Understanding Prison Management in the

Philippines: A Case for Shared Governance

Article (PDF Available)  in The Prison Journal 97(1) · November 2016 
with 1,389 Reads
DOI: 10.1177/0032885516679366
Cite this publication

Raymund Narag 10.55 Clarke Jones 5.14

Southern Illinois University Carbondale Australian

National University

Article
Understanding Prison Management in the Philippines: A Case for
Shared Governance
Raymund E. Narag and Clarke R. Jones

Abstract
Current prison management models strictly prohibit inmates from assisting
with prison administration or governance. This is feasible in developed
countries where governments can provide adequate resources, security, and
personnel. It is not, however, realistic in developing countries like the
Philippines, which is characterized by poverty, corruption, and under
resourcing of correctional
facilities. In such circumstances, inmate leaders tend to share governance
with prison administrators. Despite occurring out of necessity, not by
design, this system normalizes social conditions within a prison. This
article examines the ramifications of such a shared governance model for
correctional management by means of ethnographic research

Keywords
Philippine corrections, prison society, prison order, shared governance,
normalization
Introduction
Current prison management models discourage the use of custodial roles
for inmates. In the United States and in most developed countries,
delegating custodial roles to inmates is considered a manifestation of
ineffective, if not corrupt, practices (DiIulio, 1987). The disdain for the use
of inmates stems from well-documented prisoner abuse during the so-
called “Big House Era” (Austin & Irwin, 2011) when prison administrators
used inmates to help sup-plement the custodial force (Hayner & Ash, 1940;
McCorkle & Korn, 1954). This practice was known as the Building Tender
System (BTS; Fong, 1990; Marquart & Crouch, 1985). Under the BTS,
inmates were used to manage other inmates, which trans-lated into
inmates usurping their power, challenging prison authorities, and
creating power dynamics that contradicted the goals of reformation (Fong,
1990; Marquart & Crouch, 1985). In some prisons, abuse was systemic,
prompting victimized inmates to seek redress from the courts by
challenging the conditions of their confinement (Jacobs, 1977).
Among other things, courts directed prison administrators to eliminate the
“inmate-guards” and professionalize prison staff. They placed prison
management under receiver-ship until the prisons conformed to the courts’
directives (Marquart & Crouch, 1985, p. 557; Schlanger, 2006).
Accompanying the rise of risk management philosophy in the 1990s
(Feeley & Simon, 1992), the current correctional management models
require ongoing training of correctional staff and increased recruitment so
that the staff-to-inmate ratio does not necessitate reliance on inmates for
custodial functions (Birkbeck, 2011). Prison administrators have also
introduced a program of identification, classification, and housing segre-
gation to deal more effectively with threats posed by inmate gang and mili-
tant groups (Jacobs, 1977). This risk management philosophy is supported
by technological improvements, such as the use of CCTVs (closed-circuit
televisions), electronic monitoring, and close supervision, which allow
prison officers to implement a regime of “unceasing, persistent and intru-
sive” surveillance (Birkbeck, 2011, p. 320). Although variations exist,
prisons in developed countries, unlike prisons in developing countries,
generally rely on their own prison staff to run major aspects of prison
management.

This prison regime of heavy reliance on management control (Simon,

2000) requires a steady stream of funding. On top of personnel and techno-
logical investments, governments need to construct state-of-the-art prison
buildings and commit significant resources for prison operations
(Henrichson & Delaney, 2012). Although the public’s perception is
increasingly becoming attuned to the large funds allocated to correctional
services (Wilhelm &
Turner, 2002), the political rhetoric of being “tough on crime” (Garland,
2012) is running into the reality of shrinking budgets stemming from
decades of “mass incarceration.” by guest on November 18,
2016tpj.sagepub.comDownloaded from

This model of management control is idealized and considered the stan-

dard by countries the world over. For example, international treatises
suggest that member countries must strive to professionalize their
correctional staff and eradicate the use of inmates in custodial functions.1
Indeed, most developing countries also strive to formally adopt these
correctional standards and incorporate them into their official guidelines
and operating procedures. However, most developing countries face limited
resources (Birkbeck, 2011; Darke, 2013; Garces, Martin, & Darke, 2013),
placing a strain on their capa-bilities to meet those standards.
The Philippines, for example, is one of the countries that formally adheres
to the standards. National agencies that deal with inmates, like the Bureau
of Corrections (BuCor; for convicted inmates) and the Bureau of Jail
Management and Penology (for inmates undergoing trial and those
sentenced for less than 3 years), officially prohibit the use of inmate
leaders. Specifically, inmates are officially admonished not to exercise
supervision over other inmates. Although the management model of
inmates’ nonutilization is officially declared, the concomitant financial and
manpower resources needed to realize this management model are lacking.
The Philippine government has not constructed new prisons to reduce
overcrowding nor has it hired an adequate number and quality of personnel
to meet the appropriate inmate-to-guard ratio.
Furthermore, it has not committed enough resources for the safe custody
and rehabilitation of inmates (Commission on Audit [COA], 2005). As
such, the idealized management model has been untenable, if not
unrealistic, in the Philippine context. Instead, an informal policy of reliance
on inmate leaders and their resources has come to characterize the
Philippine penal
administration. Although some qualitative research has detailed the
engagement of inmates in prison management in two of the most visible
penal facilities in the Philippines,2 New Bilibid Prison (NBP; Gutierrez,
2012; Jones, 2014) and Quezon City Jail (Narag, 2005), the number of
systematic studies con-ducted in Philippine prisons is limited. Beyond the
Philippines, inmate engagement in prison management is a practice that is
also typical in other developing countries in Latin America and Africa that
are similarly characterized by limited resources (see Birkbeck, 2011; Darke,
2013; Garces et al., 2013). Given this scarcity of documentation, this article
provides an understanding of the unique ways in which officers and
inmates in a Philippine prison cope with inadequate and/or insufficient
personnel, facilities, space, and resources. In addition, it explains how
officers in this prison navigate the formal restrictions placed on utilizing
inmate leaders for custodial functions by guest and the informal coping
mechanisms that necessitate dependence on them. This dependence has
positive and negative ramifications that are detailed in this article.
Although variations in the nature of inmate engagement may vary from
prison to prison, this article aims to serve as a preliminary study on
Philippine prison management. Finally, although there are similarities with
other developing countries, many unique characteristics associated with the
shared governance model in the Philippines are identified that may be even
beneficial for prisons in more affluent countries.
Early studies of prison management focused on understanding the impact
of
an “inmate society” that flourishes in a penal facility (Clemmer, 1940;
Sykes,
1958). Pioneering research investigated the nature of inmate social
hierarchy
and the manner in which inmates assume different leadership roles
(Schrag,
1954). These earlier works described how prison managers negotiate and
accommodate the demands of inmate elites (Sykes, 1958).

There are two early perspectives that explain the dynamics of an inmate
social system with their corresponding policy implication for prison
manage-
ment. First is the deprivation perspective, which posits that inmates in a
“total” institution (Goffman, 1961) are deprived of basic material and psy-
chological needs (Sykes, 1958). These include deprivations of liberty, access
to goods and services, heterosexual relationships, and autonomy. These
deprivations constitute the pain of imprisonment and strip inmates of their
personal self-worth (Goffman, 1961). Given the inherent prison conditions,
inmates develop a variety of coping mechanisms to recover their sense of
identity. The emergent inmate social system can, therefore, be credited for
its problem-solving nature (Wheeler, 1961). Coping mechanisms tend to be
regularized and provide the articulation of norms and values that justify
behavior in the prison community. Norms and values are formalized in an
inmate code that prescribes appropriate behavior, like “do your own time”
(Sykes, 1958). Accordingly, inmates who are invested in the inmate code
(Clemmer, 1940) can leverage higher status in the inmate social hierarchy.
This perspective suggests that prison management needs to be cognizant of
the inmates’ level of deprivation and coping mechanisms and adjust their
responses accordingly (DiIulio, 1987). Irwin and Cressey (1962) offer a
perspective that initially contradicts, but eventually complements, the
deprivation model. They suggest that inmates’ preprison values are
imported into a prison and independently affect the inmate social system.
For example, younger inmates and state-raised youth bring their street
gang mentality that challenges the existing order inside prison (Irwin &
Cressey, 1962; Jacobs, 1977). This is known as the importation perspective.
Thus, contrary to the singular code assumption of the deprivation
perspective, the importation perspective suggests that there could be
multiple cultural codes prevalent in a prison community. It also suggests
that prison management needs to account for the outside oppositional
culture (Irwin & Cressey, 1962) that inmates bring in determining the
appropriate styles of prison management.Many of these early studies were
conducted during the “Big House Era”(Irwin, 1980). During this era, the
avowed philosophy guiding corrections
was the rehabilitation ideal (Allen, 1981); however, most of the prisons
were
overcrowded and understaffed. In most prisons, a BTS was also in place
(Marquart & Crouch, 1985; Schrag, 1954). Selected inmates held custodial
and administrative functions over other inmates, and prison staff
informally
relied on inmate leaders to control other inmates (Marquart & Crouch,
1985;
McCorkle & Korn, 1954). The prison officers actively engaged in identifying
and privileging inmate leaders and, thus, they unofficially endorsed the
inmate social hierarchy (McCorkle & Korn, 1954). In exchange of the peace-
keeping role of inmate leaders, they were given privileges and were tacitly
allowed to break minor rules. Given this set up, a “give and take”
relationship
(Sykes, 1958) between inmates and prison staff developed and both groups
were invested in the maintenance of a peaceful equilibrium. As such, during
the Big House Era, a vibrant, though violence-prone, prison community
emerged.
With the punitive turn and decline of a rehabilitation ideal in the 1980s
(Allen, 1981), emphasis shifted to incapacitation and risk management
(Feeley & Simon, 1992). In this “warehousing” prison environment, the role
of prison staff in the determination of inmate social structure was
privileged
(DiIulio, 1987). The prison bureaucracy was increasingly professionalized;
reliance on inmate leaders was viewed as anathema to effective prison
gover-
nance. It was, therefore, curtailed (Austin & Irwin, 2011). The increase in
the
ratio of personnel to inmates, coupled with extensive use of technology,
made
prison control and surveillance more effective (Birkbeck, 2011). There were
fewer opportunities for inmates to participate in prison management,
decreas-
ing the allocation of privileges accorded to inmate roles. This also reduced
the layers of inmate social hierarchy (Austin & Irwin, 2011; Irwin, 1980).
Where recalcitrant inmates were punished by informal dynamics of the
inmate society, sometimes through violence, the present setup is more
likely
to rely on the use of formal segregation, as in Supermax prisons (Pizarro &
Stenius, 2004). The inmate society is no longer as vibrant, rich, and
dynamic
as it used to be. It has become dull and monotonous, yet safe and
predictable
(Austin & Irwin, 2011; Irwin, 1980). Threats to prison order may still come
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6 The Prison Journal

from individually recalcitrant inmates and from inmate gangs, which exer-
cised visible power during the Big House Era, but has been significantly
reduced to underground existence in the current hyper-security conscious
prisons (Hunt, Riegel, Morales, & Waldorf, 1993).
This prison model of management control is idealized but entails consid-
erable funding to maintain the prison system. Most countries in the
develop-
ing world, however, are financially strained (Birkbeck, 2011; Darke, 2013)
to
meet this ideal, despite their formal adherence to its tenets. The
Philippines,
for example, extensively utilizes inmate leaders in custodial, rehabilitative,
and administrative functions, which is reminiscent of BTS. Although by
necessity, and not by design, a practice of normalization (Gutierrez, 2012)
of
social conditions emerges. Skarbek (2014) captures the essence of
normaliza-
tion by recognizing how gangs improve order in the inmate social system in
U.S. prisons. Even in countries like the United States where resources are
more plentiful than the Philippines, Skarbek believes that inmates benefit
from gang activities, “so gangs are not a problem” as most commonly por-
trayed. He goes further to claim that if gangs were disbanded, “inmates
would
be worse off” (p. 158). In this article, we describe the unique causes and
consequences of the inmates’ role in shared governance in a Philippine
mega-
prison to compare and also elaborate our understanding of prison manage-
ment in other underresourced settings.
Data and Method
The study setting is the Maximum Security Compound (MSC) of the NBP,
one of the seven national prisons managed by the BuCor. The NBP is
located
in the outskirts of Metro Manila and is considered the country’s premier
prison. The NBP is an all-male facility with a design capacity for 9,000
inmates, but currently houses 23,000. It is comprised of three housing
com-
pounds, the biggest of which is the MSC. The MSC is a 22.5-acre facility
that
currently houses around 14,000 inmates (originally designed for 5,500)
mak-
ing it the biggest mega-prison in the world in terms of population.3 It
houses
inmates who are sentenced with 20 years to life imprisonment. It also holds
most of the high-profile and large-scale drug offenders.
The first author gained access to the study setting due to unique personal
and professional circumstances. He was a victim of false accusation and
for-
mer remand inmate in a local jail in Manila for almost 7 years until a trial
court declared him innocent. This personal experience motivated him to
examine issues of prison reform. He currently advises the Philippine
govern-
ment in this field. He also maintains personal ties and communications
with
inmates who were his “kalambingan” (co-accused) in jail and who are now
in
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Narag and Jones 7

MSC. The second author gained access to the study setting due to active
engagement in efforts to professionalize the prison and jail services. He has
been a regular visitor to Philippine prisons to conduct interviews with
inmates, inmate leaders, and prison officers. As a result of this research, he
also conducts training and provides advice to the BuCor on prison reform.
The two authors independently collected narrative and observational data
from inmates, inmate leaders, prison guards, and volunteers. The first
author
draws upon a compilation of observational data collected in the summers of
2013 and 2014 when he conducted multiple interviews and focus group dis-
cussions with the study participants. In addition, he conducted personal
visits
to former fellow inmates who were previously in the city jail and who are
now in the MSC. These visits provided opportunities to observe intimate
activities otherwise hidden or unstated in formal interviews. The second
author draws upon observational data he collected during 14 field visits to
the
NBP, spanning 3 years with 5 to 7 days duration of each visit. The second
author also conducted multiple prison reform workshops over the past 6
years, providing him unique access to prison officer perspectives. He also
conducted unstructured conversational interviews with gang leaders to
gener-
ate information that describes the role of gang leaders in prison
management.
Both authors recruited participants through snowball sampling, where
initial
participants referred other inmates, guards, and volunteers to be
interviewed
(Creswell, 2007). The number of participants recruited in this study was
guided by theoretical saturation (Corbin & Strauss, 2014), where authors
kept on recruiting participants until the addition of new participants no
longer
yielded new information (Creswell, 2007). In all, both authors interviewed
about 100 inmates, prison staff, and volunteers. Both authors have adhered
to
ethical conduct requirements associated with research on prisoners. As
such,
all research participants were voluntary and were promised confidentiality
and anonymity.
The authors initially conducted independent analyses on their respective
observational data. Both authors pursued emergent themes (Creswell,
2007)
on inmate coping mechanisms, the role of inmate leaders, gang culture,
prison economy, prison governance, and other key phenomena. They
identi-
fied narratives that captured the lived experiences (Creswell, 2007) of
partici-
pants. Through reflexive discussions, questioning of each other’s data, and
iterative sharing of emergent themes, the authors validated and
strengthened
each other’s findings and conclusions.
In this article, the authors report on common findings pertaining to the
role of inmates in shared governance inside MSC. Specifically, they report
on the following areas: the rationale for the use of inmates and the
perceived
benefits and drawbacks of these resultant penal practices. The findings are

(PDF) Understanding Prison Management in the Philippines: A Case for

Shared Governance. Available from:
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/310467821_Understanding_Pri
son_Management_in_the_Philippines_A_Case_for_Shared_Governance
[accessed Sep 07 2018].

then integrated into the current literature on prison management and

shared
governance.
Findings
Emergent Theme 1: Prevalence of the Use of Inmate Leaders
Research participants agree that the use of inmate leaders is an integral
com-
ponent of prison management in the MSC. Inmates can either assume
custo-
dial, administrative, and rehabilitation functions. Prison staff usually
recognizes the inmate leaders through issuance of a “directive.” In terms of
custodial functions, all 14,000 inmates in the MSC are housed in one of the
13 brigada (brigades) which are managed by a set of nanunungkulan
(inmate
leaders). Positions in the inmate hierarchy include the bosyo (overall
leader;
also called commander, mayores, elder), assistant-bosyo, bastonero (in
charge of discipline), kulturero (in charge of headcounts), mahinarya (night
watch), chief buyonero (in charge of cleanliness), and marsyal (outside
secu-
rity). These inmate nanunungkulan help prison officers manage the day-to-
day needs of inmates. In terms of administrative functions, inmates can
serve
as trustees or personal assistants to staff workers. Inmates can be tasked to
type official documents, encode files, record minutes of meetings, and other
administrative duties. In terms of rehabilitation functions, inmates can
serve
as “teachers” in the Alternative Learning School, “medical assistants” in the
hospital section, and “coordinators” in rehabilitation activities. They can
con-
struct their own facilities to conduct rehabilitation programs. A custodial
offi-
cer estimates that about 500 inmate leaders are provided with an informal
“directive.” An inmate also suggests that nearly 20% of inmates in a cell of
100 have some form of cell function, but only the top leaders are given a
“directive.” To understand how this intricate form of penal management
arose in the MSC, we probed the justifications (Sykes, 1958) used by the
inmates, prison officers, and volunteers.
Justification 1: A mechanism to overcome inadequacy of personnel. A
common
justification is the inadequacy of personnel. As prescribed by the BuCor
man-
ual, there should be one custodial officer for every seven inmates; however,
in the MSC, the current ratio stands at 1:80. A custodial officer explains,
You need to rely on inmate leaders. Without inmate leaders, it is hard to
communicate with all inmates. With inmate leaders, you simply call them,
explain to them the policies, and then, they will be the ones to relay it to
other
inmates. You can hold those officers accountable if the inmates under them
do
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Narag and Jones 9

not follow the rules. We call it “command responsibility.” It is our version
of
doing things outside the box. (Prison officer, Male 1)
Custodial officers who deal with inmate discipline share this explanation.
Almost all officers, including top management, agree that the structure of
inmate leadership “facilitates communication” to all inmates. A custodial
officer explains,
There are only 10 of us in this shift right now, and there are 14,000
inmates. But
with inmate bosyos (leaders) guarding the cells and the marshyal
(marshals)
guarding the perimeter, we can get by. (Prison officer, Male 2)
Prison volunteers also corroborate the importance of inmate leaders as
“communication agents.” Religious groups, for example, who regularly pro-
vide programs in MSC, rely on inmate leaders to “herd their members” to
attend activities. The following statement discussing this dependence is fre-
quently echoed by volunteers:
At first, when we came to Bilibid (the Maximum Security Compound), we
always relied on the prison staff. But then we noticed they passed the
responsibility to inmate coordinators who were much more reliable. If
inmate
leaders promise us that 100 inmates will attend the activity, we can be
assured
that 100 inmates will attend. (Prison volunteer, Male 1)
Justification 2: A mechanism to maximize inmate skills, talents, and
resources. Another justification used by research participants is the
maximi-
zation of inmate skills, talents, and resources. The majority of the custodial
officers argue that inmates are their “extensions” or “helpers.” A rehabilita-
tion officer elaborates,
Some inmates are college-educated. We have one inmate who taught
computer
studies in a University. He has helped us design software that tracks the
participation of inmates in our activities. His software can also monitor
inmates
who have visitors . . . Just imagine if he stays in his cell. His talents will be
wasted. (Prison Officer, Female 1)
On querying a prison official on why inmates are allowed to construct
their own facilities, the official states,
Look, government does not have money. We have been requesting for
money
to have a building refurbished or a facility constructed. But the request does
not
get approved in Congress or if approved, it is not released by DBM
(Department
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10 The Prison Journal
of Budget and Management) on time. So we just allow inmates to construct
facilities. Anyway, when they get released, that property belongs to the
BuCor.
Should we not allow that? (Prison Officer, Male 1)
Justification 3: A mechanism to manage the cells. For inmates, the
inadequacy of
personnel creates a vacuum in cell management that compromises their
secu-
rity. An inmate leader explains,
It is not the BuCor who created the system of nanunungkulan. It is the
inmates themselves. We chose to govern ourselves. Because it is
overcrowded, inmates get bored and fight can easily break out. Everybody
suffers. So we took upon ourselves to create rules. We have rules inmates
need to follow. We cannot rely on prison officers; they are not existent in
the
cells. (Inmate leader, Male 1)
Indeed, this statement is a typical sentiment of inmates regarding their
need for inmate leaders. For most, inmate leaders are their “anchors for
sup-
port.” An inmate who had been battling different kinds of illness says,
If not for my pangkat (cell), I would have died long ago. When I was
arrested,
I was hit by a police bullet in the stomach and had lot of complications. I
have
been nursing that ever since. It is my cellmates who bought me medicines.
My
mayores (cell leader) has been very good to me. He assigned fellow inmates
to
take care of me. We are family. (Ordinary inmate, Male 2)
Many see the cell as a “family” and inmate leaders as “fathers” or “big
brothers.” In fact, it is common to hear inmates call their leaders as “tatay”
(father) or “kuya” (older brother), a Filipino cultural dynamic that orders
social standing of inmates. In addition, the calling of inmates “tatay” or
“kuya” is a manifestation of their respectability and an indication they can
become mayores, should there be a future opening. Inmates also suggest
that
leaders have the role of taking care of the needs of other inmates and, those
who produce the most resources for others, are usually elected leaders. One
inmate claims,
In our cell, the bastonero (disciplinarian) and the mayores assign us to our
kasalo. Kasalo is a food grouping (around 5 to 10 inmates per kasalo).
Inmates
with visitors are called VIP (very important preso) and those without
visitors
are called buyoneros. The VIPs are paired with the buyoneros in the kasalo
group and the VIPs share their resources to buyoneros. They share food.
The
VIPs provide for the needs of buyoneros. The mayores do the pairings to
make
sure everybody receives some support. (Ordinary inmate, Male 3)

(PDF) Understanding Prison Management in the Philippines: A Case for

Shared Governance. Available from:
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/310467821_Understanding_Pri
son_Management_in_the_Philippines_A_Case_for_Shared_Governance
[accessed Sep 07 2018].

In addition, a common sentiment held by inmates is that the presence of

inmate leaders is necessary to apportion the very meager cell space. In very
crowded cells, where 100 inmates on average fight over a cell designed for
10
people, space is a precious commodity. An inmate leader claims,
We offer VIP privileges to an inmate with visitors and with resources. It is
voluntary. If the inmate agrees to be a VIP, then he must share resources
and be
willing to provide financial assistance to the cell and brigade. The kubol
(makeshift cubicles) is a privilege given to select few people who opted to
become a VIP but must be willing to share money. That is how we manage
the
cell space. (Inmate leader, Male 1)
Justification 4: A mechanism to overcome inappropriate rules. The
propensity to
use inmate leaders is a key issue that concerns the Department of Justice
(DOJ), which supervises the BuCor. In a focus group discussion among mid
to top-level BuCor officers, they were asked about their stance on the use of
inmate leaders vis-à-vis DOJ’s strict prohibitions. A common feeling was
that
it is “not a sound policy.” In response to that typical sentiment, an officer
explains,
By all means, we understand where DOJ is coming from. They want to get
rid
of inmate nanunungkulan (leaders) as it is subject to abuses. But what can
we
do, if we transfer all mayores to different cells, inmates will simply elect
their
own new set of mayores. And if we transfer leaders, there will be a power
vacuum among the ranks of inmates, or they will request return of their
leaders.
Either way, it is disruptive . . . What is important is we can still control
them.
(Prison officer, Male 3)
Thus, it has been an unofficial policy that when media or outside political
personalities inquire about the existence of the bosyos, the standard reply
has
been to deny their existence. Prison officers are admonished to recite the
official policy. However, when faced by the realities of their working condi-
tions, prison officers are enjoined by their peers to discreetly utilize the
infor-
mal system. They are admonished to switch between the formal and
informal
rules to cope with their situation. One prison officer explains, “Without the
inmate leaders and the resources they bring, the prison system would
collapse.”
Emergent Theme 2: The Benefits of Using Inmate Leaders
The use of inmate leaders in managing cells and brigades has numerous
repercussions on the resultant way of life inside the prison. The prison has
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12 The Prison Journal

become a mini-city. The 13 brigades represent barangays (villages) and cells
in the brigades represent puroks (blocks). And, like a city, inmate leaders
are
elected, they generate income to meet needs of their constituents, respond
to
emergencies, manage and diffuse conflicts, host recreation activities, and
offer programs to make sure they remain in office.
Benefit 1: Sense of community. According to the research participants, one
of
the benefits of this set up is the sense of community—even though one is in
prison, a re-creation of the outside environment is developed inside. Upon
entering the prison compound for the first time, a volunteer recounts,
At first, I was shocked. I never thought inmates would be out of their cells
moving around freely. My image of a prison is that inmates are in their
cages.
But I saw inmates crisscrossing the yard, selling different products and
handicrafts. There is a bakery managed by inmates . . . I see placards
greeting
the bosyo of a brigade on his birthday and a pangkat (gang) celebrating its
anniversary like a fiesta. And there was a basketball tournament and an
inmate
mayores speaking to the participants urging them to be sportsmen . . . like a
true
politician . . . it is surreal, I thought I was just entering another barangay
(village). (Prison volunteer, Female 1)
Indeed, those entering prison for the first time make similar observations
about the community atmosphere inside. This is particularly apparent on
weekends when there is a festive atmosphere. There are children running
around, inmates and visitors singing in videoke booths, inmate basketball
and
tennis teams playing against visitor teams in tournaments, followed by a
rock
concert in the evening. Inmate leaders are called upon to manage the
security
of visitors and supervise the smooth implementation of volunteer activities.
Accordingly, this sense of community softens the pains of imprisonment
(Sykes, 1958) faced by inmates. Inmates serve their time by being active
members of the prison community.
Benefit 2: Preservation of the self. Another major benefit identified by the
research participants is the preservation of self-identity (Goffman, 1961).
Inmate leaders are exposed to outsiders, not as inmates, but with an
identity
associated to their roles. An inmate leader comments,
The reason why I want to be a nanunungkulan (leader) is because I get the
chance to speak to important people. I had never talked to a congressman
and
senator before, but in the prison, I talked to them and I represent my fellow
inmates. (Inmate leader, Male 4)
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Narag and Jones 13
Inmates are motivated to maintain their preprison resources, professions,
skills and talents so that they could eventually be considered for leadership
positions. Regardless of past criminal activities, inmates who can present
themselves as capable leaders can rise in the inmate hierarchy. Their
resources, professions, skills, and talents can be transformed into a form of
social assets (Gutierrez, 2012), which can be further transformed into
politi-
cal capital. As such, inmates who know something about law can help other
inmates with their legal requirements. If cunning enough, they can count
on
those inmates to propel their candidacy.
Inmates who are lawyers, doctors, dentists, teachers, engineers, artists,
poli-
ticians, and other type of professions are encouraged to utilize their skills
for
the BuCor or the inmate community. Engineers are still addressed as “engi-
neers,” lawyers as “attorneys,” and teachers as “sirs.” While serving in those
capacities, they widen their social connections, which is necessary to
maintain
a comfortable living standard inside the prison. In the process,
imprisonment
does not degrade their identity (Goffman, 1961). In fact, in some cases,
inmates
can be propelled to greater heights. For example, one inmate successfully
launched a political career while in prison and won a congressional seat in
the
Philippine Congress, another discovered a singing career and launched his
first
commercial album, and another had a successful career in art and displayed
his
artwork in a large city mall. Although these are extreme cases, their success
stories inspire inmates to keep their preprison identities intact.
Benefit 3: Promotes reformation of inmates. Research participants agree
that the
recognition of inmate leadership can promote the reformation of inmates.
From the custodial officers’ point of view, providing inmates opportunities
to
function as “statesman” has a “cooling effect.” It keeps inmates busy and
channels their energies to productive and useful pursuits. A custodial
officer
explains,
We keep inmates busy and they like it. They feel important . . . that their
voices
can be heard. Giving them assignments and privileges, they get their self-
worth. We respect them as people and treat them as people. We trust them.
And
as long as they know the limits, I am good with that. (Prison officer, Male 4)
Most prison officers agree that by providing inmates with actual roles in
managing prison, they become humans again (nagiging tao muli). This is an
unstated philosophy adhered to by most prison officers. In fact, when the
new
BuCor director assumed position in March 2013, he introduced a slogan:
“we
are your friends, your brothers and your sanctuary” to articulate his visions
of
a humane and compassionate prison.
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14 The Prison Journal

The recognition that inmates are tao (people) due to roles and responsibili-
ties accorded to them is a significant motivator for rehabilitation. It propels
them to think about how they can manage their long-term sentences and
look
forward to the future. An inmate leader explains,
I asked myself, “If I am here (in prison) for at least 10 years, what can I do
to
better my condition during this time?” So I created a timeline. For the first
two
years, I volunteered to the teaching program. Then, I became a cell
treasurer
and now an overall coordinator of programs. I got more privileges; I can
call
my wife anytime I want because I can use the phones. That is important
because, with the phone, I can monitor and advise my kids. I have been in
prison 20 years, but I have still been a father to my kids. My humanity is
not
lost. (Inmate leader, Male 6)
Prison volunteers echo similar sentiments. It is common to hear comments
like “inmates are more humane than people in the streets.” They make
these
comments after observing that inmates are courteous and friendly, which is
contrary to popular depictions of violent and aggressive prisoners.
Benefit 4: Self help and self-empowerment. The recognition of inmate
leader-
ship in shared governance promotes self-help and self-empowerment
among
the inmates. In terms of self-help, inmate leaders take upon themselves to
maintain the prison infrastructure and facilities. For example, if a water
con-
nection gets broken, lights malfunction, or a septic tank overflows or
blocks,
they would not bother the prison maintenance officers about those menial
affairs. Instead, the inmate leaders have the resources to remedy those
prob-
lems. In other cases, the inmate leaders are tasked to manage special needs
offenders (Gideon, 2013), such as terrorists and mentally ill or disabled
inmates.
In terms of empowerment, they take upon themselves the responsibility to
educate their fellow inmates. Inmate leaders would organize symposia, lec-
tures and training on key issues pertaining to their plight as inmates. In an
inspection of inmate-initiated rehabilitation programs, inmates presented a
computer school, an alternative learning school, and an arts school, which
are
all independently managed by inmates with little prison staff supervision.
Summary of benefits: Normalization of conditions. The common theme
that cuts
across all these narratives is the normalization (Gutierrez, 2012) of prison
conditions. Inmate leaders serve as communication channels, conflict
media-
tors, space managers, and service providers. In the process, a community
atmosphere is developed, a tenable living condition is informally negotiated

(PDF) Understanding Prison Management in the Philippines: A Case for

Shared Governance. Available from:
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/310467821_Understanding_Pri
son_Management_in_the_Philippines_A_Case_for_Shared_Governance
[accessed Sep 07 2018].

(Sykes, 1958), and inmates maintain their preprison (Irwin and Cressey,
1962) identities and self-worth (Goffman, 1961). Accordingly, these mecha-
nisms enhance their chances of successful reentry into society. Although
there are no systematic studies that track the performance of inmates upon
release, limited administrative data suggest that only 20% of inmates
recidi-
vate. In addition, there are numerous anecdotal accounts of inmates who
suc-
cessfully became preachers upon release, set up their own businesses, and
ventured into different postincarceration careers.
Emergent Theme 3: The Drawbacks of Using Inmate Leaders
Like in all communities, the prison environment that evolved in the MSC
has
many drawbacks. These drawbacks are not immediately visible, and can be
discerned only through prolonged exposure to the prison community.
Prison
officers and inmates alike are very adept at hiding these issues. One needs
to
be observant to discern the presence of prison violations. A careful
rereading
of narratives already presented also shows an alternative picture.
Drawback 1: Punitive hold over inmate leaders. By reexamining the earlier
statement made by prison officer, Male 1, hidden in “command responsibil-
ity” is the punitive measures guards hold over inmate leaders. These
punitive
measures became apparent when an inmate leader was transferred to the
Medium Security Compound as a punishment for an infraction committed
by
an inmate under his command. Through an administrative investigation, it
was determined that the inmate leader was not involved in the infraction,
although it took a couple of months before he was returned to his cell. The
inmate leader complains,
I did everything they asked me to do: our pangkat gave compensation to the
family of the victim, we sought a statement from leaders of the other
pangkat
that the conflict was a personal matter and not inter-pangkat conflict; and
my
fellow pangkat members petitioned for my return showing I had no
problem in
my own pangkat. But still they kept me there indefinitely. They kept me
guessing and they played tricks on me. (Inmate leader, Male 7)
Drawback 2: Unpredictable rules. Because the formation of the inmate
leader-
ship structure is informal and unofficial, the rules governing it are
discretion-
ary and unpredictable. Two prison officers confide,
You need to talk to their level. You need to think like them. We give them
what they want, we create privileges for them, but we still hold them. We
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16 The Prison Journal

need to play the game they play, but we can always disrupt the game.
(Prison
officer, Male 1)
Inmates are on a long leash. We allow them to feel as if they are free, but, if
we
have to, we can shorten the leash to restrict their freedom. Ultimately, we
are in
control but play their game. (Prison officer, Male 5)
The officers admit that it is better to keep the practice a “gray area” so they
can practice discretion. They can transfer an inmate leader to another
prison
compound or to other penal facilities and thus effectively remove him from
office anytime they see fit. Because the agency rules formally prohibit the
use
of inmate leaders, prison officers who informally employ them need to
exer-
cise caution. They must be careful not to get entangled should a scandal
arise.
However, they also acknowledge that the risk of exposure can be managed.
Prison officers who are willing to put themselves on the line (may dibdib)
can
elevate their political and social standing inside the prison. Thus, an official
with a rank of Prison Guard 3 (Sergeant) who is adept in playing the
informal
rules can have more political and social clout in the prison community than
a
prison superintendent who does not use these tactics or a newly appointed
BuCor director who is starting to learn the ropes. The prison guards admit
that their source of power and control emanates not from their official titles
but from the reputation and status they cultivated through the years in the
prison community.
Drawback 3: Corruption and abuse. This personal level of control both
prac-
ticed among prison staff and inmates’ ranks can translate to corruption and
abuse. In terms of corruption, a common practice is the evolution of
“orbit”4
where some prison officers “request” financial assistance from inmate lead-
ers and inmate Very Important Prisoners (VIPs) in exchange for privileges.
The money generated from orbit can be used for operational purposes, like
purchasing gasoline to bring sick inmates to hospital, or personal gains to
augment income. The prevalence of this practice forms a common
complaint
raised by inmate leaders: that they are ones “carrying the burden” for the
BuCor. An inmate leader estimates, for example, that he shells out around
PHP 20,000 (US$ 500) a month to keep “officers satisfied with his perfor-
mance.”5 In return, inmate leaders admit they need to extract resources
from
their fellow inmates and engage in different legitimate and illegitimate
activi-
ties to produce orbit fees. For example, they can remove inmates from their
kubols if they continually fail to contribute to public relations funds given
to
prison guards, or they can withdraw protection from inmates when caught
committing infractions.
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Narag and Jones 17

Drawback 4: Formation of drug economy. With inmates informally allowed
to
bring money and resources into the prison community, initially as a self-
help
mechanism, suprastructures have evolved that go beyond the formal stan-
dards. A drug market economy has developed where the control of the drug
trade has become a source of conflict for bosyos and prison guards who
choose to engage in these activities. Inmates claim that it is just as easy to
access shabu (methamphetamine) inside the prison as it is on the streets
resulting in many inmates becoming addicted. “Big-time” inmate drug deal-
ers can maintain their lucrative businesses inside and outside of prison, as
long as they contribute to the orbit funds, which are carefully managed by
their respective mayores. The mayores must be creative in disbursing this
bounty from the drug trade: by responding to “request for assistance” of
prison officers, by providing for cell and brigade upkeep, by supporting
inmate rehabilitation projects, and if anything is left, for their personal and
family upkeep. Inmate leaders who fail to partition the “biyaya” (blessings)
can become the subject of vicious rumors by other aspiring inmates and,
when a critical mass develops, can be booted out from office.
Drawback 5: Violence. The struggle for power and money-making
opportuni-
ties that these practices yield often translates into violence. For inmate
lead-
ers who engage in these practices, it resembles the all-out war nature of
Philippine local politics where politicians use guns, goons, and gold to
remain
in office (Linantud, 1998; Sidel, 1999). Inmate leaders must be on constant
watch for inmates who are out to challenge their positions and make sure
that
upstarts toe the line. They use punitive tactics, like transferring a politically
recalcitrant inmate to other cells or prison compounds, to show that they
have
a firm control of the leadership structure in their brigades. This can be
facili-
tated through the help of sympathetic prison staff in the records section. In
extreme cases, inmate leaders can order the murder of inmates who do not
conform. They maintain a cadre of tiradors (henchmen), a group of highly
loyal inmates who will enforce a bosyo’s creed. The high-stake nature of cell
and brigade politics requires inmate leaders to continually develop personal
alliances with other inmate leaders and prison staff, through constant
exchange of individual favors and support. An intricate form of a patron–
client relationship (Scott, 1972) among participating guards and inmate
lead-
ers emerges. In the process, at least for those inmate leaders and prison
officers who have become invested in the prison informal rules, they are
caught in a perpetual cycle of intrigue, gossip, and violence.
Summary of drawbacks: Replication of inequality. The prison community
thus
reflects the inequality prevalent in Philippine society. As one enters inmate
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18 The Prison Journal

quarters, for example, it becomes apparent that only a few inmates have
access to a kubol and most are cramped into the few remaining spaces. A
less
fortunate inmate berates,
If you don’t have money, you will be sorry here. You are popular only when
you have money. But if you have none, or it dries up, then no one will pay
attention to you. You will be confined to the sidelines. You do not have
space.
(Ordinary inmate, Male 8)
Long-time volunteers and prison guards lament this aspect of penal man-
agement but admit, “they cannot do anything about it.” Although they wish
that all inmates be given similar privileges, the fact is there are not enough
resources to go around, so “we do the best with what we’ve got.” In the pro-
cess, an environment of fear engulfs the prison community. Despite loud
music and entertainment that is visibly portrayed during visitation hours,
an
undercurrent of “know where you stand” and “do not rock the boat,” orders
inmates to silently follow the informal rules.
Discussion
For most prison staff and inmates, the prison community is not very differ-
ent from the outside. As a top BuCor official mentions, “running a prison
in the Philippines is like running a four-walled city.” This resultant penal
management arose from lack of resources given to the prison as an institu-
tion. MSC has inadequate space and facilities, is crippled with insufficient
and under-trained staff, and lacks operational resources to provide for
material necessities, security, and rehabilitation programs needed by
inmates. In this regard, not only are inmates faced with deprivation (Sykes,
1958) of their living conditions but prison officers are equally deprived in
their working environment. As one prison staff mentions, “the inmates are
not the only ones incarcerated in bad conditions, the prison officers suffer
in their jobs too!”
This shared experience of deprivation leads to informal coping mecha-
nisms recognized and practiced by both prison staff and inmates who want
to
improve themselves. Due to a lack of personnel, inmates are informally
incorporated and given custodial, administrative, and rehabilitative func-
tions. Also, as a result of inadequate space and facilities, inmates are tacitly
allowed to construct their own kubols (makeshift cubicles) and other facili-
ties. A lack of operational resources also results in inmates bringing their
own
resources into prison, creating their own programs, and maintaining their
own cells and brigades. However, these coping mechanisms are not
officially
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Narag and Jones 19

recognized, and prison officers are therefore tasked to use their own
personal
discretion of how to use the informal mechanisms.
As has been documented, this setup has both positive and negative out-
comes. For example, due to reliance on inmate leaders and presence of a
vibrant prison economy, inmates can preserve their preprison identity and
do
not undergo the process of mortification (Goffman, 1961) that strips
inmates
of their individuality. Inmates do not stop being human; they can still func-
tion as fathers to their children and providers for their families (Gutierrez,
2012). The lack of resources also means that inmates are allowed to bring
their own food, clothing, appliances, and other needs into the prison thus
re-
creating their preprison conditions and, by default, normalizing their
condi-
tions. The problem-solving nature (Wheeler, 1961) of the coping
mechanisms
provides inmates opportunities for self-improvement and self-
empowerment,
which protects them from the corrupting influences of the security-laden
nature of incarceration (Gutierrez, 2012).
The openness of the prison system also means that inmates import (Irwin
& Cressey, 1962) characteristics of the free world into the prison. On the
positive side, inmates practice the Filipino cultural values of damayan and
bayanihan (mutual and community support) where they take care of each
other as manifested by the kasalo (food group) system and different
develop-
mental activities inmate leaders conduct. Inmates experience incarceration
in
a collective, not an individualistic, phenomenon. As such, inmates’ injunc-
tions like “do your own time,” which are prevalent in Western prisons, are
seldom heard in this Philippine prison setting. Instead, Filipino inmates’
man-
tra includes “a cell is a family” and “no one will help an inmate but a fellow
inmate.”
On the negative side, the corrupt practices that are inherent in Philippine
politics and culture are also reflected in the prison setting. This is
manifested
by the manner in which some prison officers and inmate leaders utilize
their
discretionary powers by manipulating the formal and informal rules to
gener-
ate illicit income. Instead of an oppositional culture between staff and
inmates
that is commonly documented in Western prison settings, a patron-client
cul-
ture (Scott, 1972) has developed between corrupt prison guards and inmate
leaders. In this setup, prison staff and inmate leaders align themselves in a
tenuous and particularistic relationship (Hutchcroft, 1998) where they
employ
the saying “I scratch your back, when you scratch mine.” Similar to some
the
politicians on the outside, prison staff and inmate leaders abuse their power
for self-aggrandizement. Violence inside the prison is therefore more struc-
tural than individual in nature: violence happens when there is breakdown
of
the equilibrium of power (Sykes, 1958) among the cliques that form
between
prison staff and inmate leaders.
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20 The Prison Journal

Despite its noted abuses, violence in the MSC is managed to low levels.
Prison officers and inmate leaders try their best to control violence and not
let
the corrupt practices get out of control. The prison officers and inmate
leaders
know that if they do not practice self-restraint, they will put the prison in a
bad light. More importantly, for inmates who are not invested in the setup,
there is enough social space to keep a productive and violence-free lifestyle.
As long as they know how to navigate through the vagaries of prison life,
they can maximize the benefits by participating in rehabilitation programs
and minimize the drawbacks by disengaging in cell and brigade politics.
Conclusion
Much of the current knowledge about prison social systems comes from set-
tings where facilities are adequately provided, staff numbers are sufficient
and properly trained, and operational resources are directed at the smooth
running of the prison. In these circumstances, the use of inmates to run the
prisons is considered anathema to effective governance. Indeed, abuses
iden-
tified in the BTS have been echoed in this Philippine prison setting: inmate
leaders usurp and abuse their authority, they engage in a culture of corrup-
tion, and they re-create inequalities found in the free-world setting. Yet,
despite these weaknesses, the leadership structure that arose among
Filipino
inmates has strong positive aspects. It mediates the pains of imprisonment
(Sykes, 1958), helps with adjustments, and provides inmates with mecha-
nisms to preserve self-identity (Goffman, 1961), which normalizes their
con-
ditions and better equips them to reintegrate to the outside upon release.
This
may explain why, despite the material deprivations faced by Filipino
inmates,
the recidivism rate appears lower than figures reported in more affluent
U.S.
prisons.6 This may also suggest that the correctional model of management
control, which eliminates the role of inmates in prison governance, has the
inadvertent effect of destroying inmates’ initiatives and self-identities.
Indeed, recent studies suggest that prisons that implement peer mentors
and
honor dorm programs (Collica, 2010; Swanson, 2009), where inmates are
utilized to mentor other inmates and co-manage their dorms, have lower
lev-
els of violence and recidivism. Skarbek (2014) also shows that inmates
natu-
rally form groups to mediate the pains of imprisonment and that gang
formations are not inherently bad.
Although this research is conducted in the most visible prison in the
Philippines, there are reasons to believe that the findings may not be fully
generalizable to all other penal institutions. As has been noted, the sheer
size
of the MSC and the type of inmates housed in this prison suggest that the
dynamics observed may be unique only to the MSC. However, given that

(PDF) Understanding Prison Management in the Philippines: A Case for

Shared Governance. Available from:
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/310467821_Understanding_Pri
son_Management_in_the_Philippines_A_Case_for_Shared_Governance
[accessed Sep 07 2018].

most prison guards are trained and initially assigned in the MSC before
they
are deployed to other prisons suggests that they extend the practices in the
MSC to other penal institutions. Indeed, our discussions with correctional
officers from other penal facilities suggest that the use of inmate leaders is
ubiquitous. More systematic studies are nonetheless needed to paint a more
holistic picture of the nature of prison management in the Philippines.
The use of inmates for shared governance, at least in this Philippine prison,
is therefore not a major problem in prison management. The key issue lies
in
the incapability of the Philippine government to provide for the needs of
the
prison. The deprived conditions induce creation of informal coping mecha-
nisms that are subject to abuse. The Philippine government must first
embark
on improving prison conditions by addressing overcrowding, staff training,
and
providing operational resources. This may be realized with passage of the
Modernization Law of the BuCor in 2013. Without attendant improvements
in
prison conditions, especially by increasing well-trained and professional
staff,
eradicating inmate leadership will make prisons even more ungovernable
(DiIulio, 1987). As a prison staff mentioned earlier, the prison will collapse.
This research has shown that inmate leadership structure is rooted in the
Filipino culture of damayan and bayanihan, a cultural trait that inmates
import
(Irwin & Cressey, 1962) into the prison. The inherent collectivist nature of
soci-
ety, respect for people in authority, and penchant for family and
community
suggest that shared governance, as practiced in a Philippine setting, has a
devel-
opmental component. This may differentiate it from the self-governance
prac-
ticed in Latin American prisons, where inmate gangs have enough leverage
to
run the prisons and where it is unsafe for guards to even enter (Darke,
2013). At
least, in the Philippine context, prison officers still run the prison, though
on a
personal, not institutional, basis. The problem is that this practice, due to
an
idealized notion of prison governance, is not formally adopted and
translates to
discretionary implementation and abuse. If this practice is formally
acknowl-
edged and monitored, then there is a possibility that abuse could be
curtailed and
the practice redirected toward good use. For example, a policy of
meritorious
selection and training of inmate leaders and the articulation of the scope
and
limits of their functions could be introduced. This research suggests that
inmate
leaders are willing to assume more therapeutic functions, if the BuCor
provided
the cue. In short, while the long-term resources are not yet available, the
short-
term solution is to formally incorporate inmate leaders in shared
governance.
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.
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22 The Prison Journal

Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship,
and/or publi-
cation of this article.
Notes
1. The UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, for
example,
suggest the following: “28.(1) No prisoner shall be employed, in the service
of
the institution, in any disciplinary capacity.”
2. Informal discussions with prison officials also suggest that this practice is
preva-
lent in all seven penal colonies managed by the BuCor and in all the 23 city
jails in Metro Manila managed by the Bureau of Jail Management and
Penology
(BJMP).
3. The two other compounds are the Medium Security Compound with
6,000
inmates and the Minimum Security Compound with 800 inmates. There is
also a
Reception and Diagnostic Center with around 2,000 inmates.
4. Literally, orbit means visiting from cell to cell in circles, like the earth
orbiting
the sun.
5. In comparison, monthly salary for a prison guard is less than US$300.
6. We acknowledge, however, the difficulties faced by Filipino correctional
officers
in tracking and recording the number of inmates returning in prison, which
could
explain the low recidivism rates.
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Author Biographies
Raymund E. Narag, PhD, is an assistant professor in the Department of
Criminology
and Criminal Justice at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. His
research inter-
ests include comparative criminology, corrections, and the role of culture in
the crimi-
nal justice system. His recent work has appeared in The Prison Journal and
Criminal
Justice and Behavior.
Clarke R. Jones, PhD, is a visiting fellow at the Regulatory Institution
Network,
Australian National University. Before moving to academia, he worked in
several
areas of national security for the Australian government. His current
research interests
include prison gangs and the effects of the prison environment on the
disengagement
and deradicalization of terrorist inmates in the Philippine and Indonesian
correctional
systems