Alternative approach addresses Aboriginal needs

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The numbers are stark: Aboriginal people make up two per cent of Canada's population, but are 17 per cent of the federal offenders in Canada's prisons.

All too often, these offenders are dealt with by a criminal justice system that doesn't understand their culture, doesn't know how to help them cope with the problems that landed them behind bars in the first place, and isn't capable of helping them once they're released into the community.

But a new program implemented by Correctional Services Canada holds some promise for dealing with Aboriginal offenders. It involves healing lodges, separate institutions for minimum-security Aboriginal offenders that focus on the healing of both the offender and the community.

And they seem to be working. In the next five years, there are plans to build five or six more facilities across Canada, said Paul Sonnichsen, the manager of Aboriginal community relations for Correctional Services Canada.

Healing lodges bring together mainstream correctional programs, such as substance abuse and anger management services, with traditional Aboriginal ceremonies, such as pipe and sweat lodge ceremonies. The lodges are staffed by Aboriginal people, and Elders from the community are involved in wise counsel, individual counselling sessions with offenders.

Offenders can "learn about history and culture and practice our traditional ceremonies," said Randy Sloan, the acting executive director of the Pe Sa Kestw Healing Lodge in Alberta.

Although Aboriginal culture is already the model for many restorative-justice programs in Canada, Aboriginal people have only recently been recognized by the federal government as having unique needs and circumstances. This includes consideration of social problems, previous problems with substance abuse, and cultural factors such as religion.

"The whole [corrections] system needs to be changed," said Mike O'Brien, the director of Justice for the Assembly of First Nations.

The problem facing corrections officials is how to put together two fundamentally different approaches to dealing with criminal behavior. The federal prison system often focuses on both punishment and psychological-based treatment programs. The Aboriginal approach, however, emphasizes traditional cultural and spiritual practices.

"There's no respect for Aboriginal programming in a lot of facilities," said O'Brien. "It's not considered 'real' programming."

Part of that problem is due to the fact that many Elders aren't involved in the actual process of assessing the progress that offenders have made and what risks still exist, something that is done frequently to monitor where an offender still needs work.

Working one-on-one with offenders on healing and spiritual practices, the Elders either don't have time to write reports or they write reports that are discredited because of their poor English comprehension and less-formal means of evaluating the offenders' situations.

"Their writing skills are not high in bureaucratic jargon," said O'Brien, noting that the inmates-to-Elder ratio is also very high, increasing the workload for each Elder.

"The system wants some sort of verification and the Elder isn't writing a standardized report," said Mike Schroeder, a former institutional caseworker at an Aboriginal correctional facility in Edmonton. "They want Elders to say if he is still at risk, but the Elders are not coming out and saying 'his risks are less' and why."

There have also been conflicts between traditional ceremonies, such as the sweatlodge ceremony, and more formal approaches to treatment such as substance abuse and anger management programs.

"Sometimes, these are two separate things," said Sloan of the traditional Aboriginal and correctional programs. "The Elders' role is as healer. They will say, 'We have some practices and ceremony and healings that will help this man,' but they will also say, 'You go to the white man and see what he says about this.'"

With all four healinglodges in Western Canada and the population of Aboriginal offenders as high as 60 per cent on the Prairies, it would be natural to assume that these facilities are either at or over capacity.

Neither is the case, however.

"We're not running at capacity," said Sloan, whose lodge can accommodate 60 people. "You need extra effort to recruit and raise the awareness of Aboriginal healing lodges."

Candidates for the lodges come from other federal institutions. They must meet certain criteria and then apply to be moved. Most have run into difficulties with the classification programs within correctional facilities.

"Programs that are offered are non-Aboriginal and not of interest to the offender, but that's how corrections people get to know the offender," said Sonnichsen. "These men are quiet and don't participate, so it's hard to get to know them" to address their risks and needs, he said. As a result, many of these offenders are classified as medium security. But only those declared minimum-security can go to the healing lodges.

Correctional Services Canada is working with each healing lodge director to overcome the paper work that is proving to be the biggest obstacle in moving offenders into these facilities. These efforts include meeting at institutions and "flagging" offenders who may be eligible for transfer, doing presentations at institutions about what healing lodges are and what services they offer Aboriginal offenders, and doing information sessions with Aboriginal offenders when they arrive at an institution.

Another problem facing healing lodges is the tension between Christian practices and the traditional Aboriginal religious practices, commonly referred to as "the red road." For many Aboriginal offenders, healing lodges are the first opportunity they get to spend time with an Elder. The red road, however, doesn't sit well with families of offenders who are devoutly Christian.

"With young offenders especially," said Schroeder, "parents have to givepermission before youth can be sentenced to 'cultural time.' But some of them call spiritual Aboriginal worship devil worship."

This split in cultural support can also have an effect on the community support of offenders being released, said Schroeder, something that is already a substantial problem.

"Sometimes when [the offender] gets back to the community, there's nothing there for him."

"To go back to the community, you have to be really strong," said Sloan. "Sometimes, life overwhelms them and they return to a place of safety. It's a question of readiness, not comfortable living."

O'Brien agrees that successfully reintegrating Aboriginal offenders into the community is "a major problem due to a lack of services."

"People are searching for the same environment they're leaving; having an Elder to talk to and trust," he said. Often, these services are either not offered, or the facilities that do offer them are so overwhelmed that they can't take on any more people. That's when relapses occur, because offenders are "looking for spirituality, but there's nowhere to go."

Regardless, the fact is that Aboriginal justice alternatives do work at reducing re-offending. The rate of re-offending for inmates released from federal institutions is 11 per cent, but at healing lodges it's only six per cent.

Sloan said that this reduced rate is because of the Aboriginal-specific programming, which helps offenders deal with the anger, resentment and racism they have encountered in their lives.

"They are in conflict with the law because of social, economic and historical issues," he said. Ultimately, he says the success of healing lodges comes down to respect for the offenders and for their situations.

And with plans to build five more lodges, Aboriginal programming in healing lodges, now confined to Western Canada, will be available across the country for Aboriginal men and women.

That is welcome news for Schroeder.

"There is a need by Aboriginal offenders and there's ot a lot of programming available."

For Sloan, that means Pe Sa Kestw may soon be operating at full capacity and making a difference in more offenders' lives.

"For some guys, they practice a very focused spiritual life. For others, they may not attend ceremonies, but they still learned things at an important time in their lives." Either way, he said, "they come into these facilities and it's like a breath of life for them."