I was saddened, but not surprised, when I heard back in January that Bobbi Kristina Brown, daughter of the late Whitney Houston and rapper Bobby Brown, was in a coma. Krissy, as she was known to her friends, had been found unconscious in a bathtub, much like how her mother was found back in February 2012; her mother died that way, at age 48, a death the coroner said had in large part been caused by prolonged drug and alcohol abuse. Bobbi Kristina remained in a coma till yesterday, when she finally died in hospice care, at age 22.
By all accounts, Krissy had been raised in a totally dysfunctional home, surrounded by people who may have been rich and famous but had no idea how to be parents, and who allowed their own personal demons to dominate their lives. On a number of occasions, when I read reports of Bobbi Kristina using drugs or spending time with people that most parents would never want their kids to hang with, I wondered why none of her relatives had ever taken custody of her as a child and raised her somewhere far from the party scene, where she could be a normal kid and not have to worry about her parents' substance abuse. But whether Whitney Houston was Mother of the Year or not, I know how much Krissy loved her; and when Whitney died, Krissy never entirely recovered from it.
I am not going to get into finger-pointing, the way the tabloids do ("It was Bobby Brown's fault!" versus "It was Whitney Houston's fault" seems a useless discussion to have); nor am I going to blame the excesses of the mythic "celebrity lifestyle," since the truth is that not every celebrity is addicted and many celebrities make sure they give their kids a good upbringing. But the life and death of Bobbi Kristina is certainly a cautionary tale: she seemed to have it all-- popularity, material possessions, and millions of dollars to spend... and yet she was miserably unhappy. It's an old cliché but there's some truth to it: money can't buy happiness. According to some figures I've seen, Whitney Houston's estate was in the vicinity of $21 million. And Bobbi Kristina will never benefit from it.
I think the popular culture perpetuates a dangerous myth by giving the impression that being wealthy is the answer to everything. Yes, of course, I'd love to have $21 million-- I can think of all sorts of philanthropic ventures I could get involved in, plus I could buy the radio station I've always wanted. But would being rich provide the solution to every problem? I doubt it. Plus when you are that wealthy, you never know if your friends are there because they like you for yourself, or because they figure you'll be able to do them favors. (I remember discussing this with a business executive friend of mine-- he had a lot of money, but when he lost much of it during the financial crisis in 2007-2008, he found out who his friends really were... and a lot of the folks he thought would be there for him suddenly weren't there at all.)
Call me foolish, but I would rather have peace of mind and a good reputation, instead of having a ton of bucks. I've seen so often how money comes and goes, and so does popularity. Even when life isn't perfect, there's something to be said for feeling comfortable with who you are, and not having to worry about buying anyone's loyalty. Shakespeare remarked on that many centuries ago, in the play Othello:
"Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed."
When I mentioned on Facebook last night that I felt sorry about Bobbi Kristina, someone remarked that there are people who have things much worse, so why focus on her? I agree that we often focus too much on celebrities, and it's true that every day, there are people dying who are not famous and who did not have her opportunities, people who won't be mourned on social media. And yet... I still feel sorry about what she might have been, and what she might have accomplished. Krissy's life was too short, and even with all that money and fame, she never found any peace of mind. I wish it had been different for her. And I wish those who claimed to care about her had tried harder to protect her. Perhaps she would still be alive if they had.
Monday, July 27, 2015
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Making Heroism Political
I am not a big fan of Arizona senator John McCain: contrary to his stated image as a "maverick," he votes like a typical conservative Republican-- not that there's anything wrong with that, but his views and mine rarely agree. Still, I would never deny that he served bravely in the military during the Vietnam era: the fact that he endured torture at the hands of his captors has been well documented, and his valor earned him seventeen awards, including the Silver Star medal.
And then there's the former senator from Massachusetts, the current U.S. Secretary of State, John Kerry. While I thought he ran a surprisingly inept presidential campaign in 2004, I have always liked him, and our stands on issues frequently aligned. But before he became a senator, he was a member of the military. When many people from his social class found clever ways to avoid military service, Kerry willingly enlisted, and he too served bravely in Vietnam. He also received the Silver Star, as well as several other medals. Ultimately, Kerry came home and turned against the war, but there is still no denying his courage in serving.
As most of you know, the other day, business mogul and Republican candidate for president Donald Trump asserted that in his view, John McCain was no hero, because he got captured. The implication seemed to be that just like in the movies, the winners single-handedly defeat the enemy, and it's only the losers who are taken as captives. I disagree. And while over the years, McCain's detractors have called into question his skills as a fighter pilot, that too seems beside the point. He was in fact a Prisoner of War, and he was in fact held captive for six years. Whether or not his own actions contributed to his being shot down (as his detractors claim), the fact remains that John McCain endured extreme brutality at the hands of his captors. And Donald Trump, who never served a day in the military, and is probably not qualified to pass judgment on McCain's service.
Then again, perhaps Trump is one of those "McCain Truthers," who believes McCain lied, or at least exaggerated, about his service, and was in some way responsible for his captivity. We saw a similar phenomenon during the 2004 presidential campaign, when a group of military men who labeled themselves "Swift Boat Veterans for Truth" said that John Kerry had lied about his military record and did not deserve the medals he received. As it turned out, nearly all of the veterans who claimed to have served with him had never done so, and the group itself was mainly funded (and may have also been founded) by the Republican Party, as well as a handful of wealthy supporters of President George W. Bush. And the more that reporters investigated, the more they found what really made the Swift Boat veterans so opposed to Kerry: not his military service, but rather, his later anti-war activism. Still, the series of TV ads the Swift Boat Vets ran against him were devastatingly effective. They were also shamefully misleading: John Kerry did in fact serve, he was in fact awarded those medals, and his later political views should not have invalidated his courage during combat in Vietnam.
Then again, perhaps Trump is one of those "McCain Truthers," who believes McCain lied, or at least exaggerated, about his service, and was in some way responsible for his captivity. We saw a similar phenomenon during the 2004 presidential campaign, when a group of military men who labeled themselves "Swift Boat Veterans for Truth" said that John Kerry had lied about his military record and did not deserve the medals he received. As it turned out, nearly all of the veterans who claimed to have served with him had never done so, and the group itself was mainly funded (and may have also been founded) by the Republican Party, as well as a handful of wealthy supporters of President George W. Bush. And the more that reporters investigated, the more they found what really made the Swift Boat veterans so opposed to Kerry: not his military service, but rather, his later anti-war activism. Still, the series of TV ads the Swift Boat Vets ran against him were devastatingly effective. They were also shamefully misleading: John Kerry did in fact serve, he was in fact awarded those medals, and his later political views should not have invalidated his courage during combat in Vietnam.
Despite the fact that Trump is a provocateur who loves to say outrageous things, it made me think about what a "hero" is. In today's celebrity culture, the word is thrown around way too much, and is often applied to people who are talented or popular, rather than what the dictionary would define as a hero. If you look it up, you find one definition is "a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities." Another definition is "a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal." And then, there is the definition used in literature, where the hero is the "good guy," the protagonist in a story, a play or a movie. (And of course, from Greek mythology, we get the classic definition, in which the hero is "a being of godlike prowess and beneficence who often came to be honored as a divinity.)
Whether or not you agreed with the Vietnam War (or any other war, for that matter), a person who performed his or her military service and did not try to avoid it is certainly to be commended, and some of the veterans definitely acted heroically. Of course, I understand that it's not just during a war that heroism can be seen-- journalists reporting from dangerous countries, human rights workers (the International Rescue Committee and Doctors Without Borders come to mind), first responders, emergency room doctors and nurses, these are just a few examples of the people who rise to the occasion and act heroically. Performing extraordinary actions in difficult times is never easy, whether putting yourself in danger by bringing food and medicine to a refugee camp, or running into a burning building to save a family, or teaching girls to read in a country where terrorists have threatened your school. Not every hero is recognized-- too often, acts of courage and bravery go unnoticed because the person who performed them didn't seek out any praise or wasn't a celebrity. But those of us affected by those courageous acts know a hero when we see one.
Meanwhile, back to politics, where battles of a different kind are fought. I agree that Donald Trump should apologize to John McCain, but I also think that everyone who denigrated John Kerry's service (including Jeb Bush) should also apologize to him. Both McCain and Kerry performed heroically, under circumstances most of us could never have survived. Calling someone's courage or bravery or patriotism into question just to get elected does not speak well of the person doing it; but it also does not speak well of the many people who remain silent just because they don't like the person being criticized.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Fooling Too Many of the People Too Much of the Time
When Donald Trump told an interviewer a few days ago that he doesn't know where President Obama was born, I had to shake my head. Okay fine, Trump is a provocateur, who enjoys saying outrageous things and then watching the mainstream media obsess over what he just said. He's also a shrewd politician, and he knows that by some estimates, as many as 20% of Republicans still believe the "birther" myth that Mr. Obama is secretly from Kenya. But Donald Trump is not a stupid person, and surely he knows that Barack Obama was born in Hawaii, a fact that has been thoroughly documented, and even a number of his political enemies (and the folks on Fox News) acknowledge it. And yet... there are still thousands of people who applaud whenever Trump casts those same old doubts about whether the president is a "real" American. It totally mystifies me -- whether you like the president or not, it's just plain bizarre to still be insisting in 2015 that he wasn't born in the United States.
And it's not just Donald Trump who disseminates this kind of nonsense. We seem to be living in an age when any fact-free conspiracy theory can gain an wide audience, thanks in large part to the internet and social media, which spread rumors and myths as quickly as they spread actual (and provable) facts. For example, celebrities, who have no medical degree (talking to you, Jenny McCarthy) can get on television and then use their blog or YouTube to insist that vaccines cause autism (they do not, and study after study shows NO link between getting vaccinated and developing autism); and thousands of their fans assume these celebrities must know what they are talking about. Sorry, but Jenny McCarthy is not a medical expert, and while I am sympathetic about her son's condition, anecdotal evidence is not the same as serious studies with data. Yet no matter how many serious studies come out debunking any relationship between vaccines and autism, some folks prefer getting their medical advice from a model and talk show host.
Or how about the good folks in Texas who are firmly convinced that a large military training exercise called Jade Helm 15, is a secret government plot to impose martial law-- did you hear about those closed-up Walmarts that are being converted into prisons, so that all those who oppose the government can be locked away? These and other conspiracy theories are being spread by talk show host Alex Jones and various anti-government bloggers. No matter how many times the military denies that there's anything unusual going on, or explains the purpose of this particular training exercise (the goal is to give the participating troops practice, by using role-playing to simulate situations they might encounter during a war), some folks remain totally unconvinced, and totally ready to resist when the military marches in to take over Texas.
Every week, fact-checking websites like Snopes.com and Factcheck.org debunk assorted myths and rumors, and yet they persist. You'd think that with all the information available to us with a simple search, we'd have no trouble separating fact from fiction. But you'd be wrong to think that. Studies show that people tend to prefer information that reinforces what they already believe-- it's called "confirmation bias." So, those who are convinced that Obama is a Kenyan, or vaccines cause autism, or the government is about to impose martial law will seek out websites and other media sources that agree with them. And those kinds of resources are easy to find. No wonder so much internet discourse consists of people who are convinced they are right throwing their beliefs at each other like weapons, often followed by name-calling and frustration that others can't see "the truth."
In fairness, believing in myth or pseudo-science isn't new. Way back in 1922, a French pharmacist named Emile Coué (some newspapers claimed he was a doctor, but he was not) gained international fame with his theory of "auto-suggestion." He asserted that any disease could be cured simply by chanting "every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." This theory of positive thinking was supposed to cure everything from loneliness to cancer, and Mr. Coué's trip to America featured him "curing" all sorts of people. It was not a skeptical age, and the press breathlessly reported about the miracle man and his amazing cures, accepting the performance without checking to see if the people really were cured (or if they'd ever been sick at all). But by 1926, Coué was dead from pneumonia, an illness that evidently could not be cured by positive thinking.
That said, there is no denying that a positive attitude can be useful in battling most diseases; but to claim that diseases will vanish with the proper attitude (or by chanting the proper words) is something I cannot logically accept, nor can medical science. But in his day, Coué had millions of fans, who desperately wanted to believe every word he said. Today, he'd be like Oprah Winfrey, a celebrity with his own talk show and blog and legions of supporters. There's nothing new under the sun, it seems.
Neither Abraham Lincoln nor P.T. Barnum actually said "You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time." Still, whoever really said it may have underestimated the desire a lot of folks have to want to be fooled. Many people need to seek out a "magic answer" or find simple solutions for complicated questions. It makes them feel better to know they were right and someone else was wrong. Election year politics often amplifies that kind of conversation, as candidates try to make themselves stand out by making outrageous claims and pointing fingers. Politicians, like talk show hosts and celebrity "medical experts," understand that people want to know who (or what) is to blame for every problem. But this year, will we finally get a serious discussion about the problems we face, or will we just get more empty rhetoric? If past history is any indicator, we'll get the rhetoric. And I can only hope that this time around, people won't be fooled by it.
And it's not just Donald Trump who disseminates this kind of nonsense. We seem to be living in an age when any fact-free conspiracy theory can gain an wide audience, thanks in large part to the internet and social media, which spread rumors and myths as quickly as they spread actual (and provable) facts. For example, celebrities, who have no medical degree (talking to you, Jenny McCarthy) can get on television and then use their blog or YouTube to insist that vaccines cause autism (they do not, and study after study shows NO link between getting vaccinated and developing autism); and thousands of their fans assume these celebrities must know what they are talking about. Sorry, but Jenny McCarthy is not a medical expert, and while I am sympathetic about her son's condition, anecdotal evidence is not the same as serious studies with data. Yet no matter how many serious studies come out debunking any relationship between vaccines and autism, some folks prefer getting their medical advice from a model and talk show host.
Or how about the good folks in Texas who are firmly convinced that a large military training exercise called Jade Helm 15, is a secret government plot to impose martial law-- did you hear about those closed-up Walmarts that are being converted into prisons, so that all those who oppose the government can be locked away? These and other conspiracy theories are being spread by talk show host Alex Jones and various anti-government bloggers. No matter how many times the military denies that there's anything unusual going on, or explains the purpose of this particular training exercise (the goal is to give the participating troops practice, by using role-playing to simulate situations they might encounter during a war), some folks remain totally unconvinced, and totally ready to resist when the military marches in to take over Texas.
Every week, fact-checking websites like Snopes.com and Factcheck.org debunk assorted myths and rumors, and yet they persist. You'd think that with all the information available to us with a simple search, we'd have no trouble separating fact from fiction. But you'd be wrong to think that. Studies show that people tend to prefer information that reinforces what they already believe-- it's called "confirmation bias." So, those who are convinced that Obama is a Kenyan, or vaccines cause autism, or the government is about to impose martial law will seek out websites and other media sources that agree with them. And those kinds of resources are easy to find. No wonder so much internet discourse consists of people who are convinced they are right throwing their beliefs at each other like weapons, often followed by name-calling and frustration that others can't see "the truth."
In fairness, believing in myth or pseudo-science isn't new. Way back in 1922, a French pharmacist named Emile Coué (some newspapers claimed he was a doctor, but he was not) gained international fame with his theory of "auto-suggestion." He asserted that any disease could be cured simply by chanting "every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." This theory of positive thinking was supposed to cure everything from loneliness to cancer, and Mr. Coué's trip to America featured him "curing" all sorts of people. It was not a skeptical age, and the press breathlessly reported about the miracle man and his amazing cures, accepting the performance without checking to see if the people really were cured (or if they'd ever been sick at all). But by 1926, Coué was dead from pneumonia, an illness that evidently could not be cured by positive thinking.
That said, there is no denying that a positive attitude can be useful in battling most diseases; but to claim that diseases will vanish with the proper attitude (or by chanting the proper words) is something I cannot logically accept, nor can medical science. But in his day, Coué had millions of fans, who desperately wanted to believe every word he said. Today, he'd be like Oprah Winfrey, a celebrity with his own talk show and blog and legions of supporters. There's nothing new under the sun, it seems.
Neither Abraham Lincoln nor P.T. Barnum actually said "You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time." Still, whoever really said it may have underestimated the desire a lot of folks have to want to be fooled. Many people need to seek out a "magic answer" or find simple solutions for complicated questions. It makes them feel better to know they were right and someone else was wrong. Election year politics often amplifies that kind of conversation, as candidates try to make themselves stand out by making outrageous claims and pointing fingers. Politicians, like talk show hosts and celebrity "medical experts," understand that people want to know who (or what) is to blame for every problem. But this year, will we finally get a serious discussion about the problems we face, or will we just get more empty rhetoric? If past history is any indicator, we'll get the rhetoric. And I can only hope that this time around, people won't be fooled by it.
Monday, July 6, 2015
A Few Worlds About the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame
Normally, I use this blog to discuss current events, and believe me, there are plenty I want to discuss. (And I will.) But let me digress for a moment, and talk about something I dearly love: radio; and an organization that means a lot to me: the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. I know not everyone who reads my blog is from Massachusetts, but I also know that wherever you are, many of you still listen to (and still care about) radio.
Believe me, I understand that things have changed from when I was a kid. Radio is no longer considered a "magical medium," like it was when I was growing up. I understand that most kids today don't dream of being a disc jockey, the way I did. I understand that in our internet world, there are lots of ways to listen to music-- and they don't all require listening to a d.j. or sitting through commercials. And yes, I understand that for many people, radio has become an afterthought, one more possibility when people are not streaming audio, streaming video, watching television, or downloading music.
And yet, as I have said before, there's still something special about radio. It's a unique kind of communication, and when it's done right, it can make you feel as if the announcer is talking directly to you. Even though media consolidation has created too many stations that all sound the same, there are still some great announcers, great news reporters, great sportscasters, and great stations. If you're a Rush fan, you know the song "Spirit of Radio"-- the first verse explains it perfectly:
"Begin the day with a friendly voice
A companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood..."
That is what radio is: a companion. And at its best, it touches so many lives. It can cheer you up, change your mood for the better, play a song you love, provide some information you need about the weather or the traffic and help you move through your day. It's no exaggeration when I say that radio helped me to get through my childhood. When kids bullied me, when I felt alone, I could listen to my favorite d.j.; and hearing his voice, or hearing my favorite songs, somehow it made me feel better. Maybe you too had a favorite radio station growing up. Maybe you had a favorite personality you loved to listen to. And maybe radio was an important part of your life, the way it was for mine. I had the privilege of becoming a d.j., and maybe during the years that I was on the air, I too was that friendly voice, making someone else feel better. I ended up spending nearly four decades in broadcasting, in cities all over the US, before coming back home to Boston, the place where my career had begun.
Given how much radio has always meant to me, I was really pleased when I found out about the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. I joined the organization, and also became a board member; it has allowed me to work with some amazing people from all aspects of radio and television, past and present. But more importantly, it has allowed me to honor some of the people I most admired during my youth. In fact, that is one reason why our organization was formed: to make sure that the broadcast personalities we all grew up with would not be forgotten. As our mission statement explains: "The Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame is a non-profit, 501[c]3 organization which honors the industry’s most noteworthy members from Massachusetts; commemorates their achievements and contributions to broadcasting; and preserves their work for future generations." Other cities too have created similar organizations-- they are much needed, because they preserve the great work of previous generations of broadcasters, so that current and future generations can benefit from their accomplishments.
Our annual charity auction is taking place, and if you can bid on an item, you will help us to keep doing our part to commemorate the work of the greatest broadcasters, and induct them into our Hall of Fame. And if you're not from Massachusetts, consider forming (or joining) a chapter of your own broadcasters' hall of fame-- it's so important to find a way to honor those who have entertained and informed us for so many years. More information about the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame and our charity auction is here; thanks for reading this, and I hope you will be able to make a bid! https://www.biddingforgood.com/auction/auctionhome.action?vhost=massbroadcastersHOF
Believe me, I understand that things have changed from when I was a kid. Radio is no longer considered a "magical medium," like it was when I was growing up. I understand that most kids today don't dream of being a disc jockey, the way I did. I understand that in our internet world, there are lots of ways to listen to music-- and they don't all require listening to a d.j. or sitting through commercials. And yes, I understand that for many people, radio has become an afterthought, one more possibility when people are not streaming audio, streaming video, watching television, or downloading music.
And yet, as I have said before, there's still something special about radio. It's a unique kind of communication, and when it's done right, it can make you feel as if the announcer is talking directly to you. Even though media consolidation has created too many stations that all sound the same, there are still some great announcers, great news reporters, great sportscasters, and great stations. If you're a Rush fan, you know the song "Spirit of Radio"-- the first verse explains it perfectly:
"Begin the day with a friendly voice
A companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood..."
That is what radio is: a companion. And at its best, it touches so many lives. It can cheer you up, change your mood for the better, play a song you love, provide some information you need about the weather or the traffic and help you move through your day. It's no exaggeration when I say that radio helped me to get through my childhood. When kids bullied me, when I felt alone, I could listen to my favorite d.j.; and hearing his voice, or hearing my favorite songs, somehow it made me feel better. Maybe you too had a favorite radio station growing up. Maybe you had a favorite personality you loved to listen to. And maybe radio was an important part of your life, the way it was for mine. I had the privilege of becoming a d.j., and maybe during the years that I was on the air, I too was that friendly voice, making someone else feel better. I ended up spending nearly four decades in broadcasting, in cities all over the US, before coming back home to Boston, the place where my career had begun.
Given how much radio has always meant to me, I was really pleased when I found out about the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. I joined the organization, and also became a board member; it has allowed me to work with some amazing people from all aspects of radio and television, past and present. But more importantly, it has allowed me to honor some of the people I most admired during my youth. In fact, that is one reason why our organization was formed: to make sure that the broadcast personalities we all grew up with would not be forgotten. As our mission statement explains: "The Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame is a non-profit, 501[c]3 organization which honors the industry’s most noteworthy members from Massachusetts; commemorates their achievements and contributions to broadcasting; and preserves their work for future generations." Other cities too have created similar organizations-- they are much needed, because they preserve the great work of previous generations of broadcasters, so that current and future generations can benefit from their accomplishments.
Our annual charity auction is taking place, and if you can bid on an item, you will help us to keep doing our part to commemorate the work of the greatest broadcasters, and induct them into our Hall of Fame. And if you're not from Massachusetts, consider forming (or joining) a chapter of your own broadcasters' hall of fame-- it's so important to find a way to honor those who have entertained and informed us for so many years. More information about the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame and our charity auction is here; thanks for reading this, and I hope you will be able to make a bid! https://www.biddingforgood.com/auction/auctionhome.action?vhost=massbroadcastersHOF
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Just Another Mad, Mad Day on the Road: Some Thoughts About Seeing Rush in Concert
Annie, a journalist friend of mine from Cleveland, tweeted last night that she was listening to "Moonlight Mile" by the Rolling Stones, a song I hadn't thought about in years (and one I used to play when I was a disc jockey). It's a song that was inspired by a musician being out on the road performing, far away from home, far away from the people he loves. In late 1973, I moved from Boston to Cleveland to follow my dream of being in radio, and suddenly, I too was far away from everything and everyone I knew. It wasn't easy for me to make friends and I often felt I didn't belong there ("...the sound of strangers sending nothing to my mind/ just another mad, mad day on the road..."). But there was no way I could just turn around and go back to Boston. This was my chance, and I had to make it work. I especially identified with the line in "Moonlight Mile" that said, "oh, I am sleeping under strange, strange skies..." No offense, but Cleveland always felt strange to me. It never felt like home... until I met Rush.
You already know the story of how I was the music director at WMMS-FM and I received their home-grown album on Moon Records from Bob Roper, then a record promoter at A&M of Canada. You already know how I fell in love with the song "Working Man" and gave it to Denny Sanders to play. And you already know how the audience responded almost immediately. Rush came to Cleveland in August of 1974, as I recall, and there's a photo of that online in a number of places. (Neil had only recently joined the band, and we all looked so much younger...) I had no idea at the time that I would begin a 40+ year friendship with the guys in the band, as well as with their management, and with several members of their road crew. I never expected that we'd stay in touch over the decades, nor did I expect that they'd acknowledge me on two of their albums, give me a shout-out at one of their early concerts, continue to remember me when being interviewed about their career, or ask me to introduce them at the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and I didn't expect to see them inducted (finally) into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. (In fact, there was no Rock & Roll Hall of Fame yet in 1974.)
But while I was in Cleveland, Rush gave me something really valuable-- they gave me acceptance. Thanks to my association with them, suddenly people who had never wanted to talk to me decided I was okay after all. Thanks to being Rush's unofficial Big Sister, record executives who wanted to sign them treated me as if I mattered. Suddenly, I wasn't just some music director at some radio station, and the fact that I didn't smoke or drink or do drugs (at a time when all three were common activities in both the radio and record industries) was no longer a problem. I was a friend of Rush. People I didn't even know began to treat me with courtesy. Of course, many of those people quickly lost interest as soon as I could no longer give them access to the band; Rush signed with a record label (Mercury Records in the US); the Moon album was re-released on Mercury, followed by a new album with new material, Fly By Night.
In mid-April 1975, I left Cleveland to work in New York and then in Washington DC, before going back to Boston. Rush and I kept in touch periodically: they no longer needed a Big Sister, and we were all much busier with our careers. But they never forgot what I had done to advocate for them in those early years. To this day, even though the band has gained world-wide (and well-deserved) fame, the guys in Rush and the people who work for them still treat me with kindness and affection; it is deeply appreciated.
I had the privilege of seeing Rush in concert on Wednesday June 23, along with Annie, who flew in from Cleveland to watch them perform. She had already seen them in Columbus (she's a rock journalist), but she told me this show was even better. Based on what fans told me (including some who have also seen multiple shows on this tour), she was right: the Boston show far surpassed everyone's expectations. There were so many high points: the visual retrospective with images from the many years of Rush's performances; hearing songs they hadn't performed in a while or rarely performed (fans told me that "Jacob's Ladder" was especially impressive for them, as were "Xanadu" and "How It Is"); and witnessing the energy and enthusiasm that Rush brings to every concert. The newspaper critics were effusive in their praise for Rush's performance, and the fans took to social media to express their appreciation for such an amazing evening of music. I did too: the fact that Geddy is able to achieve the same vocal range year after year, and the fact that the band's musicianship remains so consistent and precise-- this is something unusual in the universe of rock bands. Too many older rock stars become parodies of themselves, but that has never been the case with Rush.
And yet... despite such a great show, many of us have mixed feelings. When I revisited that Rolling Stones song, I couldn't help but think of Neil, who almost didn't want to go out on tour because he didn't want to miss a moment away from his wife and little daughter. Yes, he was his usual outstanding self playing the drums: Neil is a total professional, and if you didn't know that he feels ambivalent about this tour, he did not give it away. (Nobody in Rush has ever "mailed it in." They always give 100% to the fans.) But now more than ever, Neil is "sleeping under strange, strange skies," rather than where he wants to be, near his family.
I had a chance to spend some time with Alex before the show. He too has his own mixed emotions-- while his health is better now, and he is pleased with how well the guys are playing, he too misses his family, especially his grand-kids. I totally understand. The guys have been living the hectic life of rock musicians for more than forty years; it can be gratifying, but it can also wear a person down. And while I am rarely at a loss for words, this time, I admit I didn't know what to say to Alex-- for one thing, he had several friends waiting backstage and I didn't want to intrude, but for another, I don't know if this is the last time I'll see him in concert. We hugged a lot. Sometimes, words get in the way.
I sat in the mixing booth during the show, watching Howard Ungerleider (whom I've known for as long as I've known the band) doing his magic with the lights and effects. And at the end of the show, Howard and I hugged too-- neither of us knows what the next thing is, and at this point, it's all very uncertain. Maybe there will be more live concerts. Maybe not. Only the band knows for sure. But for me, once again, I remain overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude for all the years of great music, for the devotion the guys show to the fans, and for the friendship Rush has continued to give me. And in the end, whether there are more tours or not, I have a lot of great memories, and a lot of love for three guys from Toronto whose songs have been the soundtrack for so many people's lives... including mine.
You already know the story of how I was the music director at WMMS-FM and I received their home-grown album on Moon Records from Bob Roper, then a record promoter at A&M of Canada. You already know how I fell in love with the song "Working Man" and gave it to Denny Sanders to play. And you already know how the audience responded almost immediately. Rush came to Cleveland in August of 1974, as I recall, and there's a photo of that online in a number of places. (Neil had only recently joined the band, and we all looked so much younger...) I had no idea at the time that I would begin a 40+ year friendship with the guys in the band, as well as with their management, and with several members of their road crew. I never expected that we'd stay in touch over the decades, nor did I expect that they'd acknowledge me on two of their albums, give me a shout-out at one of their early concerts, continue to remember me when being interviewed about their career, or ask me to introduce them at the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and I didn't expect to see them inducted (finally) into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. (In fact, there was no Rock & Roll Hall of Fame yet in 1974.)
But while I was in Cleveland, Rush gave me something really valuable-- they gave me acceptance. Thanks to my association with them, suddenly people who had never wanted to talk to me decided I was okay after all. Thanks to being Rush's unofficial Big Sister, record executives who wanted to sign them treated me as if I mattered. Suddenly, I wasn't just some music director at some radio station, and the fact that I didn't smoke or drink or do drugs (at a time when all three were common activities in both the radio and record industries) was no longer a problem. I was a friend of Rush. People I didn't even know began to treat me with courtesy. Of course, many of those people quickly lost interest as soon as I could no longer give them access to the band; Rush signed with a record label (Mercury Records in the US); the Moon album was re-released on Mercury, followed by a new album with new material, Fly By Night.
In mid-April 1975, I left Cleveland to work in New York and then in Washington DC, before going back to Boston. Rush and I kept in touch periodically: they no longer needed a Big Sister, and we were all much busier with our careers. But they never forgot what I had done to advocate for them in those early years. To this day, even though the band has gained world-wide (and well-deserved) fame, the guys in Rush and the people who work for them still treat me with kindness and affection; it is deeply appreciated.
I had the privilege of seeing Rush in concert on Wednesday June 23, along with Annie, who flew in from Cleveland to watch them perform. She had already seen them in Columbus (she's a rock journalist), but she told me this show was even better. Based on what fans told me (including some who have also seen multiple shows on this tour), she was right: the Boston show far surpassed everyone's expectations. There were so many high points: the visual retrospective with images from the many years of Rush's performances; hearing songs they hadn't performed in a while or rarely performed (fans told me that "Jacob's Ladder" was especially impressive for them, as were "Xanadu" and "How It Is"); and witnessing the energy and enthusiasm that Rush brings to every concert. The newspaper critics were effusive in their praise for Rush's performance, and the fans took to social media to express their appreciation for such an amazing evening of music. I did too: the fact that Geddy is able to achieve the same vocal range year after year, and the fact that the band's musicianship remains so consistent and precise-- this is something unusual in the universe of rock bands. Too many older rock stars become parodies of themselves, but that has never been the case with Rush.
And yet... despite such a great show, many of us have mixed feelings. When I revisited that Rolling Stones song, I couldn't help but think of Neil, who almost didn't want to go out on tour because he didn't want to miss a moment away from his wife and little daughter. Yes, he was his usual outstanding self playing the drums: Neil is a total professional, and if you didn't know that he feels ambivalent about this tour, he did not give it away. (Nobody in Rush has ever "mailed it in." They always give 100% to the fans.) But now more than ever, Neil is "sleeping under strange, strange skies," rather than where he wants to be, near his family.
I had a chance to spend some time with Alex before the show. He too has his own mixed emotions-- while his health is better now, and he is pleased with how well the guys are playing, he too misses his family, especially his grand-kids. I totally understand. The guys have been living the hectic life of rock musicians for more than forty years; it can be gratifying, but it can also wear a person down. And while I am rarely at a loss for words, this time, I admit I didn't know what to say to Alex-- for one thing, he had several friends waiting backstage and I didn't want to intrude, but for another, I don't know if this is the last time I'll see him in concert. We hugged a lot. Sometimes, words get in the way.
I sat in the mixing booth during the show, watching Howard Ungerleider (whom I've known for as long as I've known the band) doing his magic with the lights and effects. And at the end of the show, Howard and I hugged too-- neither of us knows what the next thing is, and at this point, it's all very uncertain. Maybe there will be more live concerts. Maybe not. Only the band knows for sure. But for me, once again, I remain overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude for all the years of great music, for the devotion the guys show to the fans, and for the friendship Rush has continued to give me. And in the end, whether there are more tours or not, I have a lot of great memories, and a lot of love for three guys from Toronto whose songs have been the soundtrack for so many people's lives... including mine.
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Myth of a "Post-Racial Era"
I noted with mild amusement this morning that President Obama is yet again being excoriated on Fox News, this time for daring to say the word "nigger" rather than using the preferred euphemism, "the N-word." But he wasn't being intentionally provocative. He was merely making a point, one that many of us who are educators have also tried to make. I taught media-related courses at Emerson College for 19 years, and one day, I did a lesson on the history of racist language-- including the N-word; and yes, I used the actual word. I showed my students that years ago, even respectable newspapers like the Boston Globe and New York Times used that word on certain occasions, and I discussed common slang expressions that contained the word and were regularly used by white people. But evidently, my lesson offended someone: I was called into the office of the department chair, who basically yelled at me and accused me of being a bigot; he said I must never use that word, not even to teach about it. Similarly, whether you like President Obama or not, his point was accurate: banning a word, even if the effort is well-intentioned, does nothing to solve the problem of racism.
But lest you think only "the left" has a problem with talking about race, you are sadly mistaken. While the language police may operate more prominently in university environments, the thought police can frequently be found plying their trade amongst conservatives. Consider the tragic murders of nine innocent people at prayer in a black church in Charleston SC, an event that certainly proves racism isn't dead: the killer (whose name will NOT be mentioned on this blog-- he wanted publicity, but he isn't going to get any from me) had a racist website, spouted racist views that could have come directly from the Ku Klux Klan (the tired old myth about black men "raping our women" or the equally false assertion that black people are "taking over our country" for example), and he told his friends that he wanted to start a race war. (Given his views, why his father bought him a gun for his birthday remains one of life's mysteries.) Yet when the majority of the Republican presidential candidates were asked to comment, they all said there was no way to know why the killer did it; some conservative commentators said he must be mentally ill, and at least one commentator even said that if members of the church had been armed, this wouldn't have happened (a comment I found truly bizarre: I mean, who would Jesus shoot?). But none of the major Republican candidates was willing to say "Yes, this kid is a racist and we must condemn his actions."
And then there is the confederate battle flag that flies in the South Carolina capitol. Former Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney condemned it, and I salute him for doing so; but few other Republicans did the same. Even our supposedly moderate Massachusetts governor, Charlie Baker, espoused the approved Republican response-- the people of SC should decide whether to take that flag down. Umm, really? I have heard far too many conservative politicians defending that flag over the past few days, using words like "pride" and "tradition" and "it's a part of who we are." If so, then put it in a museum. Flying it in the capitol of the state sends a message that your state approves of its message of secession and segregation, and is that really the message you want to send in 2015? But hey, at least none of the politicians who defended the confederate flag used the N-word, so they can't be racists, am I right?
I'd really like to see a conversation about race that doesn't deteriorate into political score-settling, name-calling, myth and accusation. Yes, black people have indeed come a long way in the past sixty years. Yes, there are more black doctors, lawyers, professors, businesspeople, members of the government, and members of the media than there used to be. But the stereotypes persist and the problems have not gone away. There are still too many white Americans who believe the worst about black people, especially poor black people. There are still too many myths about black criminality and black welfare recipients (myths that are frequently refuted, yet they are still widely believed). There are still too many politicians eager to grab headlines by blaming the lyrics of rap songs for society's problems. Yes, we can take down that racist flag (and we should), and yes we can avoid using certain words (and we probably should, just to be courteous). But there are difficult discussions that we as a country do not seem eager to have.
When a tragedy occurs, such as the one in Charleston, people are genuinely moved. They express sorrow and bring flowers, but then they retreat to their own neighborhoods and their own set of attitudes: I note, for example, that a large number of churches are either all white or all black; and all too many public schools have also become re-segregated, as have many "gated communities." In our culture, we seem to prefer to live amongst "our own," and other than at work, we don't interact much with "them," especially if they are poor or live in what we perceive as a bad part of town. But if we are serious about wanting a post-racial society, a society where there is equal opportunity and racial minorities are accepted, segregation (even if these days, it's often voluntary) isn't very helpful. As long as there are too few opportunities for people to engage in serious discussion about how to fix what's broken, and as long as our political representatives seem more eager to stay in power than to participate in finding solutions, we will keep going from crisis to crisis, with the usual "I am shocked, shocked" sound-bites from the usual politicians. And we will continue to debate comparatively trivial matters like whether the president was wrong to use a certain word... rather than finding ways to actually bring about the meaningful change that has been needed for far too long.
But lest you think only "the left" has a problem with talking about race, you are sadly mistaken. While the language police may operate more prominently in university environments, the thought police can frequently be found plying their trade amongst conservatives. Consider the tragic murders of nine innocent people at prayer in a black church in Charleston SC, an event that certainly proves racism isn't dead: the killer (whose name will NOT be mentioned on this blog-- he wanted publicity, but he isn't going to get any from me) had a racist website, spouted racist views that could have come directly from the Ku Klux Klan (the tired old myth about black men "raping our women" or the equally false assertion that black people are "taking over our country" for example), and he told his friends that he wanted to start a race war. (Given his views, why his father bought him a gun for his birthday remains one of life's mysteries.) Yet when the majority of the Republican presidential candidates were asked to comment, they all said there was no way to know why the killer did it; some conservative commentators said he must be mentally ill, and at least one commentator even said that if members of the church had been armed, this wouldn't have happened (a comment I found truly bizarre: I mean, who would Jesus shoot?). But none of the major Republican candidates was willing to say "Yes, this kid is a racist and we must condemn his actions."
And then there is the confederate battle flag that flies in the South Carolina capitol. Former Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney condemned it, and I salute him for doing so; but few other Republicans did the same. Even our supposedly moderate Massachusetts governor, Charlie Baker, espoused the approved Republican response-- the people of SC should decide whether to take that flag down. Umm, really? I have heard far too many conservative politicians defending that flag over the past few days, using words like "pride" and "tradition" and "it's a part of who we are." If so, then put it in a museum. Flying it in the capitol of the state sends a message that your state approves of its message of secession and segregation, and is that really the message you want to send in 2015? But hey, at least none of the politicians who defended the confederate flag used the N-word, so they can't be racists, am I right?
I'd really like to see a conversation about race that doesn't deteriorate into political score-settling, name-calling, myth and accusation. Yes, black people have indeed come a long way in the past sixty years. Yes, there are more black doctors, lawyers, professors, businesspeople, members of the government, and members of the media than there used to be. But the stereotypes persist and the problems have not gone away. There are still too many white Americans who believe the worst about black people, especially poor black people. There are still too many myths about black criminality and black welfare recipients (myths that are frequently refuted, yet they are still widely believed). There are still too many politicians eager to grab headlines by blaming the lyrics of rap songs for society's problems. Yes, we can take down that racist flag (and we should), and yes we can avoid using certain words (and we probably should, just to be courteous). But there are difficult discussions that we as a country do not seem eager to have.
When a tragedy occurs, such as the one in Charleston, people are genuinely moved. They express sorrow and bring flowers, but then they retreat to their own neighborhoods and their own set of attitudes: I note, for example, that a large number of churches are either all white or all black; and all too many public schools have also become re-segregated, as have many "gated communities." In our culture, we seem to prefer to live amongst "our own," and other than at work, we don't interact much with "them," especially if they are poor or live in what we perceive as a bad part of town. But if we are serious about wanting a post-racial society, a society where there is equal opportunity and racial minorities are accepted, segregation (even if these days, it's often voluntary) isn't very helpful. As long as there are too few opportunities for people to engage in serious discussion about how to fix what's broken, and as long as our political representatives seem more eager to stay in power than to participate in finding solutions, we will keep going from crisis to crisis, with the usual "I am shocked, shocked" sound-bites from the usual politicians. And we will continue to debate comparatively trivial matters like whether the president was wrong to use a certain word... rather than finding ways to actually bring about the meaningful change that has been needed for far too long.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Why Prison Reform Matters, and Why Most People Think It Doesn't
In this age of people falsifying their resumé or their life story (talking to you, Rachel Dolezal), some of you will be surprised to learn that I used to be a prison guard. It's true. In 1970, when I was pursuing a master's degree in counseling, I spent a few months working at the Women's Reformatory in Framingham, Mass. It was quite a surreal experience. The warden was very popular and widely regarded as a progressive, but she seemed stuck in the 1950s when it came to how to "cure" criminality in women. One of her rules was to mandate that the women wear dresses and use makeup, so that they could learn to be more feminine. She also seemed to believe (and in fairness, many people back then still believed this) that female prisoners should become adept at sewing-- one of the few jobs for the women was making flags.
One of the prisoners, and I still remember her, was built very much like a guy. In fact, she wanted to be treated like a stereotypical male, and she prided herself on being "tough." Today, perhaps she might have an opportunity to have female-to-male gender reassignment and maybe she would have finally gained acceptance as a man; but back then, such options were few, especially for anyone in prison. She really disliked the rule about lipstick and dresses, but the choice was not hers to make. (To be honest, although I admit to not being an expert in criminology, I empathized with her: I was considered a "normal" female, yet I too objected to the wearing dresses and using lipstick rule. It just didn't seem to me that such rules addressed why women ended up breaking the law.)
The women I encountered at the prison were not saints, of course. Several were doing time for armed robbery or manslaughter; some had been found guilty of child abuse. Many, if not most, had been addicted to drugs or alcohol and that was one key reason they committed crimes. An equal number were involved with a guy who was also addicted, or who had a criminal background. The prison had some classes, but nothing that would lead to a career or a good-paying job on the outside. And yet, compared to some prisons, this one was relatively enlightened, with inmates living in "cottages" rather than cells, unless they broke the rules. Then, their punishment was to be sent to "the hole," better known as solitary confinement. Some prisoners were sent there often; others knew how to avoid it.
I wasn't cut out to be a guard, I must confess. I found myself wanting to help the prisoners. No, not by giving them hacksaws or smuggling in contraband. I wanted to counsel them-- there weren't a lot of counselors or psychologists there, as I recall. And I absolutely wanted to advise them, so that perhaps they wouldn't make the same mistakes in the future. Sometimes, I sang folk songs with them (for obvious reasons, Bob Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" was a big favorite). Ultimately, the warden and I mutually agreed that I'd be better off working somewhere else. She was right-- my heart was always in radio. And yet, I never forgot the prisons. While I was in Cleveland at WMMS-FM, I became the local chair of the ACLU's Prisoners Rights Project, and I worked to help set up at least one prison radio station, in Mansfield OH. I also visited prisoners who heard me on the air and wrote to me.
Some people thought that was a strange thing to do-- I mean, the common wisdom was (and for some people, still is) that prisoners cannot change; once a criminal, always a criminal. Back then, first offenders were regularly incarcerated with hardened criminals. There was little if any counseling available, few classes they could take-- yes, I understand that some prisoners would not have been willing to go to counseling, nor would they have taken any classes, but it always seemed counter-productive to just give up on them, especially the younger ones. That prison radio station was really popular; prison newspapers are too, even though such publications are frequently censored. But giving the inmates a change to be creative in a positive way, whether through classes or job skills courses, or prison media, always seemed sensible. After all, those first offenders were usually going to be paroled; and with no new skills, and a society that rarely gave them any opportunities, of course they ended up back in jail again. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Today, we are still in a "tough on crime" era. For many, especially politicians running for office, the prisons make an easy target. Many politicians deny that rehabilitation is necessary, since "everyone" knows criminals will never change. The best strategy, they say, is to lock them up and throw away the key; make sure the conditions are especially harsh, since that's what they all deserve. And if they do get out, keep on punishing them: even take away their right to vote after they've served their sentence. Remind them of their criminal past: don't help them get a job, don't give them a chance of any kind. And finally, make sure you blame them when they go back to prison, even though you did absolutely nothing to change the way that story unfolded.
Don't misunderstand me. There are some criminals who do deserve harsh punishment, and who probably won't ever become productive members of society. Even when I was a guard, I met inmates who were manipulative and untrustworthy. (But truthfully, I met other guards who fit the same description.) Anyway, even today, I continue to believe that juvenile offenders (especially first offenders) do not benefit from harsh and inhumane treatment. It doesn't teach them a lesson, unless the lesson is to hate society even more. I am not saying we should "coddle" them, but there has to be a middle ground between coddling and brutalizing. For example, I am troubled that prisons are allowed to operate with little oversight-- reporters can't see what is going on, and often, even family members, lawyers, and advocates are denied access. As a result, when a young offender is assaulted (whether by other prisoners or by sadistic guards), it rarely if ever makes the news; when a prisoner awaiting trial is denied needed medical assistance, that too rarely makes the news. And as more prisons outsource medical care to private organizations, there is even an incentive to deny proper care-- it saves money, and besides, they're just prisoners and they can't expect good treatment.
There are a few organizations that advocate for prison reform-- one newer advocacy group that I like is the Marshall Project (https://www.themarshallproject.org/). But the voices of reform are usually drowned out by the voices demanding that prisons continue to treat all inmates the same, the voices that insist that only punishment works and that the worst thing is to be "soft on crime." This attitude seems short-sighted and frankly, it seems unwise. As I said earlier, one day, many of these inmates will get out. If we give them no opportunity to change for the better, we shouldn't be surprised if they never do.
One of the prisoners, and I still remember her, was built very much like a guy. In fact, she wanted to be treated like a stereotypical male, and she prided herself on being "tough." Today, perhaps she might have an opportunity to have female-to-male gender reassignment and maybe she would have finally gained acceptance as a man; but back then, such options were few, especially for anyone in prison. She really disliked the rule about lipstick and dresses, but the choice was not hers to make. (To be honest, although I admit to not being an expert in criminology, I empathized with her: I was considered a "normal" female, yet I too objected to the wearing dresses and using lipstick rule. It just didn't seem to me that such rules addressed why women ended up breaking the law.)
The women I encountered at the prison were not saints, of course. Several were doing time for armed robbery or manslaughter; some had been found guilty of child abuse. Many, if not most, had been addicted to drugs or alcohol and that was one key reason they committed crimes. An equal number were involved with a guy who was also addicted, or who had a criminal background. The prison had some classes, but nothing that would lead to a career or a good-paying job on the outside. And yet, compared to some prisons, this one was relatively enlightened, with inmates living in "cottages" rather than cells, unless they broke the rules. Then, their punishment was to be sent to "the hole," better known as solitary confinement. Some prisoners were sent there often; others knew how to avoid it.
I wasn't cut out to be a guard, I must confess. I found myself wanting to help the prisoners. No, not by giving them hacksaws or smuggling in contraband. I wanted to counsel them-- there weren't a lot of counselors or psychologists there, as I recall. And I absolutely wanted to advise them, so that perhaps they wouldn't make the same mistakes in the future. Sometimes, I sang folk songs with them (for obvious reasons, Bob Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" was a big favorite). Ultimately, the warden and I mutually agreed that I'd be better off working somewhere else. She was right-- my heart was always in radio. And yet, I never forgot the prisons. While I was in Cleveland at WMMS-FM, I became the local chair of the ACLU's Prisoners Rights Project, and I worked to help set up at least one prison radio station, in Mansfield OH. I also visited prisoners who heard me on the air and wrote to me.
Some people thought that was a strange thing to do-- I mean, the common wisdom was (and for some people, still is) that prisoners cannot change; once a criminal, always a criminal. Back then, first offenders were regularly incarcerated with hardened criminals. There was little if any counseling available, few classes they could take-- yes, I understand that some prisoners would not have been willing to go to counseling, nor would they have taken any classes, but it always seemed counter-productive to just give up on them, especially the younger ones. That prison radio station was really popular; prison newspapers are too, even though such publications are frequently censored. But giving the inmates a change to be creative in a positive way, whether through classes or job skills courses, or prison media, always seemed sensible. After all, those first offenders were usually going to be paroled; and with no new skills, and a society that rarely gave them any opportunities, of course they ended up back in jail again. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Today, we are still in a "tough on crime" era. For many, especially politicians running for office, the prisons make an easy target. Many politicians deny that rehabilitation is necessary, since "everyone" knows criminals will never change. The best strategy, they say, is to lock them up and throw away the key; make sure the conditions are especially harsh, since that's what they all deserve. And if they do get out, keep on punishing them: even take away their right to vote after they've served their sentence. Remind them of their criminal past: don't help them get a job, don't give them a chance of any kind. And finally, make sure you blame them when they go back to prison, even though you did absolutely nothing to change the way that story unfolded.
Don't misunderstand me. There are some criminals who do deserve harsh punishment, and who probably won't ever become productive members of society. Even when I was a guard, I met inmates who were manipulative and untrustworthy. (But truthfully, I met other guards who fit the same description.) Anyway, even today, I continue to believe that juvenile offenders (especially first offenders) do not benefit from harsh and inhumane treatment. It doesn't teach them a lesson, unless the lesson is to hate society even more. I am not saying we should "coddle" them, but there has to be a middle ground between coddling and brutalizing. For example, I am troubled that prisons are allowed to operate with little oversight-- reporters can't see what is going on, and often, even family members, lawyers, and advocates are denied access. As a result, when a young offender is assaulted (whether by other prisoners or by sadistic guards), it rarely if ever makes the news; when a prisoner awaiting trial is denied needed medical assistance, that too rarely makes the news. And as more prisons outsource medical care to private organizations, there is even an incentive to deny proper care-- it saves money, and besides, they're just prisoners and they can't expect good treatment.
There are a few organizations that advocate for prison reform-- one newer advocacy group that I like is the Marshall Project (https://www.themarshallproject.org/). But the voices of reform are usually drowned out by the voices demanding that prisons continue to treat all inmates the same, the voices that insist that only punishment works and that the worst thing is to be "soft on crime." This attitude seems short-sighted and frankly, it seems unwise. As I said earlier, one day, many of these inmates will get out. If we give them no opportunity to change for the better, we shouldn't be surprised if they never do.
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