Article

Theoretical Criminology
17(4) 535­–556
Neoliberal prisons and © The Author(s) 2013
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DOI: 10.1177/1362480613497780
Calibrating the subjectivity tcr.sagepub.com

of incarcerated young men

to economic inequalities

Ronald Kramer
University of Auckland, New Zealand

Valli Rajah
John Jay College, CUNY, USA

Hung-En Sung
John Jay College, CUNY, USA

Abstract
Based on fieldwork conducted in a cognitive-treatment setting for young men in jail,
this article argues that contemporary rehabilitation efforts not only manifest theories
of disciplinary and risk society, but also embody ideologies of the self and economic
relations that are consistent with neoliberal capitalism. Drawing from Marxist theories of
penality, we show that correctional officers seek to reconfigure the subjectivity of young
incarcerated men in ways that adjust them to economic inequalities. For instance, they
frequently portray labor markets as accessible and readily offering stable employment
opportunities. When correctional officers acknowledge structural limitations and racial
inequality, they are likely to dismiss such concerns by insisting upon the power of
individual choice to overcome social barriers. We consider why correctional officers
embrace neoliberal ideologies and note some implications for future research.

Keywords
Cognitive treatment, discipline, imprisonment, juvenile reform, Marxism, rehabilitation,
risk management

Corresponding author:
Ronald Kramer, Department of Sociology, University of Auckland, Level 9, Human Sciences Building,
Auckland, 1010, New Zealand.
Email: r.kramer@auckland.ac.nz
536 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

Introduction
Drawing from fieldwork, this article analyzes a cognitive-behavioral treatment program
for young men incarcerated in a jail located in the north-eastern region of the United
States. Specially trained correctional officers administer the cognitive treatment program
under scrutiny. We examine the discourses of these correctional officers in the context of
broader theories concerning contemporary punishment and reform. Consistent with
political economies of penality, we find that correctional officers embrace neoliberal
ideologies and communicate these to prisoners as a strategy to help them desist from
criminal activity. In our view, this represents one of the ways in which neoliberal ideol-
ogy comes to permeate a major institutional site within the criminal justice system. We
also reflect on why correctional officers, as frontline workers, might exercise their dis-
cretionary power in this manner.
Criminologists interested in corrections have developed competing interpretations of
cognitive-treatment programs administered within jails and prisons. Such programs usu-
ally attempt to prevent recidivism by correcting ‘cognitive distortions’ (Barriga et al.,
2000; Gibbs et al., 1995; Maruna and Copes, 2005; Sharp, 2000; Slaby and Guerra,
1988). Typically understood as errors in thinking, cognitive distortions may take the
form of rationalizing crime, denying that anyone is victimized by illegal acts or, inter
alia, contextualizing criminal behavior. While much of the research in this area is con-
cerned with identifying which aspects of cognitive-treatment correlate with reductions in
recidivism (Andrews, 1989; Andrews and Bonta, 1998; Kendall, 2002; Maruna and
Mann, 2006; Robinson, 2001; Robinson et al., 1998), some have sought to analyze
reform programs through critical theories of punishment and power.
The work of Foucault has been central to such a project. Much of Foucault’s work
explored modern economies of power by dissociating them from economic relations, a
theoretical postulate common to Marxist traditions of thought. This led Foucault (1977,
1978, 1997) to speak of disciplinary power, which targets individuals and seeks to render
their bodies docile, and biopower, which regulates social groups, or populations. These
modalities of power were understood not as things that could be possessed, but as tactics
and strategies that operated in concrete social interactions, institutions and practices. As
relatively autonomous strategies, tactics of power are capable of being utilized for differ-
ing purposes by various social groups. To be sure, Foucault often acknowledges that the
bourgeoisie frequently exploit new techniques within changing economies of power,
even if they do not invent them for the sake of dominating the labor force.
In the context of prison reform, Fox (1999a, 1999b) has drawn from the notions of
discipline and governmentality (Foucault, 1983, 1991; Rose, 1988) to argue that cogni-
tive-treatment programs are grounded in psychological discourses of the self. Such dis-
courses construe ‘normal’ individuals as responsible and law-abiding; any departure
from this standard is then regarded as an indication of personal deficiency that demon-
strates how those criminalized are different than the rest of us. This binary construction
allows governmental power, in the form of rehabilitation programs, to focus on recon-
structing individuals through technologies of the self that, although appearing to be free
of coercion, are repressive in their workings (Fox, 1999a: 92, 101; see also Crewe, 2011).
Theories of risk management and actuarial assessment represent another major par-
adigm of contemporary thought that has been brought to bear on problems of punishment
Kramer et al. 537

and reform (Ericson and Haggerty, 2002; O’Malley, 1998, 2000; Pratt, 1995; Rose, 2002).
In what is often regarded as a seminal piece of scholarship, Feeley and Simon (1992)
argue that contemporary punishment has increasingly focused on managing and incapaci-
tating social groups perceived to embody risks to society. Feeley and Simon’s ‘new peno-
logical’ theory initially intimated that the imperative to incapacitate offenders discredits
reform efforts, thereby rendering them redundant (see also Garland, 2001). Subsequent
work in this area, however, acknowledges that risk strategies continue to target individual
offenders within a broader context of actuarial assessment (Simon, 2005).
Similarly, others argue that reformist ideals, while certainly coming under attack in an
age of risk management, have become entwined with the logic of risk (Hannah-Moffat,
2005; Hudson, 1987; Kemshall, 1998; Lynch, 1998; McGuire and Priestley, 1995;
O’Malley, 1999; Raynor, 1996; Rose, 2002). In this perspective, cognitive-treatment
programs assess both the risks of recidivism and the needs of offenders, and make tar-
geted interventions on this basis. Risk factors typically include previous charges and
offending history, whereas needs focus on areas of an individual’s life that, if changed,
could reduce the likelihood of offending (e.g. education, marital status, employment). In
Hannah-Moffat’s (2005: 37) account, although risk/needs models are currently based on
‘middle class normative assumptions that are highly gendered and racialized’, they are
theoretically capable of supporting a range of penal interventions.
While the frameworks of discipline and risk are instrumental to theorizing cognitive-
treatment programs, we think Marxist theories of punishment can develop our under-
standing further. According to Rusche and Kirchheimer (1939/1968), economic relations
play a central role in making sense of penal regimes. They argue that the prison’s main
function is to deter the surplus population, a social group that is essential to facilitating
capitalist exploitation of the working class, from engaging in crime. This is possible
provided that prison conditions are always worse than the basic living standards of the
lowest free working classes. Alternatively, it could be said that prison conditions and
policy will follow trends in the labor market. If the economy needs workers, prison will
be used less frequently and prison conditions will improve. However, in times of large
surplus populations, prison numbers will increase and conditions ‘inside’ will worsen
(Rusche and Kirchheimer, 1939/1968).
Numerous scholars have attempted to show the continuing relevance of Rusche and
Kirchheimer’s work. In seeking to explain the persistent use of prison into the 20th cen-
tury, Melossi and Pavarini (1981) suggest that it functions to discipline an industrialized
labor force, thereby instilling obedience. If Melossi and Pavarini perhaps wed Marxist
thought to Foucaultian notions of discipline, De Giorgi (2007) combines the political
economy of prisons with insights from Feeley and Simon’s ‘new penology’. In De
Giorgi’s account, the distinction between employed and unemployed no longer makes
sense in a post-Fordist era marked by high unemployment, but also by part-time, flexi-
ble, and casual labor. Insofar as industrialized labor no longer exists, it cannot operate as
the inflexible standard that normalizes bodies, thus rendering disciplinary technologies
moot. Instead, we now have an amorphous ‘surplus population’ that a post-Fordist econ-
omy tends to perceive as threatening rather than as a resource. In this context, the
criminal justice system turns towards mass confinement as a risk management strategy
(De Giorgi, 2007).
538 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

Although distancing himself from notions of the prison-industrial complex, Wacquant

(2009a, 2009b) has also developed Ruschean themes to theorize the contemporary use of
imprisonment in the United States. He demonstrates that deindustrialization generates
growing inequality, higher rates of sub-employment, and increases in the volume of
those placed under carceral supervision. Also consistent with Rusche and Kirchheimer,
Wacquant shows how prison conditions have worsened in an era of growing inequality.
This is evident insofar as prisoners perform very little work and very few have access to
educational opportunities. Most prisoners—and this is a point verified by our own obser-
vations—sit around with nothing to do all day, lending support to the notion that prisons
essentially warehouse the poor.
The emphasis that Marxists place on economic contradictions does not deny the
important role played by racial inequality in the current penal context. Political econo-
mists acknowledge that neoliberal capitalism is a highly racialized order: due to dis-
crimination, marginalized social groups are overwhelmingly funneled into the lower
echelons of labor markets and therefore most adversely affected by economic down-
turns and job displacement (Wacquant and Wilson, 1989; Wilson, 1987, 1996). It is
this same population that is then most likely to be contained by the institutions of the
US criminal justice system (Bennett, 2013; Donziger, 1996; Mauer, 1998; Miller,
1996; Parenti, 1999; Shelden, 2001; Western, 2006).
In what follows, we draw from unobtrusive observations of a cognitive-treatment
program in a youth jail to make two inter-related arguments. First, we argue that the
program observed is suffused by the fundamental tenets of neoliberal ideology.
Correctional officers consistently encouraged prisoners to believe in the power of free-
will to overcome social contradictions. They also claimed that work was always avail-
able and that jobs in the informal economy were reliable stepping-stones to better
opportunities. In those moments when the racialized nature of neoliberal capitalism was
acknowledged by correctional officers, which tended to result from prisoners generating
alternative accounts of their behavior, such social contradictions were exonerated by
claiming that making the ‘right’ personal choices allows individuals to overcome struc-
tural inequalities. This is the type of institutional discourse that one might expect to find
according to Marxist oriented theories of penality.
Second, we offer some brief, tentative reflections on the correctional officers who
administer the observed reform program. Here we argue that correctional officers are not
only exploited workers and paraprofessionals (Crawley, 2004; Liebling, 2000; McElligott,
2007), but that they are also the transmission points of broader ideologies that conceal
fundamental inequalities. It is not the case, however, that correctional officers suffer
from false consciousness. Rather, their privileged position relative to the prisoners they
monitor, in addition to needing to incorporate the counter-narratives of prisoners, pro-
vides a material foundation for their espousal of neoliberal rhetoric.

Observing and analyzing the discourse of correctional

officers
Our data come from a research project that sought to evaluate the ‘Inner Reconstruction
Project’ (IRP). Supposedly modeled on the ‘Menza’ curriculum, the ‘Inner Reconstruction
Kramer et al. 539

Project’ is a cognitive behavioral treatment program available to adolescent prisoners

jailed at the ‘John Doe Youth Center’ (JDYC). The JDYC is one of 10 facilities that
comprise a jail complex within a major urban area of the United States. The JDYC
houses approximately 800 adolescent prisoners. The IRP accommodates approximately
316 male adolescents. While we gathered a variety of data from prisoners and correc-
tional officers, in what follows we draw from fieldwork that was conducted inside the
jail. (Inner Reconstruct Project, John Doe Youth Center, and Menza curriculum are all
pseudonyms to preserve anonymity.)
Separated from the ‘general population’, IRP housing areas have a dorm-like struc-
ture and common spaces to encourage positive social interaction. At the time of con-
ducting our research, there were six separate dorms, each holding anywhere from 30 to
50 prisoners. The cornerstone of the IRP is group sessions that those in the program
participate in twice on each weekday. As the JDYC is a jail holding adolescents await-
ing trial outcomes, the length of time spent in the program varies across participants:
some may be there for a few weeks; others were there long enough to see the curriculum
repeated.
As noted, the IRP is theoretically based on the ‘Menza’ curriculum, which is designed
to help adolescents overcome addiction to drugs and alcohol. This curriculum, which is
embodied in a series of books, is utilized by the IRP on the assumption that underlying
drug problems foster much criminal activity. Moreover, the IRP extends the logic of the
Menza curriculum by assuming that crime is a form of addiction, and thus comparable to
drug and alcohol problems.
Specially trained captains and correctional officers implement the IRP. One-third (or
98 out of 295) of the correctional officers working with adolescent prisoners at this facil-
ity have received training in conflict resolution, anger management, group dynamics,
and gang intervention. This specially trained staff is also responsible for screening and
admitting adolescents from other sections of the jail in to the program. The screening
procedures require that prisoners write an essay outlining why they would like to partici-
pate in the IRP. Once this has been done, the captain and/or a correctional officer will
interview the prisoner. Depending on the prisoner’s essay and responses, the staff will
either admit him to the program or refuse entry.
The jail provided us with administrative data, which enabled us to draw comparisons
between IRP participants and other young offenders incarcerated at the jail. Similarities
and differences were detected between IRP participants and the 4443 juvenile/youthful
male detainees (admitted to the entire jail facility between 1 January 2009 and 31
December 2010) who never participated in the IRP program. As shown in Table 1, IRP
participants and non-IRP prisoners averaged about the same age and shared a similar
distribution of the top charges. However, compared to the others, IRP participants aver-
aged a higher number of prior incarcerations and were more likely to have been charged
with a felony offense.
The core of our fieldwork consisted of non-participant observations of IRP sessions.
We spent approximately 80 hours in the field and observed 30 sessions. Observations
were conducted on weekday evenings (4–8pm) throughout the summer months of 2010.
On most visits to the adolescent jail, two sessions were observed, each lasting about one
hour. During the additional time we were able to informally interview the correctional
540 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

Table 1.  Background comparison between the 250 IRP participants in the study sample and
the 4443 juvenile/youthful male detainees admitted to the jail between 1 January 2009 and 31
December 2010 who never participated in the IRP.

Characteristics IRP sample Non-IRP population

(N=250) (N=4443)

  N (%) / M (SD) N (%) / M (SD)

Age 17.9 (1.3) 17.7 (0.8)
Number of prior incarcerations 0.8 (1.1)* 0.5 (1.0)*
Top charge
 Murder 25 (10.0%) 183 (4.1%)
 Robbery 91 (36.4%) 1617 (36.4%)
 Assault 27 (10.8%) 648 (14.6%)
  Theft or larceny 18 (7.2%) 353 (7.9%)
  Drug offenses 12 (4.8%) 348 (7.8%)
 Other 77 (30.8%) 1294 (29.1%)
Class of current top charge
  Class A Felony 17 (6.8%)* 144 (3.2%)*
  Class B Felony 86 (34.4%)* 1111 (25.0%)*
  Class C Felony 83 (33.2%)* 1293 (29.1%)*
  Class D Felony 21 (8.4%)* 606 (13.6%)*
  Class E Felony 20 (8.0%)* 226 (5.1%)*
  Class A Misdemeanor 7 (2.8%)* 813 (18.3%)*
  Class B Misdemeanor 5 (2.0%)* 81 (1.8%)*
 Violations 5 (2.0%)* 169 (3.8%)*
Note: *p < .05; **p < .01; ***p < .001

officers and the captain who oversaw the program. We were also able to informally talk
with prisoners or observe them. On some occasions, we spent time in other sections of
the jail observing prisoners and talking with correctional officers who were not involved
in the IRP program.
We were permitted to use a pad and pencil to take notes during observations. We
focused primarily on the conversational aspects of sessions and attempted to create an
accurate transcript of what was said. However, we also paid attention to how sessions
were physically organized (e.g. seating arrangements) and the techniques that correc-
tional officers used in facilitating sessions. Our role in the field was minimal as we did
not interact with correctional officers or prisoners as they went through scheduled treat-
ment meetings (Adler and Adler, 1987).
Each observational period yielded eight to 10 pages of typed notes, which were bound
to create a book consisting of 130 pages. We sought to code these data by identifying
common patterns and recurrent themes (Patton, 1990). In an effort to ensure reliability,
two of the researchers analyzed the data and created code lists separately. These lists
were then compared whereupon it was found that both coders identified similar catego-
ries to summarize the discourse of correctional officers (Guba, 1981). Both researchers,
for example, were struck by how often correctional officers focused on ‘individual
Kramer et al. 541

responsibility’, the notion that work is available, and the tendency to downplay the
importance of social contradictions.
In identifying major themes within our data we sought to go beyond its immediate
content and the implications it might have for how to better implement cognitive-
treatment programs. Instead, we tried to consider how our data were relevant to the
macro social contexts in which punishment and reform transpires. While much of the
critical literature on penality draws connections between broader social forces (e.g.
greater inequality) and measurable ‘social facts’ (growing prison numbers), less atten-
tion has been given to the institutional dynamics that would seem to mediate such
relationships. Utilizing techniques associated with grounded theory (Babbie, 1995;
Glaser and Strauss, 1967), we therefore strived to identify patterns within the institu-
tional practices, discourses, and the behavior of individuals recorded during our obser-
vations, and explore how, if at all, these resonate with broader social ideologies and
material conditions.
It is important to note that we develop our theoretical interpretation of correctional
officer discourse by working from the field notes we generated. In Goodman’s (2008)
analysis of how the ‘race’ of prisoners is negotiated and constructed in prison reception
centers, institutional paperwork and forms were central insofar as they heavily structured
interactions between the incoming prisoners and correctional staff. In our case, there are
some large gaps between the Menza curriculum and what correctional officers do on the
ground (we explore this issue in greater detail elsewhere, but it is worth noting that the
most salient difference is that the formalized program does not emphasize personal
responsibility as much as the correctional officers do). While some correctional officers
in our study did utilize the curriculum on some occasions, many had veered away from
it, often claiming that it did not cater to the specific needs of the prisoners in the IRP.
Given the loose adoption of formal guidelines, the captain and correctional officers
effectively developed their own program, which was related to, but also somewhat free
from, the Menza curriculum.
There are, of course, some limitations associated with our data. Overall, our presence
undoubtedly changed the content and dynamics of group sessions. Another factor to
consider is that a Caucasian male and a South Asian female conducted the observations.
IRP participants were all male and predominantly African American and Latino.
Correctional officers were male and female African Americans. While there is no easy
way to understand exactly what influence we had, several factors worked to reduce the
likelihood that individuals in the setting would be reluctant to share their views in our
presence. We were, for example, consistently transparent about our research purposes.
Spending a considerable amount of time in the field also allowed us to develop rapport
with many correctional officers and prisoners. After a few visits to the youth facility,
conversations between the correctional officers and researchers were relaxed; many pris-
oners would greet us and acknowledge our presence by waving or nodding their heads.
On several occasions, we were able to talk to individual prisoners informally. During
these moments, the latter would often share their life story and how they ended up at the
John Doe Youth Center. Given this development of rapport, we think it unlikely that the
behavior of correctional officers and prisoners was substantively altered by our presence
although we cannot be sure of this.
542 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

A second limitation concerns the number of correctional officers observed. Although

98 correctional officers have received IRP training, they are not always assigned to work
in IRP sections of the jail. Further, some officers initially wanted to work in the IRP but
then developed a preference for regular cellblocks. The correctional officers with whom
we spoke were not necessarily forthcoming with suggesting possible reasons for such
decisions, often accounting for the choices of others by saying ‘the IRP was probably too
demanding for them’.
On any given day there are approximately 25 to 30 correctional officers working in
IRP dorms. The shifts are split into eight-hour periods, with a morning, evening, and
overnight shift. IRP sessions occur during mornings and evenings. As we observed dur-
ing the evenings, we were unable to consider whether correctional officers performed
differently depending on the time of day. However, it frequently happened that correc-
tional officers who usually worked in the morning changed to an evening shift, which did
allow us to see how they conducted IRP sessions.
With each session run by two to four officers (and sometimes the captain), we ulti-
mately observed 18 correctional officers and the captain who directed the program with
great frequency. Although this number may not appear very large, it was clear from our
data that the officers observed were relatively consistent in the messages they communi-
cated to prisoners during IRP sessions. It is also worth emphasizing that the correctional
officers dominate the therapy sessions and do most of the talking. This makes sense
given that their task is to essentially ‘re-socialize’ the prisoner and because prisoners are
in something of a vulnerable position, inducing their silence. Such dynamics indicate
that much of our fieldwork recorded the discourse of correctional officers.
Ideally, we would have liked to spend more time in the field and it would have been
beneficial to observe the training sessions of correctional officers. However, the context
in which the study was conducted meant that there were institutional barriers that pre-
vented these kinds of observations. The IRP was well underway before we were asked to
evaluate its effectiveness, which meant that training sessions occurred prior to our
research. Finally, institutionally imposed limitations meant that our time in the field was
limited and that formal interviews with the correctional officers were not possible.
In the data presented below, we have given correctional officers and prisoners pseud-
onyms. Unique names are used to indicate that a distinct individual is speaking. To dif-
ferentiate correctional officers from prisoners, ‘CO’ or ‘PR’ precedes each pseudonym.
We also distinguish between male and female officers by using ‘CO(m)’ and ‘CO(f)’ for
males and females, respectively.

The power of individual choice: bridging discipline, risk,

and political economy
In many respects, our observations lend further empirical support to those who have
argued that cognitive treatment programs are premised upon notions derived from ‘risk/
needs’ discourses and essentially attempt to normalize individuals. Such approaches con-
strue an emphasis on rational decision-making skills and personal responsibility as indi-
cations that a program is a product of risk thinking (Hannah-Moffat, 2005).
Kramer et al. 543

The correctional officers we observed repeatedly emphasized the supposed power of

individual choice during their sessions with young prisoners. The ability to exercise a
certain kind of rationality was understood as having tremendous sway over life out-
comes. Correctional officers routinely suggested that individuals were capable of mak-
ing choices from which personal benefits would follow. The proceeding field notes are
indicative:

CO(m) Wess: If your fellow gang member calls and says ‘strap up’, how many would do it?
But did he tell you that you might kill a little kid? Then you got 20 years.
That’s hindsight. But this is foresight: when your gang member comes and
bangs on the door, you stop and think, that innocent kid might get shot. There
was a period where you made a decision. Once you picked up that gun, you
changed your future
PR Ralph: But it’s a different story outside
CO(m) Wess: OK, it might be a different story outside, but you can see the consequences of
negative action and avoid them
(6 July)
CO(f) Gem: You had a choice between hustling and working. What made you choose hus-
tling? The community showed you two ways to make a living. Whose mom
worked? Whose neighbors worked? So not everyone hustles. You made a
choice
(29 July)

In these exchanges, individuals can exercise foresight, or rational decision making. It is

in such moments of making choices that one determines their future (‘once you picked
up that gun’). It is noteworthy that in the first dialogue the prisoner tries to contextualize
his action, but the correctional officer quickly dismisses his account. In the second dia-
logue, there are available models of behavior that indicate what types of choices are
correct. For the correctional officers, choosing legitimate employment is always the
choice that one should make.
While these statements may not be surprising to analysts of cognitive treatment pro-
grams, the way in which officers extended the theme of individual choice was quite
remarkable in other instances. Consider the following exchange:

CO(m) Wess and CO(f) Brown tell a story that involves two prisoners. ‘Mark’ is told by a CO
to clean the bathrooms. He finds some shampoo and tries to return it to the owner, but cannot
find him. The CO tells Mark to put the shampoo by his bed until he can return it. ‘John’, who
owns the shampoo, sees it by Mark’s bed and, thinking that he stole it, punches him in the face.
The COs then ask ‘who thinks John is right?’
PR Mike: He [Mark] shouldn’t have touched the shampoo
CO(m) Wess: The CO told him to clean the bathroom. Look, I understand you’re
tight, but you punched a man in the face who was trying to help you
PR Alan: At the end of the day, it’s jail. You have to be like that
CO(f) Brown (yelling): But what else could you have done? You just hit a dude
PR Stan: What’s the other option?
544 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

CO(f) Brown: You can make choices. Don’t put yourself in situations that expose
you to danger

(16 August)

This excerpt indicates the dogmatic way in which rational-choice is embraced by correc-
tional officers in the IRP. While the prisoners emphasize the social relations that charac-
terize jail life, the correctional officers ignore their sense of reality. What is most interesting
is that the fable told owes its rhetorical effect to Mark’s lack of choice. He must clean the
bathrooms and he must remove the shampoo; then he gets punched in the face. It is not
clear what CO Brown’s ‘don’t put yourself in situations that expose you to danger’ would
mean here. The idea of decontextualized choices is exalted by implicitly being denied.
Correctional officers also portrayed individuals as capable of determining peer
groups, familial relations, and the very nature of civilization through their choices. CO(f)
Jay, for example, told prisoners: ‘sometimes it is even loved ones that want to bring you
down, family even. You have to change that’ (19 August). Another male CO, Luther,
made several references to ‘positive energy’ and how this could be exuded to tame wild
individuals: ‘I try to dictate my environment because environment has influence. We all
have energy that can be transferred. That’s why respect is important. It sends positive
energy, especially when in the presence of savages’ (10 August).
Finally, individual choice was construed as capable of governing the effects of social-
ization processes:

CO(m) Wess: Whatever comes into your ears shapes you. If I gave you alcohol as a baby,
would anyone be surprised if you grew up to be an alcoholic? It’s the same
with music. People who listen to metal are more suicidal. What you let in to
your environment influences you directly. It’s like bad food leads to bad body
performance; good food to good performance
(23 August)

The metaphor to babies being given alcohol is particularly illustrative of the logic in play.
Arguably, the most obvious aspect of the metaphor is that very few people would recognize
babies as possessing the capacity to determine how alcohol should affect them. Moreover,
the metaphor conveys a social relationship in which there is an evident power imbalance
between an agentless baby and alcohol-supplying adult. We would argue that this dimen-
sion of the metaphor is why it has been uttered: the culture industry is a powerful influence
over human subjectivity and desires (Adorno and Horkheimer, 2002; Macdonald, 1957).
And yet, despite the acknowledgement of power imbalances, young people are expected to
master such forces, thereby determining exactly how their consciousness will be affected.

Adjusting the individual to neoliberal realities

During our fieldwork we also heard many discussions that suggest a need to recognize
how neoliberal ideology infiltrates the cognitive treatment setting as much as discourses
of risk-avoidance and self-discipline do. (To be sure, one could also treat the ideas of
personal responsibility and ‘freewill’ as fundamental doctrines of laissez-faire capitalism.)
Kramer et al. 545

Aside from notions of individual will, we understand neoliberal ideology to consist of a

series of interrelated propositions concerning the relationship between society, the econ-
omy and the individual: jobs are always available for those willing to work; individuals
have a duty to take whatever work is available (even if it is insecure and does not provide
a living wage); any job is desirable because it will generate better opportunities; punitive
sanctions are appropriate for those who refuse work. These propositions and others like
them are not necessarily articulated in such straightforward ways, but they often under-
gird much ‘conservative’ discourse (e.g. Mead, 1986, 1992).
The program we observed manifests central neoliberal doctrines in various ways.
Correctional officers frequently suggested that work is readily available and that any job
should be perceived as desirable. In addition, correctional officers were often compelled
to acknowledge the harsh realities of neoliberal economic structures, especially when
prisoners resisted their framing of the broader socio-economic environment. However,
even during these moments, the social problems that accompany neoliberal governance
were downplayed, and structural inequalities exonerated by emphasizing the power of
choice to overcome institutional barriers.
Sociologists have shown that deindustrialization adversely affects the availability of
work (Wilson, 1987, 1996). Official figures concerning unemployment, however, often
obscure the realities of deindustrialized labor markets by relying on restrictive defini-
tions of employed/unemployed and by aggregating data. When one considers the preva-
lence of part-time work, underemployment, and casual labor, a very different picture of
economic relations emerges. These forms of sub-employment are known for their inabil-
ity to supply workers with career opportunities and fundamental benefits, such as health-
care and retirement savings. Moreover, deindustrialization favors the expansion of
sub-employment at the expense of jobs that provide living wages.
Considered this way, scholars have found that in deindustrial economies between one-
third and two-thirds of those employed may be consigned to sections of the labor market
that do not pay living wages, fail to offer career opportunities, and do not provide bene-
fits (Braverman, 1974; Wacquant, 2009a). When data on unemployment are disaggre-
gated to identify trends among young black men in inner cities, a population that
overwhelmingly fills the jail setting we observed, it has been found that unemployment
rates can be as high as 48 per cent (US Department of Labor, 2012; Western, 2006). This
is often attributed to racial discrimination within educational settings, labor markets, and
the tendency of mobile capital to begin economic restructuring by outsourcing unskilled
labor, an area of work to which marginal social groups were often consigned in industrial
society (Bourgois, 1995; Freeman, 1996; Pettit and Western, 2004).
Despite these sociological findings, correctional officers repeatedly insisted that
‘work is always available’. Consider the following extracts from our field notes:

CO(m) Wess: Gangs are short-cuts, and you lose big with short-cuts. I go with ‘sure money’,
even though it is harder. You can have cars, houses. With hard work you always
reach the finish line. At first, the criminals in my neighborhood looked better off,
but now they’re in jail. I took the hard road, but I’m a homeowner at 27. Work hard
when you’re young and you can relax later. But you have to invest in something
… a trade, painting …
(6 July 2010)
546 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

CO(f) Green: People with MA degrees are struggling. So, you’re gonna struggle. But when
you succeed it’s gonna feel good. You can look back and say ‘I put that work
in and now I’m here’
(24 August)
CO(m) Jack: I only have a high school degree, but I’m living good now. Just because you
got a felony it doesn’t mean you can’t get a job. The MTA [Metropolitan
Transport Authority] is giving jobs to felons. Sanitation too.
PR Skinny: But they only hire every three years
CO(m) Jack: They’ll be hiring soon. Sanitation people only work two hours out of eight.
You can’t beat that

(24 August)

These statements indicate that correctional officers continue to construe the US labor
market as one that offers meaningful work, security, and protection for workers. In the
first dialogue the only prerequisite to securing a satisfactory life is embracing the protes-
tant work ethic. As long as this is present, any type of employment will allow an indi-
vidual to acquire cars and property. For CO Green, the difficulties of acquiring
employment are acknowledged, but success in the labor market is also guaranteed pro-
vided one ‘puts in work’. For CO Jack, one does not necessarily need a college degree to
find a job that exchanges a satisfactory wage for minimal work effort; even a felony
record does not figure as a serious impediment to finding employment.
In some instances, correctional officers did acknowledge the growth of the informal
economy and of jobs that are deficient when measured against industrial labor. When this
occurred, however, they inevitably encouraged prisoners to perceive undesirable jobs as
better than any possible alternatives. In one session a correctional officer, Eli, created a
scenario is which a prisoner is on their way to a job interview. But then,
[A] long time friend comes along and encourages you to skip the interview to engage in a
criminal enterprise that will pay more than the job. Who can really say no? Who’s strong
enough? Be honest with yourself.

(22 July)

In this scenario, the criminal enterprise is posited as the rational choice for prisoners to
make: it will pay more than legal employment and it will guarantee income. Yet prisoners
are expected to develop the perception that substandard forms of employment are always
preferable and that opting for them is an indication of one’s strength.
Correctional officers also suggested that jobs in the secondary economy were desir-
able because they served as stepping-stones to better career opportunities:

PR Max to CO(m) Sparrow: So you packed grocery bags every day?

CO Sparrow: Yes. Sometimes I made no money. But I saved and persevered.
Max: Did girls know you packed bags?
Sparrow: I didn’t care. I had money. But what’s the point of the story? You
tell me.
Max: You always had money, but through hard work
Sparrow: And that dudes were laughing but I didn’t care. I wore that. I
never thought I would become a CO. I started as a kitchen hand. I
Kramer et al. 547

managed to buy my first Lexus from that job. I continued

networking and heard about the test for COs. I never considered
law enforcement a career option, but now I’m into the idea. I’m
glad I hopped on this wagon.

(29 July)

While the idea of climbing the occupational ladder sounds appealing, there is much
research to suggest that this is unlikely to happen for the vast majority of people trapped
in informal sectors of the labor market (Davis, 2006; MacLeod, 1995; Wacquant and
Wilson, 1989).
Another way to demonstrate how the cognitive-treatment program observed sought to
normalize individuals according to the requirements of neoliberalism is by focusing on
what happened when correctional officers recognized the harsh social inequalities gener-
ated by contemporary political economy. While various structural problems were
acknowledged, correctional officers exonerated them throughout the course of our field-
work. For example, they routinely conceded that the fundamental choice faced by pris-
oners was that between leading a ‘regular life’ or prison:
CO(f) Breen: Living spontaneously is not good. If you don’t want to change, start making friends
with the COs because you’re gonna be spending most of your life with them
(22 July)
PR Ravin: I go to sleep and dream about home. I wake up and think where the hell am I?
That ruins my whole day
CO(m) Mark: But reality is when you wake up. That goes back to choices. If you’re not making
the right choices then this [incarceration] will be your reality.

(3 August)

While the previous dialogues reveal that seeking and finding employment is a pri-
mary sign of leading a regular life, these quotes also mirror a point made by critical
scholars interested in the nature of punishment and prisons: if one cannot be absorbed
by the labor market, they are likely to find themselves warehoused in prison (Christie,
1993; Rusche and Kirchheimer, 1939/1968; Shelden and Brown, 2000; Western,
2006). Wacquant (2009a) makes the additional point that the use of prison has become
a structural feature of an economy that generates large surplus populations. Unlike
the critical scholarship, however, the correctional officers eradicate the significance
of broader socio-economic structures by emphasizing the supposed power of indi-
vidual choice. In these instances, choice can be exercised such that one eludes the
possibility of prison.
Not surprisingly, the problem of racial profiling was a frequent topic of discussion
during IRP sessions. Racial profiling refers to police officers interrogating individuals
on the basis of their ‘race’, often assuming that non-whites are more likely to be
involved in crime (Weitzer and Tuch, 2002). Although research frequently demon-
strates that race is an extremely poor predictor of criminal behavior (Harris, 1999,
2002), police statistics generated in the city in which this research was conducted
reveal the persistence of racial profiling. For each year since 2003, 80 to 90 per cent
548 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

of stop-and-frisk searches performed by police were of blacks and Latinos. Roughly

half of these searches were of young people (citation withheld to preserve
anonymity).
The prisoners in our study often alluded to these dynamics as a major cause of their
incarceration. Correctional officers frequently conceded that the young men were not
incorrect in their assessments:
PR Dex: They knock down shelters but hire more cops and build more prisons. It’s a
set up …
CO(f) Breen: The system is profiling you. Yes, it’s a set up. That’s exactly what’s going on.
So you gotta break that cycle
(19 July)
CO(m) Mark: The reason why I’m talking about respect is to help you. I don’t think sagging
pants is respectful. The police are looking out for certain people. If you want
equal treatment, you have to start with respect and that can start here
(3 August)
CO(m) Jack:  hite police know what to look for. They study. They know more than black
W
cops. The police aren’t stupid. Don’t show your money off

(16 August, emphasis added)

The resistance of young men often compelled the correctional officers to acknowl-
edge broader structural dynamics. As before, however, the officers eluded the impli-
cations of recognizing the importance of broader social forces. In correctional
officer discourse, racial profiling only beacame a problem due to the bad choices
made by individuals. In the third dialogue, white police officers, rather than being
racist, figured as serious students of crime that were smarter than black police;
young black men were assumed to be criminals who get caught because of reckless
consumer choices, not racial profiling. In this schema of things, social institutions
were granted every right to act in a racist manner and it became the responsibility
of the individual to adapt to this institutional racism to prevent becoming ensnared
in its machinations.
The over construction of prisons was another noteworthy topic of discussion.
Various scholars have explored the economic and political forces that led to the boom
in prison construction. One of the most important findings here has been that the
privatization of prison creates strong incentives to incarcerate more people (Chambliss,
1999; Christie, 1993; Shelden and Brown, 2000; Wacquant, 2009a). Correctional offi-
cers often acknowledged these broader dynamics, but never failed to identify indi-
vidual deficiencies as the primary source of large-scale prison construction:
CO(m) Bill: Why shouldn’t they build more prisons? Why can’t you change?
PR Mario: My cousin has been in and out of prison most of his life. But he lives in a bad
neighborhood and can’t avoid trouble
CO Bill: See how you’re blaming everyone and everything else but your cousin?

(19 July)
Kramer et al. 549

Alternatively, the over construction and use of prison was exonerated by claiming that
it is beneficial to the lives of prisoners:

PR Lou: There are no good mornings in jail

CO(m) Mark: You know why it is good? Because you woke up. Jail is just a step. Jail
makes you think: do you want to live in here or at home? It’s about choices.
When you go home will you think back to prison and will it affect what you
do?

(3 August)
CO(m) Luther: Everyone has heard of Fidel Castro. He was in prison. He said: ‘what an
amazing school prison is.’ Why was prison effective for him? This prison is
a giant think-tank. Greatness comes out of here—if you let it
(19 August)

In these instances the prison figures as an institution that fosters individual greatness,
another important stepping-stone. Such claims are ironic given that the IRP, and the jail
in general, offers little by way of educational or work-related programs that might equip
prisoners with skills that could help them readjust to social life after their release.

Correctional officers as transmitters of neoliberal

ideology
In his classic study, Lipsky (1980) used the term ‘street-level bureaucrats’ to designate an
identifiable social group. What street-level bureaucrats hold in common is that they perform
roles in a public service capacity and, as such, act as the interface between formal state poli-
cies and citizens. Also referred to as frontline workers, street-level bureaucrats include wel-
fare officers, educators, police officers, judges, and, among others, correctional officers.
Scholars have offered competing ways to conceptualize correctional officers.
McElligott (2007) suggests that with the increasing privatization of prisons the working
conditions of officers have progressively worsened. In this context, McElligott argues
that officers are best understood as exploited workers. Others have argued that correc-
tional officers who implement cognitive-treatment programs are ultimately para-profes-
sionals (Rose, 2002).
The correctional officers in our study do fit with these conceptions in many respects.
We would agree that those who work in the IRP, like other correctional officers, are
exploited workers. They are situated within dangerous environments, often work for 16
consecutive hours, and are likely to be underpaid given the skilled and emotional nature
of the job (Crawley, 2004; Liebling, 2011). It is also clear that they are para-profession-
als: while they have had specific training to work in the IRP they are not clinically
trained psychologists.
However, we would add that our correctional officers are also transmitters of neolib-
eral ideology. To be a little more specific, they impart to prisoners what we would refer
to as ‘hyper-neoliberalism’. This is interesting in light of two other important points
made by Lipsky (1980). First, he suggests that street-level bureaucrats are always able to
550 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

exercise discretion. Second, he shows that what street-level bureaucrats actually do

effectively constitutes policy. This implies that neoliberal ideology suffuses the prison
experience through the discourse of correctional officers, a finding that strengthens
Wacquant’s (2009a) recent theorization of the socio-economic dynamics behind mass
incarceration. Lipsky’s insights also raise the problem of why correctional officers so
willingly transmit neoliberal conceptions of the self and society. Why, for example, do
they not use their discretionary power to offer a critical discourse to prisoners (see also
Crewe, 2011; Liebling, 2000; Liebling and Price, 2001)?
Raising these questions does not contradict the notion that correctional officers are
exploited workers. Nor is it to suggest that they suffer from false consciousness. As sociolo-
gists considering the broader macro context, the ways in which correctional officers are
exploited is relatively transparent. Our point is that from their subjective standpoint, cor-
rectional officers are unlikely to perceive themselves as exploited. This is because there is a
material foundation and historical biography that, in all likelihood, shapes their sense of self.
The correctional officers we observed range from 25 to 45 years of age. They have all
completed high school and some have college degrees. As state employees, their starting
base salary is slightly below $50,000 and the job comes with reasonable benefits and
security. They are located within a bureaucratic structure that provides some opportuni-
ties for career advancement (there are approximately 10 ranks, with correctional officer
occupying the lowest level). For example, during informal conversations officers fre-
quently spoke about sitting for the test that would allow them to advance to captain (one
rank above correctional officer). The test, however, is quite difficult and several reported
not passing it several times. While it is unclear how many are unionized workers, there
are unions that represent their interests and these have been quite effective in labor-
related negotiations. It is very unlikely that the young people in jail, and therefore moni-
tored by these correctional officers, are in comparable material circumstances.
In terms of historical biography, correctional officers frequently suggested that they
come from neighborhoods quite similar to those of prisoners and had to work through
difficult circumstances. Consider the following exchanges:

CO(m) Luther: There’s a lot of pain in growth. Look, we’re all from the hood. I grew up
in the projects. If I pulled it off I know you can
(12 July)
PR Navin: I believe the problem begins with the household. When you’re parents
are strung out, or you don’t have food …
CO(f) Breen: You sound like you lived in my house. I took responsibility for myself at
12. I took myself to the doctor. I didn’t have a father. I went to public
school in […] No one told me I couldn’t get high …
(15 July)
CO(m) Bill: I had two older brothers that hustled. Because they had problems with
people I got a slammer [gun]. I got caught and got five years’ probation.
So I’m not taking stuff out of a book. I’ve gone through similar things to
what you guys are going through. The point is, don’t count yourself out

(16 August)
Kramer et al. 551

If we take the correctional officers at their word, there is some social proximity between
them and the prisoners. However, it is also clear that distance has developed over the
course of different life trajectories across the two groups. The correctional officers recount
these stories to show that they have emerged from difficult social conditions, and that
prisoners should be able to follow suit. Their examples serve as evidence that it is possible
to transcend the limitations of one’s structural context. In short, relative to the prisoners
they have led successful lives, and the prison industry has served as a pivotal part of this
personal biography. Such circumstances, presumably, fuel an espousal of neoliberal rheto-
ric. As CO(m) Sparrow says, ‘I’m glad I hopped on this wagon’ (29 July).
The embracing of neoliberalism is strengthened further when it collides with the
attempts of prisoners to articulate the social contradictions that adversely affect their life
chances. When prisoners ‘push-back’ is this manner an interactional dynamic emerges in
which correctional officers claim that whatever power imbalances exist at a broader
socio-structural level, individuals always retain the capacity to make choices that render
structural conditions irrelevant to life outcomes. The basis for this argument should be
clear from many of the quotes presented above. Fox (1999a) also noted the importance
of interactional dynamics. In her study, however, resistance from prisoners fuelled
Foucaultian processes of normalization. In our case, interactional dynamics lead to the
intensification of neoliberal ideology.

Conclusion
Beyond the literature that considers which aspects of cognitive-treatment reduce recidi-
vism, some scholars have analyzed cognitive-based reform efforts through the theoreti-
cal frameworks of discipline and risk. While much of our analysis overlaps with these
theoretical frames, we have sought to further our understanding of current models of
reform through Marxist theories of penality. Relying on unobtrusive observations, we
have found that the IRP represents a cognitive-treatment program that is suffused by the
dictates of neoliberal capitalism. That correctional officers took fundamental tenets of
neoliberal ideology for granted was reflected in many of their discursive attempts to
reconfigure the subjectivity of young men. They attempted to do this by insisting that the
labor market offered many employment opportunities and constituted a hierarchical
order premised upon upward mobility through hard work.
Whenever structural problems were acknowledged, such as the difficulties involved
in finding stable employment and racial discrimination within criminal justice, correc-
tional officers dismissed such concerns by claiming that social and economic inequali-
ties were only problematic because of poor individual choices or deficiencies. Rather
than critique social inequalities, then, correctional officers claimed that individuals
were responsible for making the kinds of choices that supposedly allowed them to
elude any negative consequences of living in a society consisting of profound power
imbalances.
In our view, it is problematic that neoliberal ideology and social relations have perme-
ated the contemporary meaning and practice of reform. Such a definition is severely
limited in that it excludes serious consideration of, and therefore attempts to address,
structural barriers to the reintegration of formerly incarcerated young men. This is a
552 Theoretical Criminology 17(4)

point that many critical analysts have made on the basis of different methods and modes
of analysis (Carlen, 2008; Fox, 1999a; Hannah-Moffat, 2005; Jones, Brookes and Shuker,
2013; Maruna and Mann, 2006), but it is also reinforced by our theoretical approach.
More importantly perhaps, our research may suggest that something new is happening
in the field of reform and incarceration within societies that have undergone extensive
processes of deindustrialization. To help make our point it is necessary to briefly return
to the work of De Giorgi. According to De Giorgi (2007), contemporary incarceration is
about controlling specific social groups that have come to constitute a surplus population
through risk management strategies. This turn toward managing and incapacitating an
aggregated ‘social waste’ is driven by the difficulty involved in disciplining individuals
within post-Fordist labor conditions, which have grown incredibly chaotic with the exo-
dus of industrial labor. Without an industrialized labor force, it is difficult to identify the
types of disciplinary control and norms that would be functional for the labor market.
This may well be true of prison in general, and perhaps especially true of adult prisons.
In our setting, however, it appears that an attempt is being made to discipline indi-
vidual bodies such that they do not interfere with, if not conform to, the post-Fordist
landscape of labor relations. As our data indicate, correctional officers encourage prison-
ers to adjust themselves to new power asymmetries and social inequalities. This brings
our work close to Fox’s use of Foucault, with the added caveat that the interests of neo-
liberal capitalism are exploiting disciplinary strategies.
This may well be specific to the institution we observed and the specific age group
under scrutiny. It may be the case that there is some hesitancy to ‘give up’ on young
people, or perhaps they constitute an experimental group of some sort. In any case, it
would be interesting for future research to explore whether disciplinary strategies are
meshing with the requirements of deindustrialized economies in other corrective settings
and why this may be transpiring. Further along these lines, future research could also
explore whether the disciplinary strategies in question are actually effective in regulating
behavior. Although observations allow us to ascertain how neoliberal ideology operates
in this jail setting, they do not allow us to trace and pursue its long-term consequences
for the individuals subjected to it and broader social relations.
Our reflections on why the correctional officers transmit neoliberal ideology, admit-
tedly, remain somewhat speculative. These reflections were necessarily limited by the
observational nature of our research. However, they also open up some specific avenues
for future research. In our study, it seems that correctional officers exercise some discre-
tion in implementing the IRP, especially insofar as they loosely adopt the Menza curricu-
lum at best. In breaking with the formal curriculum of the program, however, they have
not opted to communicate a critical message to the prisoners they oversee. In this con-
text, in-depth interviews with correctional officers and observations of the recruitment
and training process could help us understand how and why they have come to embrace
neoliberal ideologies. It may be the case, for example, that the broader institutional con-
text plays a profound role in facilitating their adoption and transmission of neoliberal
ideology. Further, it would also be fruitful to expand such a mixed methods approach to
other cognitive treatment settings to better understand the factors that shape, or perhaps
limit, the exercise of discretionary power.
Kramer et al. 553

Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the editors and anonymous reviewers of Theoretical Criminology.
Their support and valuable comments on earlier versions of this article were greatly appreciated
and led to many improvements in the manuscript. We would also like to thank Nancy Jacobs,
Rebecca Balletto, and Kathy Tomberg. We extend our gratitude to the prisoners and jail staff at the
JDYC. Ronald Kramer would also like to acknowledge Philip Smith, Lucia Trimbur, his co-
authors, and his colleagues at The University of Auckland for their recent support.

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Author biographies
Ronald Kramer teaches courses in criminology and sociology at The University of Auckland. His
current research explores how neoliberal inequalities shape contemporary practices and proce-
dures within criminal justice systems. He is also working on a project that analyzes the criminal-
ization of graffiti writing cultures in New York City and Auckland.

Valli Rajah is an Associate Professor in the department of sociology at John Jay College, City
University of New York. Her research analyzes women’s narratives of how intersectional forms
of oppression, such as race and class, constrain and enable women’s acts in situations of intimate
partner violence. She has also examined how substance use impacts these dynamics. In collabora-
tion with the Urban Justice Center, Dr Rajah conducted a study of women’s experience of criminal
justice responses to domestic violence. Most recently, Dr Rajah completed a study of a cognitive
behavioral treatment program for incarcerated juveniles. Based on this research, she is currently
examining juvenile offenders’ narratives of the community reentry process.

Hung-En Sung (PhD, SUNY—Albany) is Professor of Criminal Justice at John Jay College of
Criminal Justice, the City University of New York. His research interests revolve around sub-
stance abuse and its treatment, corrections and rehabilitation, macro-level analysis of crime and
justice, and comparative studies. Dr Sung has brought in more than $2.3 million in research fund-
ing and published more than 50 peer-reviewed articles in these areas. He was named the 2010
WEB Dubois Fellow by the National Institute of Justice.