When Unions Protect Bad Corrections Officers
On December 25, a class-action suit by inmates against New York City corrections officers on Rikers Island moved into high gear. The U.S. Attorney in Manhattan, Preet Bharara, joined the suit against the city and the federal judge scheduled new negotiations. At stake are issues of officer misconduct in the use of force against inmates. Last August, Bharara issued a stinging report about the “deep-seated culture of violence” at the jail complex.
Reform has long been stymied at Rikers Island. The reason is the power of the Correction Officers' Benevolent Association, the union representing the guards. Over the last few years, Norman Seabrooke, the union's leader, did everything in his power to remove the chief investigator of New York Department of Corrections, whom he deemed hostile to officers, and have her replaced with his childhood friend. The episode proved another example of Seabrooke's remarkable control over whom the Corrections Department appoints to top positions.
Given the controversial situations that arise in prisons every day, it's not surprising that labor unions representing corrections officers seek to shield their members from accusations of misconduct. Unions try to limit administrators' capacity to supervise and discipline officers by increasing workers' “due process rights.”
And corrections officer unions are often successful because they are powerful. They win favorable work rules and disciplinary procedures for their members at the bargaining table and through political activity. Prison guards are keenly aware of just how much protection the union can offer them in the event of wrongdoing.
Work rules secured by guard unions can affect the way information is gathered and shared during investigations into misconduct, the availability of union legal representation at different points in the process, and even whether witnesses to misconduct have the right to union lawyers. Yet such rights that seek to allow corrections officers to do their jobs effectively, often also hamstring management's ability to investigate and punish officer misconduct.
By protecting members, however, such unions sometimes allow officers who have committed or been charged with serious violations to remain on the job. Allowing such officers to stay on duty runs counter to the public's interest in having well-trained officers with clean records on the beat.
The problem is hardly unique to New York's Rikers Island. Extensive due process provisions protected the California corrections officers at Corcoran Prison after they allegedly organized “gladiator days” — orchestrated fights among rival inmate gangs for officers to watch and bet on.
As sociologist Joshua Page reports in his book, The Toughest Beat, investigators were, at every turn, stymied by officials from the California Correctional Peace Officers Association (CCPOA). Before and during the trials of a few officers, CCPOA ran television and radio ads declaring that such officers' jobs were extremely dangerous and respective inmates were violent predators. No officers were convicted. Indeed, in California towns with prisons, district attorneys reportedly hesitate to prosecute corrections officers accused of violations for fear of political retribution by unions.
Similar dynamics were at work in a recent scandal at the Baltimore City Detention Center, where, by all accounts, inmates were running the jail. One gang leader sired four children with different female corrections officers; drugs were trafficked in the facility; and a money-laundering operation flourished. At the same time, the corrections officers union — an affiliate of the 30,000-member-strong American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees — successfully lobbied Maryland's legislature to make it nearly impossible for prison managers to transfer, fire, or discipline officers. Backed by both parties, the Correction's Officers Bill of Rights was signed into law by Democratic Governor Martin O'Malley.
As these examples attest, the public interest and that of unions representing workers in our prisons often conflict. Therefore, it's time to re-evaluate the strength such unions are permitted to have. In many cases, supervisors need some of their management prerogatives returned. Public safety demands it.
This piece originally appeared in Washington Examiner
This piece originally appeared in Washington Examiner