all? In the words of Illich et al.,

Our major institutions have acquired the uncanny power to subvert the very purposes for which they have [arguably] been engineered and financed originally. Under the rule of our most prestigious professions, our institutional tools have as their principal product paradoxical counterproductivity – the systematic disabling of the citizenry (28).    

According to Nazish Dholakia (2023), “Jails and prisons, often overcrowded and understaffed, are frequently dangerous, dehumanizing, and traumatizing places where violence is largely ‘unavoidable.’” Point being, there is absolutely nothing inevitable about it. According to David Garland’s (1993) book Punishment and Modern Society, “Social institutions – which include the family, the law, education, government, the market, the military and religion, among others – are highly patterned and organized sets of social practices” (282).

As Garland’s insight suggests, jails and prisons are socially constructed networks, which means that the dehumanization, traumatization and violence we read about are anything but inevitable. If the political will and public interest existed, the social practices of jails among other repressive institutions could be dismantled and replaced with social institutions that meet real human needs. For the moment, it appears that we are trapped in what Illich et al. describes as, “self-interested systems with inherently disabling effects” (91).

Unfortunately, this is going to take a while. In the words of Garland, “Typically, such institutions evolve slowly, over a long period of time, so that their present character is often shaped by history and tradition as much as by the contemporary functions which they perform [or fail to perform]” (282).

Step-by-step: Moving beyond right-wing ideology and the politics of forgetting

Rather than a political response to Ontario’s failing jails reflective of sound research, Premier Doug Ford is pushing for a tough-on-crime approach, which includes building more jails, hiring more correctional officers and reopening intermittent detention facilities in the so-called post-Covid era (many of which were closed during the earlier stages of the pandemic and replaced with GPS monitoring systems). Similarly, Solicitor General Michael S. Kerzner is avoiding the core issues and propagating public messages linked to personal jail tours and new correctional hires.

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Premier Ford and Solicitor General Kerzner fail to recognize and admit what research has been showing for decades: incarceration does not reduce crime. In the words of Jason Stanley (2020), author of How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them,

The main reason that many researchers are dubious about a link between an increase in incarceration and a drop in crime rates is because studies indicate that incarceration itself contributes substantially to an increase in crime rates (119).

As top-ranking officials within Ontario’s political apparatus, the Premier and Solicitor General have failed to do their due diligence with respect to explaining to the public how a tough-on-crime approach and additional correctional hires will in fact reduce crime rates and increase public safety. Is an explanation too much to ask for? Indeed, it is too much to ask for from a political regime bent on right-wing ideologies and the all too familiar right-wing political move of weaponizing notions of criminality and public safety as a means of legitimizing positions of power over specific populations.

The ideological conditioning that renders people in cages less than human and so-called deserving of harsh treatment and public invisibility runs deep. According to the late American anthropologist and anarchist activist David Graeber (1961 – 2020), the core of right-wing thought revolves around a political ontology that normalizes the use of force. In the words of Graeber,

Whenever we hear this word [force] invoked, we find ourselves in the presence of a political ontology in which the power to destroy, to cause others pain or to threaten to break, damage, or mangle others’ bodies (or just lock them in a tiny room for the rest of their lives) is treated as the social equivalent of the very energy that drives the cosmos (87).

There is nothing inevitable about Ontario’s detention complex and the deaths emanating from them. As mentioned by Paula Mallea (2017), “Changing such an entrenched system is akin to turning a supertanker. It will take a long time, a great deal of care, and an ability to prevail against overwhelming inertia” (20).

Given the harsh realities in Ontario’s jails, it is no surprise that correctional officers, juries overseeing inquests related to inmate deaths and unions alike have called for the complete annihilation of some of Ontario’s jails. For instance, official government reports state that an anonymous correctional officer from Toronto South stated, “Nothing can fix this jail except for shutting it down, transferring inmates out and starting over […].” Likewise, juries and unions have recommended that London, Ontario’s, Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre (EMDC) be “demolished and rebuilt.”

Without a doubt, Patrisse Cullors’s insight pertaining to violence is highly instructive with respect to next steps. In the words of Cullors, “Violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is connected to the conditions that we live in, and we all participate in creating those conditions, and we all have a collective responsibility for ending violence, harm and abuse” (151). Perhaps, if we took the time necessary to reflect on these words we might realize that Cusano’s death was preventable much like all those who tragically died before him.

In order to radically change the existing system of punishment we must all begin in and through a meaningful, dialogical and political process of remembering. Whether it be passing out flyers and conversing with the public about the core issues or organizing a vigil to commemorate such tragic and unnecessary deaths, which a group of us did on Sunday, October 27^th, we need to engage with each other as a means of raising public consciousness and issuing political demands for a more humane society versus toleration and acceptance of the existing social (dis)order.

Unfortunately, for every attempt to remember people like Cusano the system of punishment will predictably respond with yet another form of violence: a politics of erasure geared towards the cultivation of public forgetting and political demobilization. Whether it be the immediate removal of our makeshift memorial for Cusano outside TSDC in Etobicoke, Ont., or the removal of memorial crosses outside Elgin-Middlesex jail in London, Ont., we must refuse to forget and find a way to ensure that the growing list of individuals dying in Ontario’s jails do not die in vain.

“It is said that no one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails. A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones.” – Nelson Mandela (1918 – 2013).

References

Cullors, Patrisse. 12 Steps to Changing Yourself and the World: An Abolitionist’s Handbook. St. Martin’s Griffin, 2021.

Garland, David. Punishment and Modern Society: A Study In Social Theory. University of Chicago Press, 1993.

Graeber, David. The Utopia of Rules: On Technology, Stupidity, and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy. Melville House, 2016.

Illich, Ivan, et al. Disabling Professions. Marion Boyars Publishers, 1977.  

Mallea, Paula. Beyond Incarceration: Safety and True Criminal Justice. Dundurn, 2017.

O’Brien, Abby. “A ‘horrendous’ jailhouse death: Brain-injured senior killed in Toronto prison after waiting 7 months without a bail hearing.” Toronto Star, 19 Oct. 2024, p. A1 & A24.

Schenwar, Maya & Law, Victoria. Prison By Any Other Name: The Harmful Consequences of Popular Reforms. The New Press, 2020.

Stanley, Jason. How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them. Random House, 2020.

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On Tuesday, Ontario’s chief forensic pathologist determined the causes of Faqiri’s death after five years of pressure; the injuries he sustained while he was restrained and beaten by guards.

For over five years, the tragic death of Soleiman Faqiri in a Canadian prison has received widespread attention in press coverage, demonstrations, and teach-ins. The case has posed a challenge to our collective conscience over how we incarcerate people living with mental illness.

On Tuesday, Ontario’s chief forensic pathologist finally determined the causes of Faqiri’s death; the injuries he sustained while six guards restrained him on his stomach, beat him, and deployed pepper spray. The pathologist’s findings triggered a third police investigation after the first two proved fruitless. While these developments are hopeful, there is reason to remain skeptical of a legal system that has failed the Faqiri family for so long.

Faqiri’s case remains on the minds of many as the latest in a centuries-long list of shame from Canadian prisons.

The consistency of cruelty

In 1993, the late Canadian poet, writer, and prison guard, Joel Michael Yates (1938-2019) wrote, “In my opinion there is not one well-managed correctional institution in North America. Not one.”

In the mid 19^thcentury, cruel and degrading punishment was routinely applied to prisoners in Canada’s notorious Kingston Penitentiary. As documented in Peter H. Hennessy’s 1999 book, Canada’s Big House: The Dark History of the Kingston Penitentiary, prisoners who transgressed behind the infamous Warden Henry Smith’s bars were subject to coldblooded punishments.   

According to the Brown Commission of 1849 which led to the removal of Warden Smith, children with “disordered” minds were subjected to vicious treatment. On one account, a teenage boy named Beauche was violently flogged for making sounds, screaming, and claiming that there was something under his bed in the middle of the night. He was eventually diagnosed as “insane” and transported to the Lower Canada Lunatic Asylum.

Since the days of Warden Smith’s atrocious rule, countries around the world and international bodies alike have developed standards aimed at protecting those subjected to the inhumanity of prison life.

Despite these developments, the consistency of cruelty persists. As a case in point, consider the appalling steps that led to the preventable death of Faqiri in a Canadian jail.

Jail instead of diversion

On December 4, 2016, a 30-year-old man with no criminal record and diagnosed with schizophrenia was apprehended by police in Ajax, Ontario. The man’s name was Soleiman Faqiri, and he was no stranger to police as he had been taken into custody 10 times under Ontario’s Mental Health Act, but December 4 was considerably different with respect to legal-medical decisions and outcomes. 

According to the Schizophrenia Society of Canada’s 2005 paper, Diversion, Mental Health Courts and Schizophrenia, “Jails are not the place to treat individuals with a mental illness.” Unfortunately, this advice is routinely ignored. But is there an alternative? The answer is a resounding yes and it is called diversion. In the words of the Schizophrenia Society of Canada, “Diversion offers the opportunity to treat individuals effectively while meeting overall societal objectives of protection and justice.”

Instead of diversion, Faqiri was apprehended and taken to one of the worst prisons in Ontario: the Central East Correctional Centre. As evidence of Central East’s dysfunction, the Community Advisory Board’s Annual Report of 2015 described mounting concerns linked to lockdowns, staff shortages, ineffective family visiting and support systems, increasing presence of ceramic knives, drugs and gangs, inmate-on-inmate assaults, and a lack of mental health training.

Unfortunately, far too many people with mental illness experience inappropriate interactions with the legal system — an appalling phenomenon aptly described as the criminalization of the mentally ill. In Faqiri’s case, this was the first of many missteps.

Segregation instead of a hospital bed

The next unspeakable step involved placing a vulnerable person like Faqiri into segregation. For years leading up to Faqiri’s experience, the use of segregation was painstakingly scrutinized. According to the Ontario Ministry of the Solicitor General’s 2017 review, Segregation In Ontario, segregation “is so damaging […] that it has been reported as ‘cruel and unusual treatment’ by the United Nations, and can even amount to torture.”

Two years before the Ministry of the Solicitor General’s review, the Public Services Foundation of Canada released a 2015 report titled Crisis in Correctional Services. The report drew specific attention to the influx of inmates with mental health issues and the link between deficient mental health services and increasingly hazardous living and working conditions for inmates and prison guards. The report unequivocally states “segregation is the worst possible response to the overwhelming majority of inmates with these [mental health] problems.”

As far back as 2012, a report conducted by the Mental Health Commission of Canada (MHCC) points out that Canada’s 2010 ratification of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities created an opportunity to articulate and put into practice all the legal, policy, and regulatory measures that would protect the human rights of persons with disabilities. As mentioned in the report, a vital principle of the UN convention “is to always employ the least intrusive and least restrictive interventions possible.”   

Furthermore, the report states:

“People living with mental health problems and illnesses […] should be able to count on timely access to the full range of options for mental health services, treatments and supports, just as they would expect if they were confronting heart disease or cancer.”

Given Faqiri’s identity as a racialized person, Muslim and immigrant from Kabul, Afghanistan, the commission’s report is particularly insightful when it states: “People who are immigrants, refugees, members of ethno-cultural groups or who are likely to be racialized […] face particular challenges that put their mental health at greater risk.”

Beating and death instead of care and treatment

On December 15, Faqiri was taking a shower and refused to return to his cell. In response, the guards attempted to physically remove him.

In the process of removing Faqiri from the shower he was struck by one of the guards, pepper sprayed twice directly in the face and eventually shoved back into his cell. It was here where the abuse spiralled even further out of control.

Following a code blue alert, several more guards entered Faqiri’s cell. While some pinned his limbs to the ground, other guards placed a spit hood over his head and pressured his body to the floor with leg irons. On top of these already excessive measures, which went on for an agonizing three hours, Faqiri was handcuffed behind his back in the prone position. In the end, Faqiri was found to be unresponsive and pronounced dead in a cold bloody cell far away from those who cared for him.

According to a 2017 coroner’s report, Faqiri’s body had over 50 cuts and bruises and showed many other clear signs of blunt impact trauma. Why was a person with a serious mental illness beaten to such a degree by the very people responsible for his well-being and safety?

Faqiri was the victim of a legal-medical apparatus that astonishingly concluded the cause of death was “unascertained.” How could this be?

Bureaucratic re-traumatization

To make matters worse, the legal-medical system has made healing for the family an unreachable goal. At every level of analysis, the very systems responsible for so-called justice have failed the family, instead forcing them to relive their pain and suffering.

An initial investigation conducted by the Kawartha Lakes Police Service stated that no charges would be laid against those involved with Faqiri’s death. While this investigation included almost 70 interviews with prison guards, inmates, and medical personnel, a known eyewitness named John Thibeault — located in a cell across Faqiri’s — was never questioned. According to Thibeault’s account, which was shared by the The Fifth Estate, the guards were yelling at Faqiri to “stop resisting” even though there were no signs of life.

After the failure of the Kawartha Lakes Police Service investigation, the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) launched a reinvestigation, but the OPP also declared that it was not pressing any charges against those involved in Faqiri’s death.

The Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services’ (MCSCS) response included a host of blame tactics, suspensions, and dismissals geared towards abolishing the claim of negligence. As opposed to a deeper analysis of institutional deficiencies linked to incident investigations, psychiatric assessments, and staff training in the use of force, negotiators, Institutional Crisis Intervention Teams (ICIT), pepper spray, spit hoods, and escort, MCSCS maintained that their employee training and processes were not flawed.

In 2021, the Faqiri family continues to seek full transparency and accountability in a legal-medical system saturated in bureaucratic re-traumatization in the form of inaccuracies, coverups, waiting games, and blame tactics. Recent findings linked to the causes of Faqiri’s death are a turn in the right direction; however, much more needs to be done to break the cycle of violence and injustice.

The insanity of the system

While one might be tempted to think of Faqiri’s death as an institutional anomaly, the reality suggests that solitary confinement, institutional brutality, and racial profiling are linked to a lengthy list of names: Ashley Smith, Edward Snowshoe, Abdurahman Hassan, Justin St. Amour, Moses Amik Beaver, Matthew Hines, Jordan Sheard, Cleve Geddes, Yousef Hussein, Adam Kenneth Reed, Adam Capay, and Clayton Cromwell. How many more will it take before we transform a broken system euphemistically classified as “corrections?”

According to the Legal Information Institute, negligence refers to “a failure to behave with the level of care that someone of ordinary prudence would have exercised under the same circumstances.”

Consider: would a reasonable individual take a person diagnosed with schizophrenia to a jail, let alone a disreputable jail? Would a reasonable individual place a person diagnosed with schizophrenia into segregation? Would a reasonable individual participate in a gang-like beating of a person with a serious mental illness?

As a means of understanding this legal-medical recklessness, it helps to examine a report published three years before Faqiri’s death. In the Ombudsman Ontario report of 2013 titled The Code, Ontario’s watchdog mapped out a system oozing with concealment, silence, denial, and sanitization of undesirable incidents. The report documents the ways some guards use lies, annihilate records, make deals with inmates, and strategically conceal facts as a means of protecting themselves and their co-workers.

The report spells out the fact that the application of excessive force by some guards is not only illegal and inexcusable, but also an enduring aspect of a dysfunctional prison culture that needs to be urgently addressed. The report goes into disturbing detail about cases in which restrained and controlled inmates suffering from mental illness were subjected to head kicks and other harsh attacks.

The writing was on the wall years before Faqiri’s death. Clear steps needed to be taken to prevent the ongoing victimization of people with mental illness. What we have is a negligent system that routinely ignores evidence-based measures.

The capacity to move forward

When I first learned about Faqiri’s case in 2020, my immediate reaction was to contact Soleiman’s brother Yusuf Faqiri to see if there was anything I could do to support his family’s struggle. During our initial conversation, I realized that I was talking to someone who was, on one hand, deeply shattered by the circumstances of his brother’s death, and on the other, filled with a unique love for humanity and an unshakable passion to transform a dehumanizing prison system incapable of protecting the most vulnerable members of our society.

To this day, I remain committed to the Justice for Soli Movement and believe, alongside countless other people and organizations, that people with mental illness deserve much more than jails, flogs, handcuffs, spit hoods, gang-like beatings, and death. It is time to end the consistency of cruelty in Canadian jails.

Source: Konyari, Jozef. “Soleiman Faqiri and the consistency of cruelty in Canadian jails.” Rabble.ca, 12 Aug. 2021. Retrieved from: https://rabble.ca/human-rights/soleiman-faqiri-and-consistency-cruelty-canadian-jails/.

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