Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America is one of the most celebrated books ever written about our country. Published in two volumes, in 1835 and 1840, it is still widely read, particularly by political scientists.
The book has endured because it was a uniquely probing examination of the democratic prospect. As a liberal French aristocrat, Tocqueville sought to extract insights from the New World to understand how the ascendant values of liberty and equality would be likely to fare in the Old.
In search of such insights, Tocqueville arranged an extended visit to America. The occasion was a commission from the French government to study America’s penal system. Tocqueville and a colleague made the visit in 1831 and duly published a report the following year.
In Newjack, his account of working as a guard at New York State’s Sing Sing prison in the 1990s, journalist Ted Conover includes this quotation from Tocqueville’s prison report:
“The safety of the keeps is constantly menaced. In the presence of such dangers, avoided with such skill but with difficulty, it seems to us impossible not to fear some sort of catastrophe in the future.”
And indeed, serving as a correctional officer is still generally hard, dangerous work. That is precisely one of the reasons why Conover wanted to write about it, to give society’s underappreciated proxies a voice.
In the imaginary world of the Harry Potter books, the issue of safety for prison guards is temporarily solved through a Faustian bargain with horrible creatures known as dementors. Author J.K. Rowling depicts them as embodiments of utter despair, intent on extinguishing all hope and joy in the souls of muggles and magical folk alike.
As the tale unfolds, Harry and his friends find ways to confront the dementors by summoning happy memories and focusing the life-force contained in them. When you think about it, this isn’t merely a plot device. It’s a strategy that makes a lot of psychological sense in the real world, too.
Aside from prison guards, here is the broad thematic connection I see between Tocqueville and J.K. Rowling. Each explores themes of democracy and aristocracy against a backdrop of tumult.
For Tocqueville, the tumult was the bloody excesses of the French Revolution. These excesses informed his careful analysis of how democracy tends to operate. Rowling, by contrast, critiques the dreadful excesses of Voldemort’s fascist power grab for “purebloods.”
Showing posts with label Tocqueville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tocqueville. Show all posts
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tocqueville's "Pretext" and the Spectre of Warehousing
Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America is a highly celebrated book in certain academic circles. Introducing a handsome hardcover edition for the University of Chicago Press in 2000, Harvey C. Mansfield and Delba Winthrop went so far as to assert that it is “the best book ever written on democracy and the best book ever written on America.”
This post is not the right forum to assess that remarkable double claim. For now, I seek only to note the book’s historical connection to Tocqueville’s interest in prison reform.
In 1831, Alexis de Tocqueville and another young Frenchman, Gustave de Beaumont, traveled though America for about nine months. The two friends had procured an assignment from the French government to report on prison reform.
Tocqueville’s larger interest was a grand project to understand and interpret the dynamics of democracy and social equality in the United States. The applicability of this study to hierarchical European societies was of urgent concern in the wake of the French Revolution.
In a letter written in 1835, Tocqueville referred to the study of American penal reform as a “pretext” for the trip. But in January 1831, he and Beaumont did publish the study they promised. The English title is On the Penitentiary System in the United States and Its Application to France.
What was the nature of the reform that Tocqueville and his friend sought to study? It involved the goal of reforming people in penitentiaries, rather than merely punishing them in prisons.
Today, the prospect of penance in prison is a private matter. But to the reform movement Tocqueville and Beaumont came to study, penance was seen as central to the very purpose of prison. There are still vestiges of this in our retention of the word “correctional” in the phrase “correctional facility.”
After all, “correction” is a secular echo of the religious penance that reformers once promoted. Spiritual transformation is still possible in prison in 2011. But it is not the state’s concern. Indeed, even the notion of rehabilitation is not much favored anymore.
And that raises a spectre that haunts our entire correctional system. The spectre of warehousing.
This post is not the right forum to assess that remarkable double claim. For now, I seek only to note the book’s historical connection to Tocqueville’s interest in prison reform.
In 1831, Alexis de Tocqueville and another young Frenchman, Gustave de Beaumont, traveled though America for about nine months. The two friends had procured an assignment from the French government to report on prison reform.
Tocqueville’s larger interest was a grand project to understand and interpret the dynamics of democracy and social equality in the United States. The applicability of this study to hierarchical European societies was of urgent concern in the wake of the French Revolution.
In a letter written in 1835, Tocqueville referred to the study of American penal reform as a “pretext” for the trip. But in January 1831, he and Beaumont did publish the study they promised. The English title is On the Penitentiary System in the United States and Its Application to France.
What was the nature of the reform that Tocqueville and his friend sought to study? It involved the goal of reforming people in penitentiaries, rather than merely punishing them in prisons.
Today, the prospect of penance in prison is a private matter. But to the reform movement Tocqueville and Beaumont came to study, penance was seen as central to the very purpose of prison. There are still vestiges of this in our retention of the word “correctional” in the phrase “correctional facility.”
After all, “correction” is a secular echo of the religious penance that reformers once promoted. Spiritual transformation is still possible in prison in 2011. But it is not the state’s concern. Indeed, even the notion of rehabilitation is not much favored anymore.
And that raises a spectre that haunts our entire correctional system. The spectre of warehousing.
Labels:
criminal justice reform,
penitentiary,
Tocqueville
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)



