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Mass incarceration exists in America on a scale unmatched in global history. America is also the only Western democracy that has not abolished the death penalty; and one of the nations that execute the most prisoners alongside abusive dictatorships like China, North Korea, and Iran. American justice is further characterized by pervasive racial discrimination, the peculiar “War on Drugs,” the dehumanizing treatment of juveniles, and routine use of harmful solitary confinement. Modern America has thus become a systematic human rights violator in criminal law and punishment. It was not always so, as foreigners once saw American justice as enlightened. Harsh justice has not made America particularly safe. It has the highest murder rate and the most gun violence in the West due to extraordinarily lax gun control shaped by die-hard partisans of the Second Amendment and lobbying by the NRA. Criminal justice reform gained more attention after shootings of unarmed black men in Ferguson and beyond led to the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement. However, historical root causes behind this dimension of American exceptionalism have been widely overlooked, including systemic racism, populism, anti-intellectualism, market fundamentalism, and religious fundamentalism.

The United States has a dual justice system; the FTE sector pays fines, and the low-wage sector goes to jail. One out of three black males spends time in prison in a new Jim Crow system. Poor white men are far less likely to be imprisoned, but they still are a majority of prisoners. This dual system is administered by all levels of government, from the Supreme Court to local police and prosecutors. Mass imprisonment destroys social capital in black, brown and white communities alike. Mass imprisonment costs the government large amounts of money that could be used elsewhere. Current policies are complicated by the growth of private prisons and restricted to helping prisoners re-join society.

In the United States, life without parole (LWOP) has become the leading alternative to the death penalty. However, we have compelling reason to be suspicious what passes for the abolition of the death penalty. If, with the death penalty, we have the calculation of the precise moment a life will end, with LWOP we have a different sort of calculation: however long the life of the accused, that will be length of punishment appropriate to this crime. The only possible life after a sentence of LWOP would be the afterlife of civil and social death. This chapter moves between Derrida’s seminar on the death penalty, his interview “Death Penalties,” and the written reflections of people serving LWOP sentences, particularly Spoon Jackson, and people condemned to die to interrogate the leading “alternative” to the death penalty and to continue the work of thinking deconstructive abolitionism.

This chapter introduces the problem of immigration detention and reviews its history, noting that the policy of detention was discontinued in 1954 but then began to re-emerge in the 1970s and was formally reinstituted in 1981. What led to the return of immigration detention in the United States and how did the detention system become the behemoth that it is today, the introduction asks. It then lays out the main arguments and framework of the book, emphasizing the central role that Haitians have played in the history of immigration detention and making connections to the broader history and scholarly literature of immigrant and refugee resistance, race and citizenship, and mass incarceration. The introduction concludes with a chapter-by-chapter overview of the book.

In Derrida’s lectures on the death penalty, the United States figures as “both exemplary and exceptional." Derrida acknowledges the racist structure of state violence in the United States, but he does not develop a critical analysis of race or racism. Drawing on the work of incarcerated intellectual Mumia Abu-Jamal, critical race theorists Cheryl Harris and Angela Davis, and contemporary prison abolitionists, this chapter argues that racism is an issue, not only in the particular context of the United States, but also for the logic of the death penalty that Derrida proposes to deconstruct. Derrida’s own account of indemnity, interest, and condemnation is incomplete without a supplementary analysis of black civil death and the construction of whiteness as property. In conclusion, this chapter argues that an abolitionism worthy of the name would have to move beyond the death penalty, towards the (im)possible project of prison abolition and the abolition of white supremacy.

The opening chapter introduces the broader story that the next seven chapters will tell, and makes clear that this is a study of policing which culminates in the mass black incarceration of late 1860s Baltimore. The book has two primary arguments: first, that Baltimore’s police institutions were from the onset shaped by a liberal order that assumed criminality as the essence of black freedom; and second, that the criminalization of black freedom in turn encouraged white police power. The introduction also defines three concepts central to these arguments – police, property, and manhood – while situating the book in existing historiography, especially that of 19th century criminal justice and American liberalism. Finally, it suggests that this history of the nineteenth-century is an antecedent to today’s stories of racialized police brutality and mass black incarceration.

Haitian detention at Guantanamo Bay continued to focus attention on U.S. detention practice in 1995 as the government’s detention of hundreds of unaccompanied Haitian youth generated enormous controversy and loud calls for their freedom. Chapter 6 documents this struggle over child detention before it moves to an examination of two key pieces of legislation in 1996 that had a decisive impact on the history of immigration detention in the U.S. The Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act (AEDPA) and the Illegal Immigration and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) were measures that consummated the marriage of immigration restriction and mass incarceration, devastated immigrant communities, and led to an enormous expansion of the immigration detention system. Finally, chapter 6 illustrates what the immigration detention system had become by the late 1990s and how, despite the extraordinary power and cruelty of the system, detainees continued to exercise resistance.

Chapter Six explores letter correspondence across prison walls as under-recognized mode of communal preservation in the face of publicly administered torture and genocide. This chapter shifts our perspectives on social movements by paying critical attention to ruptures in racial epistemology realized by twentieth-century liberation struggles and to interventions of the epistolary form in this context. Ultimately, this chapter argues that the life of paper constitutes a contradictory kind of creative shelter—a sacred place to foster social being, provide for its study, and generate a mode of its inhabitation. Reading archival materials for traces of the intellectual and affective labor they both congeal and augment, this chapter views letter correspondence as reproductive activity that instantiates life-sustaining claims of belonging to one another and enunciates the experience and significance of being human: nurturing forms of connection and conditions of existence that generatively stress the limits of what is currently knowable.

The conclusion engages questions of historical memory and assesses the implications of late nineteenth and early twentieth century punishment for subsequent regimes of prison expansion and mass incarceration. This section argues for the necessity of gendered frameworks of analysis for understanding the development of carceral institutions and the character of carceral violence.