Simon Rolston is the author of Prison Life Writing: Conversion and the Literary Roots of the U.S. Prison System.
It can start with something small. A hand on your shoulder, a grip on your arm. Then you’re in handcuffs. Then you’re on the ground. Then you can’t breathe, pepper spray in your eyes, a spit mask on your face. Then a team in riot gear is forcing you from your cell.
Each action – from holding an arm to applying handcuffs to using pepper spray – is what Correctional Service Canada (CSC) calls a “use of force.”
Physical intervention should be proportionate and graduated, but a violent incident can get out of hand quickly. It often does.
So every use of force is meant to be reviewed to ensure it conforms to policy, training and the Corrections and Conditional Release Act. In theory, the use-of-force review process provides essential oversight in an institution where violence can be routine, staff wield incredible power over their charges, and all interactions are hidden from public view.
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But here’s the thing: that review operates largely behind closed doors. A prisoner involved in a use-of-force incident is not normally given access to the review’s findings, even if they conclude that guards broke the law, infringed on the prisoner’s rights, or violated policy. Often, a prisoner subjected to force is not even aware that a review has occurred.
And that’s wrong. As a matter of course, a review’s findings should be shared with the imprisoned person who experienced the use-of-force incident. For starters, it’s fair: a prisoner who wants to file a grievance, complaint, or lawsuit is procedurally disadvantaged if they don’t know the result of an official review.
More broadly, keeping the review and its findings secret corrodes the legitimacy of the prison system, especially in the eyes of the people it controls and against whom it has the authority to use violence. If an officer manhandles a prisoner, and no one in authority seems concerned (even if, behind the scenes, the incident is actually being reviewed), it sends a message: the rules that apply to the imprisoned population don’t apply to the people in charge.
That seeds resentment and distrust, increases tensions with staff, and makes it harder for prisoners to view the institution as aligned with the broader rule-of-law norms it’s supposed to represent. For those of us on the outside, that should be concerning. We want prisons releasing people who see laws as just even if they’ve run afoul of them.
CSC could probably argue that prisoners can make an Access to Information and Privacy (ATIP) request to see a use-of-force report’s findings. And that’s true, but misleading.
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Set aside for the moment how difficult it would be for most prisoners to draft an ATIP request that actually captures the right records – naming the correct documents, framing the request with enough precision to be processed but not so narrowly that key material is excluded – all without internet access, legal guidance, or often even basic literacy skills. (Fifty-four per cent of the incarcerated population have less than a Grade 10 education.)
Each step of the process – getting the form, clarifying requirements, submitting the request – runs through staff, who may be colleagues of the officer whose conduct is at issue, and who may be reluctant to provide meaningful support.
Setting all that aside, even if a prisoner manages to submit an ATIP request, there’s a strong chance they won’t see it for an egregiously long time. The majority of ATIP requests to CSC exceed their legislated timeline, and 40 per cent take more than 180 days to process even though CSC is mandated to reply within 30 days.
So if a prisoner finally learns of a ruling in a use-of-force review about them – frequently, many months after the fact – it’s often too late to help them challenge the continuing conditions, correct the official record, or prepare for parole hearings or file grievances. In the interim, they may be transferred or released, leaving those who could be victims outside any meaningful accounting of potential abuse or lawbreaking.
CSC’s refusal to share information about use-of-force reviews with prisoners is now being tested. On Feb. 24, two people with lived experience of incarceration have filed new litigation about CSC’s use-of-force directive in Federal Court. This is important. Use-of-force incidents have increased by 36 per cent overall – and by more than 50 per cent in male maximum security institutions – since 2018 when CSC introduced a new policy to rein them in. So this challenge is not only justified: it’s necessary.