Doing Shifts: The Role of Correctional Officers 3031445538, 9783031445538

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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN PRISONS AND PENOLOGY

Doing Shifts The Role of Correctional Officers Serena Franchi

Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology

Series Editors Ben Crewe, Institute of Criminology, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK Yvonne Jewkes, Social & Policy Sciences, University of Bath, Bath, UK Thomas Ugelvik, Faculty of Law, University of Oslo, Oslo, Norway Editorial Board Anna Eriksson, Criminology, Monash University, Sandringham, VIC, Australia Andrew M Jefferson, Danish Institute Against Torture, Copenhagen, Denmark Shadd Maruna, School of Criminal Justice, Rutgers University, Newark, NJ, USA Jonathan Simon, Law, University of California Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA Michael Welch, Shreveport, LA, USA

This is a unique and innovative series, the first of its kind dedicated entirely to prison scholarship. At a historical point in which the prison population has reached an all-time high, the series seeks to analyse the form, nature and consequences of incarceration and related forms of punishment. Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology provides an important forum for burgeoning prison research across the world.

Serena Franchi

Doing Shifts The Role of Correctional Officers

Serena Franchi Istituto degli Innocenti Florence, Firenze, Italy

ISSN 2753-0604 ISSN 2753-0612 (electronic) Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology ISBN 978-3-031-44552-1 ISBN 978-3-031-44553-8 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: © alamy G246X4 This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland Paper in this product is recyclable.

To all the blank pages To all the empty cells

Foreword

The penitentiary context has been, until recently, a sort of off-limits area for the Italian public, an opaque zone, wherein laymen could not access. Only those actors involved with the management of prisons, such as officers, governors, politicians, and prison staff were admitted behind the gates. Otherwise, one needed to be either a priest or a catholic volunteer, interested in atoning the wicked souls of inmates, to be allowed into an Italian penitentiary institute. It is a very conservative, almost authoritarian, attitude, whose roots can be traced back to political and cultural elements. The Italian Republic never operated a radical re-shuffle of the administrative system inherited by the Fascist regime. As a consequence of this, most of the officers appointed under the dictatorship retained their positions, and the laws passed by the regime remained in force until recently. A reform of the penitentiary laws, both regulating the administration of prisons and establishing the rights of inmates, was not passed before 1975. Alternative measures to detention were approved only in 1986, under the Gozzini Act, and we have to wait until 2013 before a Prison Ombudsman is introduced.

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The legacy of Fascism casts a long-ranging shadow over the administration of Italy, both by relenting reforms and by creating those deposits of power Stanley Cohen has detected. All the new generations of prison officers are trained by their older colleagues, who provide them with an authoritarian attitude. Moreover, Italy belongs to the Continental Europe context, wherein the idea that power is more a matter of arcana imperii than a community one. Public officers, as well as politicians, are supposed to operate under an ethical drive, that marches in the direction of the public interest. For this reason, any public check at their work is deemed as harmful. Secondly, catholic sub-culture considers prison as a place wherein inmates, like religious sinners, can undergo a pathway of atonement. On the one hand, they pay for what they have done. On the other hand, by accepting their punishment and following the prison’s staff command, they can redeem their conscience. It is not by accident that rehabilitation, in Italian, is called rieducazione, that is re-breeding. Inmates are purged from a wicked breeding and are given a new approach to life. Consequently, discussing what prison operators do, results in a sabotage of the atonement process. The idea that prisons are an articulation of a democratic system, and, that, therefore, prisoners are individuals endowed with their own right, is a relatively recent acquisition. It dates back to the mobilization of 1970s and to the activism of inmates, volunteers, left and liberal politicians, intellectuals, and civil society. It is now easier to cross the threshold of Italian prisons, and to investigate them in depth. Moreover, many tragic episodes have contributed to the rise of awareness, among Italian public opinion, that prisons are a place of hardships rather than a redemptive context. The death of Stefano Cucchi in 2009, the torture some inmates of Asti suffered in 2012, as well as the high rate of suicides in prisons (84 inmates, 1 every 679, in 2022) and many other cases, have brought about a change in the perception of prisons among the Italian public. The book of Serena Franchi is the product of this radical cultural shift that took place within Italian society. The readers of the Anglosphere might find it as an ordinary Ph.D. work, but that is not the case, for at least three reasons. Firstly, the work of Franchi opens the way to the knowledge of a penitentiary context, that is the Italian one, that has been

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unknown up to now. Despite the fact that the work of Dario Melossi and Massimo Pavarini marked a watershed within worldwide penology, Italian scholars have eventually faced the difficulties I mentioned above. This work you are about to read fills a historical vacuum, that might add value to prison research insofar as it sheds a light on a context that has remained unknown up to now. Secondly, Serena Franchi has chosen to tackle a peculiar context, that is correctional officers. While one must appreciate convict criminology for its effort to analyse prison under the point of view of inmates, we must not forget that prison is a complex, manifold context, wherein all the actors involved play their own roles. This is the case of correctional officers: Why do they enroll? How do they fill? How do they make sense of their work? What is their idea of inmates or about the causes of crime? Serena Franchi takes her chance to answer these questions. Her work sheds light on crucial aspects of the prison context, as it helps debunking two of the main hegemonic narratives about prison: one relates to the idea that inmates are redeemed after their sentence; the other is the law and order one, that emphasizes the importance of punishment. Correctional officers are the mediators between inmates and society, insofar as they are the ones who carry the burden of day-to-day functioning of prisons. Finding out they enrolled because they needed a full-time job, that they think inmates deserve to stay in prison, or on the other way, that they might not put up with so much violence and suffering, provides the reader with in-depth, challenging information and knowledge. Finally, Serena Franchi adopts qualitative methodology. This approach provides her work with more added value, as official truths provided either by figures or by reports are peeled off, thus showing all the problems and contradictions of prisons, triggering in the reader a question: is prison necessary? Florence, Italy

Vincenzo Scalia

Preface

Whoever has the opportunity to study and observe a prison facility eventually becomes aware of its disorienting and contradictory nature. Prisons are designed to serve two main purposes: punishing individuals who have committed crimes and rehabilitating them to reintegrate into society. These two goals can be at odds with each other. The punitive aspect emphasizes retribution and incapacitation, while the rehabilitative aspect aims to provide education, skills training, and counseling to help prisoners reform and successfully reintegrate into society. Moreover, the high rate of recidivism raises questions about the overall effectiveness of the prison system, as well as the security measures often overlook the basic human rights of inmates. “What is this for? Does it work?” are indeed two frequent questions echoing in the minds of those interested to grasp a glimpse of such puzzled reality. Undoubtedly, countless studies covered the subject of prison’s aims and functions considering both macro and micro perspectives, two different lenses through which scholars can examine the prison system and its effects on individuals and society. The macro perspective looks at the prison system from a broader societal level, considering factors such as laws, policies, and cultural

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norms that shape how the prison system operates. This perspective examines the larger social forces that influence the prison system, including political and economic systems, social inequality, and power dynamics. On the other hand, the micro perspective focuses on individual experiences within the prison system, examining how people navigate the social environment of prisons and how the experience of incarceration affects them. Indeed, both perspectives allow us to unveil how the prison system works. Combining these two perspectives can help to develop a more comprehensive understanding of these mechanisms. In examining the broader macro processes that shape complex systems of institutional power, prison studies have devoted significant attention to the disciplinary power of prisons as total institutions capable of shaping individuals by imposing a specific culture. Many authors have provided groundbreaking insights into the transformation of welfare policies toward a neoliberal model, accompanied by the expansion of social programs aimed at the impoverished. This shift has been linked to the increase in the prison population. Consequently, to conceptualize poverty governance as the management of insecurity through the inclusion of marginalized segments of the population, it is necessary to examine how poor individuals perceive and regulate themselves. The objective of poverty governance, which aims to provide the technical tools for the poor to adopt specific behaviors and embrace new mindsets to govern their own lives, is intrinsically connected to the broader discussion on disciplinary models. In this context, the penitentiary system represents a privileged field of study and perspective. This text is based on an ethnographic study conducted in an Italian prison over the span of five months (May 2019–November 2019), totaling 70 hours of observation in both female and male sections. The study involved collecting descriptive and relational data by observing correctional officers’ behavior in various positions and locations within the prison. Ethnographic notes served as the primary tool for data collection. These notes were subsequently analyzed using Qualitative Content Analysis (QCAmap), an open-access web application for systematic text analysis, rooted in the techniques of qualitative content analysis. The focus of this book on an Italian prison holds particular interest for two main reasons. Firstly, it starkly underscores the significance of

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political influence in shaping imprisonment rates and prison policies. The impact of regional political culture and environment on the internal prison management becomes a fascinating realm of study. Thus, “Doing Shifts: The Job of Correctional Officers” offers a novel perspective on the disciplined–disciplining dichotomy, commencing with an analysis and interpretation of a profession often regarded as emblematic of social control strategies. It provides the analytical tools needed to examine temporally and contextually related realities. Secondly, the distinctive nature of the case study, steeped in a self-contained institutional culture, affirms the cultural and normative dimensions of the prison system. The book illustrates that the very essence of the penitentiary, comprised of a constellation of individual institutions representing distinct worlds governed by their respective logics and tenuous equilibriums, engenders a shared realm of information about the differences between each prison. This becomes particularly thought-provoking when considering the role that prison systems have played in terms of managing poverty, mirroring the impacts of social and welfare policies. Lastly, a book delving into the bureaucratic facets of the correctional officers’ profession holds particular importance in the present day, given the role that prison systems play in shaping our comprehension of institutional and administrative power. “Doing Shifts: The Job of Correctional Officers” provides a timely insight into two crucial aspects. Firstly, it demonstrates how the discretionary exercise of correctional officers’ power in implementing practices relies on a moral compass, which essentially constitutes the prison’s ontological material. Secondly, the book unveils how the penitentiary functions as a structure with walls made of unique one-way mirrors. Correctional officers and prisoners perceive themselves as occupying distinct rooms—one for observers and one for the observed. However, in reality, they coexist within a hall of mirrors where societal models from the outside perpetually reflect within, and are bidirectionally reproduced and solidified, permeating all aspects of prison life, expectations, and self-other perceptions. Florence, Italy

Serena Franchi

Acknowledgments

It is my sincere pleasure to express my gratitude to all the individuals without whom this book would not have come to fruition. While it may sound like a cliché, every person living and working within the prison and the prison system not only serves as the central figure of this book but also embodies agents of profound personal transformation. I aspire to contribute to raising awareness of their realities and addressing structural injustices, and for this, I am immensely thankful to them for allowing me to do so. This book is the culmination of the Ph.D. research I conducted at the University of Florence and the University of Turin. I owe a debt of gratitude to my supervisor, Sandro Busso, whose unwavering support has been truly instrumental throughout this journey. My heartfelt thanks extend to Vincenzo Scalia, Francesca Vianello, Ivana Acocella, Enrico Gargiulo, Alvise Sbraccia, and Anna Simone for their invaluable suggestions and feedback. I would like to extend a special thanks to my friends and colleagues who stood by me during my doctoral studies: Alessandra, Anastasia, Emanuele, Marco, Matteo, and Silvia. I owe a debt of gratitude also

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to Alessandro, who witnessed the inception of the original idea and provided invaluable support. The existence of this book would have remained a mere dream without the experiences I gained during my years working as a researcher with Società della Ragione, a national NGO dedicated to prisoners’ rights. Therefore, I am genuinely thankful to Franco Corleone, Grazia Zuffa, Leonardo Fiorentini, Susanna Ronconi, Patrizia Meringolo, Katia Poneti, Sofia Ciuffoletti, and Giulia Melani. Their mentorship has been priceless, and their example and friendship have consistently inspired me to strive for excellence. Alice and Luigi have been more than just friends; they have served as role models in various facets of life—academics, exploration, and parenthood. I am also deeply grateful to Elisa, Elisa, Maddi, Margherita, Martina, and Zero. Your presence and support mean the world to me. Thank you for every word and every hug. To my parents, Margherita and Lorenzo, and my brother, Gabriele— our team is unparalleled. Thank you for instilling in me curiosity and the unceasing pursuit of answers, always believing in me, regardless of the circumstances. Last but certainly not least, I extend my appreciation to Camillo, my life companion. He unwaveringly followed and supported the thesis and book writing process, displaying boundless patience and love, and offering valuable insights while sharing his expertise. As we embark on this journey together and expand our little family, I eagerly anticipate the new adventures ahead.

Contents

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Introduction References

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Governing Social Pathologies: From Poverty Governance to Disciplinary Practices in Prison Defining Pathological: Social Control Approaches Disciplining and Disciplined Individuals Discipline and Subordinate Inclusion Disciplinary Practices References

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Pervasive Social Control: How Merit Shapes Authorities’ Perception Deservingness and Merit—New Disciplinary Categories Deserving of Punishment: Disciplining Offenders The Ubiquitous Features of Merit’s Rhetoric: A Gendered Insight A Gendered Organization: Deserving Punishment and Reward

1 6 7 9 21 22 25 29 33 35 39 41 43

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Binary Sexual Segregation: Inmates’ Discipline Binary Sexual Segregation: Correctional Officers’ Discretional Discipline References 4 The One who Looks at the Mirror: Reflexivity and Validity in Prison Ethnography The Knowability of the World: The Importance of an Epistemological Statement Reflexivity and Validity The Unmirrored Field: Doing Research in Prison Ethnography as Methodology and its Methods Research Design Data Collection and Analysis Data Analysis References 5

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Being Correctional Officer: Unattended Expectations and Coping Strategies Not Really My Dream Job—Shattered Expectations: A Job That Makes the Ends Meet Public Sector’s Employee: Unattended Expectations and Coping Strategies The Impermanence of a Stable Profession Surviving the Bureaucracy: Adaptive Inflexibility and Authoritativeness Inflexibly Adapting to Circumstances Authority and Authoritativeness: An Insight on a Universal Culture Within a Unique World References Identifying as Correctional Officer: A Relational Factor Someone, Somewhere Else Responsibility for the Other. Interiorized Denial Tightening a Loose Bond. The Struggle of Being Empathetic References

44 47 51 57 58 63 66 68 71 76 80 81 87 88 95 98 100 101 106 111 115 117 124 132 136

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Acting as Correctional Officer: Authority Through Discretionality Reporting Dirty Looks. The Grey-Zone Bureaucrats Disciplinary Strategies. When Punishment Is Not Enough Authority in Gendered Wards: How Punishing and Rewarding Change (Acting as) Female Correctional Officers References Conclusion: How Observing a Micro Reality Offers New Macro Perspectives Correctional Officers as Disciplined Individuals Correctional Officers as Disciplining Individuals Meritocracy at its Best: Disciplining Man and Woman in a Correction Setting References

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139 141 147 152 153 159 161 162 168 170 176 177

List of Tables

Table 5.1 Table 8.1 Table 8.2

Level of engagement and satisfaction of public employees Type of correctional officers depending on the influence of disciplinary control The meritorious male and female prisoners depending on correctional officers’ type

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1 Introduction

In 1978, Hans Toch published a thought-provoking contribution titled “Is a correctional officer, by any other name, a screw?” This work highlighted the lack of recognition for correctional officers’ contributions in ensuring inmate survival and mental well-being. Toch’s pointed critique of the penitentiary administration underscored the need to acknowledge correctional officers who, through the exercise of discretion, enhance inmate welfare and challenge narrow, conventional definitions of their roles. He specifically championed those officers who “fight the system to advance goals which we verbally endorse but often sabotage in practice” (Toch, 1978: 19). Since Toch’s research, forty-three years have elapsed, during which time correctional officers have gained recognition internationally and various facets of their profession have been explored in depth. However, in Italy, a well-developed literature on correctional officers is still lacking. Exploring the goals outlined by Toch, examining correctional officers’ impressions, recommendations, and representations regarding these goals, and understanding how these objectives are internalized and manifested within the confines of an Italian prison present an intriguing endeavor. Thus, Toch’s words offer a window into a shared reality, a © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_1

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unique world steeped in a self-sustaining culture, where diverse actors influence the trajectory of the environment through their daily practices. Commonly, the primary focus lies on prisoners as the main agents of resistance or support for the so-called prisonization effect. However, for a comprehensive understanding of prison dynamics, a shift in focus toward correctional officers—the central driving force behind all prison operations—is imperative. Furthermore, delving into the intricacies of prison functions and practices necessitates an examination of broader macro processes that shape intricate systems of institutional power. Within prison studies, attention has been devoted to the disciplinary power of the prison as a total institution that molds individuals by inculcating a specific culture. Notably, authors have explored the shift from welfare-oriented policies to a neoliberal model with expanding social programs aimed at the marginalized, linking this evolution to the rise in prison populations. This reframing of poverty governance as a mechanism to manage insecurity by integrating marginalized segments of the population requires an investigation into reshaping how these individuals perceive and regulate themselves. Consequently, the examination of disciplinary models intersects with discussions on prison systems, wherein the penitentiary represents a prime lens through which to analyze this phenomenon. While studies have merged poverty governance and prison studies to include prisoners and their narratives, there is a dearth of literature focusing on correctional officers. Thus, this book aims to investigate a localized phenomenon—the alignment of correctional officers’ representations and practices within an Italian prison with specific disciplinary models—while linking this exploration to broader macro processes shaping institutional power and culture. To achieve this, the study centers on two variables within correctional officers’ constructs: gender and merit. By using these variables, I delve into the level of discretionary power tied to them. Framing gender and merit as variables prompts an examination of whether correctional officers’ practices perpetuate and reinforce specific representations of prisoners. These representations stem from a shared culture within the prison system and broader disciplinary models. Additionally, this research inquiries into the presence of an unequal narrative

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of meritocracy, influenced by gendered expectations, which impacts the prison’s system of sanctions and rewards. Throughout this ethnographic study, I explored correctional officers’ self-representations, delving into their biographical backgrounds, motivations for entering the profession, level of engagement with institutional mandates, and strategies for coping with an environment that often deviates from preconceived notions. Frequently, the profession is not chosen for intrinsic motivations, and officers perceive a lack of authority and authoritativeness. This perception, combined with shared antipathy toward local prison management, leads to the pervasive use of discretion. This practice serves as both a tool to reaffirm decision-making authority and a potential threat to in-group cohesion and working methodologies. In the preface of “Doing Time,” Matthews wrote: “Probably the most ambitious aspect of the book is the attempt to reconnect the study of imprisonment with an examination of crime, the state, and the changing relations of production. It is an implicit argument of the book that examining imprisonment without reference to these related processes not only limits our understanding of the significance of imprisonment in modern society but is also detrimental to our appreciation of the possibilities of penal reform” (Matthews, 2009). In alignment with Matthews’ scholarly legacy, this book serves as a unique mirror reflecting a scarcely explored scenario: the professional journey of Italian correctional officers. It bridges localized phenomena with broader macro processes. Consequently, this methodological approach situated within context enables contemplation of global processes by studying their local manifestations, thereby acknowledging their intricate, ambiguous, and evolving nature (Cerwonka & Malkki, 2008). The book unveils how correctional officers’ biographical backgrounds, expectations, and idealized notions of “the good officer” contribute to an in-group narrative. This narrative is continuously reshaped by the unique social environment. However, becoming a correctional officer involves not only perceiving oneself as such but also identifying with the professional role. Through fieldwork, it became evident that the representation of self is intertwined with the representation of the other, creating a dynamic dialogue between the two identities. Since self-definition often emerges through differentiation from the other, analyzing correctional

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officers’ narratives, often gendered, about prisoners becomes crucial. Such narratives significantly influence the affirmation or negation of prison culture and the disciplinary model. Officers’ interactions with prisoners construct a web of relationships, often wielded to exert patronizing authority, foster trust, and project a friendly, empathetic image. This observation highlights how daily interactions in prison form a complex system of institutional power and culture, requiring correctional officers to adapt their practices day by day. These adaptations involve decisions to adhere strictly to rules or strategically utilize the punishment-reward system to achieve what they consider the best outcomes, often applying a case-by-case judgment. The book also reveals a parallelism between correctional officers and bureaucrats, as both roles involve high levels of discretion. Interestingly, correctional officers embrace this role selectively, often using discretion as a primary resource. This stands in contrast to those colleagues who fully adopt a bureaucratic approach by retreating to offices and abandoning ward duties, much to the disdain of those who prefer the flexibility and discretion offered by their positions. The book further explores the depiction of the “good prisoner,” considering the narratives surrounding this image. A “meritorious prisoner” adheres to the standards embedded within prison culture, a representation influenced by factors such as gender, origin, age, addiction type, and crime category. Thus, the representation of a deserving prisoner results from a complex interplay of variables, consistently reinforced within correctional officers’ in-group narrative and reflected through everyday practices. Examining gender in depth, the fieldwork demonstrates how discretionary use of correctional officers’ power differs between the two sections, leading to distinct practices rooted in preconceived notions of trustworthiness linked to gender roles. These stereotypical narratives extend to correctional officers as well. While acknowledging that the “external stereotype” does not exclusively apply to male officers, since the profession is no longer predominantly male, gender-based double standards persist. These include varied shifts, perceptions of professional roles, and competencies.

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The interpretation of correctional officers’ viewpoints and shared perspectives affords unique insights into their representations and practices. These elements both inform and are informed by a disciplinary model characterized by specific traits. Penitentiary culture fosters a connection between the individual and the professional role, even if this does not always align with institutional management practices. Thus, despite the disillusionment of an environment that often contradicts expectations, correctional officers draw on in-group narratives to sustain the value of their roles. In navigating an environment to which they belong and support, correctional officers work to survive, perpetuating a system that sustains itself and disciplines its workers. Ultimately, the narrative of disciplining and disciplined individuals persists. This book is divided into eight chapters. Following the introduction, Chapter 2 outlines the scholarly discourse on social control approaches. This chapter lays the theoretical groundwork, identifying “disciplining” as the key concept that unveils the essence of social control mechanisms. It explores the evolution of deviant and pathological conceptualizations, which serve as focal points for the disciplining model. Additionally, it delves into theoretical perspectives on the subject of discipline and how the ideal subject for discipline has been historically described in academic literature. Drawing from poverty governance literature, it examines the imposition of a neoliberal paternalistic cultural model that penalizes marginalized segments of the population that fail to conform to dominant class rules. Chapter 3 builds on these theoretical foundations, focusing on the discretionary use of power by those responsible for enforcing rules and implementing programs. This discretionary power is framed within the moral concept of deservingness. It also delves into the notions of desert and merit, distinguishing between the two and highlighting the interactive nature of desert, a pivotal lens through which to evaluate and consequently discipline individuals. The chapter’s latter part explores the gendered bias in discretionary power usage, delving into prison discriminatory evaluation criteria and stigmatizing stereotypes. This examination establishes a conceptual framework for prisons as gendered organizations, employing sex segregation as a disciplinary tool.

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Chapter 4 provides insights into the methodology, research design, ontological assumptions, and epistemological stance of the book. It introduces ethnography as the chosen research method and elaborates on the rationale and potential limitations of this approach. Chapters 5–7 offer a comprehensive view of correctional officers’ level of discipline through the lens of their everyday practices. Chapter 5 delves into the configuration of correctional officers’ professional identity, while Chapter 6 explores their interactions with prisoners, shaped by officers’ representations. Chapter 7 centers on the analysis of correctional officers’ practices and the exercise of discretion based on their constructs. The interpretation of correctional officers’ level of discipline is an outcome of observing their practices, as well as a reconstruction of their perspectives on their roles, motivations for choosing their profession, and perceptions of prisoners. Chapter 8 proposes a categorization of correctional officers based on their level of discipline, unveiling four distinct officer types determined by their identification with their professional roles and institutions. Moreover, this chapter frames correctional officers as active agents, both disciplined and disciplining. It delves into the various ways in which officers fulfill their professional roles, based on the four types identified through the research. Finally, the chapter delves into how the discretionary use of punishment and reward practices mirrors the attitudes of disciplined correctional officers, critically assessing the gendered aspects of their decision-making processes.

References Cerwonka, A., & Malkki, L. H. (2008). Improvising theory. University of Chicago Press. Matthews, Roger A. (2009). Doing Time: An Introduction to the Sociology of Imprisonment. Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Toch, H. (1978). Is a “correctional officer,” by any other name, a “screw?” Criminal Justice Review, 3(2), 19–35.

2 Governing Social Pathologies: From Poverty Governance to Disciplinary Practices in Prison

(…) From this examination and statistical fact, the conviction resulted for him that the true doctrine was not that, but the opposite, and therefore, the imbalance of the faculties should be admitted as normal and exemplary, and as pathological hypotheses all cases where that balance was uninterrupted. (Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, O alienista, 1882)

Machado de Assis’ satirical novella from 1882, “The Alienist,” vividly illustrates how the protagonist’s unwavering faith in natural sciences’ methods falls short when attempting to establish criteria for preventing mental illness. The main character, a psychiatrist, becomes consumed by the quest for a universal method to cure and preempt pathological mental disorders. This obsession drives him to push scientific reasoning to its extreme consequences: how can a Cartesian and rigorous mind find a solution when the assumptions can be arbitrarily interpreted? Thus, the psychiatrist believes that mental illness engenders antisocial behaviors that deviate from the norms of the majority within the community. However, the doctor observes that, from a purely quantitative perspective, balanced individuals are actually a minority, rendering them a social anomaly. Consequently, according to his theory, it is the © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_2

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balanced individuals who need treatment to create a society devoid of outliers. To complicate matters further, the psychiatrist realizes he is the most balanced person in the village. Since he is the sole person without mental illness and thereby a social outsider, he concludes that he is the one who requires confinement in the psychiatric hospital—precisely what he does. Seventeen months later, the doctor’s life ends, and the entire village concurs that he had been the only mad person from the very outset. Without a doubt, Durkheim would have commended the Brazilian author’s skill in unearthing the debate surrounding natural sciences’ methods and paradigms for studying social facts. In the novella, the psychiatrist strives to identify a general criterion to classify individuals as balanced or mentally ill, essentially to scientifically establish whether someone is normal or not. Durkheim formulates three rules to distinguish the normal from the pathological. The first rule is as follows: “a social fact is normal for a given social type, viewed at a given phase of its development, when it occurs in the average of the society of that species, considered at the corresponding phase of its evolution” (1895: 97). This rule recognizes a simple criterion: if social characteristics align with the majority accepted by the society at a particular time and place, they can be deemed “normal.” However, this is insufficient. It becomes pertinent to examine how common sense and the social construction of normality and pathology take shape and, more crucially, what is labeled as pathological. As exemplified by the unfortunate fate of the protagonist in Machado de Assis’ novella, relying solely on a statistical method to observe a social phenomenon could be contentious and lead to misleading results. The key takeaway from the story is that “mental illness” does not rest on objective and one-sided criteria. The discourse on the objectivity of the reality of mental illness has sparked a spirited debate between opposing viewpoints: mental illness as an organic malfunction, a product of oppressive social structures, or merely a label to identify someone who diverges from societal norms. The polarity in interpreting and comprehending this social phenomenon roots itself in diverse ontological, epistemological, and ultimately methodological approaches. The process of framing the concept of pathology has been explored across

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various fields of knowledge, and mental illness can serve as an exploratory ground to briefly summarize the evolution of social control theories through different perspectives. The subsequent paragraphs delve into the primary debates surrounding this topic.

Defining Pathological: Social Control Approaches Durkheim makes it unequivocally clear: “If there is a fact whose pathological nature appears indisputable, it is crime. All criminologists agree on this score” (Durkheim, 1894: 97). This might appear as a decisive and dogmatic statement, but we must recognize its nuanced nature: Durkheim states that the pathological nature of crime seems indisputable, not necessarily that it unequivocally is so. In reality, what is undeniably provocative is Durkheim’s hypothesis—deviance and crime appear morbid and pathological, yet they are unquestionably normal. In Machado de Assis’ novel, the psychiatrist grapples with finding evidence of mental illness. As elaborated in the following pages, the concepts of normality and pathology are intricately linked to the perception of alterations in social life and its shared values. Put differently, these concepts are deeply rooted in historical and social contexts and hinge on specific moral assumptions. Consistently, Durkheim’s assertions about the normality of deviance and criminality stem from sheer observation: crime is indeed observed “in all societies of all types” (1894: 98). Thus, if crime exists across all societies, differing solely in form and actions labeled as criminal, and “it appears to be closely bound up with the conditions of all collective life,” it is reasonable to designate it as a normal occurrence and, conversely, as a positive symptom of a robust society. Punishment is significantly influenced by what a particular society deems essential for upholding collective life and its core beliefs—without which the social contract would falter. The primary role of penalty is not merely to punish a specific crime or offense but to identify offenses that are intolerable and require punishment to maintain social cohesion. In this regard, crime serves a positive function: through the act of crime and

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its subsequent punishment, society showcases its capability to uphold the foundational social pact, safeguard its roots, and rectify potential weaknesses. Naturally, different societies designate specific actions as criminal, which can vary and evolve over time. Yet, even if a particular criminal action were to cease, it would not eradicate crime; rather, it would lead to the redefinition of what society regards as criminal, giving rise to new forms of criminal behavior to be addressed. Once again, criminality and deviance are inherent to society and, furthermore, are pivotal for preserving social order and cohesion. Durkheim characterizes penalty as a tool of social control, not primarily for preventing criminality but for representing criminality and using this representation as a crucial instrument to ensure social cohesion. Ultimately, penalty serves as a means to signal to society what is permissible and what is not. The severity of the punishment must correspond to the seriousness of the crime, not necessarily the social threat posed by the offender. Durkheim asserts that penalty is a mechanism of social control that operates across the entire society, addressing not only the degree of social danger posed by an individual but the overall societal context. If deviance and criminality are not inherent social pathologies and can even serve a positive function within society, what distinguishes them is how society responds to and interacts with actions perceived as disruptive to social order. Indeed, whenever social order is threatened or potentially disrupted, society will endeavor to prevent such disruption through measures of social control. Edward A. Ross (1896) introduced the term “social control” as a fundamental concept in social theory, drawing from Spencer’s use of it in “Principles of Sociology” (1879: 3–35). Ross’ perspective on these concepts is rooted in legislation and repression, representing one of the two viewpoints mentioned earlier: if deviance exists, then society must enact social control mechanisms to preserve social order. The implication is evident: deviance is an objective social phenomenon stemming from specific actions, and society is compelled to respond by implementing social control measures. Interestingly, this definition of deviance and criminality significantly diverges from the one outlined in the

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preceding pages and arises from entirely different ontological assumptions. To comprehend the distinction between the two approaches, let us examine Durkheim’s statement about criminologists’ belief system regarding the pathological nature of crime. It stems from the sociological positivism and positive school of criminology, which explored social pathology using a specific discipline: statistics. Influential figures such as Quetelet (1835) and Guerry (1833) associated biological and social normality with the frequency of a particular characteristic within a population. Quetelet proposed a project of social physics that aimed to infer relationships between social factors and criminology. Later on, the Italian Positivist School approached the analysis of criminality through a bio-anthropological perspective. Cesare Lombroso (1876), prominent member of this school, investigated the etiology of crime by postulating that it was possible to anatomically identify the so-called “born criminal” through the observation of specific physical traits.1 Once again, criminality was examined by searching for characteristics that deviated from what was considered socially normal. It was defined by differences: if something was not normal, it must be pathological. Accordingly, crime, criminals, and criminality are perceived as pathological. It is conceivable to trace the causes of this “disease” by employing scientific methods of investigation. This perspective treats crime as a disease: criminal anthropologists contested the notion that criminals consciously chose to commit crimes of their own free will. Consequently, they advocated that criminals should not be held accountable for their actions. The purpose of punishment was not to expiate guilt, but rather to safeguard society (Gibson, 1982); in this context, the Durkheimian positive function of penalty was not taken into account. Nevertheless, it is true that adopting a viewpoint that asserts significant human actions always result from individual propensities interacting with environmental triggers has been central to the approach of biosocial criminology (Walsh & Beaver, 2009). However, it also represents one of 1

The theoretical framework of Cesare Lombroso was based on a causal fallacy: the theorization of criminal atavism was a result of inferring a correlation that does not exist. Specifically, even if A and B occur together, it does not imply that one causes the other. In fact, it’s possible that some criminal behavior is perpetrated by individuals with the same physiognomic features, but we cannot predict criminal behavior from anthropometric studies.

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the key theories often overlooked by critical social criminologists. In this regard, recent discussions have noted that the belief that welcoming “the demon biology to the ball is to invite racism and eugenics” (2009: 79) is, at the very least, “proudly ignorant” (Van den Berghe, 1990: 177). This pointed statement arises from a sense of frustration toward colleagues who dismiss any biological origins of criminal behavior, misunderstanding the main tenets of the argument. Biosocial criminologists do not contend that crime rates are biologically grounded solely due to relevant biological factors. In reality, this phenomenon is heavily dependent on environmental factors, which remain critical in determining an individual’s propensity for engaging in criminal behavior. The significance of environmental factors has been recognized and posited even by Lombroso himself. Mary Gibson’s reinterpretation of Cesare Lombroso’s work lucidly illustrates how, although the progenitor of the positivist school of criminology gained notoriety for describing the “born criminal,” only around 35–40% of crimes were deemed to have organic causes. The majority of other prisoners were categorized as “occasional criminals,” engaging in unlawful behavior primarily due to environmental influences such as education, economic conditions, and civil status—akin to the general “normal” population (Gibson, 1982).2 The role of biology in contributing to both illness and deviant behavior is present, albeit somewhat dismissed, in the approaches of both Parsons and Merton: Illness is a state of disturbance in the ‘normal’ functioning of the total human individual, including both the states of the organism as a biological system and of his personal and social adjustments. It is thus partly biological and partly socially defined. Participation in the social system is always potentially relevant to the state of illness, to its etiology and to the conditions of successful therapy, as well as other things. (Parsons, 1951a: 431) For whatever the role of biological impulses, there still remains the further question of why it is that the frequency of deviant behavior varies 2 Gibson also suggests that Lombroso should be credited with introducing the topic of female criminality as a legitimate field of study. This is because, until the emergence of feminist criminology, there were very few criminological texts that explored women’s crime.

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within different social structures and how it happens that the deviations have different shapes and patterns in different social structures… Our perspective is sociological. We look at variations in the rates of deviant behavior, not at its incidence. (Merton, 1968: 185–186)

Parsons is acknowledged as a pioneer in contemplating mental illness as a form of deviant behavior and analyzing the imbalanced relationship between the sick role (patient) and the professional role (psychotherapist). This analysis involves recognizing the power dynamic and the role of medical knowledge in social control. Employing a structural-functionalist framework (Parsons, 1951a, 1951b), Merton, Parsons’ disciple, formulated the concept of anomie. Originally coined by Durkheim (1894) to describe a state of relative normlessness within a society or group, Merton establishes a connection between this concept and the emergence of deviance. Specifically, when society establishes commonly agreed-upon goals but fails to provide universally accepted means to achieve those goals, criminal activity and other forms of deviance become more prevalent (Inderbitzin et al., 2016). Merton identifies two fundamental properties of the social system—cultural and social structures—that must be considered when studying variations in deviant behavior. These properties encompass the “prescribed goals of action and the normatively approved means for realizing these goals” (Messner & Rosenfeld, 2009: 211). The tradition described above examined the functional mechanisms behind the production of criminality. Conversely, another generation of sociologists applied a labeling perspective to deviant behavior. The core assumption of labeling theory posits that individuals labeled as deviants tend to respond to the stigma associated with the label (Becker, 1963; Lemert, 1967). Deviant behaviors often serve as “means of defense, attack, or adaptation” (Lemert, 1967: 17). This theory acknowledges the influence of previous social and psychological conditions but regards the labeling process as a catalyst for reinforcing and solidifying the deviant pattern. In contrast to Parsons, who theorized that social control arises as a response to deviance, Lemert defines social control as a process that generates deviance.

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This is a large turn away from older sociology which tended to rest heavily upon the idea that deviance leads to social control. I have come to believe that the reverse idea, i.e., social control leads to deviance, is equally tenable and the potentially richer premise for studying deviance in modern society. (Lemert, 1967: V)

Labeling theorists reject the idea of natural causes for deviance and crime. Drawing from Mead’s theorization (1925; 1934), they believe that the self is a social construct: our self-perception and actions are closely tied to how others interact with us. On this point, a multitude of studies examining the cognitive labeling process at the individual level have been significantly influenced by Goffman’s conceptualization of the notion of stigma. Goffman’s depiction of the stigmatization process undeniably forms the cornerstone of literature related to this topic. According to the author, stigma arises as a response to a negatively viewed attribute, and the diagnosis of mental illness results from an interaction between the individual who is about to be labeled as ill and a public that perceives these symptoms: “What psychiatrists see as mental illness, the lay public usually first sees offensive behavior—behavior worthy of scorn, hostility and other negative social sanctions” (Goffman, 1963: 137). In other words, Goffman believes that mental illness is a social construct based on othering processes.3 Moreover, mental illness heavily relies on the internalization and acceptance of such a role (being a person with a diagnosis) by the individuals who are mentally ill, as well as by those considered responsible for them and their behavior. This often leads to a tarnished identity. As a result, the face-to-face encounters become crucial for investigating the public’s reaction to symptoms of mental illness. Goffman criticizes the tendency to classify mental illness as a form of deviancy,4 pointing out that there are numerous deviances that do not involve instances of mental pathology (Abrams, 2014). 3 Goffman sheds light on the trajectories of mental patients by applying the concept of career contingencies. According to Goffman, those labeled as mentally ill “suffer not from mental illness, but from contingencies” (1961: 135). This insight elucidates the process of institutionalization for individuals labeled as mentally ill. 4 The extensively debated legacy of Parsons in medical sociology serves as an intriguing starting point for the discourse on illness as a form of social deviance and the concept of the sick role (Parsons, 1951a, 1951b).

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In the 1950s, Thomas Szasz, a contemporary American psychiatrist, penned “The Myth of Mental Illness,” an essay later expanded into a book published between 1960 and 1961. In this work, Szasz proposed viewing mental illnesses as behaviors that disrupt or disorient others or the self. He advocated rejecting the notion of patients as helpless and passive agents, merely victims of pathobiological events beyond their control. Szasz’s perspective is articulated as follows: Everything I read, observed and learnt supported my adolescent impression that the behaviours we call mental illnesses and to which we attach the legions of derogatory labels in our lexicon of lunacy are not medical diseases. They are the products of the medicalization of disturbing or disturbed behaviours - that is, the observer’s construction and definition of the behaviour of the persons he observes as medically disabled individuals needing medical treatment. This cultural transformation is driven mainly by the modern therapeutic ideology that has replaced the old theological world view and the political and professional interests it sets in motion. (Szasz, 2011: 181)

Melossi (2002) highlights the significance of personal interaction in the construction of deviance, emphasizing that one of the ways we define someone as deviant is through our interactions with them. In the context of mental illness, he states that “it is evident that the initial diagnosis of mental illness is made by the community in which the person resides” (Melossi, 2002: 203).5 This underscores the role of community perceptions and judgments in shaping notions of deviance and mental illness. As a pointed example, Lemert (1962) published a groundbreaking article on a specific mental phenomenon, paranoia, coining the term “paranoid pseudocommunity” to describe the paranoid hallucinations of the mentally ill. He postulates that this pseudocommunity is not solely a product of an unbalanced mind. In tracing the evolution of the paranoid syndrome, Lemert identifies paranoid individuals as “those whose inadequate social learning leads them in situation of unusual stress to 5

Melossi draws upon Smith’s work (1978) to provide an empirical example of this process. In Smith’s examination of the biography of a girl labeled as mentally ill, he observes that the label arises not from the girl’s actions, but from her interactions with friends, acquaintances, and experts (Melossi, 2002).

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incompetent social reactions” (Lemert, 1962: 2), potentially resulting in heightened aggression or irritability. The reaction of the social environment plays a crucial role. The community can either normalize this type of behavior or take a stance against it. Consequently, the formation of a paranoid community, often seen as a complete product of the “mentally ill,” could initially be rooted in genuine responses to the deviant behavior displayed by paranoid individuals. Goffman introduces a new term, “situational improperty,” which he proposes to use to describe when symptoms become apparent due to disruptions in the social order.6 Once again, social interaction plays a central role, as individuals who are socially labeled as paranoid begin to exhibit traits that justify the diagnosis. While functionalism and labeling theory “may well represent incommensurable universes of discourse such that no synthesis is feasible” (Wright & Randall, 1978: 218), attempts were made in the 1970s to find theoretical convergence (Gibbs & Erickson, 1975; Wright & Randall, 1978). However, Wright and Randall dismiss Gibbs and Erickson’s effort7 as “overly simplistic” (Wright & Randall, 1978: 230), and instead propose considering the process of “translation” suggested by Kuhn to bridge the communication gap between the two approaches. Wright and Randall demonstrate that “much of the confusion characteristic of the labelling vs. functionalist debate arises out of the fact that what is ‘deviance’ to one may or may not be ‘deviance’ to another” (Ibidem: 229–230). In other words, these are two distinct scientific groups with specific language communities. Without shared and explained terminology, “many of the explanations and problem-statements endorsed by the member of one scientific group will be opaque to the other” (Kuhn, 1970: 202–203).

6 “Psychosis is something that can manifest itself to anyone in the patient’s work place, in his neighborhood, in his household, and must be seen, initially at least, as an infraction of the social order that obtains in these places. The other side of the study of symptoms is the study of public order, the study of behavior in public and semipublic places” (Goffman, 1969: 140). 7 “The issue can be resolved quickly by two admonitions: (i) Normativists (functionalists) cease presuming that data on deviance can be interpreted independently of reactions to deviance; and (2) Reactivists (labelists), cease presuming that reactions to deviance have nothing to do with prior behavior” (Gibbs & Erickson, 1975: 39).

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Moreover, specific aspects of labeling theory have been subjected to critical assessment. In “The New Criminology,” Ian Taylor, Paul Walton, and Jock Young (1973) critique the limitations of labeling theory, which portrays deviant individuals as passive actors, failing to consider the significance of structures as sources of power and institutions. Taylor and his colleagues indeed credit the labeling approach for advancing theoretical studies on social deviance by demystifying “cruder structural approaches which lost sight of the importance of social control as an independent variable in the creation of deviancy” (Taylor et al., 1973: 145–146) and distinguishing between physical and social actions. In essence, deviance and criminality do not inherently reside within the act but are labels derived from social constructs. However, labeling theory often regards the social meanings of actions as variable or arbitrary. Taylor, Walton, and Young identify this as a significant weakness. They propose that actors imbue their actions with meaning and are aware of these social meanings, which preexist any potential labels. In other words, an action is not only deemed deviant once society labels it after its occurrence; it is deviant even before society’s intervention. The “deviant/criminal” is already aware of and chooses to engage in it. The authors ask pointedly, “Where is the criminal who engages in the robbing of banks and is unaware that he is engaged in the social act of stealing?” (Taylor et al., 1973: 46). The point raised in “The New Criminology” provides an engaging starting point for discussing labeling theory. Taylor and his colleagues merit recognition for reassigning an active role to the “deviant” individual, shifting focus from viewing deviants as passive subjects to recognizing them as “decision-makers who often actively violate the moral and legal codes of society” (1973: 147). Consequently, they underline the necessity of investigating how structures of power and institutions shape deviancy and criminality. Our contention is that much deviancy must be viewed as a struggle, or reaction, against such ‘normalized repression’, a breaking-through, as it were, of accepted, taken-for-granted, power-invested commonsense rules. The outcome—the everyday conception of what is right, the commonsense world in which both normals and deviants live, is then fully seen

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as having been shaped by entrenched positions of power and interest. (Taylor et al., 1973: 169)

In a consistent vein, it can be affirmed that critical criminologists, for whom “The New Criminology” represents a pivotal moment, do not entirely reject labeling theory. Instead, they contend that it is underdeveloped and narrow in scope. What is significant for them is recognizing the relevance of structured inequalities that compel actors to pursue their interests through deviant means. An interesting and noteworthy point advanced by Taylor et al. is the unquestionable need to assess the relationship between deviancy, moral constraints, and repression. Consequently, following Gouldner’s perspective on power and normalized repression,8 the authors define deviancy as “a break from the moral bind involved in ongoing ‘normalized’ repression” (1973: 169). In line with this, labeling theory has two primary weaknesses: firstly, it neglects to address the overarching framework of power and interest, which shape smaller processes and transactions contributing to criminalities and deviance; secondly, it fails to investigate the inner motivation behind deviant acts—whether it is neutralizing the moral code as justification or presenting an ideological opposition to it. What becomes imperative is the ability to move toward a structural sociology on one hand (a sociology competent in addressing power and interests) and a sociology of motivation on the other (a sociology capable of explaining how individuals attribute meaning to their actions) (1973: 171). Consequently, critical criminology aims to develop a theory of deviancy that incorporates motivation and reaction as integral elements of social relationships. By doing so, it would be possible to overcome the vagueness surrounding the creation of deviancy.9 To phrase it slightly 8 “The powerful are both ready and able to institutionalize compliance with the moral code at levels congenial to themselves. Power is amongst other things this ability to enforce one’s moral claims. The powerful can thus conventionalize their moral defaults. As their moral failures become customary and expected, this itself becomes another justification for giving the subordinate group less than it might theoretically claim under the group’s common values. It becomes, in short, normalized repression” (Gouldner, 1972: 297). 9 As an illustrative example, the authors explain that considering the institution of private property in a stratified and inequitable society, along with the subsequent division between owners

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differently, in most cases of deviance, the absence of a “detailed social history of the constraints, aspirations, and meanings that inform and activate actors” (1973: 170) would result in an inadequate explanation of the causes of such deviancy. Critical criminologists believe that the study of deviance necessitates a sociology that can harmoniously blend structure, process, and culture in an ongoing dialectic (1973: 171). In conclusion, Hacking (2004) offers an interesting insight on this issue. Indeed, the author highlights the complementary nature of Goffman and Foucault’s approaches in understanding deviance and social order. Goffman’s “bottom-up” approach, as mentioned earlier, emphasizes the study of individuals and their interactions in everyday life. It focuses on the micro-level dynamics of social behavior, exploring how people are perceived by others and how they actively construct their identities through various social interactions. On the other hand, Foucault’s “top-down” approach looks at the broader systems of knowledge and power that shape social institutions and practices. He examines how social order is established through the exercise of power and the production of knowledge. Foucault’s work emphasizes the role of discourse, institutions, and disciplinary mechanisms in governing individuals and shaping social norms. While Goffman’s approach provides insights into the subjective experiences of individuals and the construction of social identities, Foucault’s approach offers a broader analysis of the mechanisms through which power operates and how deviance becomes defined and controlled within societal structures. Both perspectives are valuable in understanding deviance and social order: Goffman’s focus on the micro-level interactions helps illuminate the everyday practices and lived experiences of individuals, while Foucault’s analysis of power and knowledge provides a framework for understanding the larger systems and structures that shape social behavior and control. Overall, the combination of Goffman’s and non-owners, sheds clear light on the motives behind thieves’ actions and the activities of social and justice institutions. Similarly, industrial espionage is vehemently condemned due to the high value placed on technological innovation in a “sharply competitive industrial society.” Additionally, the increase in student militancy is a result of the disparity between the expansion of the higher educational system and the availability of rewarding jobs (Taylor et al., 1973: 170).

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“bottom-up” approach and Foucault’s “top-down” approach offers a more comprehensive understanding of deviance and social order by considering both the individual experiences and the broader societal context. Both perspectives are considered complementary rather than opposing. Goffman’s work helps understand the lived experiences of individuals within societal frameworks, while Foucault’s work illuminates the mechanisms through which power and knowledge shape social control and produce conformity. Similarly, Parker and Aggleton (2003) emphasize the relevance of these two bodies of work in understanding the pivotal role of stigma and stigmatization in constituting social order. Having previously discussed Goffman’s contribution, it is crucial to recall Foucault’s emphasis on how deviance is ingrained in established regimes of knowledge and power. Different disciplines, according to Foucault, assert specific claims of truth, thus forming knowledge systems. The interplay between knowledge and power exerts control over both individual and social bodies. These mechanisms of social control contribute to producing compliant subjects and docile bodies (Foucault, 1976, 1977). In essence, this involves naturalizing and internalizing an identity that aligns with the maintenance of social order. Whether or not a synthesis can be achieved between diverse and divergent systems of thought goes beyond the scope of this work. Nonetheless, investigating complex social phenomena, such as disciplinary practices within a prison (micro-analysis) as strategies of social control (macroanalysis), inherently demands the consideration of multiple theoretical approaches. Commencing the paragraph with Machado de Assis’ satirical novella, while it partially unveils the standpoint of this work, intends to highlight the challenge of comprehending the social world from a single perspective (and its limitations). Indeed, even if it does not culminate in a self-inflicted suicide, as experienced by the protagonist in the novel, it can lead to a conundrum. Ironically, however, the true essence of diagnosing mental illness becomes evident: identifying individuals who disrupt social equilibrium. The presence or absence of mental imbalances becomes secondary; the paramount objective is to rectify those who do not conform to the significant segment of the population, whether they are deemed sick, different, or poor, as we will delve into in the

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subsequent paragraphs. Put differently, upholding social order through mechanisms of social control takes precedence. This study commences with these foundational premises.

Disciplining and Disciplined Individuals In the previous paragraph, I identified a preliminary definition of social control: maintaining social order through democratic tools. Certainly, disciplining and rationalization can be considered key concepts for understanding the essence of social control mechanisms. To address the remaining questions regarding who the subjects needing discipline are, it might be beneficial to follow Melossi’s (2002) explanation of the growing significance of the anthropological archetype that increasingly became an active subject of political power during the Enlightenment—the European adult male, particularly a property owner. Melossi elaborates on how processes of rationalization and democratization were deeply embedded within this archetype. This moral archetype was then imposed upon segments of the population that did not align with it, both internally (such as youth, women, proletarians, and marginalized groups) and externally (with those deemed uncivilized or “savages”) (Melossi, 2002: 20–21). Thus, the author elucidates how Hobbesian contractarianism evolved through conceptualizations of the State, leading to the development of a new version of social contract theory that significantly influenced the emergence of the modern penitentiary system. Firstly, the conceptualization of individuals as rational, autonomous agents who engage in the social contract based on moral equality diverges significantly from Hobbes’ portrayal of homo homini lupus—individuals driven by mutual self-interest, engaging in bargaining with others. Moreover, this version of social contract theory establishes a bidirectional relationship between individuals and the State. The very State whose raison d’être lies in the political power10 individuals agreed to entrust 10

Locke identifies three distinct powers: paternal, political, and despotical. While the latter is absolute and arbitrary power aimed at captives and slaves, the former refers to the power that

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to society through the social contract would then shape the type of individuals permitted to partake in the contract. The individuals deemed meritorious for participation in collective life and the social contract are considered rational based on specific criteria such as values like work, asceticism, and property ownership. In this context, the only subjects of political power are adult men who possess private property. Ownership of material goods and the ability to make them prosper are deemed essential for participation in collective life. During the Enlightenment era, the subject of rights was expected to be a rational being, and this rationality was often perceived as lacking in women, children, and non-white individuals, who were consequently excluded from the social contract and society itself. Interestingly, Melossi critiques the concept of social exclusion, arguing that the aim of control and discipline is not to exclude deviants from society but to attempt their inclusion by imposing a very specific social and cultural model. This includes the use of institutions aimed at conveying this disciplinary model. Undoubtedly, the penitentiary system is one such institution. Melossi (2002) traces the history of imprisonment, describing how, starting in the sixteenth century, prisons became essential tools for molding individuals into perfect citizens.

Discipline and Subordinate Inclusion In the 1977 version of Michel Foucault’s “Surveiller et punir,” the translator’s note explains the lack of an adequate English equivalent for the verb “surveiller.’” Terms like surveillance, inspection, supervision, and observation are closely related to the French philosopher’s original connotation, but each carries either a technical or neutral tone. Eventually, Foucault himself suggests “Discipline and Punish.” As is evident when analyzing Foucault’s theory, discipline is a strategy through which power organizes individuals’ lives to maximize efficiency. Agents are fathers have over their children and wives. Political power, on the other hand, is “that power which every man having in the state of Nature has given up into the hands of the society.” Consequently, slaves, criminals, children, and women are subjects susceptible to paternal or despotical power, and they must be excluded from the social contract.

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distributed into roles and functions, while space, time, and even the body itself are meticulously managed to achieve productive outcomes. Every detail matters, as discipline constitutes a “political anatomy of detail” (Foucault, 1977: 138). Rye (2014) highlights the key distinctions between Foucault’s conceptualization and the characterization of discipline stemming from bureaucratic power in Weberian terms (Weber, 1948, 1978). The former is explicitly productive and individualizing, constructing individuals as capable agents “empowered to act within a scheme” (Rye, 2014). It subjects them to highly detailed control through devices and techniques that regulate their activities. The latter, on the other hand, is all-encompassing and tied to the phenomenon of societal “rationalization.” In the process of modernization, rational calculation has come to dominate all aspects of life, with reasoning reserved for calculating means rather than critically assessing ends. Weber defines “discipline” as: “the probability that, by virtue of habituation, a command will receive prompt and automatic obedience in stereotyped forms on the part of a given group of persons” (Weber, 1978: 53). Furthermore, Foucault’s theory does not incorporate the broader process of societal rationalization affecting all institutions, as it identifies specific rationalities (Foucault, 1994: 329). While these rational responses to specific issues create a network of power relations, they do not stem from a totalizing force but rather intersecting micropowers. Nevertheless, despite divergent conceptions of social rationality, O’Neill (1986) asserts that Foucault’s studies of the disciplinary society can complement Weber’s analysis of the modern bureaucratic state and economy. Foucault’s examinations of prisons, hospitals, and schools ground the legal-rational process in techniques for administering corporeal, attitudinal, and behavioral discipline (Foucault, 1976, 1977). Recent advancement in the theorization of disciplinary power has been pursued by Melossi (Melossi, 2018; Melossi & Pavarini, 1977). Seeking to critically assess the misinterpretation of his thesis in “The Prison and The Factory” (Melossi & Pavarini, 1977), the author clarifies that his objective was to explore the interrelationship between the development of capitalist accumulation and forms of punishment and discipline. He focused on the pivotal role of redefining the notion of discipline

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itself. Applying a Marxist lens to prison history materials, Melossi and Pavarini originally linked the “invention” of the prison to what Marx terms “primitive” or “original” accumulation. The misreading of Melossi and Pavarini’s thesis possibly stemmed from interpreting it as confirming Rusche and Kirchheimer’s work in “Punishment and Social Structure” (1939) rather than developing it. “The Prison and The Factory” does not assert that prisons emerged as a sort of “school” or “professional training school” for apprentice workers. This confusion, the author assumes, arises from conflating their thesis with penological visions of rehabilitation, resocialization, or re-education through work (Melossi, 2018: 2). Thus, the author explains what he does not imply with the term “discipline.’” Indeed, it does not mean teaching specific skills to potential workers; in fact, we are not discussing training people to enter the labor market. Through the concepts of discipline and disciplining, the authors introduce the notion of “subordinate inclusion,” which essentially involves teaching obedience and shaping the correct citizen who will not disrupt the social order.11 We have seen that the criteria for categorizing individuals as “outsiders” can change over time. What remains constant is the capitalist economic regime, which cyclically absorbs its marginal strata with the aim of subordinating them through different forms of inclusion, one of which is the prison system. If capitalist society—whether characterized by private or by public capital—is essentially marked by class struggle, the idea of subordination seems to constitute its original and dominant principle, even vis-à-vis the very goal of production. (Melossi, 2018: 16)

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One of the most evident historical examples provided by Melossi is the anti-institutional and anti-authoritarian struggles of the 1970s, during which the strength of the working class and the questioning of the Fordist factory system reached its peak. During this period, imprisonment rates were at their lowest. Therefore, Melossi postulates a potential connection between class struggles and the pattern of imprisonment rates. Considering that from the capitalist perspective, a primary concern is “the restoration of command discipline” (Melossi, 2018: 15), repressing such struggles and consequently weakening the ability of the working class to react would lead to a significant increase in incarceration rates.

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Disciplinary Practices In tracing the development of the disciplinary society as theorized by Weber and Foucault, O’Neill (1986) briefly explores the historical division between different types of poverty. Specifically, O’Neill notes that legislation in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries aimed to separate the “impotent poor” from the “able-bodied poor.” The impotent poor were granted authorization to beg, while the able-bodied were subjected to forced labor, often in workhouses, as a means of seeking pardon. These segregative measures not only controlled the supply of free labor but also established a model for disciplining former peasants and artisans who had been marginalized and driven into vagabondage and criminality due to the decline of feudalism and the confiscation of monastic property. While the relationship between poverty and the prison system has ancient origins, contemporary approaches continue to view this connection through a similar lens. A significant contribution in the field is the landmark study by Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Regulating the Poor (1971), which has been further expanded upon by Wacquant in Punishing the Poor (2009). Wacquant’s analysis of the contemporary American prison system suggests that the shift from liberal social policies of the 1960s to a more punitive approach in poverty governance is rooted in racialization and a judgmental attitude toward individuals who do not conform to the rules set by the white and wealthy class. Consequently, social assistance cannot be guaranteed, and punishment becomes the response for these segments of the population. Drawing upon Melossi’s concept of subordinate inclusion discussed earlier, we can observe a clear connection between the interpretation of the penitentiary as an institution seeking to include individuals by imposing a social and cultural model, and Wacquant’s depiction of a neoliberal-paternalistic regime of poverty governance that punishes marginalized individuals who do not adhere to the norms established by the dominant class. The link between market regulation practices, high rates of incarceration, and poverty governance as a form of social control has been extensively explored in various studies. Additionally, Soss et al. (2011) offer a groundbreaking development of Wacquant’s theory. First and foremost, Soss and his colleagues raise a

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critical point regarding Wacquant’s approach, highlighting the potential drawbacks of an overdetermined functional perspective. While Wacquant acknowledges the slippery slope toward this approach, he nevertheless presents the development of the penal state and racialization processes as necessary, without delving into an analysis of political agents. In contrast, Soss and his co-authors provide a much more precise examination of political transformations in America that could shed light on the shift toward disciplinary practices in poverty governance. Their focus on historical and geographical factors, as well as the imperative to clarify the role of actors in shaping new regulatory mentalities, resonates widely and presents a compelling argument. Building upon the discussion, Caputo (2019) delves deeper into the analysis by shedding light on significant changes in welfare approaches and policies, and their impact on reshaping the predominant paradigm of liberalism, which historically excluded individuals without private property. We have previously explored how liberalism emphasized private property as the primary criterion for participation in society, deeming non-proprietary individuals as morally deficient. In contrast, the welfare state recognizes its duty to protect and integrate individuals from disadvantaged classes, even those who have transgressed the law. Notably, in the initial decades following the war, the emergence of the welfare state contributed to a decline in the incarcerated population across much of Western continental Europe. However, in the 1970s and 1980s, this trend began to reverse due to soaring social spending necessitated by uncontrolled unemployment resulting from early 1970s oil shocks, consequently sparking strong criticism of welfare policies (Caputo, 2019). Nonetheless, the transition from safeguarding the interests of property owners to extending universal protection to non-owners aimed to mitigate unemployment and social conflicts, while also facilitating the provision of cheap labor through wage support programs (Cloward & Piven, 1971). Caputo makes it clear that within the framework of welfare-based social inclusion, the state assumes the responsibility of socializing risks and mitigating social insecurities in exchange for individuals’ commitment to work. Repressive criminal policies targeting poverty during the era of classical liberalism have been discarded, as

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the welfare state now establishes the social order upon a new anthropological conception of individuals who remain rational and holders of subjective rights, while also being consumers of goods and services (Caputo, 2019). Furthermore, the prison system serves as a noteworthy tool for controlling immigrant labor forces within the context of the labor market, ensuring the availability of a labor supply (De Giorgi, 2002; Mosconi, 2006; Sbraccia, 2004). Consequently, social institutions normatively encourage individuals to internalize the new rules of the welfare state, which are founded on the reciprocal exchange between work and social protection. Additionally, Soss et al. challenge Wacquant’s interpretation of the rise of neoliberalism, arguing against the notion that it resulted from the retreat of the welfare state or the reduction of the state’s social functions.12 Instead, Soss et al. propose that neoliberalism has embraced an activist state, transforming it in the process. Neoliberal reforms have actually expanded social and penal programs targeting the poor. Paternalistic neoliberalism involves institutions taking an active role in dictating the actions of the poor and constantly monitoring their behavior through a system of incentives and penalties for non-compliance. This is particularly evident in poverty governance measures such as means-tested benefits, which are heavily conditional on good behavior. Understanding the underlying rationale is crucial: the primary goal of poverty governance is not to eradicate poverty, but to manage insecurity, including marginalized segments of the population through their own contributions. It can be seen as an explicit and ambitious attempt to reshape the ways in which poor individuals think about and regulate themselves (Soss et al., 2011). Although expansive welfare policies in the first three decades after World War II led to an unprecedented decline in incarceration rates, the perception of a causal relationship between poverty and crime still

12 The evolution of neoliberalism has been characterized as a progression through distinct phases: “proto-neoliberalism,” linked with the pre-1980s challenge to Keynesianism; “roll-back neoliberalism,” which dominated the 1980s and early 1990s, emphasizing deregulation and structural adjustments; and “roll-out neoliberalism,” beginning in the 1990s and continuing, which centers on state-building (Peck & Tickell, 2002).

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persisted. While the poor are no longer subjected to moral condemnation, they are still considered a societal threat due to their potential for deviance, and behaviors typically associated with disadvantaged classes continue to be punished. Caputo (2019) supports this analysis by examining the case of Italy, where the current Criminal Code maintains an authoritarian and classist character centered on the protection of property. Consequently, the approach to deviance within the criminal justice system remains unchanged. Instead, punitive practices are rearticulated by combining elements of humanitarianism, social pedagogy, and criminological correctional techniques. In line with this perspective, welfare practices and punitive prison measures are not completely eliminated but are supplemented with a system of intricate restraints. Institutions develop social control programs such as rehabilitation projects for young offenders and segregative structures like asylums. Moreover, penal welfare programs serve not only corrective and inclusive purposes, such as imprisonment, but also encompass public utility works and alternative measures to incarceration. It is crucial to note that although the criminal welfare approach softens punitive practices, prison itself is not questioned and remains central to the sanctioning system. While imprisonment is presented as the last resort, there is an increasing emphasis on implementing alternative measures to detention that accentuate the pedagogical nature of criminal punishment (Caputo, 2019). Furthermore, Soss and his colleagues expand on Wacquant’s analysis by delving into the actions and methods employed by governing authorities. They examine changes in poverty management, such as policy devolution, privatization processes, and the implementation of performance systems, which have led to new mechanisms of social control. These mechanisms not only impact the poor but also lowerlevel governing authorities. The shift toward a paternalistic approach involves the use of moral appeals and incentives to promote specific personal changes, exerting a profound influence on both recipients and executors. This reinforces the new rationality of punishment, wherein the prison system takes on the responsibility of managing those who are considered rejects or failures of welfare policies. These individuals are segregated in corrective and normalizing institutions, either to be

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reeducated and reintegrated into society or to be neutralized in order to safeguard societal defense. The welfare state thus presents a new form of punishment, portraying old criminal practices as inhumane and oppressive while depicting the new system as not only more humane but also inclusive (Caputo, 2019). To conclude, I agree with Soss et al.’s urging not to view punishment as “the disciplinary alpha and omega of neoliberal paternalism” (Soss et al., 2011: 8). As I will demonstrate throughout this work, penitentiary policies are just one aspect of a disciplinary system deeply rooted in incentives, rewards, and new forms of pedagogy that shape both those in power and those governed.

References Abrams, T. (2014). Re-reading Erving Goffman as an emancipatory researcher. Disability Studies Quarterly, 34 (1). Becker, H. (1963). Outsiders: Studies in the sociology of deviance. Caputo, G. (2012). Detenuti e diritti sociali: Un welfare povero per i poveri, Antigone. Quadrimestrale Di Critica Del Sistema Penale e Penitenziario, 7 (1), 98–106. Caputo, G. (2019). Welfare, povertà e correzionalismo. In D. A. Gondim, A. C. Oliveira, E. Santoro, P. De Alencar Mayer, & M. L. Feitosa (Eds.), Teorias dos direitos humanos, direito e sociedade: Genealogia e prospectivas do pensamento jurídico (pp. 347–404). Editora Universitaria da UFPB. Cloward, R. A., & Piven, F. F. (1971). Regulating the poor: The functions of public welfare. Pantheon Books. De Giorgi, A. (2002). Il governo dell’eccedenza. Ombre Corte. Durkheim, É. (1894). Les règles de la méthode sociologique. Revue Philosophique De La France Et De L’étranger, 37 , 465–498. Durkheim, E. (1895 [1982]). Les règles de la méthode sociologique. Paris: Alcan. [Transl. by Halls, W.D. as The rules of sociological method, published in London by Macmillan. Reprinted in 1993a in Paris by: Presses Universitaires de France Gibbs, J., & Erickson, M. (1975). Major developments in the sociological study of deviance. In Alex Inkeles, J. Coleman and Neil Smelser (Eds.), Annual Review of Sociology (Vol. 1). Annual Reviews, Inc.

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Foucault, M. (1976). La volonté de savoir: Histoire de la sexualité 1. Gallimard, Paris, trad. it. La volontà di sapere, Feltrinelli Editore. Foucault, M. (1977 [1975]). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison (A. Sheridan, Trans.). Foucault, M. (1980). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings 1972–1977 . Harvester Press. Foucault, M. (1994). The subject and power. In James D. Faubion (Ed.), Power: The essential works of Foucault 1954–1984 (pp. 326–348). Gibson, M. S. (1982). The “Female Offender” and the Italian School of Criminal Anthropology. Journal of European Studies, 12(47), 155–165. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. Anchor. Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma: Notes on the management of spoiled identity. A Touchstone Book Published by Simon Schuster Inc. Goffman, E. (1969). The insanity of place. Psychiatry, 32(4), 357–388. Gouldner, A. W. (1972). The coming crisis of western sociology. Science and Society, 36 (1). Guerry, A. M. (1833). Essai sur la statistique morale de la France. Crochard. Hacking, I. (2004). Between Michel Foucault and Erving Goffman: Between discourse in the abstract and face-to-face interaction. Economy and Society, 33(3), 277–302. Inderbitzin, M., Bates, K. A., & Gainey, R. R. (2016). Deviance and social control: A sociological perspective. Sage Publications. Kuhn, T. (1970). The structure of scientific revolutions. University of Chicago Press. Lemert, E. M. (1962). Paranoia and the dynamics of exclusion. Sociometry, 25 (1), 2–20. Lemert, E. M. (1967). Human deviance, social problems, and social control . Prentice-Hall. Lombroso, C. (1876). L’Uomo delinquente. Hoepli. Machado de Assis, J.M. (1882 [2012]). The Alienist. Melville House. Mead, G. H. (1925). The genesis of the self and social control. In G. H. Mead (Ed.), Selected Writings (1964, pp. 267–293). Bobbs-Merrill. Mead, G. H. (1934). Mente, sé e società. Barbera. Melossi, D., & Pavarini, M. (1977). Carcere e fabbrica: alle origini del sistema penitenziario [XVI–XIX secolo]. Soc. Ed. Il Mulino. Melossi, D. (2002). Stato, controllo sociale, devianza: teorie criminologiche e società tra Europa e Stati Uniti. Pearson Italia Spa.

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Melossi, D. (2018). The prison and the factory. Revisited (2017): Penality and the critique of political economy between Marx and Foucault. In The Prison and the Factory (40th Anniversary Edition) (pp. 1–24). Palgrave Macmillan. Merton, R. K., & Merton, R. C. (1968). Social theory and social structure. Simon and Schuster. Messner, S. F., & Rosenfeld, R. (2009). Institutional anomie theory: A macrosociological explanation of crime. In Handbook on crime and deviance (pp. 209–224). Springer. Mosconi, G. (2006). Carcere e controllo sociale. Alla ricerca di un modello interpretativo. Antigone: Quadrimestrale di critica del sistema penale e penitenziario, 1, 97–112. O’Neill, J. (1986). The disciplinary society: From Weber to Foucault. The British Journal of Sociology, 37 (1), 42. Parker, R., & Aggleton, P. (2003). HIV and AIDS-related stigma and discrimination: A conceptual framework and implications for action. Social Science Medicine, 57 (1), 13–24. Parsons, T. (1951a). The social system. Routledge Kegan Paul. Parsons, T. (1951b). Illness and the role of the physician: A sociological perspective. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 21(3), 452. Peck, J., & Tickell, A. (2002). Neoliberalizing space. Antipode, 34 (3), 380– 404. Piven, F. F., & Cloward, R. (1971). Regulating the poor: The functions of public welfare. Vintage. Quetelet, A. (1835). Facts, laws and phenomena of natural philosophy, or, summary of a course of general physics. P. Sinclair. Ross, E. A. (1896). Social control. American Journal of Sociology, 1(5), 513–535. Ross, E. A. (1901). The Vicissitudes of Social Control. American Journal of Sociology, 6 (4), 550–562. Rusche, G., & Kirchheimer, O. (1939). Punishment and social structure (p. 2003). Transaction Publishers. Rye, D. (2014). Disciplinary power. In Political Parties and the Concept of Power (pp. 155–183). Palgrave Macmillan. Sbraccia, A. (2004). Giovani migranti africani tra irregolarità e illegalità. Tesi di dottorato. Smith, D. E. (1978). K is mentally ill’ the anatomy of a factual account. Sociology, 12(1), 23–53. Spencer, H. (1879). The principles of sociology. Williams and Norgate.

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Soss, J., Fording, R. C., Schram, S. F., & Schram, S. (2011). Disciplining the poor: Neoliberal paternalism and the persistent power of race. University of Chicago Press. Szasz, T. (1976). The myth of mental illness. In Biomedical Ethics and the Law (pp. 113–122). Springer. Szasz, T. (2011). The myth of mental illness: 50 years later. The Psychiatrist, 35 (5), 179–182. Taylor, I., Walton, P., & Young, J. (1973). The new criminology: For a social theory of deviance. Routledge. Van den Berghe, P. L. (1990). Why most sociologists don’t (and won’t) think evolutionarily. Sociological Forum, 5 (2), 173–185. Kluwer Academic Publishers-Plenum Publishers. Walsh, A., & Beaver, K. M. (2009). Biosocial criminology. In Handbook on crime and deviance (pp. 79–101). Springer. Wacquant, L. (2009). Punishing the poor: The neoliberal government of social insecurity. Duke university Press. Weber, M. (1948). From Max Weber: Essays in sociology (H.H. Gerth & C. Wright Mills, Eds.). Routledge. Weber, M. (1978). Economy and society: An outline of interpretive sociology. University of California Press. Wright, C. W., & Randall, S. C. (1978). Contrasting conceptions of deviance in sociology: Functionalism and labelling theory. The British Journal of Criminology, 18, 217.

3 Pervasive Social Control: How Merit Shapes Authorities’ Perception

One of the operating principles of authorities is that the possibility of error is simply not taken into account. This principle is justified by the excellence of the entire organization and is also necessary if matters are to be discharged with the utmost rapidity. Didn’t you mention a control agency? “You’re very severe,” said the chairman, “but multiply your severity by a thousand and it will still be as nothing compared with the severity that the authorities show toward themselves. Only a total stranger could ask such a question. Are there control agencies? There are only control agencies. Of course they aren’t meant to find errors, in the vulgar sense of that term, since no errors occur, and even if an error does occur, as in your case, who can finally say that it is an error.” [Franz Kafka, The Castle]

In the acknowledgment section of the 30th-anniversary edition of “Street-level Bureaucracy – Dilemmas of the Individual in Public Services,” Lipsky explains that his interest in the common work characteristics of street-level bureaucrats emerged in 1969 while writing a review of a book on the police (Lipsky, 2010). According to the author, street-level bureaucracies encompass agencies such as schools, police © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_3

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and welfare departments, lower courts, and legal services offices, where workers interact with citizens and possess broad discretion in dispensing benefits or allocating public sanctions (2010: xi). Another significant attribute is that public interactions with street-level bureaucracies offer a direct encounter with the government individuals have constructed and internalized. Lipsky contends that exercising discretion is a crucial aspect for public workers who regularly engage with citizens, enabling them to respond adequately to individual cases given time and information constraints. In doing so, workers develop established practices and stereotyped perceptions of “clients.” According to Lipsky’s own words: Perhaps the most highly refined example of street-level bureaucratic discretion comes from the field of corrections. Prison guards conventionally file injurious reports on inmates whom they judge to be guilty of ’silent insolence.’ Clearly, what does or does not constitute a dirty look is a matter of some subjectivity. (2010: 12–13)

Building on Lipsky’s foundational theory, Dubois argues that these everyday interactions significantly impact the implementation of state policy and, consequently, the definition “of what the state actually is” (Dubois, 2014). After clarifying the meaning of discretion (i.e., the officials’ flexibility in enforcing rules or implementing programs), Dubois elaborates on the functions of discretion as a manifestation of Foucauldian governmentality, focusing on state control practices. While the perceptions shaping formal rules at the upper levels of the state apparatus may not align precisely with those of street-level bureaucrats, they are deeply interconnected. If the latter “see like a state” (Dubois, 2014; Scott, 1998) by imposing schematic visions, the former “also see through the eyes of its individual agents (…) who, facing this complexity, use their own perceptions to master it and to enforce state categories” (Dubois, 2014: 39). Concentrating on an area where the control procedures of street-level bureaucracy are particularly evident, namely the provision of welfare measures, the author emphasizes how the shift toward a financial version of welfare has led to a quest for cost reduction, achieved through cutting benefit recipients. Rigorous checks and control

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policies are put into practice. While during the classic welfare era, checks aimed to prevent errors in payments, Dubois asserts that in the last three decades “checks are designed to verify compliance with behavioral criteria and are part of the policy instruments used to ‘activate’ the non-working poor” (2014: 40). A moral category emerges: that of deservingness.

Deservingness and Merit—New Disciplinary Categories As previously demonstrated, the concepts of merit, desert, and deservingness have typically been investigated in relation to social welfare policies and attitudes toward poverty (Appelbaum, 2002; Bendix Jensen, 2004; Dubois, 2009, 2014, 2016; Lipsky, 2010; Soss et al., 2011; Van Oorshot, 2006). However, the concepts of merit and desert are semantically ambiguous. They can refer to two distinct things: something that has been accomplished or some innate quality of the individual. Brigati observes a subtle yet significant difference in the English language between “desert” and “merit,” applying the former to actions and the latter to the moral evaluation of intrinsic features (Brigati, 2012). Such a distinction is not trivial; it implies intention (I deserve a reward because I have voluntarily acted in a meritorious way) or lack thereof (I deserve to be recognized as a talented/good/intelligent person). Additionally, the terms can pertain to the past (the action to be rewarded) or the future (the qualities that can be utilized to achieve something with a positive social impact). Desert always emerges within an interactional framework: if something is deserving, it signifies the need for recognition, engaging a multitude of actors. The term “recognized” is used because desert does not necessarily entail a reward; it can also involve mere praise, albeit with significant symbolic impact. Brigati’s analysis of the concept of desert offers four crucial postulates: (i) desert is not solely dependent on a contract or agreement; (ii) forms of desert recognition can predate institutions; (iii) these forms are intertwined with control and exchange

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modalities; (iv) desert is always a product of interaction (in other words, merit requires an observer) (2012: 189). Simpson et al. (2020) critique the approach of sociology of work and organization studies to the conceptualization of deservingness and merit, which are often used interchangeably, with deservingness treated as an alternative meaning (Simpson et al., 2020; Sommerland, 2014). They concur with Pojman and McLeod (1998) in distinguishing between the two terms, where merit encompasses talent, skills, and ability, while deservingness encompasses effort, commitment, and goodwill. Moreover, Simpson et al. appreciate the authors’ efforts in highlighting the fact that deservingness hinges on performance and attitude evaluation. However, they highlight the tendency to overlook the negative consequences of employing deservingness to evaluate merit-based systems, as these approaches perpetuate work-based inequalities: This is to fail to fully understand not only the distinction between them but also the nature of their interrelationship. Thus, as we seek to show, while merit is generally thought to be founded on a stable set of attributes possessed by the individual, its contingent and subjective character is in fact rooted in the performative dynamics of deservingness, with implications for work-based reward. (Simpson et al., 2020: 185)

Brigati briefly touches on a particularly intriguing aspect of desert: every institution that dispenses rewards establishes its own forms of desert ipso facto, and it is improbable to find an institution willing to reward services/performances that contradict (or even remain neutral toward) its objectives (Brigati, 2012). This statement offers further insight into the terms deservingness and entitlement. While institutions indeed operate by rewarding and punishing based on their versions of merit, they also cannot disregard those who are entitled. Feather recognizes that the two terms are often seen as interchangeable (Feather, 2003), used to compare group differences (Major, 1994), and linked within a conceptual hierarchy where entitlement is the overarching concept encompassing “equity, deserving, rights, fairness, and the justice of procedures, distribution, and retributive acts” (Lerner, 1987: 107). Nevertheless, the author proposes a clear distinction between the two

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terms. Deservingness should be related “to outcomes that are earned or achieved as products of a person’s actions” (Feather, 2003: 369), which can be both observed and inferred. The distinct feature of deservingness is the perceived responsibility of the individual being evaluated for the outcomes of their actions. In contrast, entitlement relates to both actions and outcomes, referring “to judgments that relate more to an agreedupon body of law, social norms, and formal and informal rules (…) embodying legal or quasi-legal social norms and principles that concern groups and categories of people” (2003: 368). Feather also emphasizes that while individuals can be judged to deserve both positive and negative outcomes, entitlement generally carries a positive connotation: a person is not entitled to negative treatment or punishment. Indeed, although the law may prescribe negative treatment for offenders, we would still consider them deserving the punishment due to their actions and responsibility. In terms of the logics of responsibilization, the notion is often connected to the logics of recipients aligning their behavior with specific institutional requirements to demonstrate their deservingness of welfare benefits. White (2000) justifies the notion of responsibility as a response to the principle of reciprocity: citizens are obligated to contribute to the value of the social product of collective goods provision that they receive, to prevent free-riding and intergroup dependence. This can be done proportionally (value to value) or according to one’s abilities (doing one’s share). Despite the significance of such an interpretation of the concept in distributive and egalitarian economic justice, the concept of responsibility also carries a concealed aspect of social control measures toward a segment of the population that cannot be integrated: Bifurcating the lowest strata into ’deserving’ and ’undeserving’ categories of poor. In essence, more than ever private agents will play roles of social control with respect to public rights and claims of citizenship (…) With its emphasis on bootstrap mobility and individual responsibility in a social structure of immense inequality, faith-based social service obscures the broader structures of racial and economic domination, depoliticizes social inequality, and replaces confrontation with accommodation.

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Sectarian organizations are perfectly suited to exert pressure on the lower classes. (Weiss, 2001: 43)

Building on the previously discussed semantical distinction between desert and merit, it is important to recognize that while an observer subjectively evaluates talents, actions are always judged based on the person’s biographical history, which contributes to shaping and reinforcing the idea of desert (Brigati, 2012). However, Rossi warns against interpretations of responsibility that neglect the agency of recipients, who in reality “perform a variety of strategic actions in order to shape their possibilities of receiving services and that these actions can diverge from expected logics of responsibilization” (2017: 614). As briefly mentioned in Chapter 2, the shift toward a policy of government centered on discipline and the rise of paternalist neoliberalism implied constant behavior monitoring through incentive systems (Caputo, 2019; Soss et al., 2011). Critics of deservingness reveal that “the poor and nonpoor violate conventional morality at similar rates; what differentiates them is vulnerability, not behavior” (Zatz, 2011: 560). Zatz quotes Katz (1989) to highlight that poverty is often portrayed as a result of personal responsibility, with the potential remedy lying in personal transformation involving skill acquisition, commitment to the work ethic, or practicing chastity. In other words, to access welfare benefits, the poor must prove their deservingness and not be guilty of behaviors that could have led to their neediness. Moral judgment and significant discretion are pivotal aspects of anti-poverty programs: Zatz (2011) asserts that revealing the implicit moral content of need assessment, intrinsically linked with behavioral conditions, is crucial to bridging the gap between need and deservingness. Along these lines, Van Oorschot (2006) proposes basic criteria for assessing a group’s deservingness. These criteria include: (i) “control over neediness”: individuals perceived as responsible for their neediness are seen as less deserving; (ii) “level of need ”: those with greater need are seen as more deserving; (iii) “identity”: individuals closer to “us” who are needy are seen as more deserving; (iv) “attitude”: more deserving are those needy people who are likable, grateful, compliant, and conforming to our standards; (v) “reciprocity”: more deserving are those needy individuals who have contributed to our group before (who

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have “earned” our support) or are expected to contribute in the future (2006: 26).

Deserving of Punishment: Disciplining Offenders As we observed in Chapter 2, Caputo (2019) correlates changes in welfare policies with the emergence of a new perception of individuals, particularly offenders. The population now assumes the characteristics of a fluid entity, no longer categorized by traditional classifications such as social classes or strata, but evaluated based on market criteria like individual merit and the ability to innovate or adapt. Individuals are no longer sheltered from cradle to grave by the welfare-social safety net; they share responsibility for their achievements and failures. Drawing from Nozick (2008), Caputo emphasizes that the resurgence of the concept of individual responsibility in criminal law theory is not coincidental, critiquing the re-educational and preventive theories of punishment that underpinned the correctional and welfarist model. Offenders are no longer viewed as social outliers or sick individuals; they return to being rational individuals accountable for their own actions (Caputo, 2019), and as a result, subject to judgment as deserving or undeserving individuals. Additionally, we established that Soss et al. (2011) identify the management of needy individuals as the primary objective of social programs addressing poverty, rather than the complete eradication of poverty. Thus, according to the authors, poverty governance does not aim to eliminate poverty but aims to secure the cooperation and contributions of weakly integrated populations. Furthermore, we explored how Soss and colleagues expand on Wacquant’s theory (2009), agreeing on the central role of incarceration and punishment in poverty governance, which employ “surveillance and penalty systems to keep aid recipients moving along their designated paths” (Soss et al., 2011: 2). However, they question whether punitive policy tools are the sole instruments. New incentive systems, pedagogical methods, and transformative experiences of market relations also play a significant role: “the disciplinary turn in poverty governance, in our analysis, entails the expansion of sovereign

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powers but, more fundamentally, is a project of governmentality focused on fostering particular forms of self-mastery and promoting a particular kind of wellness in targeted populations” (2011: 8). Above all, Soss et al. elucidate the primary purpose of these new governance methods, which endorse “new mentalities of rules” to alter governing practices by “reconstructing the ways that authorities understand themselves, their missions, and the problems and populations they act on (…) The ultimate purpose of these changes is to transform the poor themselves—to make them into the kinds of subjects who voluntarily embrace particular kinds of choices and behaviors” (2011: 9). Within this last quote, two crucial concepts converge: the selfperception of authorities and the rehabilitative approach to subjects who must conform to societal rules. In his study of a maximum-security prison, Sykes (1958) distinctly outlines the prison’s goal as the imposition of an extensive set of rules that serve as a behavioral blueprint for inmates. Sykes refers to this imposition as a social order that “represents means, a method of achieving certain goals” (1958: 13). To Sykes, the prison acts as a machine translating society’s dictates into actions. However, the set of rules and routines of prison officers still represents a choice among alternatives. As the author underscores, “we must examine the basis of this choice as well as the objectives themselves” (1958: 14). Consequently, borrowing from Soss, what are “the ways (prison) authorities understand themselves” (Soss et al., 2011: 9)? And what are the primary societal mandates that they translate into action? Indeed, the moral directives guiding correctional officers’ practices in determining prisoners’ merit and deservingness could also be explored through Dubois’ analysis of state control practices over authorities’ perceptions. Authorities, including correctional officers in this instance, see like the state but also reinforce the state’s categories by applying and reproducing their own perceptions (Dubois, 2014). Focusing on the punitive system and correctional officers’ perceptions, which constitute the research focus clarified in the introductory chapter of this work, it is particularly relevant to refer to Sykes’ explanation of the prison’s approach to the reward-punishment system. According to Sykes, prison officers cannot rely on a sense of duty to motivate prisoners to obey, and resorting to violence is prohibited. Although the legitimacy of

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control1 is acknowledged and accepted, a sense of duty based on internalized morality is rare. Therefore, “the custodians must fall back on a system of reward and punishment” (1958: 50). This system should be interpreted as the only tools that correctional officers perceive at their disposal, rather than a deterministic last resort. Here, I would like to delve into how such perceptions are constructed and solidified based on specific laws. According to the Italian penitentiary regulation, compliance with codes of conduct could be seen as an acquisition of responsibility warranting reward. According to Article 37 of the Italian Penal Code, rewards signify recognition of the sense of responsibility displayed in personal conduct and organized activities within institutions. The law does not settle for “passive compliance with the rules of conduct” but requires “behaviors deserving of a positive appreciation because motivated by a sense of responsibility, demonstrated in the community life of the institute.” Furthermore, to ensure impartial exercise of administrative power, Article 76, paragraph I, identifies the types of conduct deserving positive consideration. Consistently, the relevance of the neoliberal paternalism approach, as evaluated by Soss et al., is evident: the punitive system is a highly effective mechanism to discipline the authoritative system—in this case, correctional officers—and subsequently discipline the poor, leading them to “voluntarily embrace particular kinds of choices and behaviors” (Soss et al., 2011: 9).

The Ubiquitous Features of Merit’s Rhetoric: A Gendered Insight In the preceding pages, I discussed Simpson et al.’s cautionary note regarding the potential confusion between deservingness and merit when 1 Weber asserts that a social order is legitimate “only if action is approximately or on average oriented to certain determinate ‘maxims’ or rules” (Weber 1978: 31). Building upon Weber’s theory, Johnson et al. (2006) provide a sociological analysis of the concept of legitimation. To begin, when individuals assume that certain rules and beliefs are shared and accepted by others, they will conduct themselves accordingly, even if their personal beliefs do not align. In fact, as long as the majority of individuals support and validate the social order, it will be perceived as valid and objective.

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evaluating organizations that employ merit-based systems. They underscore the significance of distinguishing between the two terms—with deservingness representing objective attributes and skills, and merit involving positive actions and behaviors. In order to emphasize the relationship between deservingness and merit, the authors adopt a performative interpretation of deservingness, revealing its gendered nature. Specifically, they highlight how the evaluation of performances reinforces the notion of merit as performatively constructed, particularly through masculine presentations (Simpson, 2020: 193). Put differently, the accomplishments commonly deemed deserving, which are often conflated with objective criteria in merit-based assessments, generally stem from pre-existing gender norms. As the authors clarify, “this is to foreground not only how deservingness is predicated upon behaviors and performances that are given value in context (e.g., based on effort, commitment, achievement), but also (…) how a gendered, deserving meritorious subject is constituted through performative, embodied displays” (2020: 192). Simpson et al. draw upon Butler’s (1990, 1993) concept of performativity, which posits that a (gendered, professional) subject comes into existence through the repeated enactment of acts and behaviors that reference existing norms within a contextually specific regulatory framework (Simpson, 2020: 190). In Chapter 2, I briefly discussed Rye’s examination of the conceptualizations of disciplinary power by Foucault and Weber (Rye, 2014). Rye also highlights the importance of Butlerian performativity, quoting Butler’s renowned definition of gender as a fiction lacking “ontological status apart from the various acts which constitute its reality” (1990: 136). Through a comparison with Goffman’s concept of expressive equipment, gender is seen as a tool for presenting oneself and adhering to societal expectations—encompassing physical attributes like sex, gender, age, racial characteristics, facial expressions, gestures, rank, clothing, posture, and more. Rye further discusses how this concept can be subverted “into tools for disciplining the body” (2014: 158), conveying political messages through appearance and behavior. Critiquing Goffman’s definition of gender, West and Zimmerman (1987) propose an alternative perspective. They reject the view of gender

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as a set of traits, variables, or roles, instead defining it as an outcome of social interactions, perpetually shaped through engagement. While acknowledging Goffman’s significant contribution, the authors argue that gender is not something that can be selectively displayed at one’s convenience; it is not optional. “Doing gender” is an ongoing process deeply embedded in everyday interactions (1987: 130). Furthermore, this gendered behavior establishes a societal framework that reflects natural differences, implicitly endorsing hierarchical structures. As they put it, “doing gender furnishes the interactional scaffolding of social structure, along with a built-in mechanism of social control (…) An understanding of how gender is produced in social situations will afford clarification of the interactional scaffolding of social structure, and the social control processes that sustain it” (1987: 147). In the upcoming paragraphs, I will explore the interconnectedness of merit and deservingness with gender within a specific organizational context: the prison.

A Gendered Organization: Deserving Punishment and Reward Since Acker (1992) coined the term “gendered organization,” which refers to the presence of gender in the processes, practices, images, ideologies, and power distributions across various sectors of social life (1992: 567), a gender-focused paradigm has been widely employed for studying organizations and bureaucracy. Carrabine and Longhurst (1998) emphasize that gender identities are formed through tangible practices and stress the importance of examining the interaction between managers and those they manage to demonstrate that organizations are routinely influenced by gender dynamics. However, the concept of gender still remains somewhat ambiguous. Generally, sociologists have viewed gender as an enactment of roles or a “display,” focusing on behavioral aspects rather than biological differences, or as an interactional process dependent on context. In explaining why the sociological discourse often focuses on gender rather than sexuality, Witz and Savage point out that the primary reason for “gendering” sociological discussions is to illustrate how social

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practices reinforce male dominance and power, which are not based on biological imperatives (1991: 54). Along these lines, Acker (1992) elucidates that although the binary categories of male and female are perceived as natural and prior to social intervention in the form of gender, assigning individuals to these categories is an evaluative social process often based on assumed biological differences. In other words, gender differences are understood through sex categorization, which essentially “derives its meaning from gender: sex collapses into gender” (1992: 566). The author does not downplay the significance of the body and sexuality, but rather asserts that they are shaped “through social practices and processes; they are constituted through gender and, at the same time, help constitute gender” (1992: 565–566). Similarly, I adopt Bartky’s definition of femininity (and masculinity by extension): “we are born male or female, but not masculine or feminine. Femininity is an artifice” (1988: 95).

Binary Sexual Segregation: Inmates’ Discipline Certainly, prisons represent a distinct type of gendered organization.2 Recently, prison systems have been examined as arenas in which gender is “enforced” through the separation of inmates based on their sex— namely, the division between male and female prisoners (Pemberton, 2013). Pemberton specifically investigates why some organizations implement sex segregation while others do not. The author interprets it not as a representation of a biological fact, but as an exercise of power that reinforces binary sex and gender categories. Drawing from Connell (1987), Pemberton employs the concept of hegemonic masculinity, 2 Interestingly, Goffman’s traditional definition refers to prisons as total institutions, not total organizations. While the former are characterized as systems of formalized rules that determine the development and behavior of structures, the latter are understood as institutionalized, stable, and recognized models of behavior. Perry (2007), acknowledging that these two terms are often used interchangeably, suggests a reconsideration of the term “total institutions.” Perry delves into the criticism of Goffman’s usage of the term, noting that the concept of “total organization” has been proposed as a more fitting alternative. In response, Perry explains that Goffman’s use of the term “institution” aims to encompass both the organizational aspects (areas of activity involving subjectivities and objectives) and the institutional facets (formalized rules that encompass identity allocation, distribution of duties, and provision of rewards) (2007: 1).

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which is constructed in opposition to both femininity and subordinate masculinities, and is institutionalized by the state in organizations like the military, police, and prisons (Pemberton, 2013: 167–168). Furthermore, as “penal governance” is perceived as a form of productive power aimed at shaping individuals to conform to specific normative expectations (Hannah-Moffat, 2001: 7), and considering that gendered organizations play a crucial role in perpetuating and reshaping broader gender relations in society, Carrabine and Longhurst’s examination of Sim’s argument (1995) regarding the embedded discourses of masculinity and femininity in maintaining and reproducing order within prisons becomes pivotal (Carrabine & Longhurst, 1998: 165). In this context, critical criminology views penal institutions as structures that operate through gender dynamics, effectively molding “appropriately gendered human behavior and socialized (docile) subjects” (Bosworth & Kaufman, 2012; Butler, 1990). This perspective posits that the power to punish has a reciprocal relationship with gender, which is not fixed and can be reinterpreted; it both depends on and generates gender. The interplay between gender, power, and deservingness has a rich history in criminology studies, marked by extensive debates on the correlation between gender and criminality. Investigations into male and female incarceration have shown that the perpetuation of gender-based stereotypes (Girshcick, 2011; Sim, 1995) leads to highly discriminatory expectations and assessment criteria for female offenders. These expectations tend to reinforce a patriarchal model that enforces traditional gender norms upon women who disrupt societal order. Initially, feminist studies explored whether the introduction of women into work environments typically dominated by men would result in an increase in the female prison population (Adler, 1975; Simon, 1975). Empirical research demonstrated otherwise: patriarchal domination not only obscures criminal actions against women but establishes a parallel system of social control, relegating female deviance—when possible—to domestic environments or, at the very least, outside the penal system. Penal policies aimed at the social and occupational reintegration of women hold particular interest due to their inclusion of specific requirements and prescriptions influenced by perceptions of women’s roles within patriarchal society. Thus, the punitive system administers differentiated treatment to deviant women,

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asserting the exceptional nature of their behavior compared to male offenders. Transgressions of moral codes and cultural norms lead to sanctions primarily aimed at correcting individuals perceived as incapable of adhering to social norms (Carponi Schittar, 1996; Faccioli, 1990; Ronconi & Zuffa, 2014, 2020). On this subject, some authors have explored whether equal treatment for men and women in prison is fair treatment (Chesney-Lind & Bloom, 1997; Chesney-Lind & PollockByrne, 1995). Marginalization, infantilization, and incapacitation of offenders are significant themes explored by an academic niche, though they remain under-researched and struggle to gain broad attention, especially concerning women in prison. In her groundbreaking work on women in prison, Carlen (1983) argued that female prisoners were frequently infantilized, stripped of agency, and subjected to outmoded and unrealistic notions of feminine behavior. Carlen’s influential study explored the ways in which prisons operate through gender roles and paved the way for increased engagement between sociologists and gender theory, delving into the self-constitutive relationship between imprisonment and gender. This body of work reveals that prison regimes do not merely reflect and reinforce gendered perceptions of appropriate feminine behavior; instead, they solidify and propagate specific (binary) gender constructions throughout society (Bosworth & Kaufman, 2012). Consequently, the imperative to study female incarceration becomes evident: within a hyper-masculinized organization like a prison, female prisoners often find themselves overlooked from both theoretical and practical standpoints. However, when investigating the role of gender within prison, the focus primarily falls on female sections, while male prisoners are rarely examined in this context. Bosworth and Kaufman (2012) illuminate this underexplored research area, attributing its limited attention to the paradoxical nature of masculinity for male prisoners: masculinity’s high value, associated with power and control, is perpetually restrained by the authority of prison staff. Consequently, while a particular form of gender is encouraged within male prisons, male inmates remain entirely reliant on the institution. This dependence contradicts the axioms of masculinity and significantly impacts relationships between prisoners and between prisoners and prison officers (Crewe, 2006, 2011).

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Before delving into an exposition of the literature on gender and correctional officers, it is important to introduce and briefly explore another critical theme: the condition of transgender inmates. Unquestionably, the spatial and ideological design of prisons described in previous sections is ill-equipped (and, perhaps, intentionally avoids) to accommodating the phenomenon of transgender inmates, who often struggle to find dedicated accommodations.3 This unforeseen phenomenon necessitates grappling with a new carceral topography that challenges normative binary divisions (Dias Veira & Ciuffoletti, 2014). Transgender inmates encounter hyper-marginalization and lack of recognition, yet they also embody a space (or body?) of resistance. Prison authorities often unofficially deny the presence of transgender inmates, relegating the management of their needs solely to security practices. The central goal of prison bureaucracy is to maintain internal order, rather than implementing inclusive practices for individuals outside the norm. Consequently, the law and the normative binary framework persist without accounting for individuals that can only be recognized as exceptions. This paradox emerges: the penitentiary system accommodates those who do not align with its logic, creating openings from which unexpected subjectivities might emerge (Peroni & Vianello, 2018).

Binary Sexual Segregation: Correctional Officers’ Discretional Discipline During the 1970s, the US introduced female officers into male prisons, sparking a debate on the advantages and disadvantages of having women officers working in frontline capacities with male prison inmates (Crouch, 1985; Jurik, 1985, 1988; Jurik & Halemba, 1984; Kissel & Katsampes, 1980; Peterson, 1982; Potter, 1980; Walters, 1992; Wright & Saylor, 1991). The proliferation of academic literature on this shift in prison management expanded the array of studies examining women

3 In Italy, transgender inmates are typically housed in a ward within the male section. The prison in Florence is the only facility that has a transgender ward situated within the female section.

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entering traditionally male-dominated occupations. In a review of international literature, Maculan (2014) highlights that one of the most explored topics concerns organizational culture, which refers to systems of meaning within specific organizations that are routinely reproduced by social actors (Bruni, 2003; Maculan, 2014). In this context, Sarzotti’s (1999) research on the organizational culture of penitentiaries is particularly noteworthy. Sarzotti describes both the re-educational function and the policing function of prisons as characterized by gendered features— one marked by interest and care, the other by authority and supervision. Methodologically, Maculan underscores a prevalence of qualitative approaches, such as in-depth interviews with guards (Jacobs & Grear, 1977; Jacobs & Retsky, 1975; Kauffman, 1988; Lombardo, 1981), participatory observation to study correctional officers’ practices (Crawley & Crawley, 2011; Liebling et al., 2010), and undercover research involving hired correctional officers (Fleisher, 1989; Herberts, 1998; Marquart, 1986a, 1986b). In the literature exploring the impact of gender on prison work, most researchers focus on female correctional officers working in male facilities, with minimal consideration for males working in female prisons. Generally, research findings highlight how the work of female correctional officers tends to be hampered by their male colleagues rather than male prisoners (Jurik, 1985; Hunter, 1986; McMahon, 1999; Zimmer, 1986). However, a recent trend indicates a greater acceptance of female guards by their male counterparts, leading toward a more inclusive perception (Carlson et al., 2004; Crawley, 2011). Studies analyzing differences in working methods based on correctional officers’ gender are particularly enlightening (Jenne & Kersting, 1998; Jurik & Halemba, 1984; Pollock, 1995; Zimmer, 1986; Zupan, 1986). Interestingly, while Zimmer and Pollock identified gender-based discrepancies in carrying out the same tasks, other studies report greater similarities. Maculan (2014) attributes this variation to the research methodologies employed: qualitative research tools like in-depth interviews were favored by the former, whereas the latter predominantly relied on self-report questionnaires. Britton applied Acker’s theory of gendered organizations to frame an analysis of correctional officers working in both women’s and men’s prisons. The author contends that although organizational practices

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are consistent in both environments, prisons could be aptly described as “masculinized” organizations due to their tendency to favor male correctional officers and perpetuate gender inequalities (Britton, 1997). Liebling offers a compelling analysis of how the policing literature influences the work of prison officers, focusing on a specific aspect: the influence of discretion on the police’s deviation from the rule of law (Liebling, 2000; Reiner, 1997). Liebling recognizes the structural differences between police and correctional officers’ work, particularly the constant interaction between guards and prisoners. The quality of staff–prisoner relationships was linked to the use of formal rather than informal sanctions in previous research within prisons in England and Wales. Greater use of formal modes of control (punishment) resulted in weaker staff–prisoner relations, while the application of verbal skills and communication fostered compliance and closer relationships. Another noteworthy finding from Liebling’s qualitative research is the primary motivation behind correctional officers under-enforcing the law to show authority rather than enforce rules: maintaining the smooth flow of the prison’s operations without interruption (Liebling, 2000; Sykes, 1958). Is the behavior of correctional officers contrary to prison rules? Not necessarily, or at least not predominantly: “the translation of rules into action is an interpretive exercise, where the particular situation cannot be appropriately addressed by the general rule (…). By dealing with the relationship, the officer achieves compliance and the maintenance of order. He deals with the prisoner in a legitimate manner – but not a rule-bound manner” (Liebling, 2000: 344–345). Naturally, a distinction exists between non-compliance with rules to avoid bureaucratic red tape and narrow-minded decisions that fail to adapt to contexts and individuals, and non-compliance with rules based on unfair, unequal, and sometimes entirely unreasonable judgments of a person due to their specific characteristics. Liebling positions non-compliance with prison rules on a spectrum ranging from neutral compliance to positive non-compliance: it involves choosing whether or not to report a prisoner based on empathy and the ability to understand the specific situation—interpreting the prisoner’s behavior and motivations. Hence, rules are essential not only to prisoners but also to staff members: rules are resources that should be wisely employed,

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rather than rigidly enforced (Liebling, 2000). Nevertheless, as explored in subsequent chapters, the inconsistent and discretionary use of rules poses significant challenges for prisoners as well. They need clarity and certainty, and rules can serve as safeguards against discriminatory actions and violations of rights. Liebling is unequivocal in stating: “the discretionary use of very high levels of power without recourse to a set of principles to guide its use leaves a wide legitimacy deficit of a fairly precise kind” (Liebling, 2000: 349). Staff members can wield power: compliant prisoners deserve civil and professional treatment (what they are entitled to, plus effort, consideration, time), whereas uncooperative prisoners receive only the professional treatment (what they are entitled to). In terms of gender as a factor affecting the degree of discretion applied, Liebling observes its influence in identifying the role model officer: the officer who “got it right” is one capable of accepting and employing discretion judiciously. This was by no mean a special preserve of female officers. Role model staff were described as having known and consistently applied but justifiable boundaries; something which was referred to as ‘moral courage’ or ‘moral fibre’; sensitivity to the effects of their own power; and a sensitivity to individuals and contexts (precisely the virtue that a ‘feminine’ mode of evaluation is said to embody). (2000: 346)

The narrative and rhetorical use of “feminine” characteristics to characterize female correctional officers is of great interest. Acknowledging a female difference within the prison context perpetuates models of behavior based on socially constructed gender-specific traits, while also being a product of those traits. Liebling (2000) repeatedly emphasizes the importance of analyzing how correctional officers’ practices are influenced by gender as a category of analysis, including feminine and masculine attitudes toward and approaches to the exercise of power. Liebling encourages further research on this topic. Similarly, exploring how personal backgrounds and external influences shape correctional

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officers’ practices in the workplace, examining Italian correctional officers’ perceptions and attitudes by comparing male and female experiences in establishing relationships based on merit in a gendered organization, and identifying spaces of resistance for formal and informal practices that do not align with the penitentiary model of rewards, represent the central objectives of the research presented here.

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Sykes, G. M. (1958). The society of captives: A study of a maximum security prison. Princeton University Press. Van Oorschot, W. (2006). Making the difference in social Europe: Deservingness perceptions among citizens of European welfare states. Journal of European Social Policy, 16 (1), 23–42. Wacquant, L. (2009). Punishing the poor: The neoliberal government of social insecurity. Duke University Press. Walters, S. (1992). Attitudinal and demographic differences between male and female corrections officers: A study in three midwestern prisons. Journal of Offender Rehabilitation, 18(1–2), 173–190. Weber, M. (1978). Economy and society: An outline of interpretive sociology. University of California Press. Weiss, R. P. (2001). Charitable choice as neoliberal social welfare strategy. Social Justice, 28(1(83)), 35–53. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender Society, 1(2), 125–151. White, S. (2000). Social rights and the social contract-political theory and the new welfare politics. British Journal of Political Science, 30 (3), 507–532. Witz, A., & Savage, M. (1991). The gender of organizations. The Sociological Review, 39 (S1), 3–62. Wright, K. N., & Saylor, W. G. (1991). Male and female employees’ perceptions of prison work: Is there a difference? Justice Quarterly, 8(4), 505–524. Zatz, N. D. (2011). Poverty unmodified: Critical reflections on the deserving/ undeserving distinction. UCLA Law Review, 59, 550. Zimmer, L. (1986). Women guarding men. University of Chicago Press. Zupan, L. L. (1986). Gender-related differences in correctional officers’ perceptions and attitudes. Journal of Criminal Justice, 14 (4), 349–361.

4 The One who Looks at the Mirror: Reflexivity and Validity in Prison Ethnography

Ernest Hyde My mind was a mirror: It saw what it saw, it knew what it knew. In youth my mind was just a mirror In a rapidly flying car, Which catches and loses bits of the landscape. Then in time Great scratches were made on the mirror, Letting the outside world come in, And letting my inner self look out. For this is the birth of the soul in sorrow, A birth with gains and losses. The mind sees the world as a thing apart, And the soul makes the world at one with itself. A mirror scratched reflects no image – And this is the silence of wisdom. (Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology, Mc Millan Company, New York, 1916)

To comprehend the significance of questioning how the social world takes shape and how a researcher can engage with it, the quote from the Spoon River Anthology provides a compelling figurative analogy. Edgar Lee Masters articulates, “My mind was a mirror: it saw what it saw, it knew what it knew.“ Upon initial analysis of the poet’s introspection into his younger self, one might perceive a lack of deep self-reflection and worldly interpretation. He seemed to merely observe the external world as it presented itself, allowing his mind to engage solely with what was visible. This perspective created a distinct dichotomy between his © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_4

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mind and the external world, treating them as separate entities. However, as life’s experiences etched their marks in his consciousness, the soul gradually assimilated the external world. Consequently, a transformation occurred wherein “the mind sees the world as a thing apart, and the soul makes the world at one with itself.“ While it is established that the primary objective of interpreting poetry involves critically deciphering authors’ metaphors and rhetorical devices, Edgar Lee Masters’ poem seamlessly aligns as both a metaphor in itself and an exemplar of epistemology and ontology—the exploration of the comprehensibility of the social world and its status as reality.

The Knowability of the World: The Importance of an Epistemological Statement Social research has been guided by two overarching frameworks: Positivism and Interpretivism—two divergent perspectives on comprehending social reality. Positivism applies the conceptual framework, techniques, and methodologies of natural sciences to the study of social phenomena. The ontological stance of Positivism views social reality as external to human beings and fundamentally knowable in its true essence, guided by two primary epistemological assumptions: dualism (where the subject studying and the object being studied are independent) and objectivity (where the studying subject does not influence the studied object, and vice versa). In simpler terms, as expressed by Guba and Lincoln (1994: 110), “inquiry takes place as through a one-way mirror.” Much like the mind of the poet in Spoon River Anthology, which observed and absorbed the world as it is, Positivism operates methodologically in an inductive manner—moving from specific instances to general principles, deriving universal laws from empirical observations of regularities within the investigated reality (a subset of reality). As elucidated in Chapter 2, Durkheim could be regarded as the pioneer of positivist sociology. By viewing social facts as entities unaffected by human intention or intervention, possessing a deterministic

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structure discoverable through scientific inquiry, Durkheim’s approach treats the social world as analogous to the natural world: Since the law of causality has been verified in the other domains of nature and has progressively extended its authority from the physical and chemical world to the biological world, and from the latter to the psychological world, one may justifiably grant that it is likewise true for the social world. Today it is possible to add that the research undertaken on the basis of this postulate tends to confirm this. (Durkheim, 1894: 159)

However, just as the nineteenth century witnessed the methodological evolution of sociology heavily influenced by the natural sciences paradigm, the twentieth century brought about revolutionary shifts due to the emergence of groundbreaking theories in the field. The 1930s Neopositivism emphasized that the meaning of a statement arises from its empirical verifiability through the language of variables. In the 1960s, Postpositivism—a disruptive approach to studying social phenomena—emerged. Notably, advancements in physics, such as quantum mechanics, the general theory of relativity, and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, laid the foundation for a new perception of nature and its laws (Corbetta, 2003). Deterministic laws began to yield to probabilistic laws, and the notion of falsifiability was introduced to validate theoretical hypotheses. Data could no longer confirm a theory; they could only fail to disprove it. Postpositivism importantly positions empirical observation as theory-laden—shaped by the researcher’s mindset, as well as by social and cultural influences. Returning to the analogy of the Spoon River Anthology, the poet allows the external world to penetrate and permits his inner self to gaze outward. Unlike the poet’s ability to absorb reality, it becomes evident that, while reality exists independently of cognitive processes, understanding it is influenced by the social context and the theoretical framework employed—akin to the lens one uses to perceive it, or the imprints on the poet’s mirrored-frame mind. Consequently, Postpositivism asserts that empirical observations are inherently infused with theory, implying that theoretical concepts and data are inseparable.

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With that being said, the postpositivist orientation does not reject the empirical approach or methodological procedures. Collecting data, modalities of measurement, and statistical analysis remain the primary tools utilized. To summarize, Postpositivism’s ontological assumptions still regard reality as external to human beings, but it is only partially knowable due to its own probabilistic laws and the imperfect nature of human knowledge. The dualism between the object studied and the scholar is discarded; an inherent interaction between both is recognized, and deductive procedures are at the core of the cognitive process through falsification. Despite this, the primary objective remains the formulation of general laws, albeit probabilistic, and allowing for qualitative methods as well. Methodologically, detachment between the scholar and the object studied is achieved through the application of statistical analysis and experiments, which are replicated by the scientific community to critically assess hypotheses and formulate new ones. The trajectory followed by Positivism, Neopositivism, and Postpositivism can be likened to the evolution of the Weberian version of interpretative sociology, leading to subsequent developments in lines of thought like symbolic interactionism, phenomenological sociology, and ethnomethodology (Corbetta, 2003). Nevertheless, in contrast to the advancements of the positivist approach, interpretativist developments retain core assumptions: ontologically, the world is shaped by meanings attributed by individuals, and due to vast variations among individuals, cultures, and societies, a universal social reality is nonexistent. Epistemologically, scholars and objects of study cannot be severed, and the primary aim of research is to uncover meanings that elucidate individual behavior rather than general laws. The methodological approach will be explored in the following paragraph. To comprehend the fundamental disparity between Positivism and Interpretivism, it is helpful to introduce the principal divergences in their epistemological approaches. In Positivism, where nature exists independently from the researcher, knowledge is attainable by elucidating the laws governing the natural world. In contrast, Interpretivism recognizes the inseparability of the researcher and the social world. The observer and the observed are mutually dependent—akin to how the human soul

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is shaped by its experiences, and how the world influences it; this relationship cannot be unidirectional like a one-way mirror. As a result, the process of generating new knowledge involves not merely explaining the social world, but rather striving to comprehend (Verstehen) it. As Dilthey (1883) asserts, “We explain nature, but we understand psychic life.” The foundation of sociological approach and interpretative methods is rooted in Weber’s distinction between knowledge and judgment. While the latter must be avoided in social and historical sciences, value judgment unavoidably influences the former when selecting the object of study, guiding the researcher’s choice of research focus. Accordingly, freedom from values ensures the objectivity of social science—the first condition for formulating general postulates. Nonetheless, the understanding of social phenomena will always be guided by interpretations of human behavior. The second condition is methodological: researchers must employ Verstehen—the rational comprehension of the motivations underlying behaviors. Striving for an objective understanding of human behavior through subjective viewpoints and inner motivations might seem paradoxical. To address this, Weber introduces the concept of “ideal types,” which are abstract representations of recurring social actions in human behavior, observable empirically. In essence, ideal types are mental constructs that scholars employ to guide the process of gaining knowledge, serving as theoretical models that support their interpretation. Weber’s ideal types not only revolutionize social sciences but also constitute a significant attempt to address the main criticism of Interpretivism: excessive subjectivity. Furthermore, while recognizing the possibility of cognitive generalizations, Weber does not completely discard the relationship between causality and Verstehen. However, starting in the 1960s, the subjective nature of Interpretivism gained prominence and consequently faced strong criticism. If knowledge lacks objectivity, a scientific method becomes unattainable, jeopardizing the integrity of science itself. Moreover, the primary criticism of the interpretative approach lies in an exaggeratedly relativistic perspective. Feyerabend’s well-known definition of relativism, “everything goes,” aptly encapsulates this critique: if every knowledge claim is equally valid, it can be replaced by any other knowledge claim (Corbetta, 2003). Richard Rorty (1985),

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in addition to this view that all beliefs are equally valid, asserts that relativism can also refer to the impossibility of determining a single meaning of truth (as many meanings exist as there are justification procedures). According to him, the search for truth is essentially the description of the procedures employed by a specific social group at a certain time and place, concerning a particular area of inquiry, to justify their claims of knowledge.1 Interpretivists challenge the initial definition of relativism, asserting that it does not imply interchangeable beliefs; rather, it underscores the inherent temporality and spatial contextuality of knowledge. Permanently valid or universally applicable criteria for evaluating generalized and objective knowledge are absent. The non-objective nature of knowledge, coupled with its origin in shared and contextually bound beliefs, lies at the heart of the Foucauldian postmodernist perspective. The process of making sense, termed the “Battle for Truth” by Foucault (1980), is intricately intertwined with the social environment in which it unfolds. This process generates knowledge by scrutinizing, embracing, reinforcing, and reinventing truth claims—products and producers of power dynamics. For Foucault, the acceptance of knowledge as truth within a community invariably yields power and inevitably shapes that community’s sense-making mechanisms. Naturally, postmodernist cultural relativism has also faced criticism, as according to this viewpoint, all discourses emerge as societal constructs founded on collective consensus, implying that oppressive discourses hold the same legitimacy as liberating ones. Foucault counters this by contending that the acknowledgment itself that gender, race, and social class are socially constructed fosters awareness and lays the groundwork for societal transformation (Foucault, 1980). Haraway (1988) provides an opportunity to transcend this dilemma by refuting the relativistic stance of interpretive approaches. Knowledge claims, she asserts, can be substantiated by shifting the inquiry from an epistemological sphere to an ethical one. Haraway’s doctrine of objectivity is situated, emphasizing that researchers seek to demonstrate the 1

The philosophical assumption of positivist research is Foundationalism, which posits that all knowledge has a secure foundation and that it is possible to attain the “truth” by following the correct procedures. Interpretivism, on the other hand, challenges this assumption.

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profound contingency of human creations. Therefore, she posits that the genuine alternative to an all-encompassing singular viewpoint is not relativism, which would merely be the flip side of a polarized stance. Rather, the antidote to totalizing claims of scientific authority lies in “partial, locatable, critical knowledges sustaining the possibility of webs of connections called solidity in politics and shared conversations in epistemology” (1988: 584). Consequently, while the ideology of objectivity promises a panoramic view, relativism offers a perspective from nowhere, as it professes to be everywhere equally. What partial and contingent perspectives ensure is the potential for sustained, rational, and yes, objective inquiry. The foundation of this research rests on the ontological premise that the social world is shaped by the meanings reproduced and concretized through the interactions and interpretations of social actors. These meanings establish any body of knowledge as “reality” within the social fabric (Berger & Luckmann, 1991: 15). Epistemologically, I recognize that my role as a researcher cannot be extricated from my object of study; they exert mutual influence. Social research can be understood as the recreation of the construction undertaken by the subjects under scrutiny (Mayring, 2002: 9–39). The process of reconstituting and interpreting the subjects being studied does not undermine the research’s validity. Bourdieu expounds that the distinction lies not in whether a science constructs or abstains from constructing, but in whether this construction is acknowledged or not, and in unveiling the character of these construction acts and their consequential impact (Bourdieu, 1999: 608). The subsequent paragraph will present my standpoint as a researcher and how I navigated it during fieldwork and data collection.

Reflexivity and Validity The quality of a research process is chiefly demonstrated through its rigor: transparency and clarity in detailing each step leading to the main findings, an equitable presentation of data, reliability, and comparability with other research within the same field. One rigorous criterion

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that has fueled discussions among social scientists is reflexivity. Reflexivity pertains to the researcher’s obligation to introspect on their role(s) and the fundamental nature of the relationship between the researcher and the subject of study. Reflexive scholars advocate for the explicit acknowledgment of their social and subjective biases when conducting research. Certainly, my approach to the field as a white woman in her early thirties, possessing an academic background, and previous (and current) involvement in prison systems within nonprofit associations and local institutions, cast an influence on interactions with the subjects under study (correctional officers). This influence shaped the way we interacted and behaved within the researched setting. I emphasize “the way we approached each other” rather than “the way they approached me” because my life history did not solely impact how the “units of analysis” perceived me and adjusted their practices and discourses during my presence. In fact, my comprehension of the research focus and process inevitably stemmed from my underlying theoretical presumptions. As Miller asserts, “researchers’ backgrounds, interests, skills, and biases necessarily play unique roles in the framing of studies and in the collection, analysis, and interpretation of data” (Miller, 2008: 754). Consequently, my goal is to pinpoint the subjective and normative choices that directed my research. However, this point introduces several methodological considerations that I will briefly address in this paragraph. Indeed, the act of qualifying my knowledge claims cannot be deemed adequate in merely stating my self-awareness regarding the effects of these claims. In this regard, Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992) critiqued the limitations of reflexivity, highlighting the necessity for an elaborate methodology to unveil the individual structures that shape researchers’ approaches, instead of merely acknowledging them. Bourdieu suggested that researchers should objectify the subject who is objectifying. In other words, scholars should grasp their own subjective position. Bourdieu’s groundbreaking critique on the challenges of reflexivity has undoubtedly served as a fundamental effort to surmount potential shortcomings of the reflexive approach. However, an intriguing counterargument has been presented by Knafo: “essentially reflexive scholars assume they can

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be objective about the very thing they have the least reasons to be objective about: themselves” (Knafo, 2016: 2). To mitigate reflexivity bias, the author recommends framing it phenomenologically. Instead of focusing on the subject per se, researchers should address subjectivity in a broader sense. Knafo’s stance appears to contrast Haraway’s endorsement of partial and contingent perspectives. Knafo does not believe that bias control should be tailored to specific circumstances or presumed positions, as recognizing the specificity of the context is insufficient. This approach risks remaining a mere ethical declaration rather than a methodological one: “we know that there are plenty of scholars aware of the problem who continue to reproduce it” (2016: 2). The author offers a key to resolving this puzzle: contextualization is vital to overcoming postpositivist accusations of relativism and acknowledging the impact of the researching subject, but it should be achieved within a comparative framework. (...) To refract the significance of a work in political theory through a contextualisation which is intended to mark out what is distinctive about this work from its broader literary context. The challenge is to build the conceptual bridges which allow us to connect these localised developments to the broad macro processes we usually study. It can only be tackled by changing our perspective, notably through a comparative framing which is devised, not simply to look at agency, but to make it stand out. (2016: 20)

How can Haraway and Knafo’s reinterpretation of Bourdieu be reconciled? In reality, the positions of these two authors are not as divergent as they might seem. Like Haraway, I assume that understanding and interpreting a social phenomenon without situating it is unlikely to succeed. Since knowledge is inherently situated, the researcher’s position significantly influences the interpretation of collected information. Fieldwork is experienced through the researcher’s lens, with theory and data in constant dialogue. However, this dialogue does not advocate for a reductionist approach to interpreting the social world. Recognizing that the

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researcher’s world and the world under study are intertwined and contextually bounded over time and space can construct the conceptual links that Knafo identifies as crucial for connecting localized phenomena to broad macro processes. This back-and-forth interplay between theory and empirical data avoids the imposition of preconceived theoretical models onto the intricate complexity of everyday life (Cerwonka & Malkki, 2008: 19). The interpretive approach’s antireductionist spirit lies precisely in its capacity to refine theoretical assumptions without using social practices as mere illustrations of theory, or conversely, molding theory to conform to specific social practices. Consequently, such a methodological process rooted in context enables the researcher to ponder global processes by investigating their localized manifestations, thus recognizing their complexity, ambiguity, and transformative nature.

The Unmirrored Field: Doing Research in Prison During my initial visit to an Italian prison in 2013, I held specific preconceptions and expectations that filtered my perception of the context and its participants. At the time, I was a twenty-four-yearold sociology master’s student working as an external researcher for a nonprofit organization. In the opening quote of this chapter, Edgar Lee Masters remarks, “in youth my mind was just a mirror in a rapidly flying car, which catches and loses bits of the landscape.” Nonetheless, the intrinsic distinctiveness of the landscape I encountered was not mirrored; my mind could not perceive what it saw or knew what it knew. I experienced a world that diverged completely from my accustomed reality, and everything I encountered filled me with a sense of astonishment. I needed to process what I witnessed; absorption alone was insufficient. Thus, in these initial experiences, I approached the prison environment with certain theoretical and, indeed, political convictions that shaped my perspectives like a specialized lens, influencing every interaction I engaged in. Entering the field proved to be a straightforward endeavor: we garnered endorsement from the Guarantor of Prisoners’ Rights, and

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the prison administration supported each stage of the research. Additionally, the senior researcher had personal prior experience as an inmate in the same prison we were studying, which undoubtedly facilitated interviews with women prisoners and allowed them to share their narratives. Subsequently, I participated in another study focused on female sections in two Italian prisons, this time personally conducting in-depth interviews with incarcerated women, along with research in a Judicial Psychiatric Hospital. Indeed, in the years leading up to my PhD and the current research, prisons and total institutions represented more than just a field, context, or thematic area for theoretical and empirical exploration. They constituted (and, in a different manner, continue to be) another kind of field: a battlefield for political matters and legislative proposals aimed at addressing aspects that, as an academic and an individual, I perceived to be rife with violations of civil, social, and human rights. Consequently, while formulating the initial draft of my PhD project, even before contemplating my approach to entering the field, I began to scrutinize the fundamental reason underlying my willingness to undertake such research. I questioned how my prior experiences would influence the way I perceive and interpret the prison system. In the previous paragraph, we delved into the significance of reflexivity and its evolution. Reflecting on and stepping away from my ongoing research was undoubtedly a pivotal step in preparing myself to approach prison institutions with a fresh perspective. Hammersley (2015) ponders the methodological implications of the concept of inside/outside when researching prison systems, highlighting the challenge in identifying a more “inside” perspective within an institution that effectively severs ties with the outside world. This inside comprises outsiders who, upon traversing the prison’s sharply defined boundaries, become the sole true insiders of a self-sustaining universe. What sort of outsider was I? Could I become an insider? These questions have been extensively explored in the academic literature on ethnographic research (Atkinson and Hammersley, 1998; Earle, 2014; Hodkinson, 2004; Jackson, 1987). Nevertheless, my primary dilemma lay in identifying a distinct viewpoint to study something I had already encountered firsthand in the field: I simply could not approach female prisoners within the same penitentiary I had previously explored.

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Consequently, after some initial uncertainty, I became convinced that shifting focus from the more commonly studied subjects—the prisoners—to those often perceived as barriers to studying inmates, the correctional officers, was the way forward. In my prior research, my interactions with prison guards were minimal, and my knowledge of their profession and daily practices was peripheral at best. This shift in perspective might help mitigate some biases, but the pivotal transformation lay in choosing the most suitable methodological approach and research design. Responding to Wacquant’s call to delve into penitentiary institutions and address the eclipse of prison ethnography (Wacquant, 2002) seemed like the optimal path. However, I found it prudent to heed a cautionary note against claims of the "intrinsic superiority of ethnography”: We must certainly abandon the ethnographic imperative and its claims for the intrinsic superiority of ethnography. There is no hierarchy of methods: different approaches tend to have varying advantages and disadvantages; none is superior on all counts. Indeed, there is usually interdependence, as with the way in which ethnography must depend upon other sorts of data for information about the contexts of the settings it investigates. At the same time, there are strong arguments in favour of ethnography as a method, in studying imprisonment and many other topics. (Hammersley, 2015: 35)

In the following paragraphs, I will elucidate the motivations driving my choice of ethnography as a methodology and delve into the primary implications for the methods employed, as well as how I navigated the challenges inherent in conducting this type of research.

Ethnography as Methodology and its Methods In the previous paragraphs, I elucidated my ontological and epistemological assumptions: the social world is constructed through shared and contextually situated meanings formed by ongoing interactions among

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social actors, who subsequently reify and perpetuate them. Such realities are subject to scientific study; however, researchers cannot remain detached from their subjects of investigation, as the interaction is bidirectional. Methodology, which pertains to the researcher’s utilization of methods and the articulation of how methods are applied and data collected, practically translated my uncertainties concerning the inside/ outside dichotomy within the fieldwork. As discussed in Chapter 2, each prison constitutes a distinct microcosm that defies capture from a single vantage point. Whether classified as an outsider or an insider, the distinction bears little significance: a comprehensive narrative remains elusive. What is attainable is the selection of the most appropriate approach to address the researcher’s inquiries, while being mindful of the limitations and interpretive biases. In the hall of mirrors, I chose my own perspective and made it explicit. In the ensuing pages, I will expound on the rationale behind this decision. I also explored the interpretive approach’s definition of the objective of human science, which involves interpretively comprehending (Verstehen) the significance of an action to an individual. Ethnography serves as a research method to comprehend individuals’ experiences while considering the contextual milieu in which they are enmeshed. The emphasis on understanding actors and context is intended to differentiate ethnographic methods from mere event recording and transcription: via thick description (Geertz, 1973), the researcher interprets the intentions, motivations, and cultural backdrop that underlie subjects’ actions, allowing an emic perspective. Depending on individuals’ roles within the community, their perceived realities are multifaceted. Consequently, it is imperative to grasp insiders’ viewpoints to apprehend their shared cultural knowledge, which is fundamentally intertwined with their vantage point. The primary goal of the research at hand is to grasp the inner workings of a prison through the practices of correctional officers, examining whether they enact gendered practices rooted in preconceptions about gender roles, and how merit informs their actions. Given these questions, I had various methodological options: desk research, longitudinal analysis of academic literature, in-depth interviews, and focus groups, among others. However, how could I truly witness the practices that correctional

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officers and stakeholders might recount to me during individual encounters? How could I capture the significant etchings on my mirror, letting the external world in while allowing my inner self to peer out? Hammersley and Atkinson (2007) assert that conducting ethnography “involves the ethnographer participating, overtly or covertly, in people’s daily lives for an extended period of time, watching what happens, listening to what is said, asking questions—in fact, collecting whatever data are available to throw light on these issues that are the focus of the research” (2007: 3). This seemed to be the suitable instrument for resolving my initial concerns: shifting my perspective to challenge the assumptions I had developed from past experiences with female prisoners, while engaging in regular interactions with correctional officers, would enable a direct (albeit partial) observation of the enigmatic institution’s inner workings. Moreover, I needed to transcend my preconceived notions about the role of correctional officers; observing their actions, rather than merely hearing about them through intermediaries, would provide a new interpretive lens. It is important to underscore that while ethnography was the best choice for my research objectives, it was not the sole option. Additionally, I faced numerous challenges, including my role’s implications, my potential influence on the practices under investigation, the tools employed to interpret my interpretations, and, most importantly, the necessity of maintaining equilibrium in my role as a researcher in shaping insiders’ perspectives—in essence, the power inherent in the researcher’s role as a bricoleur (Denzin, 1994). Therefore, I relate to Moolman’s description of employing ethnography in the field: the methodology evolves into a process, a conduit “through which research subjects are ‘constituted’ both through fieldwork and through the final text,” encompassing both the inner and outer prison (Moolman, 2015: 199). The reference to the prison’s external context justifies the theoretical framework’s relevance to the concept of new paternalism and poverty governance: understanding social phenomena necessitates situating them in a broader context that clarifies their origins, forms, consequences, and more (Hammersley, 2015: 27). Undoubtedly, no single theory can fully explain the nature of this external context, offering an explanation for the phenomena under examination. Nevertheless, given my research inquiries and the ongoing dialogues throughout the

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research process, I was able to articulate my comprehension of the broader context as well as my interpretation of the local and contextually embedded phenomena I studied.

Research Design At the conclusion of May 2018, I found myself within the confines of my hometown’s prison, Florence, awaiting an interview with a female prisoner for a research project I was consulting on. It marked my inaugural year as a PhD student, and I was grappling with the formulation of my research questions. My inclination was to continue within the realm of prison studies, a field I had previously engaged with. Yet, a desire to alter my perspective was also tugging at me. I must admit, I felt adrift. During my wait, I initiated conversations with the correctional officer responsible for the ward in which I had been granted access for interviews. The hasty field notes I scribbled on a scrap of paper became the foundation for shaping my research questions: I wait a considerable time for the women. During this period, I engage in a conversation with her (the correctional officer, nda). She discusses the distortion of external perceptions, expressing her feeling of being misunderstood in her role: ‘Outsiders come in, considering us to be of limited intellect and only good for locking away (prison doors, nda). They arrive here, thinking they’re the saviors of the world.’ She finds solace in working within the women’s section. A role devoid of the opportunity for social interactions would be unbearable to her: ‘My role already centers on supervision and control’ - mere opening and closing would be insufficient. I inquire about the differences from their male counterparts ‘They lack sensitivity.’ I ask if female correctional officers are allowed to work there: ‘No, it’s prohibited. Fortunately, otherwise...’ (Journal entry, 25 May 2018(a))

From this dialogue emerged the initial kernel of my research, a sensitive concept (Blumer, 1969): the prison as a gendered organization. This marked the beginning of my review of international literature regarding the role of correctional officers, particularly within the Italian

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system. While my prior experiences in penitentiary research had not scrutinized the gender-based segregation between inmates and officers, interpreting it as essential for privacy and security, my review unveiled a debate that had ignited in the 80s. This debate, sparked by the integration of female officers into male prisons in the US during the 70s, explored the merits and drawbacks of assigning women officers frontline roles with male inmates (Crouch, 1985; Jurik, 1985, 1988; Jurik & Halemba, 1984; Kissel & Katsampes, 1980; Peterson, 1982; Potter, 1980; Walters, 1992; Wright & Saylor, 1991). The surge in academic literature surrounding this shift in prison management expanded the range of studies concerning women entering traditionally masculine or male-centric vocations. Maculan (2014) provides an extensive overview of international literature, which, in contrast with the Italian landscape, is robust and well-developed.2 While several countries followed the American trajectory by employing women officers in men’s prisons, Italy remains an exception. Despite Italian law 395/1990 endorsing gender equality among prison staff, correctional officers must match the sex of the prisoners. I was cognizant of the context’s influential role. Italian prisons significantly diverge from their American counterparts in terms of structure, organization, and the makeup of both the incarcerated population and the staff. Yet, employing gender as a lens to understand working practices and interactions still struck me as compelling. Although I had not previously explored the gendered facet of the prison, my earlier research had been centered on female prisoners. Therefore, gender, as a variable to investigate gender differences within prison, was a concept I was familiar with. Chapter 3 expounded on how gendered stereotypes lead to deeply discriminatory expectations and evaluation criteria for female offenders, perpetuating a patriarchal model that penalizes women who disrupt societal norms (Sim, 1995; Girschick, 2011). Furthermore, the punitive 2 Considering the literature on the gender impact on prison work, most researchers investigate female correctional officers working in male facilities. Rarely are males working in female prisons taken into consideration. Generally, the results of research underline that female correctional officers’ work tends to be hindered by male colleagues rather than male prisoners (see Jurik, 1985; Hunter, 1986; Zimmer, 1989; McMahon, 1999). However, there seems to be a recent increase in the acceptance of female guards, leading toward a more inclusive perception from male correctional officers (Carlson et al., 2004; Crawley, 2004).

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system tends to construct a distinct image of the deviant woman: their violation of moral codes and cultural norms leads to sanctions aimed at correcting individuals perceived as unable to conform to the social expectations of their gender. They are accused of betraying the essence of femininity itself (Faccioli, 1990; Ronconi Zuffa, 2014, 2020). This background aided in formulating the central question—employing gender as a variable to probe how divergent treatment of male and female inmates stems from the varied perceptions and societal constructs of correctional officers. Additionally, I intended to explore how the system of sanctions and rewards is shaped by an uneven narrative of meritocracy rooted in distinct gender-based expectations. Having defined the questions, I confronted the foremost challenge of prison research: accessing the field. Negotiating access for ethnographic prison research is often a time-consuming endeavor (Goffman, 1961; Wacquant, 2002; Sbraccia & Vianello, 2016) and intrinsically tied to the researcher’s relational capital. This initial hurdle played a pivotal role in selecting my case study—the decision to choose Florence’s Sollicciano prison may seem advantageous and perhaps predictable, given my prior research engagements in Tuscan prisons, which had allowed me to establish an extensive network of relationships with gatekeepers and stakeholders. Nevertheless, the journey to my final decision was not devoid of doubts. Initially, Sollicciano was known, as confirmed by multiple stakeholders, as a prison persistently grappling with emergencies, potentially casting a shadow on my research outcomes. However, subsequent comparisons and discussions surrounding the project’s objectives and my intended methodology led to the resolution of the most challenging aspects (such as overcrowding, and structural deficiencies), consequently reshaping my initial perception of its feasibility. Moreover, this initial sense of doubt presupposed that a specific object was singularly sought and observed, potentially either visible or hidden depending on the prison’s circumstances. In contrast, I argued that every situation possesses its voice, and comprehending macro phenomena is crucial. This aligns with the standard configuration of the penitentiary world, referred to as a “penitentiary archipelago,” where each prison operates within its distinct regulatory equilibrium and relationships, and while

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each institution possesses specific characteristics, a penitentiary culture can be perceived (Vianello, 2018). Hence, I chose Florence’s Sollicciano prison, and from October to November 2018, I initiated the process of gathering information from key figures associated with prisons in Tuscany. Establishing access to the field was a protracted and interactive journey. In November 2018, I participated in the preparatory meeting for the national conference “Prison and Justice: Starting from the Constitution” hosted by the Tuscany Regional Council, an event that facilitated the creation of thematic workshops. Appointed as the coordinator of the Women and Prison workshop, I subsequently led a series of meetings with institutional professionals and experts, preparing for the conference scheduled for February 8 and 9, 2019. This proved immensely valuable to my endeavor. Firstly, it offered a deeper understanding of structural issues within Florence’s prison, including plans to relocate the female section to a separate facility adjoining the main penitentiary complex. Additionally, I had direct interactions with the Regional Superintendent of the Penitentiary Administration for Tuscany and Umbria, who exhibited keen interest in the project and assured me of his support. The strategy for entering the field was not immediately apparent. It could have been pursued officially through formal research proposal submissions and authorization requests or via alternative routes, such as conducting voluntary educational activities in both sections. Following consultations with my supervisors, the former route was chosen. Subsequent steps involved presenting the project to the Regional Guarantor of Prisoners’ Rights, whom I collaborated with, and subsequently liaising with the prison’s Director and Commander, with whom I communicated directly. After an initial phone conversation with the Director, I composed and emailed a document outlining the project. In it, I emphasized the significance of researching correctional officers’ wellbeing and the importance of comprehending prison dynamics through

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the perspective of its staff. I also highlighted the gender-based distinctions between female and male correctional officers.3 Roughly two weeks later, I followed up with the Director and secured an appointment for the second week of April 2019. During this meeting, access to the prison was negotiated: I was slated to commence fieldwork in May 2019 and continue until April 2020, with the specific methods and timing to be agreed upon later. The Director deferred the discussion concerning access to the prison sections. Vianello (2018) elucidates that, in most cases, prison administrations grant access to areas allocated for rehabilitation projects—spaces for work, study, and recreational activities. Consequently, the heightened challenges of sections tend to remain concealed, keeping external factors at bay. Nonetheless, the Director grasped the research’s purpose, leading to an accord: eventual access would be provided to all sections of the prison. This outcome appeared as a stroke of fortune. I recognized that in most instances, success relied on a “game of chance, not of skill” (Buchanan et al., 1988: 56), and “as with most things in life, ‘who you know’ often serves one better than what you know in attempting to gain access to research in prison” (Sloan and Wright, 2015: 148). In my case, having the endorsement of the Guarantor of Prisoners’ Rights was a game-changer; the Director had an interest in ensuring a smooth process. Beyond connections, “what I have done” (2015: 148) was equally instrumental: the Director was acquainted with my work methods. Furthermore, he recognized the added value of the research topic I proposed, as the relationship between the prison administration and correctional officers is not always without challenges. Thus, ensuring the prison personnel felt acknowledged and validating their role served the prison’s governance strategy. Buchanan aptly underscores the 3 “The general objective of the project is to analyze the experiences of the agents in various sections of the penitentiary. The aim is to interpret and convey their experiences and to understand whether, how, and to what extent the management of the female and male sections exhibits significant differences. This pertains not only to the aspects of relationships and interactions with all actors within the penitentiary.” This excerpt is from the presentation letter I sent to the prison Director on March 27, 2019. During the fieldwork, I justified my presence to the correctional officers by emphasizing specific aspects of the research, particularly focusing on their well-being and the effects related to burnout syndrome.

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importance of instilling trust, as success depends on the goodwill of organizational “gatekeepers” (Buchanan et al., 1988: 56). This aspect will be further dissected in subsequent chapters.

Data Collection and Analysis My field research spanned five months, from May 2019 to November 2019. Originally, I anticipated a longer duration for my fieldwork, initially paused in November 2019 with plans to resume between February and April 2020. However, due to the global Covid-19 pandemic, circumstances took an unexpected turn. During my time within the prison, I accumulated a total of 70 hours spent within the facility itself, along with 8 hours devoted to informal events (two dinners) and an official celebration involving the correctional officers corps. I visited the female section on thirteen occasions and the male section six times. While I had initially been granted complete access to all parts of the prison, I was ultimately restricted from visiting the cells area due to security concerns. Nonetheless, I managed to explore all significant facilities, including the library and educational areas, healthcare facilities, kitchen and dining spaces, chief of ward offices, and the registry office. There were no hourly or daily limits imposed on me. In essence, I enjoyed unrestricted access to every area whenever I wished. Throughout my stay, I was accompanied by the Chief Inspector of the female section, who became my key point of contact within the prison, effectively functioning as my gatekeeper. She introduced me to her colleagues and ensured that correctional officers extended their welcome during their shifts. At the outset, she also posed as a potential obstacle, as her role influenced the interactions she facilitated for me. However, I managed to navigate this partial bias by capitalizing on the freedom to access prison facilities without prior notification. This allowed me to interact with a variety of individuals at different times, and my movements extended beyond the times when the Chief Inspector was present. The relationships and interactions I forged with correctional officers became the focal point of Chapter 6, where I delve into their intri-

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cate details. Here, I should note that I was able to establish a strong foundation of trust, which significantly supported my research. My fieldwork revolved around observational research aimed at gathering both descriptive and relational data. I observed correctional officers’ conduct within the prison across various roles and locations. My primary tool for data collection was ethnographic notes, which formed the empirical backbone of my observational approach. Drawing inspiration from Cigliuti (2014), I structured my ethnographic notes based on the distinction between mental notes, jotted notes, and full fieldnotes (Lofland et al., 2005). Mental notes, as the name suggests, are mental annotations of observed occurrences. They are made contemporaneously with the observation itself and take shape through memorization. Cigliuti expands upon Lofland et al. perspective, asserting that these notes are not solely descriptive; instead, they capture the researcher’s emotional memories and methodological reflections that arise during the observation process. Furthermore, the descriptive nature of these notes is not purely objective. It is important to remember that even if the researcher takes meticulous mental notes about the individuals present, the physical layout, conversations, movements, and the general sequence of events, these memories are inevitably filtered through the researcher’s personal experience. Their focus may vary, certain aspects could be overlooked, and striving for objectivity and description does not equate to complete objectivity. I encountered this challenge early in my fieldwork. On my initial day spent within the female section, I devoted four hours to observing and felt overwhelmed. I attempted to document every detail I witnessed and transcribe every sentence I heard into my field notebook (referred to as jotted notes4 ). Once back home, I tried to recollect every event. However, as I recounted interactions and sensations, it became evident that I was jotting down what I perceived as significant at the moment. It 4 Jotted notes are comprised of short phrases, quotes, key words, and similar elements that are recorded during the observation process, often at inconspicuous moments. Their purpose is to serve as memory joggers when the researcher is in the process of writing fieldnotes. Many researchers use small, pocket-sized tablets or notebooks specifically for the purpose of jotting down these notes. This practice aids in capturing important details and observations during the research process (Lofland et al. 2005: 109).

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was not an accurate account of events but rather what resonated with me at that precise instance. My efforts to document everything I saw were valid, yet there was no single “correct” way to achieve this. I realized I needed to find a balance. Hammersley aptly addresses this by reminding us that “all ethnographies are necessarily perspectival, since they seek to answer particular sets of questions” (Hammersley, 2015: 26). However, the author also warns against swinging from one extreme to another: “let us remember how common the folly is, of going from one fault to the opposite extreme” (Reid, 1785: 250) is not beneficial. The ethnographer does not merely depict an independently existing phenomenon, nor do they fabricate what they investigate. Consequently, I could not truly integrate myself into the environment, and my questions influenced my approach—they were queries that emerged externally. At the same time, insider knowledge arises from situated and localized resources, and therefore is not automatically valid: My underlying point is that we need to be very careful about the inside/ outside distinction. It is misleading if interpreted in an abstract or fixed way. It should be obvious that there is no inside or outside per se. All perspectives and locations are situated, and the implication of this is that all reflexivity is itself from some particular angle: there is no view from nowhere that tells ‘the whole story’, whether conceived as outside or inside. This is not a matter of relativism – of a hall of mirrors, with each view necessarily being treated as justified in its own terms – or of a form of standpoint epistemology. It is true that there is no single view that can serve all functions, but there are better and worse approaches for answering particular questions. Perspectivism in this moderated form is the unavoidable reality. (Hammersley, 2015: 26)

My self-perception of being outside or inside evolved throughout my fieldwork, inevitably impacting my data collection. The notebook played a significant symbolic and practical role in immersing myself within the context, serving as my identifying mark. Carrying nothing but a pen and a compact notebook labeled me as the university student concerned with correctional officers’ well-being, guided by the Chief Inspector of the female section. Moreover, I utilized it in the presence of correctional officers to document descriptive details they provided (such as

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numbers and dates). This shaped my identity within the environment and helped cultivate trust. Through this, I conveyed a genuine interest in gathering knowledge from their viewpoint, free from preconceptions and stigmatized perspectives. This held true during the initial phase of my fieldwork. Over time, however, the notebook became unwieldy: I began to realize that it was acting as a shield, piquing both curiosity and apprehension in those I interacted with. Consequently, I transitioned to using a smaller, pocket-sized notebook and eventually abandoned the practice of carrying any external notes, relying solely on mental notes. I continue to take notes in my notebook, the usual one I have been carrying with me since I first entered, but as soon as I have finished writing the Inspector approaches over my shoulder: ’What are you writing?’ Immediately embarrassed, I jest a bit, claiming that I’m merely jotting down notes that he could not read. He persists, and I show him a random page, hurriedly pointing to a few words scribbled in barely legible handwriting, before closing the notebook and shifting the topic. For the first time, I realize that the notebook is not just substantiating my presence inside the prison, but also attracting unwanted attention. As public officials, they could compel me to hand it over and read it, which had not occurred to me before, and this possibility slightly unnerves me. (Fieldnotes, 11 July 2019) Meanwhile, the officer I met at the top of the stairs arrives – a fellow from Campania who’s been working here for about six years. He is curious, inquiring about how the ‘interview’ is proceeding and what I am jotting in the notebook. It is on this occasion that I decide to stop taking the notebook with me. Once a tool to legitimize my presence, it has now become a source of distraction, suspicion, and curiosity. I will leave it in the locker, retracing my steps upon returning home to note the most relevant observations. (Fieldnotes, 14 July 2019)

As a result, the process of note-making led to the accumulation of mental annotations during fieldwork, which would later evolve into a comprehensive collection of notes, forming the empirical foundation of my observational endeavors—my full fieldnotes.

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Data Analysis Upon completing the fieldwork, I had amassed 45 pages of notes. To analyze and dissect my data, I employed QCAmap, an open-access web application designed for systematic text analysis in scientific projects using qualitative content analysis techniques (Mayring, 2002). After uploading my fieldnotes into the software, I embarked on the process of forming categories using an inductive approach. This method necessitates an exploratory and descriptive research question, which in my case centered on understanding correctional officers’ perceptions and practices within an Italian prison, particularly how gender and merit categories impact their daily routines. Following the establishment of selection criteria (pertaining to correctional officers’ perceptions and punitive/rewarding practices in male and female sections) and the level of abstraction (general categories), I read through the materials line by line, formulating categories closely aligned with the text. After concluding the coding process, I grouped these categories into main thematic categories. The three principal categories, namely correctional officers’ profession, relations, and practices, were then chosen as the organizing themes for Chapters 5, 6, and 7. A total of 669 passages were coded. I downloaded an Excel file containing all the marked quotes and based the analytical chapters on these main categories, translating them from Italian to English. During the translation process, I encountered a methodological and ethical predicament: while giving voice to correctional officers’ perceptions and statements, which are already a form of language distinct from my own due to their belonging to a different cultural context, the act of translating them into yet another language, unfamiliar to both myself and the officers, appeared even more intricate. Anthropological studies have extensively deliberated the intricacies of translation (Clifford & Marcus, 1986; Montgomery, 2000; Rosman & Rubel, 2020; Sturge, 1997; Tymoczko & Gentzler, 2002). The relationship between the source and target languages is profoundly affected by the ethnographer’s interpretive process. Ethnography grapples with two primary challenges: the ethnographer needs to comprehend the source

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language, and her position and critical distance from the society under study introduce complex questions about interpretation: “from what position does the interpreter interpret?” (Sturge, 1997: 25). In my case, although studying an Italian prison as an Italian researcher might have exempted me from the first challenge, to a certain extent, the language employed by correctional officers introduced a distancing effect through dialects and prison jargon. Furthermore, as I chose to write in English, I had to translate my interpretations of daily prison interactions and practices from Italian. This posed the risk of falling into a cycle of translating the cultural translation inherent in my interpretive approach into another language. To avoid this trap, I embraced Clifford and Marcus’ (1986) reflexive approach, which acknowledges the actual interaction occurring in the field and the lack of complete sovereignty and omnipotence on the part of the ethnographer (Sturge, 1997: 34). By acknowledging the instability of meanings and the differences—both semantic and political—between source and target languages, I aimed to circumvent this linguistic entanglement. This approach might extend further to address questions central to both the ethnographic conversation and the translation process: “Who speaks? For what and to whom?” (Said, 1985: 212).

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Buchanan, D., Boddy, D. & McCalman, J. (1988) ‘Getting in, Getting on, Getting Out and Getting Back’, in A. Bryman (ed) Doing Research in Organisations (London: Routledge). Carlson, J. R., Thomas, G., & Anson, R. H. (2004). Cross-gender perceptions of corrections officers in gender-segregated prisons. Journal of Offender Rehabilitation, 39 (1), 83-103. Cerwonka, A., & Malkki, L. H. (2008). Improvising theory. University of Chicago Press. Cigliuti, K. (2014). Cosa sono questi «appunti alla buona dall’aria innocente»?: La costruzione delle note etnografiche (p. 202). Firenze University Press. Clifford, J., &B Marcus, G. E. (Eds.). (1986). Writing culture: The poetics and politics of ethnography: a School of American Research advanced seminar. University of California Press. Corbetta, P. (2003). Social research: Theory, methods and techniques. Sage. Crawley, EM. (2004). Doing Prison Work. The Public and Private Lives of Prison Officers. New York: Routledge Crouch, B. M. (1985). Pandora’s box: Women guards in men’s prisons. Journal of Criminal Justice, 13(6), 535–548. Denzin, N. K. (1994). Romancing the text: The qualitative researcher-writeras-bricoleur. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 15–30. Dilthey, W. (1883). Einleitung in die geisteswissenschaften: versuch einer grundlegung für das studien der gesellschaft und der geschichte; erster band (Vol. 1). Duncker Humblot. Durkheim, É. (1894). Les règles de la méthode sociologique. Revue Philosophique De La France Et De L’étranger, 37 , 465–498. Earle, R. (2014). Insider and out: Making sense of a prison experience and a research experience. Qualitative Inquiry, 20 (4), 429–438. Faccioli, F. (1990). I soggetti deboli: I giovani e le donne nel sistema penale. Franco Angeli. Foucault, M. (1980). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings 1972–1977 . Harvester Press. Geertz, C. (1973). The interpretation of cultures (Vol. 5019). Basic books. Girshcick L. (2011). Out of compliance: Masculine-Identified people in women’s prisons. In A. Stanley Eric & N. Smith (Ed.), Captive genders: Trans Embodiment and the Prison Industrial Complex. AK Press. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. Anchor.

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5 Being Correctional Officer: Unattended Expectations and Coping Strategies

How is it possible that you never deviate from your father’s footsteps? Why would the mechanic’s son become a mechanic, and the doctor’s child a doctor? [Field Note 224] You see how our roads diverged, my father’s and my own (…) For what was the road I sought if not a repeat of my father’s, but dug out of the depths of another otherness (…) my own experience, no longer the echo of an echo of an echo (…). Could everything perhaps have been different – if the rift between myself and my father hadn’t been so deep? Italo Calvino, The Road to San Giovanni

During my initial encounter with Inspector V, I immediately noticed his strong desire to showcase the roles, responsibilities, and practices of his life as a correctional officer. He wanted to make it clear to me that he took great pride in his job and, simultaneously, distinguished himself from his colleagues. He believed he could handle and manage the job better than anyone else, and above all, he considered himself the only person capable of assisting me in my research. However, when questioned about the underlying motivation that drove him to pursue this career, © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_5

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he admitted that he stumbled upon the profession after completing his studies without knowing what else to do. He attempted various public tenders and was fortunate enough to secure a position as a correctional officer. He also made unsuccessful attempts to enter the teaching profession. In fact, even after dedicating twenty years of loyal service to Italian prisons, he continues to participate in the annual public tender for teaching positions, always without success.

Not Really My Dream Job—Shattered Expectations: A Job That Makes the Ends Meet In 2010, Schlosser et al. conducted an extensive literature review on the motives for pursuing a career as correctional officers. They encountered a scarcity of empirical studies. As the authors note, Holland et al. had already highlighted the “critical insufficiency of information about the psychological variables involved in the choice of (…) those in the field of correctional work” in the 1970s, four decades before Schlosser’s research (Holland et al., 1976: 786). To address this dearth of academic sources, Schlosser et al. commenced their investigation from the perspectives of police officers who pursued such careers, as studied by Lester (1983) and Foley et al. (2008). These reasons were enumerated as follows: the opportunity to assist people, camaraderie with fellow officers, job security, the prestige of the profession, involvement in combating crime, and the thrill of the work. Subsequently, Schlosser et al. identified two significant contextual factors that contributed to the appeal of the correctional officer profession: (i) having one or more family members already employed “on the job,” and (ii) individuals from lower socioeconomic backgrounds potentially seeking a law enforcement career for upward mobility (2010: 35). Consistently, when Inspector V discussed the period during which he made his career choice, he shared his feelings about the influence of his family’s social status: during high school, classes were segregated based on students’ abilities, and he was among those considered less prepared

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and “slower in understanding things.” This circumstance undoubtedly undermined his future trajectory. He queried, “How is it possible that you never diverge from your father’s path? Why should the mechanic’s son become a mechanic, and the doctor’s child become a doctor?” [Field Note 224]. Consequently, he opted to enter the prison system, which offered him a stable profession and a good salary. Similarly, whenever I inquired about the professional paths of his male and female colleagues, a consistent underlying theme emerged—the uncertainty regarding their future and the randomness of their choices: they described their career paths as unexpected and uncertain, with decisions often driven by opportunities arising from job competitions. Winning the competitions led them to join the correctional officer profession, a path they had not initially foreseen. Once I had completed high school, I participated in numerous competitions, and this was the first one that I won. [Field Note 60]1 Discussing her journey, I notice its resemblance to that of her colleagues: it has been an unexpected career. She took part in several competitions and eventually emerged victorious in this one. [Field Note 77] I inquire about his motivation for pursuing this job, and he responds, “Not what, but who! My father was a correctional officer too. He asked me if I wanted to continue studying; I said no, and here I am”. [Field Note 166]

In their study, Schlosser et al. (2010) found that financial security and job stability were the primary reasons for individuals entering the correctional officer profession. These extrinsic motivations, along with the appeal of serving their communities and wielding power and status, were common among both male and female correctional officers. This research aligns with previous studies that have distinguished between intrinsic motivations (such as doing something for its inherent characteristics) and extrinsic motivations (such as doing something for rewards or

1 All the excerpts presented in the chapter are taken from the notebook and are reported as follows: the notes in the first person are transcribed in normal font style, while the quotations from correctional officers and prison operators are in italics.

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recognition). In the case of correctional officers, extrinsic factors played a significant role in their career choices (Britton, 1995; Shaffer, 1999). From the above discussion, relevant aspects emerge that help us understand the impact of individuals’ biographical backgrounds on their initial career choice and their perceptions of their role and the prison environment. One notable aspect is the influence of family, which can be seen as a “family affair”: many correctional officers with significant seniority chose the profession due to a family legacy, with one or more family members already employed in law enforcement positions influencing their decision (Schlosser et al., 2010). Additionally, the profession provided stability and financial security, allowing individuals to “make ends meet.” It offered a stable income and potential for advancement to higher ranks for those who were skilled and fortunate enough (Shaffer, 1999). For instance, one correctional officer desired a good salary, and he achieved it. He desired a substantial salary, and he achieved it. In fact, he mentions that it’s one of the primary reasons: as an inspector, he earns over 2000 e. Even after accounting for rent and car installments, there’s still a significant amount of money that can be saved. [Field Note 224]

Another officer joined the profession after completing a degree in economics, inspired by the legacy of his grandfather and father, who were also in the police. However, not all correctional officers view their job in the same positive light. An older colleague on guard duty displays discomfort and nervousness, expressing discontent with the prison and the job. She attributes her choice of profession to limited job opportunities, especially in the southern regions. The senior colleague, who is in charge tonight, appears nervous. She taps her leg anxiously and can’t seem to stay still; she seems uneasy. “What have you observed thus far? This isn’t a desirable prison. It’s not a favorable job. Take note: no one would willingly choose to do this job; we do it because we’re from the south and there are limited job prospects”. [Field Note 352]

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When comparing the motivations of female and male correctional officers, Schlosser et al.’s sample revealed that the former tended to emphasize aspects such as guaranteeing community safety and enforcing laws. Jurik and Halemba’s (1984) study on female correctional officers aligns with Schlosser’s findings, as the authors found that interviewees attributed intrinsic reasons to their entry into the field. Schlosser et al. explain the difference in motivations between male and female officers by linking it to the assumption that women working in law enforcement settings tend to adhere more to traditional masculine gender norms (Detrick et al., 2001). Consequently, female correctional officers seem to internalize these norms, even reproducing behaviors that are “tougher and more masculine” in order to survive and thrive in a correctional facility, which can often be physically dangerous (Schlosser et al., 2010: 41). Indeed, women tend to place a stronger emphasis on intrinsic aspects related to service when explaining their motivation for pursuing a career as correctional officers, in comparison to their male counterparts. This difference in emphasis may arise from their desire to conform to societal expectations and masculine gender norms, leading them to justify their career choice in a way that aligns with those norms. During my fieldwork, I observed a clear distinction between senior and junior female correctional officers, particularly in terms of their years of experience on the job. The recruitment process occurs every two years and is open to both civilians and those with military backgrounds. It was evident that new recruits, especially the younger ones coming from military service, often approach the job with more frustration compared to their more experienced colleagues. This sentiment was consistently echoed by female correctional officers. One officer, who joined the profession as a civilian, observed that the newcomers, especially the younger ones, seem to be the main concern. She described them as more militarized and combative, and she noted a lack of overall communication. Building relationships is crucial in this job, but it appears to be a challenge for some of the new recruits: The Inspector inquired her colleague about her perspective on the young assistants, and she promptly aligns with her viewpoint: “For the junior

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correctional officers, the job is seen as temporary; they don’t approach it seriously. They seem unmotivated and passive. I find it hard to accept that someone claims to be tired after just a year of service. Not within a year! ”. [Field Note 104]

Another officer also shared her perspective on the new agents, especially the younger ones. She noticed a struggle in their ability to work as a team, attributing it to their military background. Since they come directly from the army, they seem to have a more rigid and disciplined mentality. However, she expressed concern about their lack of commitment even at the young age of twenty, wondering how this would evolve after two decades of service. She saw a fundamental issue with the permanent nature of public positions, believing that it hinders efficiency and passion as there is no fear of losing the job. Even the new agents, the younger ones, display distinct characteristics and struggle to collaborate effectively. They often exhibit a military mentality due to their direct transition from the army, which is not ideal. They appear worn out even at the age of twenty; one can only imagine their condition after another twenty years of service. The core issue lies in the guaranteed permanent position for public servants: it fails to incentivize efficiency and passion, as it’s a position that cannot be lost. All public employees should gain private sector experience to truly comprehend the essence of working. [Field Note 585]

To summarize, the concept of occupational drift, which refers to individuals choosing an occupation randomly or due to changing life circumstances rather than actively selecting it, has been identified as a significant factor in the decision to pursue a career as correctional officers (Britton, 1995; Crouch, 1980; Pollock, 1986; Ricciardelli & Martin, 2017; Zimmer, 1986). Then, on one hand, my fieldwork confirms the results of previous studies concerning the significance of extrinsic factors in motivating a career as correctional officers, such as job security and economic stability. On the other hand, more intrinsic factors, like upholding community safety and enforcing the law, appear to serve a dual purpose. Firstly and most importantly, they can lead to frustration when the harsh reality

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of the prison system shatters the expectations that correctional officers formed before joining the profession. When intrinsic motivations are inevitably disregarded, correctional officers experience cognitive dissonance between the responsibilities they envisioned prior to joining the job and the stark reality they find themselves in. In fact, instead of merely being agents of control with policing functions, the environment demands a skill set they are neither prepared nor willing to develop. One participant emphasizes that the profession of a correctional officer is significantly different from other police forces: He emphasizes that in reality, the role of a correctional officer differs significantly from that of other police forces, as it necessitates assuming various responsibilities: surveillance, psychological support, and practical assistance. [Field Note 219]

Other colleagues frequently voice their wish to minimize their time within this environment, aiming to transfer to a different prison, and, significantly, to be stationed in an office instead of the wards. Additionally, a female correctional officer expresses her discontent with the working methods, asserting that she fails to comprehend the explicit requirement to manage situations that, in actuality, are not the primary responsibility of correctional officers as part of the police force. We also discuss their mandate and their working methods. She struggles to comprehend why psychology and related subjects are taught in the training course for Inspectors. The explicit requirement to handle certain situations that aren’t, in fact, the primary function of correctional officers as a police force, strikes her as unjust. It appears to her like a shifting of responsibilities. While it’s true that the daily tasks revolve around interactions with prisoners, the specific demand for such skills doesn’t sit well with her. [Field Note 636]

Nonetheless, intrinsic motivations can also serve as a tool to cope with such frustration and maintain the belief in having a fundamental social function. In fact, while it is true that correctional officers are “very different from other police forces,” they are also distinct from other public employees. Indeed, colleagues who are stationed in the offices of

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the Department of Prison Administration are colloquially referred to as “slackers”: they are seen as avoiding the real work in the field, which is undoubtedly more challenging, but also the only avenue that allows them to fulfill the core mission of the correctional officer corps. Do you know what our motto, our mission is? It’s about giving hope, because if you (the prisoner) are doing well, we are doing well too. We’re here for this—to address and resolve the problems. [Field Note 23]

The correctional officer cited above addressed a prisoner with such an ecumenical tone in front of me. Perhaps she was trying to demonstrate their motto (despondere spem munus nostrum—guaranteeing hope is our duty) to me, rather than to the prisoner, to showcase their enthusiasm and good intentions. However, this incident highlights a crucial aspect of the profession: it is a job with significant potential for social value that requires proper training and recognition, but it has been rendered difficult due to various structural factors. As a result, whether correctional officers enter the profession seeking job stability or because they genuinely believe in the mission, they often find themselves in an environment they are not adequately prepared for. They must cope with daily emergencies and adapt to the profound complexity of the job. A belief shared by both prisoners and correctional officers (Vianello, 2018) is that “A good day in the prison is a day with nothing happening,” and being bored represents the best scenario. Indeed, correctional officers do not disdain their surveillance duties due solely to the inherent monotony of certain tasks, even though it might foster animosity among colleagues (“boredom leads correctional officers to speak behind each other’s backs or to annoy one another” [Field Note 210]). Their aversion to these tasks stems from their misalignment with the image they hold of their role. This aspect is a contentious issue for both female and male correctional officers, despite displaying initial differences in their perceptions of the opposite gender‘s work environment. Their perceptions and expectations are partly shaped by a prevailing narrative on gender roles. While male and female correctional officers share similar biographical paths and motivations for entering the job, they appear to interpret

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their roles differently. With that being said, although both female and male correctional officers encounter the same frustrations and unmet role expectations related to their work, female correctional officers, while expressing numerous unfavorable aspects of working in a prison, find some relief in being able to evade repetitive tasks due to the distinct management of the wards. For instance, one female correctional officer explained to me that female prisoners’ cells remain open from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., except for specific moments such as meal delivery, therapy sessions, and inmate counts. In contrast, male prisoners are consistently confined. As a result, correctional officers assigned to female wards experience a distinct role and workload, allowing them to engage in tasks beyond the constant process of opening and closing cells throughout the day. Nonetheless, the feeling of doing meaningless tasks is also present in the female section. Although female prisoners are under an open regime, the mere task of using a key to open and close doors is not regarded as a fulfilling duty: one female correctional officer questioned the purpose of spending her day repeatedly performing this task and suggested the use of automated doors as a way to save time and resources. In conclusion, male and female correctional officers share similar motivations for pursuing their careers, and on the surface, they engage in the same activities, even though they might describe distinct personal attributes. Indeed, while the perception of self and others closely aligns with prevailing gender norms, these perceptions are negotiated and adapted based on the context.

Public Sector’s Employee: Unattended Expectations and Coping Strategies Depending on the level of material reward and the type of motivation that drove them to pursue the profession, correctional officers can be categorized into four main groups: i. Satisfied Unengaged Employees: These correctional officers entered the job primarily due to extrinsic motivations, but the material rewards

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provide a satisfactory level of contentment for their work. They are willing to bear the negative aspects of the job. ii. Satisfied Engaged Employees: These correctional officers were motivated by intrinsic factors to join the profession, and the material rewards meet their expectations. They are thoroughly content with their roles and believe in the institution’s goals. iii. Unsatisfied Unengaged Employees: These correctional officers chose the job based on extrinsic motivations, but the material rewards fell short. While they pursued the profession for economic stability, they encountered difficulties in achieving it. iv. Unsatisfied Engaged Employees: These correctional officers were driven by intrinsic motivations and found the material rewards inadequate. They initially believed in the institution’s mission and purpose, but the limited economic compensation eventually led to dissatisfaction. As shown in the previous paragraph, the majority of correctional officers pursue their career primarily for economic reasons, which fall under the category of extrinsic factors identified by those interested in working for the public sector. Job security becomes the primary driving force for public employees, where the specific duties may be less important than the assurance of economic stability. Enduring the negative aspects of the job becomes a necessary sacrifice to secure a way out from an uncertain future. While this attitude may result in a lesser engagement with the core mission of the organization, the material reward ensures a certain degree of satisfaction and willingness to fulfill responsibilities. It merely requires following the rules and returning home. This kind of behavior describes the Unengaged Employee Satisfied. However, this type of mindset is unlikely to be found among correctional officers. Within the prison wards, there is an imbalance between the demands of the job, both in terms of emotional and physical burdens, and the actual material rewards, which are deemed insufficient to justify the frustrations and burdens associated with the job. As a result, most prison guards fall into the third category illustrated in Table 5.1—an Unengaged Employee Unsatisfied.

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Table 5.1 Level of engagement and satisfaction of public employees Higher material reward Lower material reward

Extrinsic motivation

Intrinsic motivation

I Unengaged employee satisfied III Unengaged employee unsatisfied

II Engaged employee satisfied IV Engaged employee unsatisfied

On the other hand, as a public employee who opted for this career with the intention of performing a specific kind of work,2 a suitable material reward might not be sufficient to cultivate satisfaction. In such a case, the self-perception and identity as a public servant could diminish, and, despite a strong commitment to the organization’s mission, the social objective might be perceived as neglected, resulting in a decline in job-related satisfaction (Engaged Employee Unsatisfied). The second type, the Engaged Employee Satisfied, is practically nonexistent: the intangible rewards are often hindered by structural inefficiency and external stigmatization, while the material rewards struggle to provide sufficient motivation to overcome the disappointment of feeling stuck in tasks that differ greatly from what was imagined. If we reverse the direction of the relationship, shifting from aiming to be employed in public service as the cause of dissatisfaction to living with dissatisfaction on the job and developing a narrative as a public service attendant to cope with it, we gain a different perspective—a redefinition of objectives. Indeed, while correctional officers might initially choose their career without a strong sense of esprit de corps, they eventually develop a group identity to cope with the frustrations and dissatisfactions of the job and to justify their choice. Furthermore, we have observed that the opposite process also occurs: correctional officers who desire to work for this kind of organization and believe in its mandate quickly become aware of the gap between their expectations and the reality of the job in the field. As a result, they develop coping strategies that strongly affect their group identity, and they find themselves settling for work that only allows them to make ends meet. 2 Perry and Hondeghem describe public sector motivation as the desire to work for a particular type of organization, and public service motivation as the desire to engage in a specific type of work (Perry and Hondeghem, 2008: 220–221).

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One of these coping strategies involves seeking satisfaction outside of the professional sphere by constructing a career that is stable only in terms of the employment contract but flexible and inconsistent in all other aspects. In the next paragraph, I will discuss this latter aspect in more detail.

The Impermanence of a Stable Profession Perry and Hondeghem (2008) differentiate between public service and public sector motivations, highlighting that those willing to work for the public sector are influenced by practical matters like job security rather than a strong public service orientation. It provides valuable insights into the differences between correctional officers and common public employees: while the conventional perception is that the public sector offers job security, career growth potential, and retirement/health benefits, all leading to a better quality of life and work-life balance (2008: 219–220), working in the prison system jeopardizes these goals. This becomes evident in my case study, where the vast majority of correctional officers hired in the Tuscany prison come from Southern Italy. The region of origin of correctional officers plays a crucial role in understanding the relationship between individual expectations and the internal organization, resulting in two significant effects: difficult integration in the territory and the perception of the job in Tuscany as temporary. Consequently, this hinders the development of a real team unit and overburdens well-integrated colleagues with an overload of tasks. One officer described the challenges faced by those from Southern Italy who commute to work: The risk of coming to work solely to bring the money home is huge. Exactly, that is the flattening effect we were talking about this morning. In fact, it often happens that, given that many men are originally from southern Italy, they commute: they live inside the penitentiary and get their free days attached to come back to the family in their region, where, as soon as they arrive, the doctor gives them a fake certificate of illness to extend their period of leave. They end up being away for fourteen days

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a month: how do you build a group in this way? How can you attribute the responsibility required by the role? Since we are in the public service, they have the tranquility of a permanent job. [Field Note 43]

The challenge lies in the accommodations: The barracks pose a real challenge: numerous individuals commute, residing in the barracks and then returning to their families. They tend to prioritize their work over their personal well-being, struggling to unwind. This leads to stress and eventual illness. [Field Note 228]

On this matter, an officer shared his story: he lived outside the barracks for a while with a partner, but now, as a single individual, finds it inconvenient due to high rents. He prefers to stay in the barracks and escape back to his home region whenever he can. While he would like to request a transfer, he acknowledges the difficulty in obtaining one due to the high demand for transfers among colleagues from the same Region. Indeed, commuting and the lack of embeddedness with the territory jeopardize the well-being and coping strategies of correctional officers. This situation is less frequent for female correctional officers as they usually get married in the local area, forming families with husbands and children. However, there are exceptions, and the bond with their hometowns can remain strong. This is facilitated by the fact that new hires often live in the barracks and tend to build intimate relationships with their colleagues. Commuting creates a twofold absence: it leads to a physical absence from the workplace and also hampers teamwork, resulting in understaffing issues and disorganization. The inability to hand over orders or track the starting point of a chain of events can sometimes be critical: an Inspector emphasizes the importance of continuity of duties within the prison, as even the inmates feel disoriented and unsure about who is in charge. The lack of working synergy leads to a continuous blame game and buck passing, with few taking responsibility. Similar issues are observed in the female section, where practices are often started but not finished due to the lack of continuity. The constant changes and difficulties in following events create challenges for the correctional officers.

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Consistently, the fieldwork reveals that the more integrated correctional officers are in the territory, the more engaged they are in team activities. The level of engagement seems to be linked to their sense of belonging and connection to the local community.

Surviving the Bureaucracy: Adaptive Inflexibility and Authoritativeness The lack of work synergy mentioned above further compounds the burden of a daily routine centered on bureaucratic tasks. Throughout my observation of correctional officers in their everyday practices, I noticed that they were constantly immersed in a storm of paperwork, handwriting, official communication, and double redaction on both paper and online platforms. They meticulously recorded every single word or move, maintaining registries and archives to ensure the trackability of every event, not just the critical ones. As I noted during the second day of my fieldwork: “The theme of the prison’s infinite bureaucracy has been the constant thread through my second entry” [Field Note 58]. This attention to detail and paperwork is essential for their direct responsibility and to earn the respect of their colleagues and the trust of the prison administration. During my second day of fieldwork, I repeatedly encountered discussions revolving around the theme of the prison’s infinite bureaucracy. The introduction of computerization was meant to streamline processes, but instead, it seemed to have doubled the workload. For instance, even with digital documentation, there must be a paper equivalent. A simple event, such as a ban on gathering between two inmates for safety reasons, involves a series of steps. The correctional officer drafts a document contesting the charge, which is then sent, by hand, to the director. The director reviews the case and decides whether a written warning is necessary based on the severity of the event. If the answer is affirmative, the warning is completed and communicated to the inmates. The entire process is meticulously documented in the prisoner’s personal file and communicated to the magistrate. The level of detail and the

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need for both digital and paper records contribute to the overwhelming bureaucracy within the prison system. Hence, it is crucial to emphasize a significant aspect: the ultimate decision-maker is the Director. Correctional officers merely serve as messengers, warning prisoners and documenting incidents. They transform from controllers and correctors to mere pen pushers. In this environment, the situation is unmanageable, and the correctional officers feel powerless, while the prisoners are well aware of it. Unlike the male section, where there is an isolation cell that can be used as a disciplinary tool, in the female section officers only have written reports, which are rarely followed by any punitive action or cell closures. “It’s just a matter of putting things on paper; actual punishment is a rarity.” [Field Note 242] The pen serves as a metonymy, symbolizing the potential power that correctional officers hold over the prisoners. However, in reality, they often feel threatened, unarmed, and powerless. To extend the metaphor, the pen becomes correctional officers’ whip, a symbol of their authority: it is with this tool that they decide whether to document improper conduct and subsequently penalize prisoners. Hence, a “certain degree of discretion“ frames the practices and decisions of correctional officers: despite the prison appearing as “a place governed by official regulations” (Sarzotti, 2009), the reality of prison life operates independently from internal rules or instructions (Vianello, 2018).

Inflexibly Adapting to Circumstances In 2000, Liebling wrote: “there is a gulf between the ‘rule following’ or ‘compliance model’ of prison work favored by risk-averse officials and the ‘negotiation model’ actually delivered by most prison staff ” (Liebling, 2000: 333). Eleven years later, she confirmed: “the use of discretion is an inevitable part of the work of prison officers” (Liebling, 2011: 488). Even though the primary consequences of this work modality have significant implications for prisoners–staff relations, discretion also significantly impacts correctional officers‘ perception of how to better cope with the challenges of their daily activities and roles. When asked

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about the level of discretion they possess, correctional officers tend to describe themselves as well-equipped with it. However, they generally perceive discretion as causing tensions between colleagues, leading to unpredictability, unreliability, and precariousness. Moreover, disconfirming previous decisions based on discretionary choices diminishes the team’s authority. The use of discretion weakens group cohesion, creating an environment where authoritative decisions may lose their grip: something that prisoners have complied with today could be changed and contradicted tomorrow. During my observations, it became apparent that anarchy seemed to reign within the prison. When I asked about varying enforcement of rules among colleagues, I received an affirmative response, indicating that many correctional officers were more lenient in their approach. However, this leniency posed a significant problem as the inmates did not view these officers as being accountable. Instead, their actions set a troubling precedent, leading to ridicule and criticism for those who tried to adhere strictly to the rules. This created a challenging dynamic where maintaining a balance between enforcing regulations and upholding order became increasingly difficult to manage. Anarchy rules here, they claim. I inquire if any colleague is more lenient than the others: yes, many of them are. This poses a problem, as the lenient correctional officer is not solely viewed as the one responsible; they inadvertently establish a precedent. Consequently, anyone who chooses to uphold the rules is singled out as the strict guard. [Field Note 134]

In another instance, I had a conversation with a correctional officer who expressed that despite having numerous rules in place, it seemed like everyone did as they pleased, disregarding the regulations. The exercise of discretion among correctional officers often resulted in interference and the invalidation of previous decisions based on regulations. This, in turn, led to tensions and uncertainties within the prison environment. Some officers believed that catering to inmates’ needs, even when it was not their responsibility, set an undesirable precedent, causing a sense of disservice and further complicating the dynamics within the prison. Certain correctional officers were critical of what they referred to as the “do-gooder syndrome,” where some colleagues exhibited excessive

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permissiveness with the regulations. They felt that such interactions with inmates crossed professional boundaries and suspected that there might be underlying reasons behind these behaviors. One officer lamented the lack of a common approach to enforcing rules within the prison. Some colleagues showed more leniency and failed to uphold the rules, leading to frustration and discontent among the officers. These incidents highlighted the complexities and challenges correctional officers faced in exercising discretion, balancing enforcement of regulations, and maintaining a sense of authority and order within the prison setting. The impact of their decisions on the dynamics between staff and inmates was evident, shaping the atmosphere and culture within the correctional facility. It is important to briefly introduce the dual nature of discretion: as a coping strategy to overcome perceived difficulties in achieving planned results and as a hindering factor to personal authoritativeness. I personally witnessed a vivid example of the latter aspect during a shift in the female section, where a conflict arose between two correctional officers over a prisoner’s request. The inmate in question had health issues and was temporarily located in a cell close to the main office. She had a psychiatric diagnosis and struggled with social interactions. Wanting to smoke, she asked the correctional officers to open her cell so she could retrieve her lighter from the nearby office. However, the officers did not respond immediately, leading to her growing agitation and persistent requests. The situation escalated with shouting, and one officer told her to wait and lower her voice. Once they finally opened her cell, the argument continued: Officer:

“You’re rude! You think you can give me orders? I’m not your waitress.” Inmate: “But I have to smoke because I’m nervous.” Officer: “If I tell you to wait, you wait.” Inmate: “But you were just chatting about your own stuff.” Officer: “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

The argument continued, catching the attention of an Inspector from the school area who endeavored to pacify the situation by conversing

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with the inmate and displaying understanding. Meanwhile, the correctional officer expressed her frustration to me: Do you think this is normal? The Inspector comes and agrees with her?! There is total discretion here. [Field Note 532]

This incident vividly illustrates the challenges in balancing personal judgments with the need for consistent enforcement of rules within the prison environment. What correctional officers view as a loss of authoritativeness may be attributed to “operational inconsistencies between shifts, work groups, and individual officers” (Gilbert, 1997: 62) caused by discretionary decisions made within a rigid framework that does not account for situations where formal rules cannot be applied. Gilbert emphasizes the importance of distinguishing between ranks and roles, with management and leadership positions needing to provide agents with less vague, abstract, and unstated shared values. The clash between formal and informal organization values can lead to conflicts between management and line officers, resulting in outcomes conflicting with official hierarchy’s objectives. For instance, an Inspector shared her frustrations with me during a conversation about the Director’s management style. According to her, working with the Director was challenging because she treated the inmates as if they were her own daughters: “We need to stop this,” she said emphatically. “We must be smart: going to her when we need a quick authorization, but dilating the time when it is necessary to be authoritarian”. [Field Note 611]

In another instance, I observed the Inspector discussing a peculiar situation with a fellow agent. They were contemplating whether or not to allow a female prisoner to have an anklet sent from the male section. Technically, the anklet was not allowed by regulations, but they both knew that the Director would likely permit it anyway. After a brief discussion, they decided to let it pass, although both seemed a bit perturbed by the decision, knowing that other inmates also had unauthorized bracelets.

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During such occasions, the Inspector took the opportunity to share her approach to handling such situations. She recounted a previous incident where two inmates in the kitchen got into a fight, and she had to suspend them from work. Normally, she should have immediately sent the report to the Director, but instead, she chose to handle it differently. She explained, I opted to do it calmly. As soon as the Director would receive the report, she would probably readmit the inmates promptly. So, I extended the suspension for the proper time. We must do it this way, otherwise they take advantage of you. [Field Note 611]

In these instances, it became evident that discretionary power played a significant role in how correctional officers managed their daily challenges. The Inspector’s strategies showed how the use of discretion could be a valuable tool in navigating complex situations and maintaining a sense of control and order within the prison environment. Understanding the concept of contextualizing the decision process is crucial to grasp the work of correctional officers and the positive role of discretion. Gilbert acknowledges the dual nature of correctional officers’ role: they must enforce control behaviors while considering the human conditions of inmates, which demands flexibility, judgment, sensitivity, responsible actions, and occasional exceptions to formal policies (1997: 61). During my observations, a correctional officer expressed the importance of balancing empathy, situational awareness, and authority in managing daily challenges within the prison environment. It is a delicate balance, as being too strict or too permissive can lead to issues. Consistently, the work of prison officers is based on a day-to-day negotiation of their authority with a skeptical and complex audience, which is not only composed of inmates. Such interactions take place in “a context in which enforcing all the rules ‘by the book’ would be impossible” (Liebling, 2011: 485). Moreover, authority needs to be legitimate, meaning it should be used rightfully. Liebling offers an interesting point of view on legitimacy and authority, shifting the perspective from the recipients to the power-holders. In fact, the author encourages us to consider some “interesting and neglected questions,” such as how prison

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officers regard their own power and their confidence in claiming different types of power at their disposal (2011: 487).

Authority and Authoritativeness: An Insight on a Universal Culture Within a Unique World “So, you’re studying correctional officers! Well, things are quite different now. It used to be all about belief, obedience, and fighting, but not anymore” [Field Note 115], remarked a male Inspector candidly when I introduced myself and the purpose of my research. He went on to explain how all the armed forces had undergone significant changes, from using big cars to now only using economic ones, indicating that there was no need to chase after anyone anymore. “Everything is different,” he said. “Before, we witnessed things that we could not even share with our closest confidants, but that is no longer the case. I hope I am making myself clear ”. [Field Note 115]

The dichotomous relationship between a nostalgic memory of a past full of action and the daily routine of the present is not the only source of bitterness experienced by correctional officers. In fact, a geographical disparity in the management of prison facilities is consistently described as one of the main inefficiencies. As I conducted my research, I had conversations with various correctional officers who shared their thoughts on the prison’s management and the political context surrounding it. One officer explained: This is also due to the typology of the prison: here we are in a ‘Red Region’,3 the focus is on prisoners, it is a re-educational prison, and the

3 In 1968, Galli analyzed the Italian electoral geography by identifying territorial political subcultures (“white” and “red” areas) based on the ideological polarization between the two dominant parties in the Italian political landscape from the post-war years (1948) to the 1990s: the Christian Democracy (DC) and the Italian Communist Party (PCI) (Caciagli, 2011; Galli, 1968). The terms “red” and “white” regions continue to be employed to indicate the dominance of left-wing or right-wing parties.

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authority is not always respected. Politically, the parties themselves are very present and often visit the structure. [Field Note 137] The prison’s direction does not control. This is a Red Region, all aimed at the re-educational treatment mandate, focusing on the prisoners and forgetting the function of the prison. [Field Note 268]

The idea of political influence in prison mission and management, the conceptualization of the main aim of the prison, the perception of the correctional officers‘ role, and the obstructing factors that jeopardize officers’ work are all encapsulated in these two quotes. The prevailing sentiment is a lack of consideration for their roles and challenges; they feel sidelined [Field Note 195]. Therefore, when I explain the aim of my research, they often react with surprise: You are the first in the world to pay attention to us, or if not the first in the world, certainly the first in this region, Tuscany. [Field Note 195]

In the preceding chapters, the investigation delved into the political influence on shaping imprisonment rates and prison policies. However, exploring the impact of regional political culture and the environment on the internal management of prisons, not solely on policies affecting the rise or decrease of imprisonment rates, presents a highly intriguing research avenue. Indeed, according to correctional officers, prisons in Southern Italy exhibit greater rigidity in contrast to the leniency experienced here [Field Note 165]. They also perceive that they have their hands tied: The inmates massacre us, they behave as though they’re in their own homes’ . [Field Note 247] Inmates here show no respect for authority; they flout the rules and make requests even when they’re not justified. [Field Note 131] This is a place saturated with rules but devoid of rationality. There are rules, yet no one adheres to them. There’s no authority, not even an air of authority: a rule exists at one moment, and the next minute, its opposite prevails. [Field Note 185]

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Liebling, while describing the role of correctional officers in influencing the quality of prison life through their exercise of authority, cites Sennett (1980), who posits that authority is a weighty matter (Liebling, 2011). This indeed holds true, and as per the sentiments expressed by the correctional officers mentioned above, the absence of authority poses an even more critical concern. Moreover, correctional officers differentiate between authority (the power to enforce rules and issue commands) and authoritativeness (the attribute of being trustworthy and reliable, enabling the exercise of authority). While the former is perceived to be undermined by the political influences of left-wing institutions (specifically, the recognition and significance of the Guarantor of Prisoners’ Rights in shaping and overseeing the prison’s direction, along with voluntary associations), the latter is believed to be disregarded by the prisoners themselves. Correctional officers attribute the latter notion to the specific kinds of prisoners and their culture: In the South, where high-security detainees are often present this doesn’t occur: real authority exists there. They are accustomed to adhering to a code of rules, making them more prone to following prison rules. Here (in Tuscany), they’re all petty criminals and they have little to lose. They enter and exit, enter and exit; they appear to relish living this way or being here. [Field Note 138]

Authority, described as “a bond between people who are unequal” (Sennett, 1980: 10), possesses a dialogic nature and is “constantly sought, interrupted, disrupted, and sought again” (Liebling, 2011: 486). It is intriguing to ponder the dual significance of authority/authoritativeness that emerges from Field Note 138, which is linked to the type of prison: correctional officers appear to distinguish between prisons with highsecurity sections where members of organized crime are present, and prisons with minor offenses. Specifically, correctional officers allude to a sense of respect toward authority regardless of the holder, aligning with a mindset typical of organized crime. Given that these prisoners are accustomed to following a code of conduct, correctional officers believe they can also comprehend, respect, and comply with another code, even if they do not necessarily endorse or agree with it. Conversely,

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petty crime is seen as disorganized and anarchic; it rejects all forms of authoritativeness and, ultimately, authority. The reference made by correctional officers to the specific codes of rules among inmates, which exist prior to the incarceration of both prisoners and guards, recalls the critique put forth by Irwin and Cressey (1962) regarding the emphasis placed by structural-functionalism on a distinct “prison culture” capable of shaping and framing inmate behavior, thereby engendering various subcultures within the prison community (Clemmer, 1940; Sykes, 1958). Clemmer defines prison culture as “habits, behavior systems, tradition, history, customs, folkways, codes, the law and rules which guide the inmates, and their ideas, opinions and attitudes” (Clemmer, 1940: 294). Thus, the concept of prisonization is introduced by the author, signifying the process through which prisoners adopt the “folkways, mores, customs, and general culture of the penitentiary” (1940: 299). Sykes (1958) suggests that the specific conditions of confinement compel inmates to adapt and cope with the hardships of imprisonment by developing an “inmate code.” Irwin and Cressey, in contrast, differentiate between a “prison culture” and a “criminal subculture,” contending that inmate behavior “classified as part of prison culture it is not peculiar to the prison at all” (1962: 142). While the authors acknowledge the role of problems arising from imprisonment in shaping an inmate society, they do not posit that the solutions devised by inmates are confined to the prison context; instead, these solutions are part of an underlying culture. Since groups of inmates share “latent social identities” based on their membership in the same external group, they also share an underlying culture (i.e., a culture originating from a different group than the one within the prison) (1962:145). A preliminary analysis of my ethnographic study indicates that correctional officers’ classification of inmates aligns with Irwin and Cressey’s theorization: the distinctive subculture of organized crime is replicated within the prison and facilitates inmates in recognizing prison guards’ authority and authoritativeness, in contrast to the disregard exhibited by petty criminals for a (lack of ) code of rules.

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However, as asserted by Roebuck (1963) one year after Irwin and Cressey’s contribution, the typology of prisoners’ subcultures identified by the two authors is somewhat weak, as it fails to elucidate which learned behaviors of the prison population are commonly shared within or outside the prison. Moreover, an external subculture “would not necessarily predict the behaviors of its members in prison” (1963: 198), given the deprivation resulting from the institutionalization process, which leads to infantilization, depersonalization, and degradation (Bettelheim, 1947; Clemmer, 1940; Cloward & Ohlin, 1960; Goffman, 1961; Sykes, 1958). Consequently, I shift the focus to the nature of correctional officers‘ perception of prison life, their occupation, and the prison population. Indeed, their biographical background, expectations, and internalized stereotypical conception of a “respectful prisoner” engender an in-group narrative that is continually molded by a unique social environment, regardless of its adherence with the actual behavior of inmates. In alignment with Vianello’s (2018) insights on the cultural and normative dimension of the prison system, my fieldwork confirms that the penitentiary’s inherent nature, comprised of individual institutions representing distinct realms governed by their own logics and predicated on fragile balances, shapes a collective realm of shared information concerning the distinctions between each prison. Consistently, the entire prison population (including correctional officers, prisoners, and various personnel) participates in an early socialization process that revolves around specific working methods and expected interactions within that particular prison (Torrente, 2014; Vianello, 2018). Moreover, Vianello (2018) presents a refinement to the primary theories concerning the subculture within the prison community, as briefly outlined above, asserting that there is not a distinct culture of inmates contrasted against a separate prison culture. Instead, the latter is conceived as a set of rules, codes and behaviors, and is structured as a common culture among all social actors of the prison in response to the characteristics of a unique moral and social environment. This moral and social environment is characterized by distrust and skepticism, which stem from a prevailing sense of self-insecurity. In fact, inmates originating from organized crime might embody a type of prisoner that both facilitates the work of correctional officers and

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simultaneously poses a threat: indeed, although inmates affiliated with organized crime recognize the authoritativeness of correctional officers, they also possess intimidating resources that undermine this authority. Not all prisons are equal; in some situations, you cannot wield the pen. (explicitly referring to threats from inmates in 41bis4 ) [Field Note 428]

In the subsequent chapter, I will present the results from the fieldwork pertaining to correctional officers‘ perceptions of prisoners. As we approach this subject, it is crucial to bear in mind a significant point underscored in these pages: the presence of a prison culture that shapes the perceptions of all individuals within the prison system, correctional officers included. Indeed, their view of the prison world’s shortcomings is continually molded and perpetuated by the very world in which they operate.

References Bettelheim, B. (1947). Individual and mass behavior in extreme situations. In T.M. Newcomb & E.L. Hartley (Eds.), Readings in social psychology. Henry Holt and Company. Britton, D. (1995), Sex, violence, and supervision: A study of the prison as a gendered organization (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Texas at Austin, Texas, USA. Britton, D. (1997, December). Gendered organizational logic: Policy and practice in men’s and women’s prisons. Gender and Society, 11(6), 796–818. Britton, D. (2003). At work in the iron cage: The prison as gendered organization. New York University Press. Caciagli, M. (2011). Subculture politiche territoriali o geografia elettorale? Società Mutamento Politica, 2, 95–104.

4 In 1975, the Italian Ministries of Justice and Interior jointly established Article 41-bis of the Prison Administration Act, also known as the carcere duro—hard prison regime (Ordinamento Penitenziario, 1975). Article 41-bis has been applied to prisoners with the highest security risk in the prison system.

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Clemmer, D. (1940). The prison community. The Christopher Publishing House. Tr. It. La comunità carceraria, in Emilio Santoro, Carcere e società liberale. Giappichelli, 20042. Cloward, R. A., & Ohlin, L. E. (1960). Delinquency and opportunity: A theory of delinquent gangs. The Free Press. Crouch, B. M. (1980). The keepers: Prison guards and contemporary corrections. Thomas. Detrick, P., Chibnall, J. T., & Rosso, M. (2001). Minnesota multiphasic personality inventory—2 in police officer selection: Normative data and relation to the Inwald personality inventory. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 32(5), 484. Foley, P. F., Guarneri, C., & Kelly, M. E. (2008). Reasons for choosing a police career: Changes over two decades. International Journal of Police Science and Management, 10, 2–8. Galli, G. (1968). (a cura di), Il comportamento elettorale in Italia. Bologna. Gilbert, M. J. (1997). The illusion of structure: A critique of the classical model of organization and the discretionary power of correctional officers. Criminal Justice Review, 22(1), 49–64. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. Anchor. Holland, T. R., Heim, R. B., & Holt, N. (1976). Personality patterns among correctional officer applicants. Journal of Clinical Psychology, 32, 786–791. Irwin, J., & Cressey, D. R. (1962). Thieves, convicts and the inmate culture. Social Problems, 10 (2), 142–155. Jurik, N. C., & Halemba, G. J. (1984). Gender, working conditions and the job satisfaction of women in a non-traditional occupation: Female correctional officers in men’s prisons. The Sociological Quarterly, 25 (4), 551–566. Lester, D. (1983). Why do people become police officers? A study of reasons and their predictions of success. Journal of Police Science and Administration, 11, 170–174. Liebling, A. (2000). Prison officers, policing and the use of discretion. Theoretical Criminology, 4 (3), 333–357. Liebling, A. (2011). Distinctions and distinctiveness in the work of prison officers: Legitimacy and authority revisited. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), 484–499. Perry, J. L., & Hondeghem, A. (Eds.). (2008). Motivation in public management: The call of public service. Oxford University Press on Demand.

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Pollock, J. M. (1986). Sex and supervision: Guarding male and female inmates. Greenwood Publishing Group. Ricciardelli, R., & Martin, K. (2017). Why corrections? Motivations for becoming a Canadian provincial or territorial correctional officer. Journal of Criminological Research, Policy and Practice, 3(4). Roebuck, J. (1963). A critique of “thieves, convicts and the inmate culture.” Social Problems, 11(2), 193–200. Sarzotti, C. (2009). Le “nuove” funzioni del carcere nella società del controllo. Antigone. Quadrimestrale di critica del sistema penale e penitenziario, 4 (2–3), 208–228. Schlosser, L. Z., Safran, D. A., & Sbaratta, C. A. (2010). Reasons for choosing a correction officer career. Psychological Services, 7 (1), 34. Sennett, R. (1980). Authority. Alfred A. Knopf Publishing. Shaffer, J. (1999). Life on the installment plan: Careers in corrections. Corrections, 61(7), 84–174. Sykes, G. M. (1958). The society of captives: A study of a maximum security prison. Princeton University Press. Torrente, G. (2014). Il ruolo dell’educatore penitenziario nel processo di criminalizzazione. Osservazioni da una ricerca sul campo. Studi sulla questione criminale, 9 (1–2), 137–156. Vianello, F. (2018). Norme, codici e condotte: la cultura del penitenziario. Gli attori sociali di fronte alla criticità dell’ambiente carcerario. Sociologia del diritto. Zimmer, L. (1986). Women guarding men. University of Chicago Press.

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Well, you know that was the worst of it - this suspicion of their not being inhuman. It would come slowly to one. They howled and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity - like yours - the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretense, because I felt so sure they could not possibly know the things I knew. Their bearing, which was simply the bearing of commonplace individuals going about their business in the assurance of perfect safety, was offensive to me like the outrageous flauntings of folly in the face of a danger it is unable to comprehend. Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

In Chapter 4, I utilized Edgar Lee Masters’ poem from Spoon River Anthology to comprehend the various theoretical stances on the relationship between the self and external reality: what is knowable and how. It has also been observed that by applying an interpretivist approach, the researcher and the social world cannot be detached; the observer and the observed are co-dependent. Certainly, within the debate surrounding © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_6

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the formation of identity and the relationship of the self with others, the concept of interconnection is deeply ingrained. An intriguing aspect is tied to the crucial role of juxtaposition: the definition of the self is established through differentiation from the other. Evoking the mirror metaphor, in the Phänomenologie des Geistes, Hegel asserts that the Self can only be reflected by the Other. Indeed, according to Hegel, self-consciousness is preconditioned by recognizing the Other, who must be excluded to enable self-consciousness through the power of differentiation. Thus, the conceptualization of the process of othering (specifically, the formation of identity by defining what we are not) was coined by Spivak in 1985 and has been widely applied in postcolonial studies. However, Said’s imagined geography (1978) already adeptly captured the process of alienating non-European countries and framing them as something distant, exotic, and (exclusively for this very reason) captivating through a colonial gaze: the Orient is constructed and geographically identified as something distinct, different from us. Two decades later, with a slightly different nuance, de Beauvoir explains how the othering of women in patriarchal societies has resulted in infantilization, incapability, and subjectivity (1997). Just like Spivak’s conceptualization, de Beauvoir’s perspective highlights the process of degrading the other; there is no fascination or exoticism. There is always someone in power who describes, and others who are depicted as inferior (Jensen et al., 2011). The quotes from Conrad at the beginning of this chapter perfectly exemplify this process: to the protagonist of Heart of Darkness, the most troubling aspect was catching a glimpse of humanity in those the protagonist believed to be repulsive creatures. The Self is affected by the fear of the possibility of being seen, even partially, as connected with Others who have been dehumanized. Through the analysis of the impact of dehumanization during genocides, Waller (2002) demonstrates how linguistic constructs play a significant role in placing victims outside the moral universe of humans: referring to Jews as “vermin” and parasites, or Tutsis as “cockroaches” during the Rwandan genocide (2002: 246–247), contributed to justifying the perpetrators’ crimes.

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In this chapter, I investigate how the identity of correctional officers is daily constructed and affirmed through the juxtaposition with inmates and the main gendered narratives. I explore how stigma and preconceptions shape relations within the penitentiary, and conversely, how such relational dynamics impact and solidify the roles within the prison.

Someone, Somewhere Else Fiction and reality are intertwined: Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” and the two late 60s social experiments—the Third Wave experiment of 19671 and the Stanford prison experiment of 19712 —preceded Tajfel’s systematization of social identity theory. According to positive distinctiveness, a key component of social identity theory, “individuals strive to achieve or maintain positive social identity” (Tajfel & Turner, 1979: 33–47) for their social group using both verbal and nonverbal cues, with the comparison to an Other being essential. The in-group–out-group logic is confirmed through the “us versus them” narrative to cultivate positive esteem in external perceptions. In prison, the concept of the Other is even more daunting: while some correctional officers may acknowledge the randomness of being on the wrong side of the prison gate, they struggle to find concrete similarities between themselves and the prisoners. By way of illustration, a correctional officer shared his sentiments toward inmates during the course of the fieldwork. He conveyed: 1

The Third Wave was an experimental social movement created by Ron Jones in 1967 to explain how the German population could have accepted the actions of the Nazi regime during the rise of the Third Reich and the Second World War. “How could the Germans behave as they did after the war, claiming that they knew nothing about the Holocaust?” Ron Jones aimed to answer this question and decided to create a game that reproduced the rules of totalitarian societies. “I don’t know. Let’s try an experiment. I will be the dictator, and you will be the movement,” cited Mark Hancock, his ex-professor, in the interview (Linda Taffee/Palo Alto Weekly, March 2017). Thus, on the first day, Ron Jones initiated discipline by introducing a salute, wearing armbands, standing up, and addressing Professor Jones, all under the slogan “strength through discipline” (Podrug, 2019: 7). 2 Zimbardo writes, “In my own work, I wanted to explore the fictional notion from William Golding’s Lord of the Flies about the power of anonymity to unleash violent behavior” (Zimbardo, 2016: 310).

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We (the Inspector and a female detainee) have the same age, you see; that’s how it goes. We’re not that far apart. The only difference is that I am a cop, and she is an inmate. [Field Note 444]

This candid statement served as a clear depiction. The correctional officer recognized the shared life experiences and background with the prisoner, yet an underlying distinction remained. The Inspector articulated that life presents challenges that can be confronted by developing strategies that elevate one’s sense of self-worth as a human being. To him, the “sole disparity”—whether one is a law enforcement officer or an inmate—is a conscious choice. Nevertheless, the Inspector maintains a sympathetic stance toward the prisoner. They revealed a longstanding acquaintanceship and the inmate updated him on her four children: she expressed contentment in successfully adopting two of them, while one had enrolled in the Hotel Management School. The youngest child was in Morocco with his father. In a playful manner, the Inspector teased her and advised her to conduct herself appropriately. She responded with an affirmation, stating, “Of course I will do it! You know I’m on your side, as you are on mine!” [Field Note 441]. She then turned toward one of the Inspectors stationed at the prison entrance, who whispered with a hint of discomfort: “That is not true!” Indeed, the claim was not accurate. Despite sharing the same accent and age, they were not aligned on the same side, and this brought a sense of relief to the Inspector. He felt superior to her. This routine form of comparison that occurs daily also carries genderrelated implications. Male prisoners are frequently depicted as criminals, individuals lacking education, and savages. In contrast, female prisoners tend to be characterized as afflicted with mental health challenges, grappling with drug abuse, and contending with severe psychiatric disorders. Furthermore, correctional officers and prison staff often attribute the majority of issues to a perceived lack of maternal responsibility: “There are no criminals here in the female section,” one officer explained, “they are not in possession of their faculties. Women rarely commit crimes unless driven by hormonal imbalances or child-related matters. We house

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women with psychiatric disorders who should ideally be in a clinic, not here. Managing them is a considerable challenge.” [Field Note 49]

The Inspector shared, having worked in the female section for eighteen months, that he had gained recognition and popularity. However, in his perspective, women presented more challenges than men. He noted, “Men tend to be physically violent, while female prisoners manipulate you. They tend to construct a case: some colleagues even faced legal proceedings due to false claims from inmates driven by envy, asserting that they were smuggling drugs. Women here tend to be envious” [Field Note 444]. Moreover, referring to a specific inmate, the Inspector labeled her as “paranoid and self-pitying” [Field Note 520]. If Italian female prisoners are characterized as struggling mothers with psychiatric challenges, the perception of foreign prisoners is even more negative. A recent addition to the prison population is a Nigerian individual who remains nonverbal. This person is repeatedly referred to as “the little nigger.” Similar denigratory, racialized, and discriminatory labeling extends to transgender inmates: “Those undergoing male-tofemale transition,” it is noted, “exhibit fits of anger. Trans individuals seem to accumulate the frustrations of both genders” [Field Note 290]. The perspective of intersectional discrimination (Crenshaw, 1993) should not be misconstrued as a mere accumulation of distinct forms of discrimination (being a woman, a foreigner, and a member of the LGBTQ+ community). Instead, it represents a unique condition (being a Roma woman, a foreign trans man) that accentuates the dehumanizing effects of the othering process within the penitentiary system. The significance of cultural factors cannot be understated and appears intertwined with the influence of regional political culture and the specific type of prison and its inmate population. Notably, even though correctional officers harbor varying sentiments toward inmates, the latter are frequently labeled as inherently defiant, devoid of fundamental life values, and predisposed to criminal behavior. One day, while going about his duties, an Inspector’s progress was halted by a fellow officer seeking his attention. Evidently, something had occurred that his colleague felt compelled to share. The colleague’s concerned tone indicated the seriousness of the matter. He recounted

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an incident from the previous day’s shared activities. It appeared that a prisoner had approached the colleague with a request, but, when the colleague declined the request, the situation took an unexpected turn: the prisoner, seemingly frustrated, resorted to labeling the colleague as a racist. Listening to the colleague’s story, the Inspector offered a piece of advice, suggesting that it was essential not to be provoked into such situations. The colleague’s reaction, a mix of frustration and uncertainty, became more pronounced. Despite this, the Inspector’s voice carried a sense of understanding. He acknowledged the complexity of the situation and expressed that the personal accusation should not be taken to heart. He explained that it is not necessary to take offense in being called racist, since it is not an offense per se: being racist is a way of seeing things, it is a lifestyle choice. Given the context, there was no need for his colleague to feel troubled by the incident. Such an event presents several intriguing aspects. First, it unveils the exasperation arising from being labeled as racist whenever a refusal is given, even when correctional officers are merely following established protocols. Secondly, the Inspector’s interpretation indicates that within the prison environment, for someone, being racist is not perceived as an insult, but rather as a characteristic trait. This highlights how racism is deeply ingrained in the prison system, both shaping the lens through which inmates view correctional officers’ conduct and masking the difficulties in cross-cultural understanding and communication as irreparable divides between born criminals and guards. The statement “there is nothing wrong in this case” reflects a form of self-absolution and provocation, likely influenced by the prison’s context and atmosphere. During a different period, one Inspector asserted, “Everybody became racist in prison.” I inquired further about this perspective. He explained, “When they would arrive here, they were already criminals, with nothing to lose, and they would treat us with disdain. There was a recent case of someone entitled to receive a pension of thousands of euros. Do you think it was fair that we were struggling here while they returned wealthy to their own country? Now, I am not saying that everyone became racist; it is not something I wanted to endorse in writing. But could you blame people for feeling that way? Did it seem just to you?” [Field Note 172].

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As the Inspectors see it, racism takes root as an inherent consequence of prolonged exposure to an environment where the fundamental objective—that of rehabilitating and reintegrating individuals who have transgressed legal and societal boundaries—predominantly concerns foreign inmates who seem apathetic to their surroundings. This scenario places added weight on the shoulders of correctional officers and leads to heightened financial burdens for taxpayers. From the perspective of these officers, a cause-and-effect relationship becomes apparent: the higher presence of non-Italian prisoners in the prison system leads the correctional officers to believe that individuals of foreign origin are more inclined to engage in criminal behavior. However, at the very same time, a significant shift occurs within the very fabric of this discourse, reshaping the central narrative: correctional officers sometimes see inmates as individuals laden with unfortunate circumstances. The Inspector’s view takes a turn as prisoners, who were just a moment ago branded as criminals, are now regarded as wretched souls. The Inspector’s outlook changes dramatically: “Here, compared to other correctional facilities, we mainly house unfortunate individuals who are left with nothing. They have reached a point where they do live from hand to mouth. It is easy to find oneself incarcerated – a cheating spouse, for instance. This place breeds forgetfulness and sorrow. These individuals are not a societal concern; they are only a danger to themselves” [Field Note 143]. Hence, correctional officers often replicate internalized perceptions of prisoners, their behaviors aligning with these constructs. Despite the apparent reinforcement of the stereotypical “Us vs Them” narrative attributed to institutionalization, an alternate portrayal of the relationship between correctional officers and prisoners emerges. Here, distinctions fade, and what truly matters is the behavioral choices made by the inmates. During my fieldwork, it became evident that correctional officers’ narratives and judgments about prisoners did not solely arise from deeply ingrained biases perpetuated by the institution. They were also shaped by a pervasive sense of threat internalized within the officers themselves. Indeed, correctional officers feel threatened by prisoners due to the perceived erosion of their authority and the challenges to their authoritativeness. Furthermore, inmates are held accountable for

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the array of difficulties that correctional officers grapple with. These two perceived factors amalgamate, ultimately giving rise to a unanimous belief among prison staff: prisoners cannot be trusted, even by fellow prisoners. One day, a pair of inmates enters the scene, comprising an elderly Italian and a young Latin American counterpart. The correctional officers exchange curious glances, pondering the reasons behind the unexpected alliance between the seasoned Italian inmate and her foreign companion. They pose the question, seeking clarity on the matter. The foreign inmate responds, explaining, “I assist her in comprehending the necessary procedures to follow.” One of the correctional officers addresses the new Italian inmate directly, imparting a cautionary note, “Well, that’s fine, but it’s essential not to put too much trust in her. In this environment, nobody offers assistance without some underlying motive” [Field Note 191]. Furthermore, prisoners are often regarded as untrustworthy and perpetually devising strategies to outwit the vigilance of the prison guards. In an attempt to explain such behavior to me, the Inspector recounted an incident involving two female inmates. These inmates had dismantled a third bed in their cell and requested its removal. While the inmates justified their request by claiming that the bed was deteriorated, the Inspector held a different perspective. She was convinced that the bed was in good condition and considered the move a pretext for eliminating the extra bed, thereby allowing the inmates to have the cell to themselves. “They were in a honeymoon phase, you see,” the Inspector remarked, alluding to the inmates’ romantic relationship. “As you know, romantic escapades require ample space.“ Chapter 5 provided a crucial insight into the identity of correctional officers, delving into the intrinsic and extrinsic motivations that drive individuals to pursue the profession. It dwelled on the delicate balance between expectations and coping strategies. However, the intricate construction of the identity of correctional officers becomes unmistakably entwined with their perception of the inmate population—those who stand as their counterparts and opposites. Above all, this perception serves as a projection of their own desire for recognition as distinct entities, ones that are deemed more socially desirable. The

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conduct of correctional officers adheres closely to the image perpetually propagated by the penitentiary system. This alignment with the system’s image necessitates a specific portrayal of inmates. The critical inquiry pertains to how these two realms—correctional officers and inmates— are viewed: are they seen as separate entities or as participants in the same domain? The penitentiary system comprises individuals who are (not so) dissimilar to the correctional officers themselves. These individuals fill the system, breathing life into their roles and providing substance and significance to their professional identities. The dual dimensions of their performance—the “front-stage” and the “back-stage,” as defined by Goffman (1959)—exist as two distinct domains. The question then arises: are these domains entirely discrete or do they possess some degree of interconnectedness? “I always advise my fifteen-year-old son that any one of us could wind up in prison. A minor misstep, an ill-fated acquaintance, and everything changes. Anyone who asserts that prison constitutes an entirely separate world is mistaken: prison is, in essence, a segment of the world” [Field Note 149]. Surprisingly, the same Inspector who ardently subscribes to punitive measures and classifies the prison population based on origin and backgrounds, offers an alternate interpretation: a perspective that positions prison as intrinsically interwoven with external life. Here, there are not two disparate worlds, but rather an integrated space. It is a place designed to accommodate individuals who have stumbled. Nevertheless, this view introduces also the idea that prison is not only a “segment of the world” due to the universal susceptibility to misconduct. It is also a monolithic and inevitable institution—one with a singular purpose that remains indisputable: a segment of the world as it is. This conception leaves no room for the envisioning of an “Other” apart from the place that hosts those who deviate, individuals who may not stray so far or distant from the norm. There is no space for imagining Other, other than a place which hosts someone (not so much) diverging, somewhere (not so distant).

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Responsibility for the Other. Interiorized Denial Before delving into the intricate dynamics between the principal denizens of the prison, it proves crucial to explore more deeply the representation crafted by correctional officers concerning the “Other.” This representation arises not only from inherent attributes of inmates—such as ethnic origin, gender, and class—but also from their conduct within the prison confines. Consequently, transitioning from the examination of how these representations impact the identity construction of correctional officers to their effects on interactions with inmates, an intriguing starting point involves observing the response of correctional officers to a commonplace occurrence: self-mutilation and attempted suicides. Notably, when viewed through the lens of the sociology of denial, the gap widens. Symbolically, the dehumanizing repercussions stemming from the process of prisonization also significantly color correctional officers’ perspectives and narratives regarding critical incidents unfolding within the prison. On numerous occasions, both male and female Inspectors have depicted suicide attempts and deliberate acts of self-harm by prisoners as vexatious disruptions that greatly irritate them. The first instance of correctional officers discussing such matters occurred informally during a gathering. Over a shared meal of pizza, they candidly exchanged personal and professional experiences: “Have you ever come across the ‘salami’?” an Inspector rather brusquely inquired of her colleague, alluding to a thwarted suicide attempt [Field Note 343]. I could not help but feel a profound sense of unease. These incidents were discussed with a nonchalant air—as routine affairs, or even as genuine nuisances. The metaphorical expression “finding a salami” (which equates suicide to a hanging, with cured meat hanging on a wall representing a hanged body) is undeniably a less than sensitive choice of words. Nonetheless, beneath the seemingly irreverent jesting at the expense of a tragic occurrence, lies a shared resentment directed at inmates perceived as attention-seekers. These inmates are believed to lack genuine intentions of self-harm. On an August morning, correctional officers recounted an incident from the previous day that had left a significant impact on their

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shift. A female inmate had attempted suicide. However, the challenge of the situation did not arise solely from the incident itself; rather, it was the consequences it triggered that proved arduous: the attempted suicide led to a delay for those nearing the end of their shift, requiring them to contend with additional paperwork. “We did almost ‘found the salami,’” one of the officers commented wryly. “But in reality, she’s always putting on an act to be noticed” [Field Note 533]. In the midst of this, an Inspector shared her own experience from the day before. Her frustration with the critical event was evident: “I was just about to finish my shift, and then that fool chose to create a scene” [Field Note 551]. It becomes evident that the suicide attempt was met with skepticism and disbelief. Instead of eliciting empathy or concern, it appeared to intensify the resentment toward the inmate. Hence, critical events unfold as a routine occurrence within this context. What emerges from the fieldwork should not be viewed as a disdainful facade marred by racist undertones. Instead, it should be understood as an ingrained and experiential response originating from a professional environment where the discrepancy between anticipated roles and the harsh realities of their execution is an ongoing contradiction. The distress stemming from navigating high-intensity emotional distress is often managed by establishing a psychological distance and seeking explanations that mitigate the true severity of critical events.3 In other words, correctional officers frequently resort to downplaying the seriousness of self-harm incidents as a coping mechanism. Cohen offers a thought-provoking perspective on what he terms “states of denial.” He defines these as “assertions that something did not happen, does not exist, is not true, or is not known about” (Cohen, 2001: 3) aiming to explore how knowledge of others’ suffering and our reaction to surrounding events can shape denial. Cohen identifies three forms of denial: literal, interpretative, and implicatory. The first straightforwardly

3

The use of desacralized terminology as a coping mechanism through irony and sarcasm should not be underestimated. Dark and black humor is indeed used as a response to navigate difficult work situations in prison, by both correctional officers and prisoners (Bennett et al., 2008; Crawley & Crawley, 2008).

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negates the occurrence of a brutal event, while the latter two acknowledge the incident but imply that its meaning (interpretative denial) or significance (implicatory denial) is different from what it appears. Moreover, in addition to examining the content of denial, Cohen investigates its nature—whether it is personal, official, or cultural—and the role of the agent involved, whether they are a victim, perpetrator, or bystander. Considering that denial is frequently the first and often the most enduring reaction to accusations of wrongdoing (2001) the author scrutinizes the motivations behind perpetrators’ denial. These motivations could include an appeal to obedience, conformity, or necessity. Perpetrators might even deny the victimhood of the injured party, asserting themselves as the actual victims. Many of these considerations find resonance within the penitentiary system and among correctional officers, encompassing aspects such as the condemnation of those who accuse, appeals to higher loyalties, and moral indifference. Nonetheless, when it comes to suicides and critical events, correctional officers assume roles as both perpetrators and bystanders. While they may not be directly accountable for prisoners’ self-inflicted injuries, they do bear responsibility for their well-being. They witness prisoners’ behaviors as observers, yet they also hold a measure of responsibility for those behaviors. The process of denial frequently manifests as a strategy to downplay both the meaning (prisoners self-harm to attract attention) and the significance (instances of actual harm are rare, they are typically feigning it) of these incidents. During my fieldwork, I observed two significant incidents involving correctional officers responding to critical events and prisoners’ distress. One morning, prior to entering the Inspectors’ office, I was informed that they were dealing with a complex situation. The inmate who had been temporarily moved to the cell adjacent to the head office had completed her oxygen therapy and was eligible for transfer back to the female section. However, due to overcrowding, she could no longer be placed in a single cell. The Inspectors eventually found a solution, albeit a rather unconventional one. Another inmate was moved to a cell occupied by two Nigerian girls. The issue stemmed from the fact that the new inmate was a smoker, whereas one of the Nigerian prisoners had a severe heart condition and was strictly prohibited from

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exposure to secondhand smoke. This predicament led to a clear refusal from both Nigerian inmates to accept the new arrival. Consequently, turmoil erupted within the section, resulting in the confinement of all detainees as a form of punishment. In addition, both sections jointly submitted a written complaint regarding the behavior of the involved inmates and the circumstances surrounding the transfer. Subsequently, the Nigerian girl appeared before the Inspectors to provide her account. As she entered the room, her agitation was palpable. Despite her limited command of Italian, she ardently defended her stance. She expressed that she had no issue with having a third person in the cell, but she vehemently opposed the idea of sharing the space with a smoker who openly admitted her disregard for the Nigerian prisoner’s health condition. A confrontation ensued between the Nigerian inmate and the Inspector. The latter stressed the importance of following orders without resistance and doubted that the situation would have been any calmer had the third person not been a smoker. The inmate was then instructed to compose a report, which would be reviewed by the Director to determine any consequences. Emotionally overwhelmed, the Nigerian inmate broke down in tears. She shared her backstory, revealing that she had been transferred to this facility due to the absence of a clinical center in her previous prison. She explained that she only sought to protect herself and had no intention of causing trouble. The Inspector drafted a report attributing the disagreement solely to the issue of smoking. However, the inmate refused to sign it and requested her lawyer’s involvement. As she left the room, she suddenly fell ill and collapsed in the corridor. Within the office, the correctional officers were convinced that her fainting was staged: since she managed to lean against the wall it must have been a feigned act. From the perspective of correctional officers, growing accustomed to handling such critical events might lead them to view some incidents as potentially misleading alarms. To draw a parallel, they might perceive it as “crying wolf,” to use the well-known English idiom. Adding a touch of sarcasm, the aphorism “fake it until you make it” could take on a counterproductive twist: it might be recast as “consider it fake until it genuinely occurs.” The second incident took place during my initial period in the male section. An unexpected medical event occurred when a detainee suffered

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a heart attack, necessitating an ambulance to be called. The detainee was under Protective Custody, and his critical condition warranted a reinforced escort. I observed the unfolding situation from its earliest moments. The Inspector on duty, swiftly summoned the younger colleagues and instructed them to change into plain clothes, preparing them to accompany the ambulance. The Chief Inspector exhibited concern, inquiring whether the detainee was conscious and suggesting that, while awaiting the Director’s authorization, the ambulance should be allowed to enter and stabilize him due to the perceived risk of a prolonged wait. In contrast, the Inspector on duty appeared unperturbed. He remarked, “You see, these inmates never die.” He then determined that during the ambulance’s impending arrival, a quick stop at the shop for refreshment was in order. As the events unfolded, the Inspector was informed that the ambulance had changed destination: no longer heading to the nearest hospital to the prison, it had taken the detainee to the city center. This unexpected development led the Inspector on duty to swiftly change his assessment. He abruptly shifted his tone, remarking, “This situation is truly serious: the cardiology unit is only available at the main hospital of the city.” The dehumanizing impact of prisonization extends beyond prisoners and correctional officers, encompassing the entire penitentiary environment. This phenomenon, as demonstrated by Vianello (2018), permeates all individuals engaged in the prison system, subjecting them to its “distinct moral and social atmosphere.” Throughout my fieldwork, I encountered a diverse array of individuals who interacted within the prison milieu, including volunteers, medical professionals, and local politicians. For instance, during an exchange I observed between an Inspector and a psychiatrist, the latter delivered a harsh commentary on a recent suicide attempt in the transgender section. The doctor’s words were stark and unsparing as he was briefed on the self-harming behaviors of a transgender inmate, which encompassed acts like ingesting razor blades and batteries. He tersely remarked, “I hope the inmate succeeds in the next attempt.” Similarly, his response to the attempted suicide by a female prisoner carried no sentiment of compassion. His sentiments appeared to be aligned with those of the Inspector.

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In Chapter 7, the focus shifts to the influence of merit ideology in the practices of correctional officers and prison personnel, particularly its impact on inmates. An event that will be explored in greater depth in that section serves to illustrate the contrasting reactions to a critical incident and the practical implementation of interpretative and implicatory denial. One morning, following the lunch break at the prison cafeteria, I returned to the male section accompanied by the Inspector. As we reached the entrance of the ward, we encountered four new guards seated near the gate. One of them approached the Inspector and informed her that a prisoner had “sewn himself ”—a prisoner had engaged in a demonstrative act by sewing his own mouth shut. The Inspector was taken aback by the news and sought to prevent me from entering the section to witness the situation firsthand. Subsequently, she contacted her colleagues stationed within the section to assess the situation. They reported that the prisoner had already been taken to the infirmary, allowing me to enter without significant obstacles. Upon my arrival, the doctor joined us in the Inspector’s office, and a tense discussion ensued. The doctor, recognizing my status as an outsider, displayed evident discomfort and kindly asked me to leave the room. Later, I would come to understand that she specifically requested the Inspector to refrain from filing an official report, as the detainee had agreed to seek treatment and remain calm. Among the guards, particularly the head of the section, there was a heightened sense of concern. The rest of the afternoon was dominated by discussions revolving around this incident. They stressed the accountability of their roles as public officials and emphasized the necessity to document all incidents, especially those of such severity. Such invocation of duty and responsibility is not always consistent across different contexts. For instance, on a certain day while awaiting the Inspector in the main office, I engaged in paperwork alongside her colleagues. They were in the process of digitally documenting a critical event that had occurred in the male section. The software they were using, directly linked to the Ministry of Justice, provided a limited set of options in a drop-down menu. Inspector 1: “Which option should I select? None of the labels in the dropdown menu seem to fit.”

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Inspector 2: “Choose ‘disciplinary offense’.” Inspector 1: I can’t find it … ah, yes, here it is. But then it asks for further specifications, and the case doesn’t exactly match any of the provided choices. It’s just one prisoner who punched another in the head.” I ventured a suggestion: “Perhaps ‘personal injury’?”. Inspector 1: “What are you suggesting! Nobody died; it’s simply a case of someone getting punched in the head out of anger. I mean, these things happen!”.

This interaction prompts us to consider the threshold that determines what qualifies as an event that “just happens” and what necessitates being reported. If we apply Cohen’s analysis of the denying process to these three events, a variety of scenarios emerge. Looking at the first episode, where the Nigerian prisoner fainted due to intense emotional distress, correctional officers exhibited disbelief in the meaning of the collapse (interpretative denial): they saw it as an exaggerated response to garner sympathy for her health situation. Whether this behavior arose from a perceived inability to communicate or from an intention to provoke the correctional officers and prove them wrong is inconsequential to the Inspectors. What matters to them is that the prisoner deliberately defied their orders, and when reprimanded, resorted to an act to avoid being reported to the prison administration. Regarding the second critical event—a prisoner in Protective Custody experiencing a heart attack—it was initially underestimated in terms of both its meaning (interpretative denial) and significance (implicatory denial). The Inspector’s immediate response was one of annoyance: typically, when a trip to the hospital’s emergency room is necessary, the doctor must sign the certificate, followed by seeking authorization from the director. However, finding three officers to escort and guard the prisoner, with at least one having a driving license, poses a challenge. Coupled with unexpected personnel shortages and shift adjustments, this process becomes a burdensome bureaucratic procedure. In a prison context where prisoners are often deemed troublesome and critical events are seldom believed, a heart attack is not accepted as such until the

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prisoner is transferred to the cardiology unit, substantiating both the meaning and significance of the event. Lastly, the act of protest by a male inmate who sewed his own mouth shut presents a different narrative. Here, the body is once again a tool for expressing suffering, but the intent differs. The nature of the gesture is overtly provocative, targeting not only the inmate’s own body but the prison system itself—a point that is undeniable. What proves intriguing is the reaction of the prison personnel: while the doctor advocated for non-intervention, correctional officers insisted on reporting the incident as a matter of responsibility. The doctor seemed aware of potential consequences for the inmate and believed that the significance should not be exaggerated in order to prioritize his mental well-being. In contrast, the Inspectors believed in the corrective value of reporting the incident and, above all, sought to avoid being held responsible. Delving into the interconnected nature of correctional officers’ denial and their sense of responsibility is crucial. An Inspector shared with me a vital insight during my early days of fieldwork, emphasizing the necessity of being prepared for external investigation and judgment. While waiting for the next inmate to be heard, I inquired about the procedural details: what level of discretion do correctional officers possess in reporting events to the Director and the Department of Penitentiary Administration? There exists a margin, but regardless of circumstances, critical events must always be reported: “The Direction must be informed about everything, as we cannot be caught off guard by news in the media. We must report everything.” Thus, the focus of correctional officers’ responsibility does not solely rest on the prisoner’s actions, but on how the prisoners react. This responsibility dynamic extends even to those correctional officers who display empathetic concern for the well-being of inmates. They eventually prioritize camaraderie and self-preservation over direct responsibility, downplaying the gravity of critical events and strictly adhering to bureaucratic protocols that entail punitive measures. The second episode underscores how the sense of responsibility permeates all facets of prison life, affecting the broader prison staff. Medical personnel within the prison tend to adopt a preventive approach. For instance, even though hospital transfers should only occur in cases of

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imminent danger to prisoners’ lives, doctors often authorize such transfers when uncertain. This tendency contributes to the narrative held by correctional officers that prisoners exploit medical attention for personal gain or simply to experience a brief respite outside their cells. Overall, a prevailing sense of mistrust, patronization, and internalized frustration profoundly shapes how correctional officers perceive prisoners and interpret their actions. Prisoners are often viewed as having ulterior motives and seeking to exploit situations. While an individual prisoner’s actions may not be inherently oppositional, they can lead to an increased workload for correctional officers, given the extensive procedures and extended shifts that accompany any critical event. When this pervasive sentiment is coupled with the internalized image of prisoners as individuals unsettlingly close to correctional officers, from whom a certain degree of distance is crucial to stabilize their own identities, alongside the disappointment stemming from unmet professional expectations, it becomes evident how this combustible mixture fuels a reciprocal blaming process, directed at both prisoners and the penitentiary administration.

Tightening a Loose Bond. The Struggle of Being Empathetic In 1984, the Report of the Control Review Committee by Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO) emphasized the significance of the relationship between correctional officers and prisoners: At the end of the day, nothing else that we can say will be as important as the general proposition that relations between staff and prisoners are at the heart of the whole prison system and that control and security flow from getting that relationship right. Prisons cannot be run by coercion: they depend on staff having a firm, confident and humane approach that enables them to maintain close contact with prisoners without abrasive confrontation. (Home Office, 1984: para. 16)

Liebling (2011) further expanded upon this notion, discerning between various kinds of relationships and perspectives. She argued that

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the attitudes and behavior of prison officers shape the ethical character of prison life. Without a doubt, the prison environment is characterized by the daily interactions between correctional officers and prisoners, interactions that are both unavoidable and wield a significant influence on the self-perception of prison guards. Although correctional officers often feel burdened by duties that diverge from their initial expectations, the sense of being more than mere individuals who open and close cell doors is substantial. Furthermore, correctional officers depict themselves as the essential link between the prison and society, as emerged during the fieldwork: Individuals outside of the prison realm may not fully comprehend our work; however, in truth, we represent the sole connection between inmates and the outside world. They confide in us. On our end, empathy plays a substantial role—it’s not solely about security. [Field Note 388]

This becomes particularly evident when they share insights into their daily activities and interactions with inmates. Interestingly, the same Inspector who had shown reservations about the evolving nature of their role toward a more supportive function, contradicts herself: just moments after expressing her frustrations, she proudly recounted an encounter with a prisoner (whom the Inspector labels as having a “brain like that of a little bird”) known for being difficult, aggressive, and prone to self-harm—a real challenge. This inmate had to be confined to the security room due to his unmanageable behavior and severe issues. However, the Inspector quickly established an unexpected connection with him: she appears to be the only person he trusts and prefers to communicate solely with her. Later, when teased by her colleagues about the Commander’s decision to entrust her exclusively with the care of this challenging prisoner, the Inspector would feign annoyance while openly flashing a smile. Filling the gap with empathy becomes a strategy that correctional officers often grasp and apply. One Inspector shared his thoughts on this regard: one of the recurring challenges is the lack of communication, despite the fact that this job hinges on building relationships. To the

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Inspector, this approach is particularly vital since inmates can detect any hostility, potentially resulting in a permanent divide between the staff and prisoners. Demonstrating empathy and maintaining resilience are essential in this dynamic. The role of the environment should not be underestimated. For senior Inspectors and prison guards, the prison reality has become familiar, and they have developed strategies to navigate it effectively. Furthermore, many correctional officers form longstanding relationships with inmates due to the extended durations of sentences and instances of recidivism. In a conversation with a senior agent, she shared her difficulty in dealing with inmates she has known for years, since these inmates treat her with a familiarity that sometimes crosses boundaries, leading to physical contact. She laments, “I tell them not to hug or kiss me, but they do it anyway! What am I to do?” The situation becomes immediately apparent when an inmate, known for being affectionate, hugs her and exclaims, “Agent, I know it bothers you, but I don’t care and I’ll do it no matter what!” Their interaction ends with both of them sharing a laugh. Just as the Inspector in the male section expressed her frustration about being unexpectedly tasked with emotionally supporting a troubled prisoner, a senior correctional officer similarly feigned annoyance at receiving affection from an inmate. The rationale behind their reactions is rather straightforward. While numerous studies on the relationship between prisoners and correctional officers tend to spotlight the behavior of the latter, often portraying them as uniform entities, a more nuanced sociological perspective is essential. This involves dismantling the notion of the “academic romantic’s ‘Other’” (Liebling, 2000: 349). Consistently, when discussing the tension between “them versus us,” which portrays prisoners through the lens of correctional officers as a distinct “Other,” it is imperative to recognize that this perspective is only a facet of the whole picture. The narrative that accentuates the divide and conflict between staff and inmates is balanced by instances of collaboration and adaptation. There is a knock on the door, and another inmate looks in, saying “Hello, beautiful !” to Inspector C. before leaving. The inspector turns to me and says, “These are the twenty-three, not in terms of age, but in terms of the years

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they’ve spent in prison! We’ve known them for two decades. In the end, they care for us. We’ve raised and nurtured them. It’s something that evokes both a smile and sadness.” The Inspector then shares a personal story: once, he was threatened by an inmate who had become agitated after consuming an alcoholic mixture made from fruit soaked on the terrace. The inmate was about to attack him with a razor blade, but other prisoners intervened to prevent it. “They did it because some form of relationship is formed regardless; they know us.” [Field Note 575]

Punishment, accommodation, negotiation, and affection are all key aspects that shape the relationships between prisoners and correctional officers. Negotiation and discretion play a crucial role in these dynamics. Correctional officers must maintain effective authority while avoiding simply prioritizing “good relations,” as this skill is crucial in the eyes of both prisoners and staff (Liebling, 2000: 343). Interestingly, prisoners prefer officers who are straightforward, even when delivering unwelcome news or instructions. This requires employing verbal skills and strategic talking to encourage compliance through formal sanctions rather than informal ones. However, this approach can sometimes lead to infantilization and a shift from empathetic communication to condescension. For instance, the Inspector shows her colleagues a drawer next to the desk. Pointing to its contents, she says, “Look, if you need some reinforcements, you can find them here.” Inside, there are sweets and chocolates. The inspectors share a few anecdotes with me. They mention that it often happens that they have to resort to offering sweets to persuade a prisoner. For instance, the other day, during a transfer, a prisoner requested some methadone, but he had already received his dose and would have to wait. The Inspector then convinced him with a piece of chocolate, telling him that if he remained calm, he could have some more. It worked immediately. “They are like children; you have to have your own tricks to convince them,” they say. The use of such tactics is acknowledged by the correctional officers themselves: they sometimes employ light teasing or mock-praise to influence prisoners. This approach helps build rapport and defuse tension. However, this does not mean that discipline is absent.

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Moreover, the relationships between correctional officers and inmates evolve over time: some prisoners, due to their behavior and trustworthiness, are recognized as individuals who can be relied upon and are entitled as “persons of trust.” This indicates a daily negotiation of roles and authority within the prison context. Hence, identifying as a correctional officer is a daily process of renegotiation, both internally and externally. At the end of the previous chapter, I emphasized the significance of a culture that informs all of the prison’s inhabitants, including correctional officers. In this chapter, we have observed how the relational factor takes on dual importance. It is deeply influenced and hindered by the constant reproduction of antagonism by correctional officers, who seek to distinguish themselves and assert their role as public officials with authority, positioning themselves at a higher hierarchical level and often displaying condescension. However, at the same time, correctional officers cannot help but acknowledge the incredible power they wield in deploying their authority through relational means. They take pride in being recognized as good professionals capable of earning respect and managing the most challenging cases. Above all, they find satisfaction in being helpful and efficient, ensuring that their self-image, both internally and externally, remains intact. It might not be the role they initially expected, but they have discovered—and are happy to share—a different way to be socially recognized as exemplary officers. The next chapter will investigate the link between authority, formal and informal sanctions, and how correctional officers tend to use “their vastly underestimated discretion against legitimacy and not for it,” with the aim of illustrating “‘what works’ for today, ‘what works’ for tomorrow or the end of the week, and ‘what is fair’” (Liebling, 2000: 340).

References Bennet, J., Crewe, B., & Wahidin, A. (Eds). (2008). Understanding prison staff . Cullompton: Willan.

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Cohen, S. (2001). States of denial: Knowing about atrocities and suffering. Cambridge Polity Press. Crawley, E., & Crawley, P. (2008). Understanding prison officers: Culture, cohesion and conflict. In J. Bennet, B. Crewe, & A. Wahidin (Eds.), Understanding prison staff . Cullompton: Willan. Crenshaw, K. W. (1993). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241–1299. De Beauvoir, S. (1949). “Introduction” to the second sex. The second sex [First published as Le Deuxième Sexe, Paris: Gallimard, 1949, trans. C. Borde and S. Malovany-Chevallier], New York, NY: Knopf, 2010, p. ix. Goffman, E. (1959). The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY: Doubleday-Anchor. Home Office. (1984). Managing the long-term prison system. The Report of the Control Review Committee, Cmd. 3175. London: HMSO. Jensen, L. A., Arnett, J. J., & McKenzie, J. (2011). Globalization and cultural identity. Handbook of identity theory and research (pp. 285–301). Springer. Liebling, A. (2000). Prison officers, policing and the use of discretion. Theoretical Criminology, 4 (3), 333–357. Liebling, A. (2011). Distinctions and distinctiveness in the work of prison officers: Legitimacy and authority revisited. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), 484–499. Podrug, P. (2019). The third wave experiment: Novel, film and their implementation in German High School (Doctoral dissertation, University of Zagreb, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences). Said, E. W. (1985). Orientalism reconsidered. Race Class, 27 (2), 1–15. Spivak, G. C. (1985). Three women’s texts and a critique of imperialism. Critical Inquiry, 12(1), 243–261. Tajfel, H., & Turner, J. (1979). Social identity theory. Vianello, F. (2018). Norme, codici e condotte: la cultura del penitenziario. Gli attori sociali di fronte alla criticità dell’ambiente carcerario. Sociologia del diritto. Waller, J. (2002). Becoming evil: How ordinary people commit genocide and mass killing. Oxford University Press. Zimbardo, P. (2016). Revisiting the Stanford prison experiment: A lesson in the power of situation. Perspectives on Contemporary Issues, 309–317.

7 Acting as Correctional Officer: Authority Through Discretionality

Approved attributes and their relation to face make every man his own jailer; this is a fundamental social constraint even though each man may like his cell. The expressive coherence that is required in performances points out a crucial discrepancy between our all-too-human selves and our socialized selves. As human beings we are presumably creatures of variable impulse with moods and energies that change from one moment to the next. As characters put on for an audience, however, we must not be subjects to ups or downs. A certain bureaucratization of the spirit is expected so that we can be relied upon to give a perfectly homogenous performance at every appointed time. Erving Goffman, 1959—The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life

The stylistic approach of selecting quotes from the narrative at the beginning of each chapter and revisiting them through the main sociological lens has not been adhered to in this final chapter. In fact, while the © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_7

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literature provides numerous instances of Goffman’s theoretical perspective, the sociologist’s utilization of a dramaturgical metaphor to elucidate individuals’ performances appeared to be the fitting tailpiece for this work, intertwining both aspects. Erving Goffman’s concept of identity construction, as presented in “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life,” delves into the analysis of interpersonal interactions. Goffman introduces the idea of individuals switching between front-stage and backstage behaviors. In the front stage, individuals are conscious of being observed by an audience, adhering to specific rules and social norms to align with social desirability. In contrast, the backstage behavior occurs without the need for performance (Goffman, 1949). This distinction implies that the Self is not owned solely by the performer; rather, it emerges as a negotiated result of the performed actions in front of an audience. Moreover, this interactive process contributes to the creation of a shared culture, intersubjectively negotiated rather than individually internalized (Faccio & Costa, 2013). While Goffman’s model offers insights into interpersonal dynamics, it is important not to overlook macro-level analyses of organized systems and institutions. Denzin (2002) aptly critiques Goffman’s metaphor, emphasizing the necessity of a political understanding of institutions. Faccio and Costa (2013) also highlight the importance of considering both macro and micro perspectives, ultimately using the micro to explain the macro. This work acknowledges the significance of both macro and micro viewpoints. Analyzing the construction of correctional officers’ identities and their relationships with prisoners, the focus remains on daily interactions within the penitentiary environment. These interactions are viewed as outcomes of a complex system of institutional power and culture. This chapter extends the analysis to correctional officers’ practices and their discretionary use of power. These practices are examined as individual responses to the unique penitentiary environment, shaped by a combination of strict rules applicable to all prisoners and adaptable case-by-case judgments.

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Reporting Dirty Looks. The Grey-Zone Bureaucrats In Chapter 3, I mentioned Lipsky’s choice of referring to the field of corrections to exemplify street-level bureaucratic discretion. Provocatively, the author stresses how prison guards’ objective judgment on inmates’ silent insolence, perceived only by some “dirty looks,” might be questionable (Lipsky, 2010). In the same chapter, I found Dubois’ argumentation about the intertwined nature of state apparatus and street-level bureaucrats’ visions extremely helpful. They are, in essence, each other’s eyes: the schematic vision of the state’s policies is mirrored in the everyday practices of its bureaucrats, confirming and enhancing it (Dubois, 2014). Before proceeding with the presentation of my fieldwork observations concerning the use of discretion and the degree of leeway, it is important to take a step back. To effectively comprehend and interpret the practices of correctional officers, it has been essential to first delve into how they perceive their role, the motivations that compelled them to choose this profession, and the predominant representations they hold regarding prisoners of all genders. In essence, we are faced with an environment that demands a diverse skill set: encompassing control, psychological support, and practical assistance. In many instances, correctional officers neither anticipated nor are willing to cultivate and deploy such competences. Furthermore, they grapple with reconciling the mission and function they believe a prison should serve with their daily activities. The role of a bureaucrat wielding the power of writing reports stands in stark contrast to the image of the police officer they initially envisioned. Conversely, we have also observed that a considerable portion chose this job among various alternatives primarily to secure economic stability. In both scenarios, the encounter with the prison system proves disconcerting. In the best-case scenario, they feel ineffectual, struggling to establish their authority or make a meaningful impact. One strategy employed by correctional officers involves the manipulation of time, a tactic known as time dilation. This approach stems from their personal struggle against horizontal subsidiarity, where they blame the Regional political culture for undermining the penitentiary’s goals

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through a perceived lenient and permissive approach. In response, correctional officers rigorously follow internal directives but do so at their own pace. They exploit bureaucratic red tape to prolong punitive measures or delay decisions. In this context, correctional officers occupy a gray area as described by Dubois in his depiction of bureaucrats. Indeed, even if they effectively function as an extension of the State, contributing to the shaping of the State’s proxemics, they simultaneously harbor a sense of betrayal toward the “real” bureaucrats—those who hold higher ranks and work from office settings, distanced from the demanding frontline duties. Correctional officers’ lives resemble Schopenhauer’s pendulum, oscillating between paperwork and periods of inactivity. Throughout my fieldwork, conversations with Inspectors often circled back to the challenge of maintaining work consistency, since the frequent changes that occur daily create a constant struggle to keep track of unfolding events. They often mention individuals within the Department of Penitentiary Administration, particularly those stationed in office roles, as “ambushes”: the real job is in the sections. The core of their daily routine revolves around the meticulous process of paperwork, involving a series of well-known steps: switching on the computer, navigating through documents, composing spontaneous declarations to remove meeting bans, creating official reports for the Director using Word, printing the necessary materials, collecting the inmate’s signature, organizing the paperwork, and eventually delivering it to the designated recipient. This routine serves as a backdrop against which they navigate the complexities of their roles. Although the task of completing paperwork is often perceived as an additional burden, it serves as a safeguard against being held accountable for negligence. Correctional officers heavily rely on this administrative practice, sometimes even employing it excessively by reporting every minor action of inmates without clear justification. This overuse becomes apparent in an incident where a colleague informed an Inspector about a disciplinary report filed against a transgender inmate for refusing lunch. An officer says to the Inspector that they have filled a disciplinary report on a trans inmate refusing lunch. The Inspector immediately intervenes:

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“You mean that you notified the fact? ” – “Yes, with a report.” – “But did she refuse food because she went on a hunger strike or because she doesn’t want food from the refectory and eats anything else? ” – “No, there is no strike. She simply did not want lunch.” – “You see, these are two different things: if it is for a strike, then you have to file a report; otherwise, no. Many inmates refuse food; it is within their possibilities.” [Field Note 298]

The Inspector’s swift intervention aimed to distinguish between notifying and formally reporting the event. Such an event underscores the confusion arising from the interpretation of disciplinary bureaucracy as merely punitive rather than a tool to address legitimate situations. The confusion of interpreting disciplinary bureaucracy as a mere punitive tool, rather than a precise and official resource to address illegitimate situations, is well exemplified by an event I witnessed during my fieldwork. During one of my mornings in the female section, a young officer came to report to the Inspector an event that had happened a few days earlier, involving a razor blade. The Inspector had already explained to me that new inmates entering prison must surrender all their belongings, which will be returned to them after inspection. I asked if this procedure was implemented based on internal regulations, but the Inspector told me that it had never been formalized and therefore relied on internal circulars and directives. Regardless, razors were definitely not allowed in the female section. Nevertheless, they were often used as items of exchange, crossing the boundaries of sections: the other day, a female inmate was found with a razor blade in her bra. The officer on duty immediately filed a disciplinary report without taking direct action, but somehow the information reached the inmate, who verbally abused the officer. The Inspector intervened to clarify some points: when an offense such as possession of a razor blade is discovered, the first step is to address the situation by confiscating the object. Filing a report is only a consequence; “we cannot rely solely on bureaucracy.” The mistake, therefore, resulted in a negative reaction from the prisoner: “You should reprimand her, confiscate the blade, and explicitly explain what consequences await her. Filing the report without warning the inmate and allowing her to keep the blade makes no sense.” [Field Note 35]

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The lack of any rationality is evident: to the officer, the inmate should be punished for the significance of her act (doing something forbidden), regardless of the merit of the act (owning something forbidden). The issue here, in enforcing rules, is being aware of what these rules effectively are, and if they change. Since the internal regulation does not exist, and you have to rely on service provisions, the temptation to resort to common sense and personal discretion is high. The event occurred in May 2019. Interestingly, by July of the same year, a potential solution to the issue of allowing razor blades seemed to be on the horizon. An Inspector initiated efforts to arrange a meeting involving the prison administration and various personnel: the purpose was to discuss the feasibility of permitting the use of razor blades for women inmates. The Inspector noted that razor blades were already permitted in the male and transgender sections, and since blades were being used as bargaining tools, a regulated framework might be a way to address this situation. This is a crucial key to understanding the impact of practices on the justification of prison regulations. Indeed, something that has historically been considered an offense gradually became a repeated practice behind the backs of correctional officers, which has not been accompanied by any of the predicted risky behaviors. The only way to re-establish order is to regulate it with new provisions and, authoritatively, declare it permissible. What emerges is that prison, a place full of rules, is, in reality, a place where rules are daily negotiated and reshaped according to the situation and, more often than not, according to the discretion of correctional officers. Taking the example of external items permitted within the wards, three distinct events serve as apt illustrations of how correctional officers exercise their discretionary power by rigidly adhering to internal regulations. As outlined in circulars and directives, inmates are allowed to possess blankets within specified measurements and shapes. Particularly, doublelayered blankets are categorically prohibited, as they pose a risk of concealment. On one occasion, a female inmate received a laundry package that she had dispatched for washing and disinfection. Among

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the contents was a blanket that did not conform to the authorized dimensions; it was double-layered. The correctional officers were displeased and denied its entry, confiscating the blanket. The inmate highlighted that she had possessed the same blanket for months while incarcerated, and no objections were raised until now. She had only sent it for cleaning and now sought to retrieve it. The correctional officer’s response was unequivocal: “You should have considered this before sending it out. You cannot have it now.” This scenario showcases the underestimated impact of such actions on the establishment of a trustworthy relation with prisoners. The glaring absence of consistent practices and rules creates an environment of perpetual negotiation, in which the sole resource is the authority vested in an individual who decides whether to permit or forbid something that, according to regulations, should be prohibited. The second event is equally significant, as it pertains to what I have referred to as the “grey zone” in Dubois’ depiction of bureaucrats: the persistent sense of betrayal by those higher up in the hierarchy. While I was in the female section, a correctional officer entered the Inspectors’ room holding a bag and exclaimed, “Look what I intercepted from the Director! ” Inside the bag was an aluminum pot. The officer was adamant, “Do you think I’m going to allow something like this to pass? It was intended for an inmate! ” [Field Note 609]

The pot appeared to be non-compliant: according to internal regulations, inmates are only allowed pots with a diameter of no more than 20 cm, featuring plastic handles. However, this pot was 23 cm wide, had wooden handles, and contained an internal iron disc. To make matters worse, when I told to the Director that she couldn’t give it to the inmate, she even made a gesture as if to say ‘What a bore!’ Can you believe it? Take a look at what I wrote: this pot cannot be permitted because the regulation prohibits it. She needs to adhere to it! [Field Note 609]

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Finally, the third event I want to discuss further complicates the decision-making process of correctional officers, introducing a moral dimension. In this event, colleagues are debating the possibility of allowing the entry of pornographic magazines for an inmate residing in the mental health unit within the prison. They seem nonchalant, questioning, “Why deny them? What harm could it possibly do? In fact, we might as well allow a vibrator to enter! Some inmates have attempted to smuggle it in anyway.” Amidst these discussions, an inmate makes a request for pornographic magazines, and the correctional officers respond with laughter, saying, “What should we do, give them to them?” However, the Inspector quickly quells the jesting and suggests considering the matter seriously. This event surprised me, as I am familiar with a case involving a female prisoner whose request for a vibrator was denied. A local NGO that works for prisoners’ rights had taken up the case with the intention of establishing a legal precedent to expand prisoners’ access to sexual aids. The openness displayed by these correctional officers in front of me perplexes me. I perceive it as both a provocation and an indication of a certain tolerance on their part. It is essential to take note of the statement, “Some inmates tried to make it anyway,” which underscores how the regulatory function of these policies is often overlooked. It adapts to the actual occurrences within the prison walls rather than being strictly precautionary. Dubois’ analysis of bureaucratic interactions challenges the notion that individual attributes of agents are inconsequential. He emphasizes that within the highly codified bureaucratic setting, the system is actually built upon the interactions among the public who lacks knowledge of agents’ roles, institution members who remain unaware of the desk activities, and the agents themselves who are uncertain about their functions (Dubois, 2016). The direct construction of the agent’s role evolves during interactions with clients, influenced significantly by biographical elements such as experience, age, and personal values. For instance, correctional officers

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usually decide to discard requests from prisoners they consider less trustworthy. The criteria for determining reliability, as well as the shared system of values guiding such judgments, remain challenging to discern.

Disciplinary Strategies. When Punishment Is Not Enough I have showed how the frustration felt by correctional officers due to their perceived lack of authority has led to the development of internal survival strategies. However, even the established practice of determining when to report wrong behaviors and conveying them to the Director appears insufficient to effectively address the issue of educating prisoners. In recounting one of the numerous critical incidents that occurred, an Inspector shared her own proposed solution for enhancing disciplinary control within the prison environment. Apparently, a few days prior, an inmate had requested her cell to be opened five minutes earlier than usual. When the assistant did not respond promptly, the inmate became agitated and yelled at her. Once the cell was opened, the inmate continued shouting, accusing the assistant of depriving her of dignity. In a fit of anger, she kicked the cell’s gate against the officer, inadvertently trapping the assistant’s hand between the gate and the wall. As a result, the assistant sustained an injury that required six days of medical attention. Now, the question arises: how should this situation be handled? First and foremost, a disciplinary report and confinement regime are initiated. Furthermore, the inmate is slated for transfer from the prison. The Inspector admits to feeling profoundly frustrated and powerless in this particular case. Let’s return to discussing transfers and their punitive function. In the past, inmates feared disciplinary reports because they could result in a transfer, but now it’s much more challenging, especially for female prisoners. This prison is the only women’s prison in the region. This has significantly diminished the police force’s power to intimidate. [Field Note 469]

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Interestingly, the inmate herself denied any intentional attack in her statement, attributing the incident to a momentary outburst of anger arising from personal reasons rather than targeted at the assistant. The inmate even requested a confinement regime to avoid interactions with prison police personnel. The Inspector describes her as paranoid with a tendency toward a victim complex. Certainly, the assistant will file a complaint against the inmate. However, the challenge lies in determining the appropriate course of action against her. Isolation does not seem optimal, and besides, the inmate is scheduled to be on an awarded permit in a few days, and revoking it in time is not feasible. This situation encompasses two dimensions: the disciplinary aspect and the punitive re-educational approach. While a disciplinary measure will inevitably follow the report, there is a need for an immediate punitive action within the ward as well. I discussed with the Inspector the strategies that she intends to implement, as department coordinator, for managing the women’s sections. In a meeting with the operational team, she put forth a new approach to address inappropriate behaviors. Instead of resorting to punitive measures, she suggested a reversal of the logic: rather than facing punishment, prisoners would be denied access to rewards. In essence, the extra treatment activities should be treated as privileges not readily available to all, but only to those who demonstrate deserving them. Individuals who exhibit misconduct would not be subjected to mild punishment, but they would be deprived of the associated benefits. According to the regulations of the Italian penitentiary system, adhering to rules of conduct can be seen as a demonstration of responsibility deserving recognition. Article 37 of the Penitentiary Regulations states that “rewards signify acknowledgment of the sense of responsibility demonstrated in personal conduct and in organized activities within the institutions.” The law goes beyond mere passive adherence to rules; it calls for behaviors that merit positive recognition due to their motivation by a sense of responsibility displayed in the prison community’s life. Furthermore, to ensure the impartial exercise of administrative power, Article 76, paragraph I, specifies categories of conduct that warrant positive consideration.

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However, the discretionary nature of rewarding behaviors deserving positive recognition appears not to be confined to an objective regulatory framework. While imprisonment is often justified in terms of merit, relating to actions that have negatively impacted society, individuals are primarily evaluated based on specific qualities that may not align with societal norms. Consequently, social and vocational reintegration of inmates relies on a reward-oriented approach, fostering a shared understanding of behavioral and moral standards between prison staff and inmates. The prison system also employs incentives to encourage appropriate conduct. For instance, good behavior frequently leads to sentence reduction, parole eligibility, and access to privileges within the prison. As an illustration, under the good behavior provision, a deduction of forty-five days per semester of served sentence is granted to inmates who actively engage in re-educational work, acknowledging their participation and aiming for more effective reintegration into society. Failure to comply results in the forfeiture of these forty-five days. The proposal to deny specific rewards in response to misbehavior is not new. The Inspector intends to expand this concept to encompass all accessible benefits, including those mandated by law, such as work opportunities.1 She also holds a distinct view on work allocation, considering it should not be available to everyone. The current system factors in only the duration of incarceration, disregarding actual conduct or necessity. Different prisons adopt varying criteria, which the Inspector deems unfair. She believes that having numerous disciplinary reports and still accessing work is unjust. Instead, access should be contingent upon proving one’s worthiness, aligning with the re-educational function. In Chapter 3, the focus was on the disciplinary notions of deservingness and merit, aligning with the applicability of the neoliberal paternalism approach as discussed by Soss et al. (2011). This approach involves constant behavior monitoring through incentive systems. Dubois highlights how agents’ considerable autonomy and discretion empower them to define their roles, as well as assign identities and behavioral norms. 1 Article 15 of the penitentiary system, Law No. 354, identifies work as one of the elements of the rehabilitation treatment, establishing that, except in cases of impossibility, employment is guaranteed for both offenders and inmates.

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Regarding correctional officers’ role within the reward system, Chantraine and Sallée’s typology (2015) outlines three axes structuring their practices: (i) management-related activities encompassing supervision, separation, and isolation; (ii) informal practices involving negotiation, discussion, and punishment to preempt incidents and minimize internal disorder; (iii) practices directly tied to prison guards’ ultimate authority, such as observation, record-keeping, and tracking inmates’ conduct (Chantraine & Sallée, 2015: 117–118). Correctional officers’ inclination to assess situations based on their moral compass and their expectation that prisoners conform to it became evident to me, intertwining these three axes wherein informal practices serve as a pivotal means to regain authoritative control. On one occasion, while I was in the male section, a prisoner entered the room seeking to be heard about various issues. First, he mentioned that he should have been enrolled in the prison’s educational program, but he discovered on the day it began that he was not on the list and thus could not start fourth grade with his classmates. Second, a similar situation occurred with the music course: though he was supposed to join, he was prevented from attending. Third, he expressed a desire to change his cell. The Inspector took it upon herself to address these matters, particularly the educational aspect. Regarding the cell change, she explained the lack of available cells and discouraged him from formally requesting a transfer, noting it would likely be discarded. The atmosphere in the room was light and jovial, with the prisoner being teased for wearing a Juventus soccer jersey, given the historical rivalry between Juventus and the local team. The prisoner playfully defended himself, citing his loyalty to his football team having lived in Italy for 20 years. After the prisoner left, the Inspector discovered that he was not permitted to enter fourth grade due to failing the previous year. Consequently, he should have been reenrolled in the third grade, though uncertainty existed regarding whether the course would be offered this year. The Inspector’s perspective on the situation is insightful. She deliberately prioritized the request for schooling, as it aligned with her expectations of a responsible prisoner who values education. In contrast, his desire to participate in the music class or transfer cells seemed less significant to her. The amusement of a music class was not her concern,

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as she believed prisoners should primarily focus on tasks that contribute to their re-education through diligent effort. The episode sheds light on the influence of personal beliefs, representations, and stigmatizing prejudices that impact correctional officers’ perceptions of prisoners’ re-educational journeys. Another incident involving music classes highlighted disagreements between correctional officers and music teachers over the safekeeping of instruments within the wards. Correctional officers were unwilling to assume responsibility without explicit authorization from the Director. This incident underscored concerns about the practicality and value of sending prisoners to music school, with questions raised about whether other vocational options might be more suitable. The personal beliefs and societal stereotypes influencing correctional officers’ views on prisoners’ educational paths and future employment are evident in their discussions. The typology proposed by Chantraine and Sallée (2015) serves as a valuable framework to summarize the initial observations I made during my fieldwork. I noted that correctional officers tend to favor informal practices over managerial and observational activities, using them as practical and efficient tools to counter the negative impact of perceived lack of authority and passive agency. While the ethnographic findings from the authors support Crewe’s statement citing a British guard, “All we’ve got is the power of the pen” (Crewe, 2011), as the ultimate real power held by correctional officers, my fieldwork experience indicates that the triad of observing, recording, and tracing lacks empowering force without the discretionary and informal practices that grant correctional officers the authority to determine when and if to exercise it. The use of the pen as a punitive tool is diluted, relegating it to a bureaucratic function without substantial consequences. This reassignment of the pen’s function weakens its punitive impact. Some correctional officers exhibit a degree of self-indulgence, believing that their actions will ultimately yield positive outcomes. They are convinced that prisoners fail to comprehend the long-term benefits of necessary actions today. Moreover, certain correctional officers hold the conviction that part of their mission involves promoting personal transformation in prisoners. They emphasize the importance of behavioral change to become

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better individuals and citizens. The true satisfaction of their job, they believe, lies in witnessing a person’s comprehensive transformation over time. While immediate precautionary actions are necessary in response to critical events, the process of treatment and change requires a longer duration to yield meaningful results.

Authority in Gendered Wards: How Punishing and Rewarding Change In the preceding sections, I extensively employed the concept of “practices” to analyze the perceptions and professional routines of correctional officers. Furthermore, practices have played a pivotal role in exploring the relational dynamics between guards and prisoners, guards and prison staff, as well as guards and their superiors. Adler and Pouliot (2011) define practices as “competent performances.” In a more precise sense, practices encompass socially significant patterns of action that, when executed with varying levels of competence, concurrently embody, enact, and potentially solidify background knowledge and discourse within the material world. Drawing on Bourdieu’s conceptual framework, Pouliot (2008) underscores the ontological precedence of the logic of practicality concerning the mutually shaping interplay between agency and structure. The author characterizes practices as outcomes of tacit, practical knowledge that renders an action “self-evident” or commonsensical. This quality stems from the habitus—a form of “learnt ignorance.” Pouliot further elucidates that habitus’ inarticulate nature encompasses “corporeal knowledge,” contrasting it with representational knowledge. For instance, the inherent understanding of being male or female serves as a form of corporeal knowledge that shapes a majority of our practices without conscious reflection. Gendered behaviors often manifest without explicit teaching; they are not easily verbalized or expressed (2008: 273). Hence, one can assert that agents act intentionally without explicit intention, which can be framed as “individuals make choices, but do not choose the principles of these choices” (Wacquant, 1989: 45). I also delved into the discourse on gendered organizations, which posits that “gender is present in the processes, practices, images and

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ideologies, and distributions of power in the various sectors of social life” (Acker, 1992: 567). Focusing the analysis on practices, a gendered practice aligns with assumptions about distinctions between women and men and, through repetition, contributes to perpetuating these distinctions (Acker, 1992). Britton’s investigation into gendered organizational logic and practices in male and female prisons (1997) offers a compelling illustration of gendered practice—specifically, the assignment of responsibilities based on gender. The outcomes of the study reveal “the essentialism at the core of the prison’s hegemonic occupational masculinity” (1997: 810). The perceptions of assigned duties tended to be dichotomized into “safe” and “unsafe” roles, with the latter (such as managing violent inmates) deemed unsuitable for women. Remarkably, this dichotomization of roles aligns with findings from prior research I conducted within a prison environment. Female correctional officers predominantly assume a surveillance role, but when instances of violence erupt in a female prison, they are managed (often forcefully) by male correctional officers. Consequently, the enforcement of order—a proficient performance involving a structured and regulated sequence of actions—takes on a particular form that shifts within the same environment based on the gendered roles of correctional officers and prisoners.

(Acting as) Female Correctional Officers In the central corridor of the ground floor within the female section, there resides a framed print featuring two kittens fixated on a glass of water, within which a red fish swims in a circular motion. Despite the print’s considerable size, my immediate attention did not gravitate toward it. Since my initial entrance into the penitentiary, the print has adorned the wall, yet even when it did catch my eye, I never truly engaged with it. Now, devoid of any context regarding its origin, the individual responsible, or the reason behind its placement, I can only interpret it through the perspective I have gained from spending time within the section. Whether it was intended as an Orwellian-inspired, amiable reminder of a vigilant yet potentially perilous presence, or simply

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signifies the idiosyncratic taste of a former correctional officer unaware of its dual connotation, I find it intriguing. Firstly, its location is within the female section, and I struggled to identify anything similar in the male wards. Secondly, it manages to simultaneously convey reassurance and caution, epitomizing a perfect representation of the carrot-and-stick approach. I previously discussed correctional officers’ professional expectations of their roles and the significance of striking a balance between empathy and authority. During my fieldwork, I had the opportunity to delve into both of these aspects, engaging with male and female professionals and comparing their primary narratives concerning differences on two distinct levels: semantic and practical. To exemplify, an Inspector consistently referred to male and female prisoners and colleagues as “boys” and “girls.” It is evident that her language was influenced by my presence, using a particular mode of communication that aimed to create an informal atmosphere, albeit one that leans toward infantilization. However, this not only reflects a specific mindset that justifies gender segregation in prison but also directly impacts the internal organizational dynamics. As an illustrative example, while in the female section, I inquired about the duration of the shifts, which typically last for six hours but occasionally extend to eight hours in cases of staffing shortages. The 6-hour shift is applied to girls, and this allocation is rationalized by the assumption that “they have double responsibilities, both at home and in prison,” whereas boys can have longer shifts. Britton’s research delved into how gender-neutral practices can actually reinforce gender inequality within the officer corps, particularly benefiting male correctional officers (1997). Thus, the contrasting organization of shifts between the two sections could be interpreted as an attempt to alleviate the workload for female correctional officers. This recognition acknowledges the dual caregiving responsibilities that women often bear. However, it is also rooted in a stereotypical narrative that perpetuates and reinforces a specific social model based on gender roles. Moreover, norms surrounding gender should be seen not as fixed entities, but rather as constructs that emerge through relational processes grounded in negotiation. These gender norms significantly influence

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the work of correctional officers, manifesting in their interactions with inmates and leading to varying attitudes among officers in female and male units of the same prison. For instance, a female inmate reported disparities in the treatment regarding the receipt of items from outside sources. Female prisoners were not allowed to receive tobacco, while male unit officers were more lenient in permitting it. This illustrates how a broad rule regarding external items is translated into a gendered practice that denies certain items based solely on gender assumptions, depicting female prisoners as less trustworthy and more prone to conflict and provocation. These gendered narratives extend to the management of male and female wards in everyday practices as well. Once, while in the female office with Inspectors, I remained standing as they filled out paperwork. They encouraged me to take a seat, but the only available chair was the one typically occupied by inmates. I hesitated, not wanting to occupy the seat meant for female prisoners awaiting hearings. The Inspectors persisted, highlighting, “Here we allow them to sit, in the male section they are not so accommodating. Prisoners have a different demeanor; they are required to keep their hands out of their pockets. Our colleagues demand respect; it is different here.” I asked the Inspector if she alters her behavior when assigned to the male ward. She responded negatively, explaining that even though inmates know they have “someone to talk to” in front of them, they always approach the interaction with great respect. “Some to talk to”: I emphasized the crucial role of empathy as both a coping mechanism and a skill for effective communication with inmates. Throughout my fieldwork, I made a point to inquire about the experience of women entering this particular profession: in response, the correctional officer stated that entering the profession is not actually difficult. While stereotypes exist outside, they do not hold true within the prison environment. She mentioned that it is unfortunate that, within the section, female officers primarily interact with inmates of their own gender, but the job functions remain consistent. When I questioned her use of “unfortunately,” she elaborated that this perspective is tied to the traditional listening skills often associated with women. She explained that male colleagues tend to be more impatient and less willing to invest

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time in prisoners, often seeking to resolve challenging situations swiftly. In contrast, her own experience has led her to adopt a more patient and welcoming approach over time. This ensures that the individual does not feel neglected. While she is cautious about making broad generalizations, to her this kind of approach seems to come more naturally to female officers. Interestingly, according to the correctional officer, the stereotypes that do not hold true within the penitentiary environment are the ones originating “from outside.” This primarily refers to the notion that correctional officers’ work is predominantly a male occupation. However, all the conventional stereotypes concerning gender-specific traits—like the notion of women having better listening skills and men displaying more superficiality—do indeed apply within the prison context. A female Inspector shared an intriguing perspective with me during a morning I spent at the male section. According to her, there are several factors at play: when a woman works in a male section, there is a paradoxical increase in respect toward her. This is due to the fact that her presence does not incite competition or aggression; rather, it tends to have a calming effect on individuals. Although establishing authority can sometimes be a challenge, especially with some prisoners, this effect of defusing tension is quite noticeable. Interestingly, this dynamic is reversed in the female section: the presence of a male colleague actually mitigates the competitive atmosphere among women, though occasionally it can also introduce an element of flirtatious tension. While she is restricted from entering a male ward or conducting body searches on men, in practice, she frequently participates in cell searches—while a male colleague handles body searches, she focuses on environmental searches. Thus, the perception is that working with prisoners of the same sex tends to intensify competition and aggression, while the presence of correctional officers of the opposite sex serves as a means of releasing tension. However, it is important to note that both situations also carry a certain level of what the Inspector refers to as a “seductive charge,” a dynamic that is accepted as part of the norm and socially ingrained. In discussing the shift in behavior displayed by male agents in our presence, the Inspector points out that this phenomenon is not limited to

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inmates but extends to all interactions within the prison. She deems it as a normal occurrence. In the context of a male-dominated environment like a men’s section, she explains that she and her middle-aged female colleagues often assume a maternal role, while the young nurses and volunteers embody a different nuance. I find the contrasting perception of femininity intriguing, particularly when it is applied to both correctional officers and prisoners. On one hand, female prisoners are depicted as individuals who have deviated from their prescribed social roles, a narrative that seems to be reinforced within the prisoners’ community itself—as exemplified by a female inmate’s statement: “There are no women here” [Field Note 457]. On the other hand, female correctional officers are seen as valuable assets, capable of alleviating the tension in an environment dominated by masculinity and shallowness. Furthermore, they are perceived as needing protection from the potential harshness of the male section. In terms of correctional officers’ perceptions about working in the male section, a prevailing negative attitude is evident, with the male wards often being described as unclean and hazardous places. For instance, during a conversation with Inspectors, some junior female assistants overheard and exclaimed that the male ward was disgusting and they could not comprehend how anyone could tolerate being there. They mentioned the dirtiness and the unpleasant smell that greets you as you ascend the stairs. These junior assistants also made a comparison, stating that female prisoners are relatively cleaner. However, the disparity in opinions between female assistants and Inspectors becomes more apparent when discussing the internal organization and operational procedures of the two sections. In the context of managing male and female sections of the prison, one of the most debated aspects concerns the role of supervision. This discussion arises from the significant difference in management approach between male and female sections: while in the male section, all inmates are confined to their cells and are only allowed out at specific times, in the female section, there is a more open regime that allows female inmates to move freely within the section. However, this policy of greater freedom of movement in the female section can create an atmosphere of insecurity among correctional officers. Many of them prefer to conduct checks and

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inspections in pairs to feel less vulnerable to the group of female prisoners. This precaution is often driven by the perception that the more open environment in the female section may pose additional challenges for maintaining security and order. Furthermore, working in the female section can entail a higher emotional burden for correctional officers, as female inmates tend to express their emotions and concerns more openly compared to male inmates, who may be seen as more reserved or less inclined to display their emotions. This additional aspect of working in female sections can significantly impact the psychological well-being and emotional balance of correctional officers. In summary, the management of male and female sections of the prison is a complex and debated issue, with significant differences in the dynamics of supervision, security, and emotional burden for the personnel involved. Furthermore, the disciplinary tools and punitive measures differ between the two sections, with male correctional officers in the male section having access to isolation cells as a form of punishment, while female correctional officers in the female section mostly rely on disciplinary reports. A consistent theme is the negative reputation attributed to female prisoners as a group. Conversely, some correctional officers prefer working with female inmates, citing that male inmates can be more challenging and that shifts in the female section offer more variety. Despite the internal organization challenges discussed earlier, Inspectors still perceive the female section as a relatively favorable environment, yet there is an underlying sense of resentment and ingratitude among the inmates: the Inspector mentioned that a delegation of young magistrates visited the prison recently. One of them referred to the female section as a “happy island” due to its openness, activities, and amenities. The Inspector proudly relayed this but then added that the inmates did not appreciate it. I presented the hypothesis of the existence of a double standard within the penitentiary, where the reward-punishment system is supported by a different model of judgment rooted in specific gendered biases. From the fieldwork results, we can see that the correctional officers’ representation of a deserving prisoner varies based on an intersection of variables, with sex and gender being just one of them. Undoubtedly, there is a composite group—the prisoners—and an embedded and shared idea of

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what it means among correctional officers’ in-group narrative. Nevertheless, there are two other groups: women and men, and within those groups, we find many subgroups. Finally, we have also observed that the discretionary use of correctional officers’ power tends to implement practices through diverse modalities within the two sections, thus confirming the original hypothesis of this book.

References Acker, J. (1992). From sex roles to gendered institutions. Contemporary Sociology, 21(5), 565–569. Adler, E., & Pouliot, V. (2011). International practices. International Theory, 3(1), 1–36. Britton, D. (1997, December). Gendered organizational logic: Policy and practice in men’s and women’s prisons. Gender and Society, 11(6), 796–818. Chantraine, G., & Sallée, N. (2015). Ethnography of writings in prison: Professional power struggles surrounding a digital notebook in a prison for minors. In The Palgrave handbook of prison ethnography (pp. 99–123). Palgrave Macmillan. Crewe, B. (2011). Soft power in prison: Implications for staff–prisoner relationships, liberty and legitimacy. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), 455–468. Denzin, N. K. (2002). Much ado about Goffman. The American Sociologist, 33(2), 105–117. Dubois, V. (2014). The state, legal rigor, and the poor: The daily practice of welfare control. Social Analysis, 58(3), 38–55. Dubois, V. (2016). The bureaucrat and the poor: Encounters in French welfare offices. Routledge. Faccio, E., & Costa, N. (2013). The presentation of self in everyday prison life: Reading interactions in prison from a dramaturgic point of view. Global Crime, 14 (4), 386–403. Goffman, E. (1949). Presentation of self in everyday life. American Journal of Sociology, 55, 6–7. Lipsky, M. (2010). Street-level bureaucracy: Dilemmas of the individual in public service. Russell Sage Foundation.

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Pouliot, V. (2008). The logic of practicality: A theory of practice of security communities. International Organization, 62(2), 257–288. Soss, J., Fording, R. C., & Schram, S. F. (2011). Disciplining the poor: Neoliberal paternalism and the persistent power of race. University of Chicago Press. Wacquant, L. J. (1989). Towards a reflexive sociology: A workshop with Pierre Bourdieu. Sociological theory, 26- 63.

8 Conclusion: How Observing a Micro Reality Offers New Macro Perspectives

In the “Handbook of Social Theory,” a pertinent insight is presented: “We are all now acutely aware of the fact that defining a field is regarded by some commentators as a potentially dangerous political act, not only for what is defined as important through inclusion, but, perhaps more significantly, for what is implicitly defined as unimportant through exclusion” (Ritzer & Smart, 2000: 1). This heightened awareness has been a crucial methodological asset of this book. Determining the relevance of particular facts, reporting them, and utilizing them to illustrate how my work addresses research questions and influences my observations has been a vital and compelling exercise. Despite the sole intent of my work being to provide a significant scientific insight into interpreting and comprehending penitentiary mechanisms, the process of selecting specific analytical dimensions while excluding others has posed challenges. Furthermore, in the methodology chapter, I addressed the potential difficulties of effectively understanding the complexity of a disciplinary model rooted in gendered and meritocratic assumptions through an analysis of a local Italian prison. Through an emic perspective on correctional officers’ viewpoints and shared perspectives, we observed and interpreted their representations, practices, © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8_8

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and the functioning of the prison. However, the question of whether these findings can be extrapolated to comprehend specific forms of social control on a broader scale necessitates further exploration. This aspect will be presented in the concluding chapter, as I delve into the discussion of correctional officers’ level of discipline and their power in disciplining.

Correctional Officers as Disciplined Individuals The motivation of correctional officers to pursue a career in an Italian prison is a significant factor for better understanding disciplinary strategies. As elucidated in Chapter 4, I draw from Hammersley (2015) the belief that comprehending social phenomena requires placing them in a broader context to effectively grasp their origins. Accordingly, the emerging type of correctional officer from this ethnographic study is closely aligned with literature on poverty governance. The welfaristic social inclusion model demands commitment to work not only from prisoners, by imposing expected behaviors upon them, but also from correctional officers, who often enter the profession for job stability. This anthropological archetype of the liberal era—the consumer of goods and services—encompasses both those holding the keys to the cells and those beyond. Disciplining, as we have explained, entails teaching obedience and molding the correct citizen who will not disrupt social order. While the reference to prisoners is evident, it also aims to reshape how marginalized individuals think about and regulate themselves. The commitment to a profession that does not align with personal identity or satisfaction but rather guarantees a specific way of life exemplifies these disciplinary strategies. The almost complete naturalization and internalization of an identity that complies with maintaining social order is evident: correctional officers take on a professional role seemingly only for economic opportunities. The changes in social control mechanisms described by Soss and colleagues (2011), impacting not only the poor but also lower-level governing authorities, emerged clearly from the presented fieldwork. However, even though I have shown a degree of adherence of correctional officers to disciplinary strategies inherent in the

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broader neoliberal-paternalistic social control mechanism, the influence of the prison culture on correctional officers, potentially prompting them to reproduce its codes of formal and informal rules, remains unclear. To understand this, we must focus on the cognitive dissonance experienced by correctional officers once they enter the job. As illustrated in Chapter 5, their engagement level with the organization’s mission can serve as intrinsic motivation to enter the field or develop as a coping strategy to justify their continued presence in the profession. This leads correctional officers to believe in the prison’s mandate and to act accordingly. What challenges the disciplinary power of the prison over correctional officers is how the prison functions in that specific context and the narratives they employ to explain the prison system’s shortcomings. In other words, while correctional officers believe in the prison’s mission, they also criticize the system’s inability to fulfill its own mandate. Thus, according to this interpretation, they cannot be unequivocally labeled as “disciplined individuals” within the prison’s mechanism. The pervasive power of the total institution in disciplining correctional officers, shaping their thoughts, emotions, and actions, must be reconciled with their daily discomfort of recognizing the limited value of their role, which is often doubted and not particularly conducive to achieving the prison’s re-educational function. While they blame the prisoners, they also fault the prison system itself, struggling to maintain their belief in the image of correctional officers as saviors of the marginalized. Table 5.1 presents a division of correctional officers into four primary categories, determined by the level of material reward and the motivating factors behind their choice to pursue the profession. However, the degree of engagement should not solely be attributed to the overall mission of the penitentiary, to which correctional officers are generally inclined to align. Instead, it should be connected to the specific prison in which they are employed. i. Unengaged and Satisfied Employees: These correctional officers entered the profession driven by extrinsic motivation. The material reward provides them with an acceptable level of job satisfaction, and they are willing to bear the burdens of the job’s negative aspects.

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ii. Engaged and Satisfied Employees: This group comprises correctional officers who joined the profession due to intrinsic motivation. The material reward meets their expectations, and they are thoroughly content while believing in the institution’s objectives. iii. Unengaged and Unsatisfied Employees: These correctional officers chose the profession based on extrinsic motivation, but the material reward falls short. Their decision was primarily driven by the pursuit of economic stability, yet they struggle to attain it. iv. Engaged and Unsatisfied Employees: This category includes correctional officers who entered the profession due to intrinsic motivation, but the material reward remains inadequate. They strongly believed in the institution’s mission and mandate, yet the limited economic compensation eventually led to dissatisfaction. Certainly, it is possible to encounter individuals among the correctional officers who have entirely severed their connection with the higher mission of the penitentiary. However, based on my ethnographic study, such instances of complete disruption are rare and often overshadowed by the self-perpetuating nature of the penitentiary system, which possesses a tendency to replicate itself despite challenges. The prison correctional officer says something particularly interesting: “Prisoners are a source of income for the state. In fact, they have a cost 1 that must be covered, the structure must be maintained, and the state has an interest in keeping them in prison.” (Journal entry, 25 May 2018 (b))

The above excerpt stems from a previous research project I undertook within the same prison. It was puzzling and undoubtedly impacted my drive to embark on the current study. However, it stands as an isolated occurrence. As I have just mentioned, the penitentiary system possesses 1 According to Antigone’s Report (2021), each prisoner costs the state 143e per day. If we analyze the total costs of the justice system in Italy, we see that in 2021, the government spent 8 billion on justice administration, with 35% of that amount dedicated to the penitentiary system. Nevertheless, more than three-quarters of the funding is allocated to personnel and administrative costs, while funding for educational projects and treatment remains minimal. Thus, a critical perspective on the prison system suggests that it tends to accept high numbers of prisoners primarily to justify balance sheet items and personnel costs.

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a remarkable ability to reproduce its internal dynamics and mechanisms, even in the face of low engagement and satisfaction levels among correctional officers. Regardless of whether they chose this professional path due to extrinsic or intrinsic motivations, they ultimately develop a sufficient level of engagement to remain within the system. The crucial distinction lies in what they are engaged in: not in the mission of the local prison or the penitentiary system in general, but rather in what I have termed “a universal culture within a unique world.” This distinction remains consistent regardless of which category of Table 5.1 a correctional officer falls into. While they cultivate an in-group culture shared across the prison community, they are also socialized into distinct working methods and interactions specific to their particular prison. They tend to replicate these methods as a means of resisting and counteracting elements within their working environment that seem to obstruct their professional mandate. In simpler terms, we can observe two types of correctional officers: those who firmly believe in the mandate of their profession from the outset, and those who enter primarily to secure income but gradually come to believe in the mandate due to their alignment with prison culture. The demarcation between being disciplined or not resides in the acceptance or rejection of the specific administration they work within. In line with this interpretation, Table 5.1 can serve as a guide to depict another dynamic: the relationship between correctional officers’ areas of resistance and prison disciplining power. The majority of correctional officers represent the last line of defense against the shift of the penitentiary toward laxity. There is a pervasive belief that they are the saviors of a system facing unique political pressures. From my fieldwork, it is evident that local and regional contexts play a significant role in undermining their professional mandate. Their commutes are often influenced not just by personal reasons, such as a lack of integration with the community, but also by a shared conviction that they work within a prison system that fails to align with the true purpose of correctional facilities. They are aligned with an in-group narrative that emphasizes the need to fight against a system that does not value them and is tainted by corruption. This fosters strategies of resistance against both the system itself and the prison population. However, we must question whether this

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struggle against the system ultimately contributes to the crystallization of the very system they are resisting: what is observable is the ironic effect of the prison system driving its primary actors to resist and obstruct any progressive shift toward a more open regime. Thus, the four categories identified in Table 5.1 can serve as a framework to analyze correctional officers’ adaptive strategies and resistance to prison disciplinary control. We have previously discussed that over time all employees tend to form an identification with their professional roles, whether to justify their continued presence or due to the influence of group dynamics. Regarding this matter, it is worthwhile to delve into the distinctions among these groups in terms of their interactions with the local prison administration. Specifically, (I) Unengaged employees satisfied, (II) Engaged employees satisfied, and (IV) Engaged employees unsatisfied (see Table 5.1) are inclined to uphold both the formal and informal rules of the penitentiary, regardless of their satisfaction level with material rewards. They adhere to the prison’s system of discipline. Considering the influence of disciplinary control, correctional officers can be categorized into the following types: i. Disciplined proselyte: Correctional officers who joined the profession due to intrinsic motivation and unquestioningly accept the institution’s managerial approach; ii. Disciplined subversive: Correctional officers who entered the job due to intrinsic motivation, maintain a strong identification with their professional mandate, but find themselves in conflict with the institution’s management style; iii. Disciplined bureaucrat: Correctional officers who took up the profession due to extrinsic motivation, but eventually develop an identification with their professional role as a coping mechanism to justify inadequate material rewards. They do not question the institution’s management approach and conform to the working strategies. The most potentially challenging category in Table 5.1 is (III) Unengaged employees unsatisfied: the correctional officer who shared her views with me, as detailed in the note Journal Entry 25 May 2018 (b), falls into this category and represents the IV type of Table 8.1—the Undisciplined detractor:

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Table 8.1 Type of correctional officers depending on the influence of disciplinary control

High Level of identification with the professional role Low Level of identification with the professional role

High Level of identification with the institution

Low Level of identification with the institution

I Disciplined proselyte

II Disciplined subversive IV Undisciplined detractor

III Disciplined bureaucrat

iv. Undisciplined detractor: Correctional officers who joined the profession due to extrinsic motivation, neither believe in the profession’s mission and mandate, nor agree with the institution’s management methods. Thus, we can discern three distinct categories of disciplined correctional officers: (I) Disciplined proselyte, (II) Disciplined subversive, and (III), Disciplined bureaucrat. While the first embodies the highest level of alignment with the institution’s behavioral standards and rules, the latter two exemplify adaptive strategies for prison disciplinary control. These two categories represent the predominant majority of correctional officers observed in this study. As outlined in Chapter 5, these categories encompass those who entered the profession coincidentally and formed group identity as a coping mechanism against job-related frustrations, or conversely, those who embraced the profession’s mandate but diverge from the institution’s management approach. This situation might appear paradoxical to label them as “disciplined,” yet if we peel away the surface arguments of those who challenge the institution’s camaraderie, we find correctional officers who are devoted to the penitentiary’s authority and mission. They prefer to confront and criticize the local institution where they work rather than question the entire system. In essence, they direct their actions toward one scapegoat per day—be it volunteers, regional parties, or the administration. Therefore, disciplined subversives represent the most compliant form of dissenting employees, as their actions rejuvenate the authority and assertiveness of the institution against administrative approaches, which vary based on individual Directors’ visions. We have observed that while the Directorship may

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change, the prison culture remains steadfast, perpetually readjusted and reproduced. It is worth noting that correctional officers can shift from one category to another. Those who initially joined for extrinsic motivation might develop a strong engagement with the professional mandate, while those with intrinsic motivation rarely distance themselves from it. Furthermore, it is highly unlikely to witness any minor form of resistance to the disciplinary approach from (IV) Undisciplined detractors. These individuals have not internalized, reproduced, or believed in the professional mandate. Instead, they critique it from within.2

Correctional Officers as Disciplining Individuals In Chapter 2, I stated that the core objective of diagnosing mental illness is identifying individuals who disrupt social order, and that whether or not they are mentally unbalanced is not the real concern. Instead, the focus is on managing those who do not conform to the norms of the average population. I am aware that, when reaching the conclusive chapter, such premises could appear disconcerting. I investigate the representation of deviance only in connection with correctional officers’ perspectives, and the conceptualization of pathology has become a key concept for delving deeper into this aspect. Various theoretical perspectives define the process of maintaining social order through forms of social control that involve molding individuals to achieve a higher level of compliance. This process targets specific segments of society based on their representations. Consistently, correctional officers, in this context, serve as the arm of the penitentiary system that spearheads this process: we have categorized correctional officers into four groups according to the degree of discipline they internalize. This discipline is also perpetuated through a narrative about deviants, shared and replicated within the group, ultimately 2

This last category is particularly interesting and could represent a possible field of investigation, focusing on the motivations they have to stay and the alternative paths they consider when deciding to leave the profession.

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solidifying a robust in-group identity. Chapter 6 delves into the construction of the identity of correctional officers, which is intrinsically tied to the representation of prisoners as their opposites, cemented through differentiation. Indeed, correctional officers align their behavior with the image that the penitentiary system consistently reinforces, and adhering to this image entails a distinct representation of inmates. This process intensifies the disciplinary impact of the penitentiary system: the docile body not only behaves differently due to obligation but also genuinely believes it is the sole correct manner to act and enforces this behavior in others. The desire for recognition as something distinct and more socially desirable compels correctional officers to develop a critical perspective on prisoners, and a discernible pattern emerges based on their level of alignment with prison culture. In this context, it is intriguing to focus on the (II) Disciplined subversive and (IV) Undisciplined detractor. Correctional officers who embrace the profession’s mandate yet criticize the institution’s management exhibit a tendency to fault both the Administration and prisoners for their daily challenges. These individuals experience cognitive dissonance between role expectations and practical duties, fostering shared animosity within the group due to a perceived lack of authority stemming from a lenient Administration. Simultaneously, they hold prisoners accountable, depicting them as untrustworthy, ignorant, uneducated, and unintelligent. At the opposite end of the spectrum, a rare minority critiques the professional mandate from an insider’s standpoint, cognizant of the targeted marginalization of specific population segments. However, even though the (IV) Undisciplined detractors appear to resist the disciplinary influence of the penitentiary system, they, too, are shaped by the prison culture. This culture perpetuates a characteristic portrayal of inmates, characterized by an infantilizing, condescending, and patronizing approach. A correctional officer I spoke with, as detailed in previous pages (Journal entry, 25 May 2018 (b)), before starkly repudiating the mission of the penitentiary system (“prisoners are a source of income for the State”), described prisoners as passive and uninformed agents, over whom correctional officers assert control. For instance, during the fieldwork a female Inspector mentioned that working with female prisoners, even after many years, became almost automatic. They became familiar with the inmates, who tend to remain

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the same for decades, and they know how to approach them to elicit attention and respect. She attributed this familiarity to the prisoners’ minimal cultural background, suggesting their educational level was close to nonexistent. The Inspector says that working with female prisoners, after so many years, has become very automatic: they know the inmates, who are almost always the same for decades, and they know how to approach them, what to say, and what to do to gain their attention and respect. This is also thanks to the prisoners’ cultural level, in her opinion, which she considers to be close to zero. (Journal entry, 25 May 2018 (b))

This perspective possibly indicates the correctional officer’s recognition of the penitentiary system’s distinct focus on individuals who are considered “manageable” and easier to handle. However, it also demonstrates how, despite potential critical views from (IV) Undisciplined detractors against the professional mandate, they ultimately conform and align with in-group strategies for engaging with prisoners. This adaptation allows them to sustain their positions for extended periods. While they may sidestep disciplinary power, they remain influenced by prison culture and its established formal and informal norms.

Meritocracy at its Best: Disciplining Man and Woman in a Correction Setting We have observed (see Chapter 3) that the development of routine practices and stereotyped perceptions of clients is a prevalent trait among street-level bureaucrats. Lipsky (2010) notably classified correctional facilities as a refined illustration of street-level bureaucratic discretion. While Sykes (1958) views prisons as machines translating societal mandates into actions, the collection of rules and routines upheld by correctional officers constitutes a selection among alternatives. Hence, delving into the foundation of these choices and overarching objectives becomes imperative.

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Throughout the fieldwork, the observed deficiency in authority and authoritativeness undermined correctional officers’ sense of duty in motivating prisoner compliance. The discretionary employment of reward and punishment systems was also evident. This shared in-group perception of feeling ineffective and insignificant extends to both disillusioned correctional officers who fail to embody the bureaucratic authority of report writing, and disinterested correctional officers solely concerned with fulfilling basic obligations. The disciplinary classifications of deservingness and merit illuminate how the incentive system, combined with agents’ substantial autonomy, serves as potent tools to reaffirm correctional officers’ professional roles. These tools also allocate identities and behavioral norms based on prisoners’ perceptions as constructed by the officers. Furthermore, the perpetual inconsistency in practices and regulations fosters continuous negotiations between those who permit and those who request permissions. Employing the four categories outlined in the initial paragraph of this chapter, we can observe that while (I) Disciplined proselytes and (III) Disciplined bureaucrats are inclined to strictly adhere to internal regulations, utilizing discretion only to ensure flexibility within changing circumstances, (II) Disciplined subversives may resort to discretion as a coping mechanism, leveraging it to surmount challenges arising from the lack of acknowledgment by the penitentiary administration. This might involve techniques such as time dilation. Lastly, the (IV) Undisciplined detractors may harness discretion to navigate their environment, applying both formal and informal rules with limited adverse impact on prisoners and colleagues. They may utilize an array of practices without favoring one over others. In light of this, the following distribution can be observed (Fig. 8.1). Along these lines, I have also observed that the practices associated with the overarching authority of prison guards—namely, monitoring inmates’ behavior through observation, documentation, and tracking— cannot be viewed as an empowering force without the discretionary and informal practices that grant correctional officers the authority to decide when and if to implement them. This process involves negotiation, discussion, and punishment. Consequently, the nature and framing of these practices, contingent upon correctional officers’ perceptions of their

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Fig. 8.1 Correctional officers’ practices and level of discipline

role, level of discipline, and the image of inmates, are heavily intertwined with the internalized concepts of merit and deservingness. We have examined how Liebling’s (2000) study on informal/formal modes of social control aids in understanding distinctions between non-compliance driven by an aversion to bureaucratic red tape and noncompliance stemming from unjust and unequal judgments of prisoners’ attributes. As detailed in Chapter 6, the impact of representations and stigmatizing biases about prisoners significantly influences correctional officers’ personal convictions regarding their re-educational mission. By merging the high level of discretion used as a strategy to reaffirm authority with the tendency to adapt punitive and reward practices through daily negotiations—dependent on individual levels of trustworthiness—it becomes clear that the prison system is not just influenced by a merit-based evaluation, but is fundamentally rooted in it. Moreover, the disciplinary value of this system extends not only to its effects on prisoners, encouraging personal transformation to become better individuals and citizens, but also to correctional officers themselves. The latter consistently reaffirm their alignment with the right side of the gate and, in general, the course of history—committed workers upholding the responsibility of doing what is morally right. In line with this, we observed that the criteria for designating prisoners as meritorious are related to negative outcomes in the sense that they stem from intrinsic characteristics of specific segments of the population. These individuals, in some way or another, are destined to end up in prison due to factors they have partly chosen to adopt (such as

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drug abuse and dealing) and factors they are born with (such as origin). Nonetheless, the potential rectification of their “sin” is attainable through proper behavior, encapsulated in a general rule: avoid disruption and mind your own business. Regarding the influence exerted by an unequal narrative of meritocracy based on different gendered expectations on the system of sanctions and rewards, the fieldwork subsequently confirmed the presence of practices ingrained in a stereotypical narrative that reinforces and reproduces a specific social model grounded in gendered roles, both concerning correctional officers and prisoners. Even before delving into the influence on the rewarding and sanctioning system, gender division and segregation carry practical ramifications for prison guards’ working methods and expectations. This goes beyond merely organizing shifts based on gender to accommodate the “girls who have chores to do at home.” It also extends to professional attitudes, where women are unsurprisingly described as better listeners, more patient, and compassionate. The analogy to a maternal figure is often invoked, which contrasts sharply with the pervasive depiction of female offenders as either transgressing their societal role and suffering for it or being perceived as assets that lower competition and can manage prisoners’ emotional burdens. Regarding the differences in working with prisoners of the opposite sex, Chapter 7 sheds light on the decompressing function of such segregation. Working with inmates of the same sex is viewed as a trigger for escalating competition and aggression. Male and female correctional officers exhibit differing preferences for working in wards based on gender. However, they generally share the same view on female prisoners, considering them untrustworthy and more prone to conflict and provocation. As revealed in Chapter 6, male prisoners are often depicted as criminals, uneducated, and savage, while female prisoners are characterized as mentally unstable drug users with severe psychiatric disorders. Nevertheless, we have observed how correctional officers, rather than merely conforming to gendered expectations, use these expectations to shape a specific perception of prisoners. This perception, in turn, contributes to the construction of an in-group narrative that intersects various aspects, including origin, socioeconomic status, and

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cultural level. Undoubtedly, the prison culture is steeped in gender divisions, which are perpetually reproduced, reinforcing societal models and normalizing gender-based segregation and discrepancies as disciplinary tactics for social control. Simultaneously, the merit-based system of rewards and punishments is undeniably influenced by such narratives, leading to their reproduction within the system. This is evident in decisions regarding item inclusion or exclusion and in the allocation of benefits based on prisoners’ gender. Thus, we have observed how gender-based stereotypes of meritocracy impact correctional officers’ self-perceptions and their perception of prisoners. In relation to the latter, Table 8.2 presents a categorization of how these stereotypes influence (II) Disciplined subversives and (IV) Undisciplined detractors. On one hand, while we have observed that the (I) Disciplined proselyte and the (III) Disciplined bureaucrat are inclined to adhere closely to rules, utilizing a minimal level of discretion, the (II) Disciplined subversives appear more inclined to employ discretion as a coping mechanism to navigate their disagreements with prison administration. Consequently, their practices exhibit variation, influenced by specific representations that tend to reward behaviors aligning with their perceived level of authority. Illustratively, for female offenders, the meritorious correctional officer might label them as (i) the obedient prisoner, embodying the expected feminine characteristics outlined earlier. In contrast, for male prisoners, a meritorious label might be (ii) the proactive prisoner, Table 8.2 The meritorious male and female prisoners depending on correctional officers’ type II Disciplined subversive IV Undisciplined detractor

Female prisoners

Male prisoners

Obedient prisoner Respectful prisoner

Proactive prisoner

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who demonstrates active intention to comply with correctional officers’ directives and willingly participates in prison treatment activities.3 Conversely, the (IV) Undisciplined detractor employs discretionary power primarily as a means of surviving the environment and maintaining a smooth workflow. Notably, the sole meritorious traits demanded of prisoners of both genders are respect and personal loyalty. To the (IV) Undisciplined detractor, strict adherence to the prison’s mandates may not be a priority; they are more concerned that prisoners abstain from causing disruptions and allow them to perform their duties without interruption. While the discretionary use of correctional officers’ power to implement practices in varying modalities is evident within the two sections, it is essential to underscore the gendered nature of correctional officers’ approach and moral compass. This aspect not only manifests in the extent of leeway they possess in determining prisoners’ opportunities and trajectories, but it constitutes the very essence of the prison. The penitentiary, in essence, is akin to a structure with walls constructed from one-way mirrors. Correctional officers and prisoners perceive themselves as occupying distinct rooms—one for observing and the other for being observed. In reality, they inhabit a corridor of mirrors, where external social models are perpetually reflected and bidirectionally reinforced, permeating the practices, expectations, self-perceptions, and perceptions of others within the prison population. Ultimately, the binary narrative of Self versus Other is deconstructed, revealing the illusion. The prison culture is forged through the rhetorical manipulation of specific gendered, racial, and class-based models, which become normalized and internalized by all individuals who traverse the prison’s walls.

3

The writer is indeed aware of the risk involved in using such labels to perpetuate a gendered narrative. However, these labels should be interpreted as a reflection of correctional officers’ representations and points of view, as revealed through the fieldwork.

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References Hammersley, M. (2015). Research ‘inside’ viewed from ‘outside’: Reflections on prison ethnography. In The Palgrave handbook of prison ethnography (pp. 21– 39). Palgrave Macmillan. Liebling, A. (2000). Prison officers, policing and the use of discretion. Theoretical Criminology, 4 (3), 333–357. Lipsky, M. (2010). Street-level bureaucracy: Dilemmas of the individual in public service. Russell Sage. Ritzer, G., & Smart, B. (Eds.). (2000). Handbook of social theory. Sage. Soss, J., Fording, R. C., Schram, S. F., & Schram, S. (2011). Disciplining the poor: Neoliberal paternalism and the persistent power of race. University of Chicago Press. Sykes, G. M. (1958). The society of captives: A study of a maximum security prison. Princeton University Press.

Index

A

E

authority 3, 4, 46, 48, 49, 102, 103, 105, 107–109, 111, 121, 135, 136, 145, 147, 150, 151, 154, 156, 167, 169, 171, 172, 174

ethnography 6, 68, 70

C

correctional officers ix, xii, xiii, 1–6, 40, 41, 47, 48, 50, 68–73, 75, 81, 88, 90–98, 102–104, 107, 122, 153–155, 157, 163, 165, 171, 174 D

deservingness 5, 35–38, 40, 41, 43, 45, 149, 171, 172 discipline 5, 6, 38, 41, 47, 117, 135, 162, 166, 168, 172 discretion 1, 3, 4, 6, 34, 38, 49, 50, 101–105, 131, 135, 136, 141, 144, 149, 170–172, 174

G

gender 2, 4, 42–44, 47–50, 62, 69, 72, 91, 94, 95, 118, 124, 152, 154, 156, 158, 173, 174 M

merit 2, 5, 35, 36, 38–41, 43, 51, 69, 149, 171, 172, 174 P

poverty governance xii, 2, 5, 39, 70, 162 S

social control xiii, 5, 37, 43, 45, 162, 168, 172, 174

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2024 S. Franchi, Doing Shifts, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-44553-8

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