HALFWAY HOME

Imprisonment is a nightmare—and it’s only the beginning of the state’s punitive powers.

A professor at the School of Social Services Administration at the University of Chicago, Miller introduces us to psychologist Winston Moore, a Black man who ran Chicago’s jails in the 1960s and ’70s and chided Black people for tolerating criminals in their midst. The author points out that 40% of the incarcerated population in the U.S. are Black men and women, and 84% are poor. “It is clear to anyone paying attention,” writes Miller, “that the legal system does not administer anything resembling justice but instead manages the nation’s problemed populations.” It’s also part of a “lineage of control” that extends back to slavery and the Jim Crow South. Mass incarceration has grown dramatically since Moore’s day, owing to such race-targeted programs as the war on drugs. But that’s only the beginning, for “mass incarceration has an afterlife…a supervised society.” The formerly incarcerated are barred from participating in many aspects of public life: They are forbidden to vote or hold public office, and they can be denied housing rights, jobs, food stamps, student loans, the right to adopt a child, and the ability to move from one city or state to another. These legal exclusions are close to Miller’s heart. As he writes, his father and brothers were jailed, and it was only thanks to an accident of fate that he became an academic and not a prisoner himself, given the unequal application of the law and its tendency to land hardest on minority populations. “In a supervised society, the prison and the jail and the law frays our closest ties,” writes the author in a memorable passage. “It pulls our families apart. It did this to…me, and it does this to millions of families.” Reminiscent of Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy (2014), Miller’s well-argued book delivers a scarifying account of law gone awry.

A powerful argument in favor of judicial reform—now.