I am, in many ways, an unusually a bad person.
I have a personality disorder, it comes with the territory. If anyone who has been diagnosed with a cluster B personality disorder tries to tell you they haven’t ever done anything really really wrong, they probably aren’t self-aware enough to be safe being around.
So it is important to me to come up with a system that handles people who have done unusually wrong things well.
Throughout this particular post, I am talking about relatively serious wrongdoing– violations of common-sense morality, things that will make your wisest and most ethical friends go “what the fuck?” Much of the advice in this post is overkill for ordinary-scale wrongdoing that people do every day, and you shouldn’t apply it for that. Wait until later in the series.
This post is not going to be relevant to most of the people reading this. Most people don’t do things that are really really wrong. But I feel it would be irresponsible to address the issue of dysregulated guilt and shame without addressing the issue of feeling dysregulated guilt and shame because you actually did something awful.
A few years ago, I was coming to terms with the fact that I did The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Done In My Entire Life. Although I’m not going to share the details here, for obvious reasons, this is not a scrupulosity thing; I’ve run it by several sane friends with upright moralities and they’re like “wow, Ozy, that is in fact exceptionally bad. Don’t… don’t do that again.”
Naturally, I struggled with a lot of guilt and suicidality at the time. I’m naturally a pretty guilt-ridden and suicidal person, but I think pretty much everyone feels guilty when they have done a Very Wrong Thing, and perhaps has a passing thought of suicidality.
At the time, I read a Tumblr post by my longtime Internet friend Cliff Pervocracy. (Sadly, his blog was lost to the great Tumblr purge, so I have to reconstruct the post from memory.) Someone had asked him what to do: they’d discovered their friend had committed a rape a few decades ago, and they didn’t know the victim, and as far as the person could tell the friend hadn’t committed any rapes since and he had multiple exes who had nothing but positive things to say about him and so on. Should they stop talking to their friend because he was a rapist?
Cliff’s response was that he felt it was okay to decide not to be friends with someone because they committed a rape. It’s a normal preference, one that’s widely shared among many people, and one of the consequences of committing rape is that sometimes people don’t want to be your friend. But he said that he thought that you don’t have to. Solitary confinement is torture for a reason; people need friends. The ex-rapist doesn’t have the right to make people interact with him, but we as a society should say that it is okay to interact with him if you choose.
And, god, at the time that meant a lot to me, because I am less bad than a rapist, and if rapists deserved to be able to have friends and enjoy themselves and not self-flagellate for eternity, then by extension I must also deserve to be able to have friends and enjoy myself and not self-flagellate for eternity.
So I think that is the first part of a humane approach to people who have done really wrong things. There are some things you are entitled to that are completely non-negotiable, no matter how bad a person you are, no matter what you have done, no matter if you are Ted Bundy or Pol Pot or Thomas Midgley Jr. You have a right not to be tortured. You have a right not to be assaulted or killed, except when necessary to defend others. You have a right to food and water and shelter. You have a right to human interaction (but not to force unwilling people to interact with you, and that sometimes means sufficiently disliked people are doomed to loneliness– but it is a tragedy, every time). You have a right to fun and pleasure and recreation. You have a right to learn things if you want to, to make things if you want to, to exercise if you want to, to see the sun if you want to.
(Guess, from these beliefs, my opinion on the US prison system.)
And this means there are some things that ethics cannot demand from you. It cannot demand that you kill yourself. It cannot demand that you cut yourself. It cannot demand that you isolate yourself from everyone (although it can demand that you communicate honestly with other people and let them make their own choices about whether to interact with you). It cannot demand that you never watch a movie again.
All of those rights are important. But there is one right that I think is the most important right of all.
You have a right to a life that isn’t all about the worst thing you ever did.
Restorative justice is a big topic, and I’m only going to be able to glance at it here. For example, I’m not going to have the space to talk about restorative-justice alternatives to the prison system, or about the roles of community members and victims. I highly recommend The Little Book of Restorative Justice for a readable introduction, if what I’m saying whets your interest.
Restorative justice is a system that has three principles:
- Crime (or, as I’m using the concepts here, wrongdoing more broadly) is fundamentally a harm to people, as opposed to a violation of a law or rule.
- This harm creates certain obligations on the part of offenders and communities.
- Justice should seek to heal people and put right what went wrong, as opposed to determining blame and inflicting pain on the guilty.
The Little Book of Restorative Justice says our system of justice should provide the following things to offenders:
- Accountability that addresses the resulting harms, encourages empathy and responsibility, and transforms shame.
- Encouragement to experience personal transformation, including healing for the harms that contributed to their offending behavior, opportunities for treatment for addictions and/or other problems, and enhancement of personal competencies.
- Encouragement and support for integration into the community.
- For some, at least temporary restraint.
I think this is a good framework with which to approach serious wrongdoing that one has committed.
Of course, there are some ways in which a restorative justice approach applied to oneself is different than a restorative justice approach applied to society. For example, outside of a restorative justice system, it is often not possible to arrange to speak face-to-face with one’s victim and come to an agreement about appropriate means of restitution. (Indeed, for many sorts of wrongdoing, the victim would find an attempt to do so frightening or upsetting. Do not try to talk to victims of your actions against their will.)
But I think a broad framework of accountability, personal transformation, and reintegration is a useful tool for thinking about how to deal with having done wrong.
There are many ways to take accountability. A single sincere apology (ONLY IF YOUR VICTIM WANTS TO TALK TO YOU) is often appropriate. You should almost certainly tell at least one person what you did, honestly and completely, without leaving out any details or trying to make yourself look better than you are. In some cases, it may be appropriate to write a public confession.
If you have committed a violent felony against another person, in my opinion, accountability generally requires turning yourself in to the police. In countries outside the United States, accountability may also require turning yourself in for lesser crimes, but the United States prison system is batshit enough that I’m not willing to say that here.
I realize among some of my readers this recommendation may be controversial, since the US prison system violates the human rights of its inmates. I myself lean towards prison abolitionism. However, abolishing prisons would involve a fundamental restructuring of society that has not happened yet; it cannot happen willy-nilly by individual people choosing not to go to prison. In the meantime, the justice system has options for restraining people that everyday people do not. Taking accountability for a violent crime means putting yourself in a position where you actually can’t do the violent crime again.
Another important aspect of accountability is trying to repair what you’ve done wrong, as best you can. For example, if you have stolen something from someone, you should give back the value of what you stole, with interest. If you have destroyed someone’s reputation, you should set the record straight. It is usually not possible to repair the harm entirely, but it is often possible to do something. Repairing the harm may require significant emotional or material sacrifice, but it is absolutely necessary.
In actual restorative justice procedures, the victim and the offender often agree on a symbolic means of repairing the harm, such as community service. That can help victims feel like their emotional needs are being taken into account. This seems like not a very good course of action to recommend outside of an actual restorative justice procedure. Scrupulous people may end up using this as a reason to self-flagellate. If the victim is consulted, it may scare or upset them or make them feel like they’re being contacted against their will. If the victim is not consulted, they may never learn about it, and the symbolic means may not be something they find emotionally satisfying. Without an independent mediator, victims may demand an unreasonable amount, perhaps for revenge reasons. Nevertheless, as an offender, if you think a symbolic attempt to repair the harm is appropriate, it may be.
Personal transformation is another aspect of restorative justice. In essence, personal transformation means becoming the sort of person who would not do that particular sort of wrongdoing again. Reflect as honestly as possible about what caused you to hurt other people, and then think about how you could change it. For example, if you did wrong because of an addiction, you might think about how to get clean or sober. If you had a mismanaged mental illness, you might take medication or change your medications, go to therapy, or practice self-help techniques. If particular friends influenced you to hurt others, you might stop talking to them and seek out friends that will help you make better choices. If a particular circumstance tempted you, you might avoid it in the future. If your job involves committing atrocities, quit.
There are two circumstances that commonly come up with regards to personal transformation. First, personal transformation is sometimes really really hard. Some of the concrete steps I listed– quitting drinking, recovering from a mental illness, finding new friends, leaving a job or often a career– are extremely fucking hard. You need support from friends, loved ones, or your community. You need to expect to fail sometimes: addicts, alcoholics, and mentally ill people relapse.
Second, sometimes you discover that you are already transformed. The self-awareness to admit that you did something very very wrong without an outside prompt is often the product of a long process of personal growth, and sometimes the other product of that process of personal growth is that you’re no longer the sort of person who did that thing. That can lead to a sense of emptiness and of useless energy; what are you supposed to do now? There’s an urge to make up for what you’ve done when you’ve done wrong, and it can be frustrating when there’s nothing to channel it into.
The final step is reintegration into society. I discussed that step in greater detail above. Once you’ve made amends, repaired what you could of the harm, and stopped being the sort of person who would do that wrong, then you’re done. You have, as the phrase goes, paid your debt to society, and you don’t have to worry about it anymore.
You can have a life that is not about making up for the worst thing you have ever done.
deluks917 said:
I am not sure I can endorse a norm that people who have committed felonies turn themselves in. I agree its sometimes needed but it feels like a last resort. People readers here mostly agree prison sentences in the USA are way too long. Lets assume an appropriate sentence is four years for a serious crime. But in the USA you will expect to serve 10 and hve a very difficult time reintegrating with society. These are plausible numbers imo. In this case it seems like the person going to jail makes the world worse and less fair? A person is serving an ‘extra’ six years in an abusive hellhole.
In addition going to jail makes many people more likely to commit crimes in the future. Open Phil seems to think that at current margins more incarceration does not reduce crime and may increase it. https://www.openphilanthropy.org/blog?page=2 . Vera institute of Justice agrees: https://www.vera.org/publications/for-the-record-prison-paradox-incarceration-not-safer .
On a personal level I cannot get excited about a project that is so willing to engage with the prison system. I can understand a position like ‘the prison system wont be fixed by random people not going to jail’. But we are talking about people’s lives. I am extremely slow to endorse ruining someone’s life if we have any alternatives. We are already doing restorative justice! Let us at least try to avoid the legal system.
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Walter said:
I think the reason for the norm is that self change is hard, and people relapse. Every day, all the time. It is just 2 weeks into the new year, and half the people who made resolutions have given up on them.
If you commit a violent felony, we are mad hoping you don’t do that another time. Self change is super, and if it works, that’s best, but most likely it won’t. Most fat people who diet stay fat, most smokers who try and quit stay smokers, every abuser is about to change, etc.
But jail will stop you. If you fall off the wagon, and the hour comes round to burn down another building, well, if you are following this norm you are already locked in a box. The buildings will stay standing while your worst self rages impotently.
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Aapje said:
I think that you are falsely attributing the cause of all (violent) felonies directly to personal defects. However, imagine an addict who commits crimes to fund their habit. This person has no inherent desire to commit those crimes, but wants the easy money to fund their drug habit.
If you give them free methadone/heroin/whatever, you can generally put an end to their criminal behaviors, without actually requiring self change on their part, to no longer be (as) addicted (to that particular drug).
Then once they are merely a drain on public funds, but don’t engage in antisocial crimes that make people (justifiably) angry at them, they may be more easily be able to transform themselves in high-functioning addicts, replace their addiction with more benign ones (like to endorphins) or mature out of drugs (in general, people seem to mature out of more destructive habits).
The people who actually commit crimes because they are compelled to do so, typically have mental issues, which typically seems to be addressed far better with mental health care, rather than (just) putting those people in jail.
Ultimately, the problem with the ‘keep them off the streets’ argument is that jailing people is immensely costly to society and the people themselves, in direct costs, by preventing people from contributing to society, by retarding career progress & skill building, etc, etc.
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Walter said:
“Ultimately, the problem with the ‘keep them off the streets’ argument is that jailing people is immensely costly to society and the people themselves, in direct costs, by preventing people from contributing to society, by retarding career progress & skill building, etc, etc.”
Sure, that’s the downside. But the upside exists also. It is that violent felons are off the street, so the rest of us can be there.
Like, when we talk about ‘keeping them off the streets’ it isn’t due to a mystic’s weird reverence for streets, we aren’t cobblestone worshippers or whatever. Safe public spaces are a public good. Their existence allows folks to shop for stuff, go running, whatever, without entering a Hobbesian war.
As an aside, It feels like you are doing a weird un personing trick, where somehow people who hurt people aren’t, like, choosing to do so, they are just the talons of vast economic forces or whatever. Their choice to do crime isn’t a choice, it is the fault of drugs or mental issues or whatever.
That just, doesn’t strike me as a helpful way to look at stuff? Like, accepting folks’ excuses just gets you tricked. The guy who goes ‘I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it, I just have this temper’ isn’t the victim of his temper, he is an angry person. You can’t save them from their temper, their addiction, their whatever, because the them that you want to save is the LW perfect ghost in the machine. It vanishes when you look at it. The thing you can trade with is the atomic human, the whole deal at once, temper and addiction and all.
I contend that the benefit to everyone from being able to trust that the average human you meet on the street is implementing the ICivilian interface is sufficient to justify whatever benefits we are depriving our communal self of by locking up violent felons.
I get that I am out of step with the commenters here. When Ozy proposed, with a bunch of caveats, the notion that violent felons should go to jail, I was thinking ‘duh’, and then they were proven correct to be careful, as everybody disagreed!
I am prey to the unworthy suspicion that y’all live in some gated communities in rich areas, where you don’t have to come into contact with violent felons, and that has let you develop some ideas about how much contributing to society they are gonna do.
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Henry Gorman said:
I don’t think that most of the other readers here are arguing that there should be no public interventions to deal with violent criminals– just that the set of interventions that the US uses are both inhumane and ultimately ineffective. Aapje, for example, is suggesting that treatment for addiction and mental health issues might be a more appropriate and efficacious response to crime, and there’s plenty of empirical evidence that he’s right. Plenty of European countries have implemented a more rehabilitation-focused approach, and they’re better at preventing recidivism than the US is (ie: in Norway former prisoners’ recidivism rate is only half of what it is in the US even though the crimes that you have to commit to get sent to prison in the first place in Norway are much more severe).
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Henry Gorman said:
(And re: ethos issues– I’m from a very high-crime city, I live in a poorer-than-average neighborhood in my current city, and I’ve been mugged. I still think that it’s useful to follow the weight of empirical evidence rather than our heuristics about tougher punishments and longer sentences being better, and for us not to discount the well-being of the people we lock up when we make decisions about punishments.)
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Barry S. Deutsch said:
It’s my anecdotal experience that Americans who live in gated communities are often more fearful of violent crime than those who live in more ordinary neighborhoods.
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Hyzenthlay said:
I’ve known people who have never actually been victimized but are terrified of violent crime, and other people who have been repeatedly victimized and are also terrified of violent crime. I’ve also known people in both camps who are generally not afraid of violent crime. What kind of neighborhood they live in doesn’t seem to factor in much, it seems to have more to do with how nervous/neurotic the person is in general.
Though I would be curious to see data about whether there is a correlation. Are people who live in actually violent neighborhoods less scared of crime than people who live in safer neighborhoods? Do they just reach a point where they get used to it and barely even notice the sound of bullets in the distance? Or do such people suffer significant mental health problems as a result of having to be constantly vigilant when they walk down the street?
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Aapje said:
Just to clarify: I think that punishment in isolation from society is suitable for some, but not for others. Some people are not mentally ill, nor in the grips of an addiction and choose to do very bad things for personal gain or such. Also, some are mentally ill in a way that is untreatable and in my country we can indefinitely jail those people.
I advocate not treating criminals as all having the same traits, motivations, etc, but to do what is appropriate for them.
—
As for fear of crime, this seems strongly correlated with age and gender. Young men especially seem to fairly often be extremely unconcerned about crime, even when actually experiencing quite a bit of it.
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Fisher said:
Lets assume an appropriate sentence is four years for a serious crime.
If that were the case Peter Strozk could have quite rationally decided that he should perform procedure R2-45 on Trump. Rachel Maddow and John Oliver would be flying “sic semper tyrannis” flags, and he’d get out of prison to find his house paid off, his children’s education fully funded, and several million dollars in various Gofundme and Patreon accounts.
Sentences can never be made less than disproportionate to the crime, or they become a routine part of doing business.
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kechpaja said:
To add to what other people are saying here: for me, the list of things you’re entitled to no matter how bad a person you are includes the right to not have your personal freedoms restricted to a finite set of options, which prison pretty much entails, regardless of how humane it is (with a few possible exceptions, such as the open prisons in Norway that function more like summer camps).
If you personally decide that the only way to stop yourself from doing the thing again is to go to jail, *then* it might be something to consider. But if there’s any other option, there’s no compelling reason not to pick that. Postulating an ethical obligation to go to prison when one has committed a crime sounds like purely symbolic absolution at best, and not something that’s likely to actually help undo the damage done.
On a different note:
“Abolishing prisons would involve a fundamental restructuring of society that has not happened yet; it cannot happen willy-nilly by individual people choosing not to go to prison.”
I agree with the proposition that abolishing prisons requires more than just individual people choosing not to go to prison. However, the claim that you (Ozy) seem to be making here is that this entails that people shouldn’t simply choose not to go to prison — and I don’t think that you have even begun to demonstrate that.
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Aapje said:
@kechpaja
I don’t understand how being imprisoned restricts a person to an finite set of options. You can interact with other prisoners in an infinite number of ways, think about an infinite number of things, write an infinite number of things, etc.
Isn’t the real issue that you consider the restrictions too harsh for any human?
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kechpaja said:
I’ll freely admit that “finite” was the wrong word. What I mean is that a prisoner is restricted to a fairly small set of locations, a limited number of people they’re able to interact with regularly (even counting the potential for visitors), very little choice concerning food, etc. For each of these things, a free person has a spectrum of choices many, many times broader. It seems unnecessarily harsh to take away most of that spectrum, when the cause of public safety only really demands restricting a small piece of it.
“Isn’t the real issue that you consider the restrictions too harsh for any human?”
Sure, but that’s due to what I mention above, not something separate.
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C.H. said:
I wonder where the right “to a life that is all about that bad thing you did” intersects with the right of people interacting with ‘person who did a really bad thing’ to know that they did that bad thing.
Is it incumbent on the person to disclose that they did something bad? How much detail do they have to go into, or is it enough to just say that they were a bad person/did a really bad thing in the past and trying to change? Or is it the responsibility of the people to find out for themselves whether their friends were bad people in the past?
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PolaBear said:
I’m not sure that you have a moral obligation to tell people things of your past, unless it has present relevance. Example: my casual friend I have good boundaries with doesn’t nessesarily have to tell me they emotionally abused their ex. However, my new girlfriend definitivly has to tell me that, if she suspects she may not be over that behaviour completly, so I can spot it and be prepared to act. She does risk me breaking up with her, and that is my choice given that information. However, finding out she did not disclose that information would lead to me breaking up with her anyway, because she does not put my safety first. Since it has relevance to my current safety and trust, there is a moral obligation.
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C.H. said:
I agree with you, but from the perspective of the people interacting with “bad person”, shouldn’t they be the ones to judge whether a fact has present relevance or not?
It’s an interesting moral question, which is why i brought it up.
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Polabear said:
Well, yes and I knew you probably ment it that way, but while I love moral arguing, I don’t think there is not much point to this one. We’ve all done terrible things we don’t tell others about. Where make the cut? Do I have to tell my new friend every shitty thing I ever did? The other person probably couldn’t judge anyway if that was relevant. They could only conclude that it maybe being relevant is enough to end the relationship.
Hypothetical example: I have verbally abused my former partners, but I have been to therapy and adressed the issue and don’t think this will ever happen again. Is my new girlfriend entitled to that info?
There are two kinds of answers here: 1)The personal safety side and 2) the moral essense question.
1) Personal safety is pretty difficult to judge. Even if I did tell her that this had happened and I didn’t think it would happen again, her only choices would be a) to disagree with my judgement and think that it *might* happen again and it would leave me because of it (her choice) b) disagreeing with my judgment, but staying in the relationship and preparing herself for potential verbal abuse c) to just accept that I had changed, resulting in no change to her attitute or behaviour. Either way, since I didn’t think this was going to happen again, her actions could only be hers alone, and not interactive with me, since I see it as a non-issue, behaviour wise.
2) Moral essense: Well, this is the question of a) you can judge people morally by what they have done so far b) can people change, and c) do these changed people then have a different moral weight to them than before. My answers would be yes/yes/yes – which is why I don’t think people have to tell me. If they changed and don’t think this is relevant anymore, they don’t have an obligation to tell me. They have to judge this carefully, sure, and might make a mistake in their judgment. But I probably wouldn’t have been able to access the risk any better than them.
This all, of course, does not save oneself from people who just don’t act morally, douchbags, so to say.
Even people who have never abused anyone before might do so, and probably should warn me ‘there is an about 25% chance I might abuse you’ but rarely do.
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PolaBear said:
Very helpful post, thank you. Additionally: This may seem quite odd, and I don’t have a personality disorder, but I am not sure where the line is between ‘normal wrongdoings’ and things that require such investment of effort. I am a guilt and shame driven/ ridden person, to be fair, but I am so confused if I should put effort in this method. Any tips on how to find out how you judge your wrongdoings on a scale when it does not seem intuitive to you?
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Sophia Kovaleva said:
Dunno, we might have sufficiently different social circles (the batshit Russian culture being a likely possible culprit here), but I know A LOT of people with “that was very bad; don’t do it again” stories – especially but not exclusively in the area of interpersonal relationships and sexual consent. So my background assumption is that most people probably have these stories, and they just choose to keep them to themselves.
That only seems to follow if you have a very good reason to believe that for some external reason, you’re way more likely to reoffend now than you are in future – or that you’re going in prison for life. Otherwise, prison makes it universally more likely that you’ll commit a violent felony again: by habituation with gang culture, by possibly permanently removing non-shitty job and housing options from your life, by giving you PTSD, and by failing to provide treatment for whatever mental condition might have actually been implicated in the original wrongdoing.
It seems to me that there could be two reasons why one might decide to go into an American prison for a crime: either they believe that it’s their moral duty to serve as a warning to others (their own suffering and increased likelihood of reoffending notwithstanding) or they believe that it counts as the symbolic restoration of harm. But if the restorative ethical system may not demand that the offenders kill themselves as means of symbolic restitution or further crime prevention, then it’s weird that it would demand torture for decades and wrecked life possibly forever.
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Hyzenthlay said:
“So my background assumption is that most people probably have these stories”
If not most, then at least many. I don’t think it’s all that statistically unusual for a person to have done one or two Really Bad Things in their life.
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kechpaja said:
“But if the restorative ethical system may not demand that the offenders kill themselves as means of symbolic restitution or further crime prevention, then it’s weird that it would demand torture for decades and wrecked life possibly forever.”
Just to briefly add to that: going to an American prison for any length of time is one of a relatively small set of fates that I would consider worse than death.
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Barry S. Deutsch said:
Sorry to join the chorus, but I have two more pushbacks on the question of people turning themselves in to prison.
First of all, not all violent felonies are the same. A murderer should turn themselves in, but I don’t think the same is true of someone who was in a mutual barfight which led to only minor injuries. (Admittedly, that’s unlikely to lead to a prison sentence… but if the same person has committed two non-violent felonies and lives in a three-strikes state, it could.)
More importantly, it’s not true that going to prison means “putting yourself in a position where you actually can’t do the violent crime again.” Prisoners can commit all sorts of violent crimes while in prison, both against other prisoners and against guards.
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Barry S. Deutsch said:
(Aside regarding the link I just posted: When comparing in-prison and outside-of-prison rape prevalence, the measure they use for out-of-prison rape prevalence is believed by many to underestimate rape prevalence.)
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blacktrance said:
If you believe that crime/wrongdoing are bad because they’re harms to people, you shouldn’t turn yourself in to the police, because getting sent to prison does nothing to make up for the harm you inflicted, it just inflicts pain on the guilty. The exception is if you think you’re likely to re-offend and there’s no easier way of preventing that.
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sansdomino said:
No deterrence value, either.
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Lambert said:
I feel like people who commit violent felonies then seriously consider turning themselves in on the basis of restorative justice are fairly non central examples of violent people*, and that might be confounding the discussion a lot.
Or is that common enough amongst folks with BPD and the like that it’s worth talking about?
Or is it Ozy wanting to draw a line that’s fairly hypothetical in practice, but serves to demarcate the area we’re talking about in a more abstract way? (like the question among 2A absolutists of whether you should be able to own a nuke)
*Outside of Dostoevsky novels and stuff, that is.
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Nancy Lebovitz said:
It might make sense to turn yourself in if someone else has been imprisoned for your crime.
Ozy, would you be willing to take a crack at the emotion and/or politics of resentment? I think resentment is at the basis of the idea that bad people deserve to have completely bad lives.
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Alan said:
As someone who did a Bad thing to someone I cared about a lot two years ago, this helped me a lot. I went to therapy for two years for a huge personal growth, and now I am a better person who would not do that leevl of harm. On the other side, I am much happier than I never was before. Of course, you need to be unhappy to do that level of harm, it is not a happy place.
BTW, this might be interesting for you:
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1213136&fbclid=IwAR23KkMwssxrBc9EmYj3HyWTMdQPNSqpIWBhpxxJfaNtVvMWKcjiluxXGPU
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