Everyone within the prison has a reason for being there. People do not just wander in and out. Consequently, inmates as well as many staff members were from the start reluctant to accept my explanation for being allowed free access to Stateville. To my knowledge I was the first individual ever to have been granted this “privilege.” Rumors that I was an agent for the FBI or the Chicago Police Department’s Gang Intelligence Unit or an investigator for the governor’s staff recurred throughout the research and had to be dealt with daily. As Giallambardo notes, for the researcher who chooses prison it is a formidable problem to “prove” that one is who one claims to be. The first task was to dispel the notion that I was an imposter.
With respect to this problem, my association with Professor Norval Morris was highly important. While touring a prison workshop on the second day in the field, a middle-aged black clerk introduced himself to me as a member of the inmate council (ABLE) and probed for biographical information beyond my cursory explanation. I told BD, who later became a key informant, that for several years I had worked closely with Norval Morris at the University of Chicago and had embarked upon this research upon his urging. Much to my surprise, BD was quite familiar with Morris’s liberal positions on prison reform. The previous spring, Morris had addressed the high school graduation at Stateville on “the future of corrections” and had received a standing ovation. My connection with him thus located my group affiliations with a well-known university and suggested that I had access to “important” individuals in the Department of Corrections and in the prison reform movement. At one point in the research, Morris accompanied me to Stateville and met the inmate leadership informally. This immeasurably enhanced my credibility, but even this vouchsafe of my identity did not dissolve all suspicion. After all, it was not inconceivable that both Morris and myself were allied with law enforcement in some insidious venture.
The problem of establishing the validity of my claim to an independent and legitimate research identity was never fully solved. Even at the conclusion of the research there were inmates who shunned extensive conversation. Informants with whom I shared a friendly rapport frequently refused to answer questions which they felt too sensitive, incriminating, or secretive. I told inmates that they did not “have to” answer every question and that I appreciated their frankness in stating when they did not wish to pursue a particular subject. This in itself provided valuable data by sensitizing me to the limits of my acceptance in the setting and illuminating the kind of information only revealed to the most trusted insiders. Often an inmate several weeks later felt more confident about my loyalty and would reopen the previously closed topic. When it became known that I kept information confidential, inmates gradually began to speak more freely in my presence and permitted me to witness various illicit activities. One informant took me on a tour of the underground stills at Stateville. From time to time I was offered alcohol or a Marijuana cigarette. I declined them politely.
Even after my presence was accepted at the prison and my trustworthiness was reasonably well established, the success of the fieldwork was far from assured. It was most disturbing, although understandable, to find that inmates were not interested in contributing to research or in helping an aspiring scholar further his academic career. From their perspective my presence would be tolerable only if I could be helpful to them.
BD told me that I might be “useful” to the inmate leadership and that the inmate council executive committee would like an opportunity to counteract the “poison” given me by the administration and to “run down” the situation from their viewpoint. At the meeting held in a cramped office above the chapel without any staff member present, I was introduced to leaders from the Stones, Disciples, Vice Lords, and Latin Kings as well as to several articulate independents. For the next several hours I was bombarded with questions as to my loyalties, contacts, and willingness to act on behalf of inmates. Throughout this “interview” I attempted to outline my research objectives and to emphasize my concern with inmate problems. I explained that I would not write an exposé or go to the press but that I would faithfully report what I saw to Professor Morris, chairman of the Governor’s Advisory Commission on the Treatment of Adult Offenders, and, through him, to the director of corrections and other senior administrators. I said it might be possible sometime in the future to arrange a meeting between the council and these individuals.
The inmate leaders at once defined my role as prison-reform advocate. They called to my attention innumerable prison conditions that demanded immediate rectification and beseeched me to take action. I expressed concern with their situation and promised to investigate abuses informally. Throughout the research I faced the constant dilemma of appearing morally committed to the inmate “cause” while pursuing interests unrelated to reform but vital to the research.
In order to demonstrate my moral commitment to the inmate “cause” and to provide some incentive for highly suspicious inmates to sustain an interactive relationship, it was necessary to carry out many favors during my months in the field. While such behavior deviates from the ideal participant observer’s strict neutrality and ignores the warnings of Giallambardo and Sykes concerning role corruption, reciprocities may be necessary if the terms of the relationship are not to be considered violated.3
Maximum security inmates require and demand a great deal of help. Consequently, I offered legal advice, contacted families and lawyers, made suggestions for strategies in dealing with administration, served as a conduit for messages, and provided mobility from one work assignment to another for various leaders. When the daughter of one of the Stones’ leaders was critically ill, I intervened with the warden in an unsuccessful attempt to arrange a furlough. More significantly I brought two University of Chicago professors to the prison to speak with the inmates about their grievances and took the case against dissolving the inmate council to senior administrators in the Department of Corrections. On another occasion I argued strenuously with the assistant director of corrections on the prison yard concerning the in-appropriateness of canceling the popular inmate art show.
The difficulty implicit in such demonstrations of solidarity is in setting limits. Inmates urged me to carry letters for them out of the prison, to smuggle them “joints,” and to leak information to newspapers. With respect to the newspapers I explained that the short-run shock value of an exposé (even if it were printed) would not compensate for the destructive precedent against future outside observers being allowed behind the walls that would surely result from my expulsion from the setting. Despite these arguments, requests for favors persisted and the tightrope act remained precarious until the last day in the field.
At the first meeting with the inmate council executive committee only slight indication was given of gang affiliations. Individuals were introduced by name as elected representatives of the inmate body. Within days, however, staff members approached to confide that the inmate council was dominated by gang members and warned against “falling in with this crowd.” The inmate leaders themselves deflected questions concerning gangs, preferring to interact with me in their roles as inmates rather than as gang members. Where this definition of the situation prevailed, conversation was limited to issues of general inmate concern. The meeting was only the first of continuous interactions with the gang leaders in which I attempted to cast myself in the role of researcher and to cast the leaders in the role of informants, while they attempted to cast me in the role of advocate and ally and themselves in the role of aggrieved partisans. Consequently compromise had to be hammered out and renegotiated continually. At times of crises (for example when the inmate council was abolished), research had to take a back seat to advocacy, while on calmer days there was more opportunity and energy for lengthy, hair-down conversation about prison life.
While the inmate leaders’ definition of my role as reform-advocate and of their own as inmate-spokesmen prevailed at all “meetings,” “team performance” was not maintained in privat
e conversation with each leader. During such occasions partisan interests and antagonisms among the gangs were aired. I learned, for example, that the Disciples felt betrayed by the Stones’ alleged refusal to disipline their own members according to treaty provisions.
In addition, skilled informants were able to provide far more information privately when less sophisticated inmates were not present to misinterpret what was being said. CN, clerk for the assistant warden and articulate spokesman for the Latin Kings, quickly understood that my research posed no threat either to the Kings or to the other organizations. He met me at the gate each morning and personally undertook to orient me to Stateville. Over many weeks he gradually revealed to me the complex power relationships and social structures of the inmate organization. While GB, the younger and far less sophisticated leader of the Disciples, initially refused to enter into a relationship based upon his role as a gang leader, he eventually became an outstanding informant, providing deep insight into the organization and activities of Disciples and his own leadership position. What accounted for his acceptance of an informant role was his growing understanding of this new role set, increased confidence in my integrity, and especially my expanding knowledge about inmate society. In the early weeks, off brand inmates had been extremely helpful in describing the extent and type of power the gangs held within the prison. Gang leaders soon realized that I knew far more about the underlife at Stateville than any staff member. Once I was credited with being an insider, the amount of information to which I was exposed increased exponentially.
Initially I preferred to keep my identity vague,4 presenting myself as a student of the prison, concerned with matters of prison reform and “telling it like it is”. In order to present a student identity I carried a University of Chicago clip board, wore a beard, and dressed considerably more casually than members of the staff. At lunch I almost always sat with the clinical staff, the most tolerated members of the administration.
When it came to more narrowly defining the contours of the student role, I vacillated between the identities of lawyer and sociologist. Within the prison the identities of lawyer and sociologist have different meanings for actors and different implications for interaction. There were two thousand inmates at Stateville and at least as many legal problems. Furthermore, as a law student I was accorded special prestige. Inmates accurately perceived the administration’s fear that lawyers and judges would further intrude upon prison practices and procedures. As a law student I was seen as an individual of potential power who could not be easily dismissed by the authorities. Thus, despite the danger of becoming full-time legal adviser to two thousand inmates, I was reluctant to reject this role because of its high exchange value and its tendency to place me in a position of receiving information on a great diversity of issues.
The role of sociologist was more ambiguous for inmates. Most confusing was that within the prison “sociologist” is a clinical position whose incumbents are responsible for writing up diagnostic classifications and parole evaluations which often evoke inmate resentment. While hostility on the part of inmates toward prison sociologists is considerably less than that directed toward guards, the former are still defined as control agents to be duped and exploited. When asserting claim to sociologist status it was necessary for me explicitly to disassociate myself from prison sociologists.
Excessive role clarity would have been extremely restrictive. As a law student it seemed appropriate to inmates that I be interested in disciplinary hearings and administrative discretion but not the involvement of gangs in the distribution of contraband. As a sociologist all my inquiries were permissible but all suspect to the extent that this role was seen to be integrated within the prison’s formal organization. Neither identity was alone entirely satisfactory, but by manipulating the two it was possible to structure a research role of sufficient breadth to make legitimate my concern with a wide variety of prison matters.
Prison is a pervasive institution. Actors are deeply committed to their prison roles. Where individuals define their roles as crucial to their identities, it may be seen as morally impermissible for a newcomer to remain neutral and aloof. Had I assumed a “balanced” attitude toward matters of inmate concern, I would certainly have been shut off from any meaningful interaction with inmates. In this setting to be neutral is to be allied with the enemy.
On the other hand, with respect to competing factions among inmates the best strategy was strict neutrality, while emphasizing concern over matters pertinent to all inmates. This convenient stance was not always successful in the face of strong pressures to commit oneself.
I felt, for example, that the vulnerability of young white inmates to sexual pressure and “rip-offs” (rapes) was quite important in adequately assessing what appeared to be an increasingly anarchic situation. Despite careful explanation of my purposes within the prison, white inmates imputed to me a sentiment of racial solidarity with whites and a motive to work on their behalf to improve their position. When they concluded that I was unwilling to be their advocate and that I would continue to maintain my relations with black gang members, our rapport deteriorated rapidly, culminating with the following note:
Mr. Jacobs: Hey, you Super Liberal Piece of Shit. So far this week two white guys have been jumped on and beaten by groups of Afro-Americans.* The next time you go over to “B” house lockup to let some jackoff ripoff artist know who told on him for raping some white kid so he can get even later on why don’t you tell him about yourself too. Also instead of doing your bull shit research from an armchair, why didn’t you come in as an inmate so you could find out what it’s all about, you phoney cock sucker.
What had been a shaky working agreement between this faction of the prison community and myself had utterly dissolved. Now I was redefined as a “nigger lover” and racial traitor. No longer was there enough common agreement on social identities and social tasks to support more than the most superficial communication. Perhaps this demonstrates that neutrality itself is a role enactment subject to interpretation?
Because of the frequent tension between the Disciples and the Stones, the best strategy was to cultivate closest ties with the Latin Kings and the Vice Lords. From informants within these groups I received a valuable perspective on the nature of gang organization and activity within the prison without being pulled into a possible conflict situation. It was not long, however, before a black inmate informed me that rumors were circulating throughout the prison that I was actually Puerto Rican—that although I tried to conceal it I was propelled into close contact with my Latin people. Once again imputed identification (with the Latino faction) was damaging for my “neutral” role, since the interests of the Spanish and black gangs were not wholly coincident. It is no easy task to maintain the confidence of all partisan groups. If research is to be carried out for a long period of time in such a conflict-ridden society, it may eventually be necessary to focus primary attention on one faction.
Even with respect to a single faction it is important for the researcher to honor status hierarchies and local arrangements lest he unwittingly get pulled into an intraorganizational dispute. Failure to observe this principle ultimately led to the loss of meaningful communication with the Black P Stone Nation.
A cooperative clinical counselor introduced me to an inmate gang member he thought would be especially insightful. I explained to LB that I was interested in understanding what life was like in the prison and asked him several questions about how the presence of the gangs had “changed things” since prisons were described in decades past. LB told me that he was a lieutenant in the Stones and vaguely described some of the obligations which this position entailed while in the prison. Not long after this conversation I was “summoned” to the cell of one of the Stones’ top leaders. There I was warned that I was to stop asking questions about the Stones’ organization to anyone other than to BJ himself. BJ reminded me of another serious breach of protocol that had occurred a week before. As I recalled th
at incident, three women had approached me in the prison parking lot one rainy afternoon after the day shift had been relieved. They explained that their car had broken down and asked for a ride to Chicago. During the ride I told them about my research, and they volunteered that they were related to various Black P Stone Nation members. I asked further questions about prison and the history of the Stones until they reached their destination. In the prison the next day several Stone leaders interrogated me concerning that conversation. At the time I felt that my explanations had satisfied them. Apparently it had not satisfied everyone, because BJ’s insistence that I had delved too deeply into the activities of the Stones led him, on behalf of the Stones, to break off all but superficial relations with me during the remainder of the fieldwork.
Participant observers are often concerned with the objective accuracy of informants’ statements of fact and interpretation. Some have abandoned the search for objective reality in favor of “getting into the head” of the actors in order to discover the subjective reality of various positions in the social setting.5 The prison researcher faces this epistemological problem and a more practical one as well. In this highly balkanized and conflict-ridden society the known observer must be especially sensitive to being “duped”—this term being reserved for those instances when informants consciously falsify or distort information because they believe that they have a stake in having the researcher accept a definition of the situation which they “know” to be untrue in order to stimulate some impression or action.
Stateville- the Penitentiary in Mass Society Page 27