IN PRISON GYMNASIUMS AND JAIL CORRIDORS across the country inmates will be lining up to cast a ballot in this year’s election. It is not the first time offenders have been allowed to vote. A small number of federal inmates voted in the 1997 General Election and before that an even smaller number participated in the 1992 Referendum (Charlottetown Accord).
The issue of voting rights for prisoners has been an on-again, off-again tangle of court petitions, appellate reversals, legislation and counter legislation, not to mention hot newspaper editorials and hotter talk show debates. What has become clear in constitutional law courts has done little to convince the Canadian public of why ballot boxes should be shuttled through the front gates into a prison.
Why allow the vote inside? It’s a fair question. It could be defended with an earnest and humanitarian plea, or even argued in a logical and lawyerly way, but for anyone observing the actual process inside our prisons, the reason for giving criminals the vote becomes obvious — it may be the only interesting thing about this whole election.
At the onset of Election 2004 I was standing around on the top of G-Tier with a group of guys known in prison terms as regulars, or solids. They were rolling cigarettes and talking nonsense when someone from administration strode up and stapled the first notification to the bulletin board. Everyone crowded around, reading about how we could now vote. “Fuck them. I ain’t voting. They’re all a bunch of crooks anyway.” It was the kind of talk you hear over formica tabletops and on Amen radio anywhere in the country, and the irony of the crook reference seemed to go unnoticed. There was a quick and general consensus — tough guys don’t vote.
Down at the Native Centre a lot of the guys expressed similar sentiments for different reasons. As a result of being both aboriginal and a prisoner most felt twice removed from any stake in a federal election. They are more rooted in local or band issues. My Cree friend from Manitoba wondered aloud if Stephen Harper might be related to Elijah Harper but I told him, “Neither by blood nor inclination as far as I can tell.” Others in the Native Brotherhood wanted to know if they could nominate Leonard Peltier.
By the time I made my way to the library a half dozen of the Encyclopedia Britannica crowd had abandoned their Paris Matchs and Atlantic Monthlys and were seated around the reading table immersed in a civil exchange on the merits of the NDP versus the Greens. Within moments their polite chatter accelerated into a six-cylinder debate that grew so animated and loud they almost knocked over the chess board and drowned out CBC Radio 2.
I also made a point of dropping in on the Chapel group that evening. The cons for Christ were confused, as they so often are, by the Olde Testament platform of their kindred spirits in the Christian Right. The God they know and pray before, forgives the unlovable and loves the unforgivable. Don’t the Conservatives know that Jesus was soft on crime?
Over the next few weeks, listening to the exchanges in laundry lineups or at canteen windows it becomes clear that within the prison world the Greens and the Marijuana Party are running at the same neck-and-neck pace as the Liberals and the Conservatives out there.
Then came the leaders’ debate. Proportionately there were probably more people in here that watched the whole thing through than outside. Posters begin to appear, often with attached photocopies of news articles. Most inmate voters seem fairly relaxed over the accusations of scandal or of financial mismanagement. After all, art, politics, crime, it’s what you get away with that counts. Prisoners begin walking the compound or sitting together in common areas talking of wasted votes, social programs and foreign policies, negative campaigning, party platforms, hidden agendas and not so hidden agendas. The understanding of the issues deepens.
Prisoners seem to be connecting, vigorously and passionately, to the human, social, and environmental aspects as the campaigns unfold. A fly on the wall might begin to suspect that these men are feeling a part of something, possibly a stake in their country, maybe even in their own futures. If their vote counts perhaps one day they too will count.
Still, a few cons remain apathetic, but comparably less than in any small town or neighbourhood. The Chapel group, even the Protestants, are now leaning towards Paul Martin and his Liberals. The Brotherhood decided that no native in this country can afford to be apolitical, so most are identifying with the outsider image of the Greens, plus they like the party’s stance on the environment and treaty rights. The library crowd remains fairly solid NDP, but even they agree that Jack Layton’s smile is thin, and his presence even thinner. The tough guys, especially those with a long history of meting out rough prison-yard justice, have now decided to vote because they are attracted to Stephen Harper’s promises of harsh treatment for sex offenders. And the Marijuana Party has hardly been mentioned in weeks; I think it’s a short term memory thing.
Whatever results on June 28, the journey in here has been worth the privilege. Prisoners have been registered to their home ridings, last-known residences, or places of arrest. Their impact on election results will be practically negligible. Not all, but the overwhelming majority of inmates in this country have not committed a crime so beyond the pale it excludes them forever. Canadians should be proud of extending voting rights to the very people who have offended against them. It is the measure of a true democracy, an expression of compassion and dignity, and some of that can’t help but find its way back inside.