I’ve been reading the report of the Commission on Safety and Abuse in America’s Prisons (PDF). It tells basically a tragic and horrifying story, although it also cites some individual prisons and even whole states that have achieved dramatically better outcomes than others in terms of reducing prison violence and rape as well as recidivism.

One premise is the gigantic scale of our prison industry. “The daily count of prisoners in the United States has surpassed 2.2 million. Over the course of a year, 13.5 million people spend time in jail or prison, and 95 percent of them eventually return to our communities. Approximately 750,000 men and women work in U.S. correctional facilities as line officers or other staff.” (p. 11) These numbers have increased steadily even when crime rates have fallen.

The incarcerated population is highly needy. To mention just one challenge, “At least 300,000 to 400,000 prisoners have a serious mental illness–a number three times the population of state mental hospitals nationwide” (p. 38).

All prisoners are somewhat isolated from society; that is the point. But policies sharpen their isolation in ways that prevent prisoners from successfully re-entering their families and communities later. For example, they are discouraged from talking to family members. The “average cost of a 15-minute in-state long-distance collect call placed from a correctional facility” is high almost everywhere. In Washington State, it is $17.77. “In Texas … the very ability to make calls is severely restricted: ‘Offenders who demonstrate good behavior can earn one five minute call every 90 days’” (p. 36).

Within prisons, a large subclass of inmates is isolated from the rest, indeed, deprived of all human contact by being placed in solitary confinement. On one day in 2000, “approximately 80,000 people were reported to be confined in segregation units.”

Some use of solitary confinement is inevitable, but it is growing much faster than the prison population (p. 52-3). Some prisoners are held without human contact for many months or as long as nine years, and often as disproportionate punishments. “For example, a young prisoner caught with 17 packs of Newport cigarettes–contraband in the nonsmoking jail–was given 15 days in solitary confinement for each pack of cigarettes, more than eight months altogether” (p. 54).

Many prisoners are held in solitary confinement because they are regarded as too dangerous to be managed within a prison–and then released into society. “People who were released directly from segregation had a much higher rate of recidivism than individuals who spent some time in the normal prison setting before returning to the community: 64 percent compared with 41 percent.” (p 55).

(In DC briefly, for a class at Georgetown Law School) Are there fictional stories–novels, movies, long poems, or works in other formats–that depict networks or other large groups of people who improve the world?

There are fictions about individuals improving the world: heroic teachers making their inner-city kids into academic stars, whistle-blowers overthrowing evil corporations, and good cops achieving justice in bad cities.

There are true stories about networks and associations that improve the world, like the excellent historical narratives of the abolitionist movement, the American Civil Rights Movement, and the Indian independence struggle. (The scholarly studies do not attribute excessive importance or originality to individual leaders, Martin Luther King or Gandhi. When the good side wins, it is always because of the whole network.)

There are fictions about groups of people in difficult and unjust circumstances. For example, The Wire is a brilliant depiction of a whole network of people trapped in a heartless system. It is realistic, but it is not a story of agency. Characters in The Wire who try to improve the world fail.

There could be realistic fictions about groups of people who succeed in changing institutions and systems. But are there any? Does the failure to envision such success tell us anything about our art, or our society?

The total proportion of our economy devoted to health care has increased from 7 percent in 1972 to 16 percent in 2006:

Yet the proportion of Americans who consider their own health to be “excellent” is slightly lower than it was in 1972:

You’d think the reason might be an aging population, but no dice. When you look at only people between the ages of 18 and 40, their self-reported health situation actually declines: