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L'absent
À ma manière 🪦
- Aug 18, 2024
- 1,375
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Prison is not justice; it is a collective illusion, the fetish of a society incapable of looking in the mirror. It is the symptom of a culture that prefers to punish rather than understand, repress rather than transform, seek revenge rather than heal. Every prison cell built is a monument to the hypocrisy of those who pretend to fight crime without ever questioning why it exists. Prison is nothing more than a giant social dumpster, a place where society dumps those it has already condemned to failure, then deludes itself into believing the problem is solved.
But does anyone really believe that crime is an isolated act? Can we truly reduce guilt to a single individual, as if they were born in a vacuum, without history, without environment, without conditioning? As if their crime were a bolt from the blue, an inexplicable anomaly to be eradicated? The truth is that prison was never meant to solve crime—it exists to obscure its causes. It serves only to reassure the consciences of those who refuse to acknowledge the systemic failure that produces it. It is the easiest, most cowardly way to say: The evil is outside of us; lock it up and forget it.
Yet no one is born a criminal. Crime is the consequence of a long chain of events, often set in motion long before the offense is committed. Why should a child born in a neglected neighborhood, raised in a violent environment, without access to education, without any future prospects, develop the same moral awareness as the child of a billionaire, raised in privilege and security? Why should the first respect rules that have only ever been instruments of oppression for him, while the second knows that those same rules will always protect him? Society creates an uneven playing field and then demands that everyone play by the same rules.
And so, while the children of billionaires can break the law knowing that someone will always be there to save them, to clean up their image, to find them a lawyer who can make their problems disappear with a handshake, those born in the wrong place, in the wrong family, in the wrong neighborhood, are doomed from the start. And when they make a mistake—because at some point, they will, because they have no alternatives, because they know nothing else, because they were never given a chance—the system punishes them with fury, as if they alone were the problem. As if their crime were not the direct result of centuries of inequality, exploitation, and social injustice. As if the true monster were them, and not the society that produced them and then discarded them in the nearest courtroom.
But the most disgusting thing is that prison does not merely punish. Prison is revenge—revenge institutionalized, revenge disguised as justice. It does not just deprive people of their freedom; it humiliates, annihilates, destroys. Human beings are crammed into overcrowded cells, treated like toxic waste, stripped of their humanity until they become exactly what society expects them to be. The prison system is designed to degrade, to break, to make any form of redemption impossible. Because a person who comes out of prison after years of confinement does not emerge rehabilitated; they emerge angrier, more alienated, more embittered. And so the cycle repeats itself.
And for what? Because we cling to the belief that one person's suffering can compensate for another's? Prison does not bring victims back to life, does not erase pain, does not repair anything. It is merely the way society convinces itself that it has "settled the score" without ever addressing the deeper causes of crime. Because confronting the real problem would mean acknowledging that the system itself is rotten to the core—and that is too terrifying. It is easier to settle for punishment, to believe that evil exists only in others, to pretend that justice is a cage rather than a transformation.
But crime is not eliminated through prison; it is eliminated through education, by reducing inequalities, by creating a society in which no one is forced to commit crimes to survive. Prison is only a symptom, the final stage of an infection that society refuses to cure. As long as we invest more money in prisons than in schools, more in repression than in prevention, crime will never disappear. Because prison is not the solution. Prison is part of the problem.