by Harvey Harrison
I had to pass through seven heavy, locked, monitored prison doors in order to reach my philosophy students, and I had to pass through the same seven doors in order to leave. But I need to back up.
I’m new around here, and I hope that some of you and I will have a conversation which will expand understanding for you, others who read, and for me. I favor conversation as a way to communicate for two reasons. First, we’re online here, so, unlike print publications, two way communication is easy and quick. Second, I’m here in part to help disassemble … brick by brick if necessary … the thick walled, remote, and forgotten warehouse that holds the Treasure that is Western Philosophy, and the form of philosophy that its greatest practitioner (in my opinion), Plato, chose was, yes, the conversation, or dialog.
I’m also here to protect and build the flickering candle of philosophical inquiry as a living expression of the widest form of the infinite wonder that we as human beings express. From Plato to Robert S. Brumbaugh, my mentor, this is a living expression, and I will try to honor the memory of both and all others who have ventured into the Mysteries.
Yes, I am confident that philosophy remains a living expression. Even if all paintings, sculpture, and similar great art were abandoned in a thickly brick walled, remote forgotten warehouse, yes, even then people would still draw, paint, sculpt and create art. It is precisely the same with philosophy.
Since I’m new here, and I seek to converse with partners currently unknown, I’ll start with a story about a series of conversations I had recently with the juveniles incarcerated in Matilija Hall, Units One through Four or “Mat1-4”, the Ventura County Juvenile Facility (the “JF”) on Vineyard Avenue, El Rio District, Oxnard, California. Mat1-4 needed something, and I was invited to provide it.
Unlike the other Units in the JF which hold “wards” (the euphemism for “prisoners”) in custody for a specified and rather lenghty term, Mat1-4 was short-term, maximum security detention. For the prisoners in the other units there were quite a few “programs”: school tutoring, even a chess teacher I once met, and the like.
Mat1-4 was an entirely different matter. There was little to no “programs” for the kids other than school. So, I was invited to present a program called “Life Skills”. Now, each boy on Mat1-4 could attend Life Skills for one hour and never again or for three hours a week (my period of service each night I volunteered) for weeks. I never knew who would attend and for how long: the boys who had behaved best during that day stayed up the longest.
Unlike other Units at the JF where the boys were separated based upon good or bad behavior, Mat1-4, as short-term, held boys charged with violations as mild as blowing probation because the boy did not have bus fare to get to his PO for his weekly visit or as serious as murder. And, unless a boy chose to reveal why he was there, I never knew.
So, the boys who sat with me at the standard jail table and stools (all bolted together and to the concrete floor) and conversed were a model of diversity and unpredictable attendance. From just the conditions, I knew I had to stretch what I had within to try to reach the boys.
Though I’ll never know, it may have been well received. The senior staff with whom I coordinated all asked, “How do you keep the boys’ attention for all that time? It’s really something.” I found the question surprising: keeping their attention was effortless.
What the prisoners of Mat1-4, mostly 13 to 18 year old gang members (divided over the four units by gang) and I did was applied philosophy. I believe with passion that philosophical dialog is supremely important. I also concluded that given the conditions described here, it was the only way to go.
Before I report what we did, I must add that the “Staff” on Mat1-4 consisting of two or three probation officers on each Unit were among the most compassionate and high-awareness people I have encountered. If we were looking at this picture theologically I’d say it was Providence or Grace. During breaks and while some boys went to lock down, I’d ask, “How do you feel about the Staff.” Without dissent, the response, “Staff? Oh, they’re great.” I shared this view, and I reflect upon its significance.
So, this is the applied philosophy “Life Skills” program. After I introduced myself briefly as a local businessperson in the community who did some volunteer lawyer work for the juvenile Public Defender, we got to it. I said that everything we do at this table is done with respect. The boys knew about respect. Among other things, respect is what you have to fight for to survive on the Outs, in the JF, everywhere. You want respect, and it is hard to get and harder to keep. Here, it was the essential principle.
I said, “No matter what it is like on the Outs or even on the Unit, here at this table it is all respect all ways. (I called each boy a “gentleman” and Mr. [last name], while they could call me by my first name; if a boy said it was fine to call him by his first name, say, “Tom”, I’d follow Street practice and call him “Mr. Tom”.) Each gentleman was to show respect to each and every other for the time we were together. We would, if they wished, examine “self-respect” and what that term meant. They were to show me respect and I was to show each of them respect. Respect was the central moral value on which the applied philosophy discussion occurred and from which the other defining values derived.
The first value derived from respect was that the program was voluntary, both in terms of participation generally and for each topic. If a gentleman did not want to speak about a subject then he could remain silent, or, if asked, he could say simply, “I prefer not to discuss that.”Moreover, a gentleman could leave the table at any time, provided he did so respectfully, which meant not to disrupt.
The heart of the program was what I called the “continuing question”, and the question was, in its way, based upon respect. The continuing question was the following: “How would you like your life to be better?” Typcially, this question amazed the gentlemen I suspect because no adult had ever posed it to them or they to themselves.
I exploited the stunned pause to state this, looking with the strength of real steel Truth into the eyes of each gentleman as I said this. “It is only fair and so respectful if I answer the same question. My life will be better if each of your lives is better. That is why I am here.”
That was and is the entire curriculum, because from that point on, the conversation really soared for all the time we had. Ah, the experiences … far too many and valuable to recite in this short piece. One quick instance of applied philosophy as moral self-evaluation. One gentleman said his life and those of his homies would be better if people didn’t always treat them as “bad” (as in immoral). There were expressions of support for this statement.
A beauty of dialectical philosophy is what happens spontaneously. I said, “I don’t see you gentlemen as bad. I see most of you as having been hurt.” The gentleman next to me, a soft-spoken young man with the most sadly beautiful brown eyes looked at me and said quietly, “If you only knew how I have been hurt.”
If you would like to address the question, “What would make your life better?”, I welcome it. I welcome any and all questions and topics about subjects that matter; to me that is what applied philosophy is.
When I concluded a visit to Mat1-4 after three solid hours on one or more Units, I was drained and honored to have the privilege of the company of the Staff (who always left us alone and typically would give a gentleman extra time before lock-down) and to have tried to help the gentlemen.
By the nature of the Mat1-4, it is extremely likely that I will never know what effect if any Life Skills, the applied philosophy edition, had. However, in order to leave the JF, I reversed my path precisely through the same seven prison doors. Between the second and third door, I walked through a securely fenced outdoor corridor, adjacent to Mat1. When I had visited with the Mat1 gentlemen, I always heard odd noises from above to the left.
As you know or may expect, you are hyper-vigilant in any jail or prison, so I quickly identified the source of the noises: the second floor cells of Mat1 have small rear windows looking down over the corridor, and the odd noises of scratching on glass and tapping caused me to look up at those windows. When I did, my gentlemen had their faces in those windows, and they waved and smiled good-bye.
If applied philosophy feels better than that, I cannot imagine what it would be.