Abstract
In this study, we critically examine how provincial correctional officers in Atlantic Canada interpret and disseminate knowledge around direct supervision in the context of a new correctional institution under construction to replace Her [His] Majesty’s Penitentiary—Canada’s oldest prison. Direct supervision is a model intended to facilitate positive, pro-social relationships between correctional staff and incarcerated people, to build therapeutic alliances. Drawing on data from semi-structured interviews, this study analyzes perspectives from 28 correctional officers who generally expressed concerns about direct supervision and, in turn, proposed recommendations for the new facility. We frame these interpretations through the lens of epistemic culture, identifying how prisons can shape knowledge production around direct and indirect supervision. In doing so, we highlight the benefits and limitations of these supervision models, exploring how prison culture informs the ways correctional officers understand, interpret, and ultimately resist direct supervision. We conclude the successful implementation of direct supervision requires a deeper understanding of the apprehensions expressed by correctional officers, comprehensive training regimens, and structural supports such as adequate staffing and mental health services.
Introduction
In 2019, the provincial government of Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, announced funding for a new correctional institution intended to replace Her [His] Majesty’s Penitentiary (HMP). Built in 1859, HMP is the province’s largest correctional facility and remains the oldest prison in Canada. Over several decades, HMP has been criticized for its poor conditions of confinement, which, although rarely recognized, also mirror poor conditions of employment. Poirier’s (2008) report, Decades of Darkness, Moving towards the Light: Review of the Prison System in Newfoundland and Labrador, identified many concerns that have and continue to contribute to the “deplorable” facility, including dated and decaying physical infrastructure, staff shortages and other human resources challenges, inadequate prisoner healthcare, increased risk to staff safety, and a lack of programming and recreation for incarcerated people (Poirier, 2008). The report strongly evidences how HMP’s physical design was/is problematic given the deterioration of the building’s condition, lack of privacy in the original building’s cells, and unsanitary conditions in segregation cells for incarcerated people experiencing acute mental distress and illness (Poirier, 2008). The report also identified concerns related to excessively hot areas, inadequate air quality, lack of fresh air, poor condition of mattresses, and an overall lack of hygiene (Poirier, 2008)—conditions that were exacerbated with the passing of time and lack of meaningful remedy. Although there have been several renovations to HMP since the 1940s, recent findings document how the facility “remains dilapidated, overcrowded, and in a constant state of disrepair” (Jesso, 2018: 35).
To improve relationships between incarcerated people and correctional staff, the report identified a number of recommendations for change, including that the prison’s “organizational model be reviewed to determine if there are models other than the paramilitary model that can be adapted to institutional sites so that a greater emphasis can be placed on dynamic security” (Poirier, 2008: 12). The paramilitary model, often referred to as “indirect” or “static security,” tends to favor the strict enforcement of the institution’s rules and regulations and create social relations and structures whereby correctional officers have minimal interaction with incarcerated people (Poirier, 2008: 12). Although rather nondescript, the report implies that non-traditional forms of supervision would improve the operations and custodial experiences at HMP. As such, the new prison, at least per informal discussion, is moving toward a direct supervision or dynamic security model and design.
In the current interview-based study, we elucidate how correctional officers (n = 28) interpret direct supervision by analyzing their perspectives on prison security as well as their recommendations and concerns about the design of the new proposed facility. At the time of data collection, the ground on which the new facility was to be built was undergoing analysis to ensure the ground could be broken and construction could follow. Throughout the interviews, officers voiced concerns about the future of the new prison, being skeptical of plans to design the new prison to employ a direct supervision model. Although our participants had very little to no experience with the direct supervision model, they resisted its implementation and raised concerns about its deployment in a new prison setting.
This study contributes to the field of correctional studies by examining how correctional officers construct and maintain knowledge about supervision models in the face of institutional change. First, we demonstrate how the epistemic culture of prisons shapes officers’ perceptions of new supervision models. By highlighting the role of experiential knowledge and informal information networks, we reveal the complex processes through which correctional officers construct and maintain their understanding of prison practices. Second, our research underscores the value of including frontline staff in the decision-making processes surrounding major institutional changes. The resistance to direct supervision observed signals a broader systemic challenge in Canada where historically correctional officers have been largely excluded from key operational decision-making. Their voices must be considered for the successful implementation of evidence-informed practices in correctional settings. Third, we provide a nuanced understanding of the perceived impacts of direct supervision on officer well-being, safety, and emotional labor. By illuminating these concerns, our study offers valuable insights for policymakers and prison administrators seeking to balance the potential benefits of direct supervision with the need to protect the safety and well-being of correctional officers, people experiencing incarceration, the institution, and the public.
Dynamic security/direct supervision and the therapeutic alliance
The indirect supervision or “static security” approach is the traditional model of supervision, where correctional officers govern through visual, intensive surveillance practices and physical barriers between staff and incarcerated people, such as a secure control room and deploying camera systems that capture and monitor prisoner behavior and movement (Wener, 2006). Developed in the 1970s, the direct supervision model has increasingly been implemented in North American correctional services to remedy the (especially social) obstacles posed by indirect supervision models, including opportunities to build and facilitate more positive interactions between officers and incarcerated people (Morin, 2016; Weinrath et al., 2016). Sometimes referred to as “new generation jails” (Bayens et al., 1997), correctional facilities incorporate direct supervision models to more substantively promote freedom of movement, expression, and greater independence among incarcerated people. The direct supervision model also promotes spaces to engage in leisurely activities (e.g. watching television, reading, accessing telephones), reduces feelings of isolation, improves the trajectory for incarcerated people meeting the goals of their correctional plan, and provides opportunities to interact meaningfully with correctional officers who are directly stationed within the pods (rather than positioned in control rooms or “bubbles” in indirect supervision models). Proponents assert the “new” model improves sociality among correctional staff and incarcerated people by fostering direct lines of empathetic communication and reciprocity—that is, frequent micro-interactions between incarcerated people and staff that are neither disciplinary nor administrative in nature, but rather are pro-social and rehabilitative (i.e. meeting incarcerated people’s needs in preparation for re-entry; Weinrath et al., 2016).
While prison space is, inevitably, imbued with diffuse, highly gendered, and strategic assertions and struggles for power, control, and status (Pyrooz and Becker, 2019; Ricciardelli et al., 2015), the direct supervision approach still aims to create a stronger therapeutic alliance between incarcerated people and correctional staff (Andrews et al., 2011)—despite the lack of training in therapeutic alliances and the related relationship building direct supervision requires. As Fusco et al. (2021) suggest, a therapeutic alliance allows for a mutually beneficial relationship between justice-involved individuals and those governing them. Currently, the lack of adequate mental health and counseling services available to incarcerated people has led to some correctional officers becoming obliged to fill mental health service gaps (Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022); yet, building relationships conducive to sound mental health is not easily accomplished within indirect supervision settings due to the physical and emotional distance that such a model necessitates between officers and incarcerated people: “Prisons are intended to be cold and punitive places where offenders are continuously reminded that they are defective individuals whom society has shut away” (Ross et al., 2008: 470).
Furthermore, officers must—for safety, control, care, and protective reasons—be hyper-vigilant of the movements and behaviors of incarcerated people. Critical criminological research often insists this mandate will lead to “us versus them” mentalities and relations of distrust in prisons that prioritize rule-infringement enforcement and more impersonal relations (Ben-David et al., 1996), and consequently, leave incarcerated people to police and protect themselves (Dirga and Hasmanová Marhánková, 2014; Trammell, 2011).
There are, however, limitations to the use of direct supervision. For example, due to the constant contact with incarcerated people, there is early evidence to suggest correctional officers may be exposed to more frequent minor abuses by incarcerated people, such as disrespect or insubordination (Bayens et al., 1997). In addition, some staff may be uncomfortable with the increased levels of interaction with incarcerated people, leading to a higher demand for emotional labor and workplace exhaustion—factors that may precipitate officer burnout and turnover (Lambert et al., 2015). Given that direct supervision departs from interpretations of traditional supervision approaches, successful implementation requires a more intensive training curriculum, accompanied by clearly defined operational and management philosophies. Early studies showed partial implementations of direct supervision were less effective, pointing to the need for correctional services to ascertain the feasibility of complete adoption of spatial and infrastructure requirements, consistent and comprehensive training of correctional officers, and endorsement by senior managers and administrators (Tartaro, 2002, 2003).
Arguably but importantly, Wener’s (2006) study warned that part of the hesitation toward direct supervision may be rooted in the conservative social and political beliefs of some prison staff. While political values and beliefs of correctional staff are subject to constant change as is the case in free society (see, for example, Johnston et al., 2022), some staff, Wener (2006) argues, may hold pre-existing assumptions that direct supervision is “too soft” or conflicts with their ideas around the role of punishment in society. This finding uncovers how the successes of direct supervision may be rooted in its biggest challenge: the need for wholesale commitment to its philosophical and epistemological tenets.
Correctional officer and prisoner wellness in direct supervision
In the last 50 years, research on prisons has shown direct supervision facilities benefit both correctional officers and incarcerated people. Correctional officers experience various workplace stressors, such as fear of workplace violence, increased workload due to understaffing, exhausting demands of emotional labor (Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022), and physical limitations in prison design and infrastructure (Hancock and Jewkes, 2011). As a result, officers such as the participants in this study may find it difficult to envision a workplace scenario that could effectively operationalize and implement a direct supervision model, which requires much commitment to change and training.
The environmental design of prisons contributes to the psychological stress and needs of both incarcerated people and correctional officers (Wener, 2012). On a structural level, occupational stress factors such as understaffing, overcrowding, and insufficient or outdated workplace equipment contribute to increased stress levels and can negatively affect officer wellness (Johnston et al., 2022; Paoline and Lambert, 2012). On an individual level, exposure to violence, and the perceived threat and fear of violence, also contribute to workplace stress (Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022). Interactions with incarcerated people, including assessing their needs and varying levels of care and intervention required, impose demands on labor, necessitating emotional labor (Crawley, 2004). In this context, emotional labor refers to the complicated process of officers “working” through their emotions and adapting to the norms and mandates of their work environment (Hochschild, 1983), which must be done in the most context-sensitive, appropriate, and professional way possible (Liebling, 2011). In Canada, the lack of therapeutic resources within the Canadian penal system for incarcerated people has systemically transformed the correctional officer role to include more emotional labor and care work, thereby contributing to increased occupational stress (Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022).
Relatively unexplored to date by researchers is how in/direct supervision models affect correctional officers’ sense of well-being, safety, and emotional labor. We do know that incarcerated people who are allowed more freedom, access to basic modern necessities, and who are granted more privacy tend to exhibit more positive conduct (Bottoms, 1999; Wortley, 2003). At the same time, more direct contact and supervision with incarcerated people allow correctional officers to address minor infractions or violations at that moment, ultimately stifling or deterring more anti-social behaviors (Bayens et al., 1997). Finally, some evidence suggests direct supervision allows officers to have autonomy and discretion over decision-making and requires less intervention from superiors (Wener, 2006).
Prisons as epistemic cultures
In the context of this study, epistemic culture refers to the unique cultural processes shaping knowledge production and the interpretation of different knowledges within the prison. Epistemic cultures are influenced by how knowledge and ways of knowing are practiced and asserted, as much as how knowledge is learned (Knorr-Cetina, 1999). Knowledge practices are shaped by technological, spatial, and even geographical tools and limitations. For example, barriers to adequate workplace support, increased workplace fatigue, and other design limitations within prisons shape what officers know about their work environment and their confidence in the support systems they have (Ricciardelli, 2019; Ricciardelli and Adorjan, 2021; Weinrath et al., 2016). Employees’ knowledge about their workplace conditions and occupational hazards and stress is largely constituted by their lived experiences within those environments (Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022).
These diverse and subjective forms of experiential knowledge are also spatially and programmatically determined or influenced in ways outside the individual control of correctional officers. Knorr-Cetina (1999) highlights this dynamic by suggesting the flows of information and how workers interact with their environments are subject to external processes and decision-making—all realities which affect discussions about the implementation of direct supervision models. To elaborate, frontline correctional officers often encounter challenging institutional and managerial decisions that affect how they perceive or interact with their colleagues. For example, excessive sick time requests due to a lack of other institutional supports can create a cycle of absenteeism, forcing other officers to pick up extra shifts and subsequently burnout, contributing to friction among colleagues (Swenson et al., 2008). These types of challenging managerial policies and systemic issues contribute to a negative workplace culture (Crawley, 2013), where it becomes more likely for the introduction of new policies, such as the transition to direct supervision, to be met with resistance.
The spatial design and architecture of prisons play a role in shaping how incarcerated people and correctional staff interact (van Hoven and Sibley, 2008), particularly around understandings of risk and safety. Morin (2016) notes prisons are epistemes of violence; incarcerated people and correctional staff are constantly negotiating ways to avoid and stifle potentially violent encounters, such as through mapping hierarchies of power (Symkovych, 2018). Overall, each prison setting will also have its own unique epistemic culture based on the types of information available, officers’ ability to access and engage with that information, the past and current experiences of correctional officers, the organizational structure and relationships among employees, and the local and broader governing agencies that regulate each prison.
Of course, exclusionary knowledge practices may permeate some epistemic cultures. Prison culture among correctional officers has been found in some literature to reinforce an “us versus them” dichotomy, where officers view themselves as guardians and protectors of the public through their custodial power over incarcerated people (Higgins et al., 2022). For Nguyen (2020), epistemic cultures or epistemic “bubbles” are structures that omit or filter out certain voices, perspectives, knowledge sources, and channels of information. Their defining feature is how information is filtered and shaped by a particular environment or network, which ultimately has a profound impact on how information is taken in by those within the network. Epistemic bubbles are products of their environment, including systemic and structural factors that shape how information is shared, received, and understood. These differ from other types of epistemic enclosures such as echo chambers where information is intentionally or maliciously withheld or distorted. Epistemic bubbles must be understood by examining individual actors, their decision-making processes and pre-existing assumptions, and how these are shaped by broader structures and networks of power, or an “epistemic agent’s tendency to seek like-minded sources” (Nguyen, 2020: 143).
This study seeks to unravel the complexities of prison sociality and knowledges by assessing the episteme of correctional officers in relation to direct supervision. More specifically, we suggest that moving from an indirect to direct supervision setting reveals how correctional officers situate their own understandings of corrections, as well as how officers learn of new prison designs, supervision techniques, and how their perspectives are shaped largely through what and who they already know.
Methods
We mobilized qualitative research methods to investigate the perspectives of Atlantic correctional officers in relation to the design of a new correctional facility that is intended to replace the oldest prison in Canada. Our study focuses on what correctional officers desired in the design of the new prison. In this context, a concern emerged about the prevailing notion that the new prison would enforce a direct supervision model. In response, correctional officers spoke to how they interpret direct supervision, a model that, in essence, aims to foster positive relationships between staff and incarcerated people.
We conducted semi-structured interviews with 28 correctional officers to collect data on their concerns and recommendations for the new facility. Participants were recruited with the assistance of The Newfoundland and Labrador Association of Public and Private Employees (NAPE), which sent study information in English to their members through internal listservs. Without the direction of the research team, several participants aided in recruitment by word-of-mouth recommendations to their colleagues.
The study was approved by the Research Ethics Board at the
Interviews were transcribed verbatim by research assistants for the purposes of data analysis. Transcripts were coded in an open-ended fashion to determine emergent themes; specifically, three members of the research team independently and sequentially coded 12 transcripts to develop an initial set of codes. This process ensured inter-rater reliability or consistency in coding between members of the research team, which is an invaluable feature of robust qualitative research (Hemmler et al., 2022). The remaining transcripts were then coded individually by members of the research team, allowing the initial codes to be refined and new codes to be created as they emerged. Transcripts were analyzed with the assistance of NVivo, a qualitative data analysis software, which facilitated coding data into primary, secondary, and tertiary themes.
As such, our approach to data analysis followed a semi-grounded constructed approach (Charmaz, 2006; Glaser and Strauss, 1967; Ricciardelli et al., 2010), which privileges thematic findings to emerge from the data (the words of participants) without pre-emptively imposing theoretical interpretation. Said differently, we did not know what themes would emerge from the data and we framed the study according to what the data revealed theoretically, while still not creating theory as we were informed by prior theoretical knowledge that was beyond sufficient to explain our findings.
We were guided by a realist lens of inquiry, meaning we approached the data—the narratives and experiences of correctional officers—as constituting a reality or truth irrespective of concerns for generalizability or quantifiability whereby the phenomena under study, at least in part, could be known through words (Bonino et al., 2014). This epistemological orientation was a foundational consideration because it guided the research team to more fully appreciate the episteme of participants (Liebling et al., 1999), whose ideas and perspectives on prison design and correctional work remain under-studied and under-utilized in Canada to inform tangible and meaningful changes to the correctional system to improve incarcerated people and staff safety, wellness, and other considerations (see Johnston et al., 2022; Johnston and Ricciardelli, 2022). Interviews were an appropriate method to use under this epistemological orientation because it afforded us the opportunity to learn how officers construct knowledge around prison governance, while still treating their narratives as “real” and telling lived experiences.
Findings
Understanding supervision: How experiential knowledge shapes organizational culture
Corrections officers rely on various sources of information to form their interpretations of the efficiency and safety of direct supervision. Their experiences play a crucial role in shaping organizational culture and influencing their views on supervision practices and ultimately reveal the epistemic culture of prison work. How correctional officers determine which kinds of information to accept or adopt into workplace practices is largely shaped by the unique cultural processes of the prison institution. As those who maintain direct contact with incarcerated people, we find, as a primary theme, correctional officers’ assessments of their safety tend to be informed by previous workplace experiences. How they interact with incarcerated people or assess levels of risk, for example, is largely shaped by previous experiences and interactions, both with incarcerated people and other correctional employees. These interactions and experiences have a direct impact on what correctional officers believe to be true or whether to trust those sources of information, especially in relation to safety needs.
Our data revealed some tension between management and correctional officers was prevalent at HMP and contributed to a skepticism toward those in positions of managerial authority—that is to say, a powerful distrust toward managers as a legitimate source of knowledge due to their exclusion of frontline officer perspectives, creating yet another “us versus them” dichotomy in prison space (Higgins et al., 2022). To elaborate, when discussions around implementing direct supervision took place, many of the officers we interviewed noted they had been excluded from conversations related to both the design of the new prisons and proposed changes in supervision style. Most participants expressed they had not been asked to articulate how new design features could meet their current workplace needs. As one officer describes, “We weren’t involved in the meetings. Well, they weren’t really meetings, we were just told this is what had been done. They already had the place built, and the diagrams and everything, this is how it’s going to be” (P09). Another officer describes feeling excluded from any consultation stating that “they were having meetings that I wanted to be a part of it, but I never got that opportunity.” Although P09 wanted to actively participate, others felt disinclined to do so because they had already felt alienated. One officer stated they “heard bits and pieces of” of information regarding the new prison, but “didn’t pay a whole lot of attention because it’s all third-hand information” (P13).
Failure to include correctional officers in discussions around new prison design has contributed to an informational siloing effect, leading many officers to become unaware of the future directions of the new prison and what role they would play in the implementation of a direct supervision model. Yet, while these perceived experiences of exclusion acted as a source of stress, frustration, and emotional labor for officers in this study, the incomplete information they did receive had little impact on their position toward direct supervision.
The inclusion of correctional officers in the early stages of the prison design process would encourage more direct engagement and create opportunities to solicit feedback on what works operationally versus what may not work for direct supervision in prison design. Their exclusion is a lost opportunity to incorporate suggestions to support the reduction of their concerns about direct supervision into the prison design itself.
As a result of this institutional knowledge void, correctional officers acquired much of their (relational) knowledge about direct supervision from colleagues in other prisons, since only one participant had prior work experience in a prison practicing direct supervision. The reliance on other colleagues as sources of information for direct supervision shapes the epistemic culture of prison work, reinforcing a knowledge schism between managers and correctional officers and increasing the import of relying on other colleagues for vital information about potential occupational hazards. For example, some participants noted they had heard of the potential harmful effects of direct supervision: “I have never heard one good thing from my old jail about direct supervision” (P21). Officers’ current attitudes toward direct supervision were largely shaped by the perceived differences from the indirect model. In other words, officers imagined the difficulties of a direct supervision setting based on their experience with the indirect model.
Some correctional officers heard from colleagues in other direct supervision prisons that issues existed regarding the effectiveness or level of surveillance. The implication and fear here are that the direct supervision model is a less restrictive (and thus less effective) form of governance that carries the possibility of increased violence against officers: What is it going to look like? I don’t know. I’m concerned about it. I’ve heard lots of talks from, you know, people talking to correctional officers on the mainland. They said a lot of times direct supervision turns into no supervision. Because especially if you’re by yourself, you’re outnumbered, are you just going to turn a blind eye? That’s the reality, turning a blind eye. What are you going to do? It’s bad. (P22)
The episteme of this participant relies on external knowledge voiced by those in a similar role, and though divorced from their own workplace environment because they have not experienced a direct supervision model, this outside knowledge is nonetheless trusted because it is believed to stem from parallel lived experiences of trusted colleagues. Another participant appreciated these external influences, highlighting how the successes they had heard about direct supervision were tempered by the fact larger institutions did not have the personnel to adequately implement the practice: I have no real experience with it. I mean, I read a little bit about it. I’ve spoken to a few guys about it at a conference where we met with correctional officers from all across Canada. [. . .] And so, I guess the big thing for them, they all ah-the big thing I took from their conversation is, is the inmate to staff ratio is maintained relatively low. Like maybe a one-on-ten. One officer for ten inmates. They say it worked really well. But what their experiences in the bigger jails, like maybe I think maybe Toronto South Detention Centre or something like that or there’s a prison in BC where they’d have a model of like one staff for seventy-two inmates. And they’re like, that’s not direct supervision. That is no supervision. (P13)
In P13’s excerpt, colleagues who had experiences of direct supervision were sources of trusted information and shaped how correctional officers at HMP perceived the potential challenges to its successful implementation. This forms a key function of the epistemic bubble, which as Nguyen (2020) describes is shaped through “processes by which an epistemic agent’s informational landscape is modified by other agents” (p. 144). Correction officers’ own perceptions of direct supervision are largely shaped by information passed through their colleagues.
Officers’ understanding of how direct supervision might affect their work is filtered through their own experiential knowledge and ultimately contained within the epistemic bubble of the prison. Their position is formed by distilling the experiences of static supervision and superimposing them into a perceived version of what direct supervision might look like. The epistemic culture of privileging one’s own experience or trusting the experiences and narratives of other experienced colleagues, arguably, is standpoint positioning that lends itself as the epistemic lens through which to construct an a priori assertion about the negative impacts of direct supervision.
Although correctional officers were concerned with increased risk to physical safety and suggested academic studies supported these concerns, some relevant penal scholarship suggests the benefits to correctional officers and incarcerated people outweigh any potential negative outcomes (Morin, 2016; Weinrath et al., 2016). The officers’ concerns, however, point to a more systemic issue in that correctional officers are not adequately involved in key decision-making processes and have not been adequately briefed on the empirical and evidence-based merits of direct supervision—creating another epistemological gap. As Nguyen (2020) points out, an epistemic bubble is an epistemic network that has inadequate coverage through a process of exclusion by omission. That omission need not be malicious or even intentional, but members of that community will not receive all the relevant evidence, nor be exposed to a balanced set of arguments. (p. 145)
As such, removing correctional officers from key operational decisions may have the unintended consequence of contributing to an epistemic bubble and shaping officers’ perceptions around the execution of dynamic supervision in a completely new prison design setting.
Epistemes of risk and safety
Arguments against the implementation of a direct supervision model were largely driven by the fear of violence. Fear of assault is among the most visceral factors that structure the interactions and ways correctional officers carry out their daily work (Johnston et al., 2022). Correctional officers tend to view violence as an inevitable part of their jobs and form an important part of addressing concerns about the well-being of correctional officers and incarcerated people. Participants in this study identified several safety concerns related to the potential implementation of direct supervision, including the possibility of being outnumbered by incarcerated people, increased exposure to assaults, and a lack of physical distance separation afforded by a control room.
Although most participants had never worked in an institution using direct supervision, their assumptions were largely shaped by their current workplace experiences. For P11, exposure to incarcerated people in common areas, irrespective of the length of time, posed a significant workplace safety risk, describing a previous assault and contextualizing it in the context of direct supervision. P11 stated, You know we’re amongst the population enough that when they want to assault you, they can, like I’ve been assaulted before and it—they can do it. And they can do it because you’re going to be in there, they’re going to get a chance to do it. You just need to minimize that as much as you possibly can.
Here, their fear is couched in previous potentially psychologically traumatic experiences, whereby violence begins to be seen as a prison norm and inevitability rather than an institutional feature that can be adequately controlled and managed. This position leaves the officer precarious: where “minimizing” exposure to violence is understood as the best course of action or expression of their agency, but such efforts are perceived to become more futile in a direct supervision model.
Another participant described their observations of mental health concerns among the incarcerated population, stating the current lack of mental health resources and support made it difficult directly interacting with incarcerated people: They’re violent and unpredictable and I really don’t like that kind of an inmate in a direct supervision area. It’s too dangerous. Again, there’s no rhyme or reason with these guys. They’re not playing with a full deck of cards. You cannot reason with a guy who’s severely mentally ill when he’s having hallucinations and delusions. (P13)
Incarcerated people are portrayed here as more dangerous when experiencing episodes of compromised mental health, and this officer does not believe direct supervision adequately mitigates the safety concerns permeating the situation, likely exacerbated by the deteriorating conditions and lack of mental health support available at HMP. Other correctional officers stressed the need to keep static security infrastructure intact because a control room offers a safe space to physically distance from incarcerated people: In our current static environment, I mean we’re secure with two staff [. . .]. It’s the way to go you feel safer, you have your own washroom facilities. You can interact with the guard room and your other officers and you just go more support cause you got people coming in, coming out. (P02)
Control rooms and other isolated spaces separate from the prisoner population are described here as spaces where officers can gain a temporary reprieve from the demands and needs of incarcerated people, avoid potentially violent interactions, complete administrative tasks, or chat among themselves. P11 states, [Other prisons] are going back to static because just the amount of assaults on staff is just overwhelming right. I mean if you’re tucked away and like you’re trying to work on something for one particular inmate and then you got a guy coming up who needs this, and you just don’t have to open that hatch and speak to them right away—because I’m busy doing this. But when he comes back—or just tell them “come back and I’ll help you out later.” But you don’t have that option when it comes to direct supervision.
Without the physical sequestration of a control bubble, officers feel as though they are potential targets. Another officer echoed the security concerns of their colleagues, stating, Having that wall between us, I can’t tell you how glad I am for it. So many times, when stuff goes the wrong way, and stuff starts flying at the windows at our bubble, and we’re just glad it’s there and we can gather staff and we can have enough time to make a plan. How are we going to deal with it? And we’re not right there. We have a little bit of protection between them. (P03)
In some sense, the knowledge generated, digested, and socially reproduced here through peer relations about direct supervision makes the possibility of violence even more plausible, visceral, and closer to correctional officers. Many officers who already experienced violence, witnessed violence, and fear the repercussions of (inevitable) violence in the workplace, and thus grasp tightly the benefits of having physical protection and refuge from the people under their care; the feeling of fear perhaps being intensified by experiential knowledge.
For P14, this fear was also exacerbated by the fact that many incarcerated people with whom they interacted did not have adequate access to mental health treatment and services. The participant noted that this lack of mental healthcare for incarcerated people potentially increases the risk of violence and jeopardizes their safety: You feel very threatened if you’re sitting on the range and they’re walking behind you and you kind of feel like a sitting duck. And basically, the threat to your physical safety becomes a lot more real when, as I say, a female officer or a male officer—when you have to sit on a range with twenty or thirty or forty inmates. And they’re behind your back, and you feel very physically unsafe. So, I truly think it’s the worst thing you could do is have direct supervision in prison. I think it’s incredibly unsafe. I think it will result in a lot more mental health issues in correctional officers and I just don’t think, we should be exposed to that. Like, we signed up to provide security in a prison. Not to do time on a range, basically. (P14)
As emphasized, the physical separation of the control room offers correctional officers an ontological sense of safety and security—a reality heavily entangled by the fear of being outnumbered. P14 makes clear they do not feel direct supervision is part of the securitizing function of prisons, and their role was not necessarily to interact with incarcerated people; rather, their role was to secure the prison. Here, correctional officers see themselves as an integral part of the surveillant assemblage from a distance. In their current prison setting, distance between correctional officers and incarcerated people is seen as a requirement for officer safety. Given the increased challenges with understaffing, fatigue, and design limitations of an older facility, officers find the ability to maintain separation from incarcerated people as one of the only mechanisms for ensuring personal safety. We argue that the layout of the prison, and the way officers interact with physical space in their day-to-day duties, is also epistemic in nature as perceptions of safety are filtered through how officers navigate the physicality of their institutions. Officers resist direct supervision in part because they maintain that the existing challenges of prison work render them vulnerable to violence.
Epistemic relations and prison work: Anticipating emotional labor and creating distance between prisoners
The experiential knowledge associated with daily interactions between correctional officers and incarcerated people also contributes to shaping the episteme of prison work. Officers often recounted how their daily interactions were emotionally taxing or contributing to their negative mental health, which ultimately shapes how they understand and view a move toward direct supervision as more emotionally laborious and fatiguing. We argue that these previous experiences of a static model directly inform and shape how officers imagine their current role within a direct supervision environment. Shaped by this knowledge, the proposal to increase direct contact between correctional officers and incarcerated people raised significant concerns over the fear of increased interpersonal violence in a direct supervision context.
Physical altercations were often framed as a central concern among correctional staff, government officials, and public safety unions. The emotional and psychological challenges frontline prison workers face are often overlooked (Johnston et al., 2021). Thus, our participants envision direct supervision as potentially exacerbating the already onerous mental and emotional labor demands required. Personal interactions, such as conflict resolution between incarcerated people or facilitating requests, require emotional labor, which can further compromise wellness. This was particularly salient given the prevalence of mental health disorders in the incarcerated population (Beaudette and Stewart, 2016; Correctional Service Canada, 2018). One participant describes the implementation of direct supervision as a task, that is, going to be mentally too hard, too draining. You know the inmates that are coming in now—the vast majority is a lot of mental health people with very rapidly deteriorating mental health because they’re not getting the proper help they need in there. (P11)
Again, though sympathetic to the unaddressed mental health needs of incarcerated people, the onset of an obligation to confront mental health symptoms concerns the officer.
Others described the possibility of moving to direct supervision as an exhausting enterprise that would inevitably wear down the requisite attention and “hyper-vigilance” needed to surveil and manage incarcerated people. While close contact interactions in a direct supervision setting have been shown to increase incarcerated people’s sense of safety and lead to more positive relationships between staff and incarcerated people (Weinrath et al., 2016), correctional officers in this study ultimately resisted the possibility of nurturing such relationships, framing these interactions as emotionally taxing and potentially dangerous. P01 explains, When you’re working in these environments and if you’re going to be sitting on the unit in direct supervision models, you’re going to be vigilant all of the time. You’re going to be—your eyes are going to be moving back and forth, you’re going to be in a constant state of tension. And that’s not good. That’s not good for people’s mental health and that’s not good for—or you go the other way and you start not paying attention, and then the direct supervision model will make it dangerous.
P01 believes the direct supervision model produces tension, where officers are either forced to increase their (likely already high) levels of hyper-vigilance to create a sense of security in an open institutional environment or become “complacent” and risk injury or death.
Another participant described these potential interactions in terms of the sensory fatigue visible in new recruits: By your second day, you are done. You can see their face. They’re exhausted. They can’t hold a conversation. You’re mentally drained. You hear fifty-plus guys yelling all day. Getting threats or whatever it is. It’s draining. I couldn’t believe the toll it took on me when I was doing direct supervision. (P21)
P09 suggests direct supervision is largely focused on improving incarcerated people’s well-being at the cost of the mental health of correctional officers: The direct supervision is more so leaning to looking after the mental health of the inmates and not paying enough attention to the mental health of the staff members who now have to be living with these inmates for their whole twelve-hour shift.
Emotional labor is also gendered. Female-identifying correctional officers described how male incarcerated people were hyper-aware of their presence in the range and often wanted to interact more with them. This made maintaining professional boundaries challenging and required female officers to navigate incarcerated people’s conduct in ways that were more challenging than their male counterparts, due in part to pervasive and implicit gender expectations that women are more nurturing and emotional than men. One female participant described the emotional labor of distancing from incarcerated people and their personal lives: I knew their mom’s name and their daughter’s name. They’d show you all their pictures of their kids . . . which is fine. It was personal but again, it’s mentally exhausting because I have so many men coming and talking to me, telling me everything then which is fine. But it’s emotionally and mentally exhausting to be that personal with them when you’re in the day room with them and they’re coming up and then I’m taking turns in every day room throughout the day that I have all these guys like, “oh [P21] is in!” Like, especially when it comes to women. They have different reasons to favour the women. Either they’re like weirdos or they could just be mama’s boys or miss their daughters because they’re older men. (P21)
For female correctional officers, ensuring and strengthening professional boundaries add to their emotional workloads. Another female officer echoed this by describing how overhearing conversations related to violence, especially gender-based violence, can have negative effects on their mental health. P14 explains the toll this took on her mental health: It’s very mentally taxing to listen to this stuff, especially as a female correctional officer. Like, if inmates are stood up in front of me talking about something horrific they did. you know like they beat on their wife or assaulted a female on the street . . . they actually talk about this stuff when they’re on the ranges. And um, you know, that is obviously very like vicariously traumatic, you know? If you’re quote-unquote like a “normal person” and you’re trying to live a normal day-to-day life, then I think it’s very detrimental to be exposed to the life that they choose to lead. But you know, any normal person doesn’t want to hear that stuff to be exposed to that all day. (P14)
The current emotional labor demands and lack of support for officers, especially female officers, drive a wedge between officers and their willingness to engage in direct contact with incarcerated people. P21 would rather stay in an indirect setting to avoid such “personal” confrontations: I like it here because there’s no direct supervision. It’s not as personal here. When you’re direct supervision it becomes personal which is fine. But when you have five [correctional officers] throughout the whole unit, nine hundred plus inmates get personal with me. They only know my name. It’s a first-name basis there. It’s weird.
The emotional and psychological challenges faced by correctional officers in a gendered institution may often be overlooked or reframed as security risks by their colleagues. These challenges are further compounded by gendered dynamics and the lack of institutional support available for both correctional officers and incarcerated people, leading these officers to depersonalize their work and responsibilities.
The personal interactions between officers and incarcerated people are filtered through the episteme of correctional work. That is to say, officers who already feel exhausted by the emotional labor of interacting with underserved incarcerated people envisioned their future work under a direct supervision setting to be more intensive. Though much of these issues are compounded by poor prison design and understaffing issues, they are nevertheless mapped onto how officers imagine the future directions of direct supervision at HMP.
Discussion
Much of what officers convey as rationales against moving toward the direct supervision model is, to some extent, largely drawn from their current experiences within an indirect supervision setting. The challenges and limitations of an aging facility designed for a linear style of supervision, existing workplace challenges such as understaffing and prison overcrowding that have contributed to increased emotional labor and fatigue, ultimately inform how officers understand the new requirements of direct supervision—many not recognizing that in some ways they already practice elements of direct supervision. Nonetheless, officers use the troves of personal experience and training in indirect supervision to imagine their workplace challenges in a direct supervision setting.
As such, we found that despite the lauded successes of direct supervision, correctional officers were hesitant—if not completely opposed—to the proposed design of the replacement prison which would deploy dynamic security principles. We found the current workplace environment, including the physical design and cultural challenges facing correctional officers, ultimately shaped how officers perceived direct supervision. We have argued epistemic cultures and epistemic bubbles are useful concepts for understanding how knowledge is produced, transmitted, and maintained within correctional institutions (Nguyen, 2020). We contend this unique epistemic culture has real consequences in contributing to organizational inertia, further alienating and excluding key stakeholder groups, and perpetuating increased occupational strain on correctional officers, which also materially affects the quality of life of prisoners, not to mention additional resistance to the direct supervision practice.
It is worth emphasizing that although almost all our participants had no previous experience in direct supervision prisons, they relied heavily on the narratives of their colleagues to inform their own beliefs. In his study on Canadian correctional officers, Schultz (2023a) describes how officers learn to negotiate the use of force not only by learning from other officers in what he describes as a process of “officer socialization” (p. 665), but also through an understanding of how managers assess, evaluate, and scrutinize officer decisions. This, as Schultz (2023a) writes, is part of the process of shaping organizational behavior. In the context of our research, we find that these interactions shape more than behaviors and actions; they shape perceptions and beliefs. In the absence of managerial guidance, correctional officers at HMP rely on their colleagues to evaluate the merits of direct supervision. These trusted sources of information, coupled with their experiential knowledge and observations, form the basis by which they resist implementing direct supervision. Here, these sources of knowledge privilege others (i.e. empirical research) that define and continue to shape the epistemic culture of correctional officers.
Most correctional officers we interviewed could not envision the benefits of such programming, ultimately suggesting that they thought direct supervision would further contribute to workplace safety risks, compromised mental health, and increased emotional labor. The hesitation among officers is further evident for a number of reasons. For one, officers have not been adequately briefed on the new prison dynamics, its design, or how their roles will be affected in the new setting. Although direct supervision was discussed as a possibility, management, and senior prison administrators have failed to contextualize the role of officers in a new prison environment. As such, correctional officers are left imagining how their current stressors and limitations will fit within the proposed design philosophy.
Experiences of increased workloads, fewer officers on duty, and a different style of supervision have led officers to imagine direct supervision as having increased risk to safety, demanding more emotional labor (Crawley, 2004), and creating a dynamic that will further negatively affect their mental health. To further elaborate, the current workplace experiences of correctional officers at HMP are characterized by various limitations that restrict their ability to provide effective correctional services. These limitations include low staffing levels, which often result in increased workloads and burnout; deteriorating physical infrastructure, which poses significant risks to both staff and incarcerated people; limited physical space for programming, which hinders the provision of adequate services and rehabilitation programs; and a subculture among correctional officers, which can sometimes foster negative attitudes toward incarcerated people and the prison system as a whole.
Given these limitations, correctional officers are hesitant to embrace direct supervision as a viable alternative to the current system. Instead, they view it as a potentially risky proposition that would only lead to increased demands on their emotional and mental resources. Likewise, Schultz (2023b) suggests correctional officers navigate occupational risk through perceived vulnerabilities, which actively shape how they engage with their workplace and the decisions they make while working and interacting with others within the prison. For example, officers fear direct supervision would require them to interact more closely with incarcerated people, which could increase their exposure to dangerous or violent situations and events. They also worry the constant vigilance required in a direct supervision model would be mentally taxing and lead to burnout or other symptoms of mental health disorders, which are already too prevalent among the correctional officer populations in Canada and beyond.
Going forward, there is a need to further educate officers on the realities of dynamic security and the pedagogy of direct supervision. Tartaro’s (2002) early study notes cases of increased violence against correctional officers in a direct supervision setting were not necessarily due to the supervision model itself, but rather a failure to fully implement the design principles. We suggest the failure to adequately brief and train correctional officers on how direct supervision would be incorporated into the new prison design creates another epistemological gap. This gap exists between what correctional officers know about workplace risks and stressors in an indirect supervision setting, and what they need to know about direct supervision. However, we also caveat that more knowledge and research are necessary regarding the mental health toll of direct supervision on correctional officers, and if found compromising to their mental health, resources are required to support officers when implementing direct supervision.
Overall, the proper implementation of direct supervision, including providing comprehensive training for correctional officers and committing to the model’s philosophical tenets, is necessary. Without adequate support and resources, the increased demands of direct supervision may exacerbate workplace stress and fatigue among correctional officers. Furthermore, officers require consultation and to have a respected voice in prison design—they have the frontline experience and understand the disconnects between policies imposed and practices when applied. It is evident in this study that correctional officers are part of a broader systemic failure in the Canadian penal system that excludes frontline officers from consultation in key programmatic decision-making, ultimately failing to train or even convey the potential benefits of alternative systems of governance within prison walls. As such, we argue that the failure to educate officers on new supervision models is negatively impacting both prison staff and prisoners within the provincial correctional system.
As all research is not without limitations, we note our study is limited in sample size and we caution regarding generalizability, given each prison is unique as is each unit; therefore, caution is necessary when applying findings to other areas of inquiry and scholarship. Our study is also unique to a specific geographic location and provincial context and thus builds on the knowledge of correctional practices and services in Newfoundland and Labrador. Factors shaping what is known about the potential benefits and limitations of direct supervision can contribute to the organizational resistance to direct supervision’s adoption. Therefore, future research should focus on the epistemic culture and “bubble” as a critical factor in shaping the successful implementation of direct supervision in correctional institutions.
Conclusion
In this article, we explored the challenges and limitations facing correctional officers in the current Canadian penal system. We found that despite the empirical benefits of direct supervision, correctional officers were hesitant to embrace the possibility of adopting its use in a new prison setting. We suggest the current workplace culture plays a role in negotiating how correctional officers interpret the possibilities of institutional change. Existing workplace challenges include low staffing levels, deteriorating physical infrastructure, limited physical space for programming, and a growing subculture of fear, hesitation, and apprehension to change among correctional officers. These current obstacles seriously influence how officers imagine new design directions.
For instance, officers fear direct supervision would require them to interact more closely with incarcerated people, which could increase their exposure to dangerous or violent situations. They also worry that the constant vigilance required in a direct supervision model would be mentally taxing and lead to burnout or other mental health issues. Moreover, the failure to educate officers on new supervision models is failing both correctional staff and incarcerated people within the provincial correctional system. There is a need for correctional institutions to balance the potential benefits of direct supervision with the need to protect the safety and well-being of correctional officers. This can be achieved through better training and support for officers and the provision of adequate physical and emotional support resources. The resistance to change among correctional officers signals a broader systemic failure in the Canadian penal system that excludes frontline officers from consultation in key programmatic decision-making. The lack of consultation and input leads to a disconnect between management and frontline staff, which can result in a lack of buy-in from correctional officers, which other research has found to be a barrier to the successful implementation of progressive programs in prisons (Stöver and Hariga, 2016). Failing to adequately educate correctional officers on the potential benefits and risks of new supervision models poses a serious barrier to gaining acceptance among frontline staff for new directions in correctional services.
There is a need to balance the potential benefits of direct supervision with the need to protect the safety and well-being of correctional officers. Since epistemic cultures are constituted by flows of information, it is critical that frontline staff receive sufficient briefings on the evidence related to institutional changes. Improved training and more adequate support for officers and are just some of the many steps required to achieve this goal. Furthermore, as epistemic culture evolves in correctional services, future research should examine how shifting focus from security protocols to active engagement in decision-making might promote job satisfaction and workplace autonomy among correctional officers.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This project received funding from the Newfoundland and Labrador Association of Public and Private Employees (NAPE).
