How Vipassana Helps Prisoners

By Anastacia Mott Austin

Bringing meditation to prisoners is not a new concept. The Prison-Ashram Project was started in 1973, and the Prison Dharma Network founded in 1989 helped bring meditation to many in prisons. In the mid-1990s, two books were published reporting the pioneer program at a prison in Tihar, India, in which prisoners were taught Vipassana meditation in order to better endure conditions at the prison.

The ensuing transformation was amazing, and in 1997 the documentary, "Doing Time, Doing Vipassana" told the story of the prison and the efforts of jail Inspector General Kiran Bedi to bring meditation to some of India’s most hardened criminals.

The movie attracted world attention, and countless prisons began incorporating Vipassana trainings and sessions for both their inmates and jail staff. The results have continued to transform and amaze.

But why have prison inmates meditate? The question arises particularly with inmates who have no hope of returning to mainstream society, some of whom are even on death row.

For those at minimum security facilities, or for prisoners who will be released someday, the practice makes sense. By learning to "see clearly" (the meaning of the word Vipassana), and quiet their minds, finding inner healing, the hope is that these inmates will find a path by which to reform themselves, and break the cycle of arrests and imprisonment.

But what about those who are at the end of the road, who will never see the outside of the jail walls, the career criminals, or worse, those who face death themselves for heinous crimes?

These men are the subject of a recently released movie titled "The Dhamma Brothers." A documentary which was the result of a project started by cultural anthropologist Jenny Phillips. Phillips wanted to see what Vipassana could do for hardened criminals at one of the nation’s toughest prisons.

The movie is so named because of the Dhamma, or the teachings of Buddha.

She faced an uphill battle even getting approval for the program. Buried in the Deep South of Alabama, Donaldson’s maximum security prison was not the place one would initially expect a pilot meditation program would fly.

It actually took several years before the project came together, but in 2002, Phillips, her Vipassana leaders, and the film crew were all allowed inside.

While skepticism faced the idea at first, Phillips felt that these men, more than any others, needed to be able to find peace within themselves to find purpose in a basic-survival environment where stabbings and prison murders were not uncommon.

The training began, and the men experienced an intensive, 10-day Vipassana retreat, in which silence is expected and stamina is required for long hours of sitting still and looking within.

The program was a great success, and the men responded to their training in very positive ways. Dr. Ron Cavanaugh, who worked with Phillips to develop the Vipassana Program at Donaldson, told reporters, "We were finding that after this 10-day course, inmates were better able to control their anger and better able to conduct themselves. The initial group had about a 20 percent reduction in their disciplinary histories."

However, the prison chaplain complained the administration that he was losing his Christians to another faith, something not looked upon lightly in the Deep South. The men were forbidden to meditate, and Phillips and her crew asked not to return.

While still committed to making her movie, Phillips felt that there was no way to turn the movie away from being "a downer," since the men were now prevented from their practice.

But they had deeper faith than she thought. For four years, the men who had participated in the Vipassana session wrote letters to Phillips, and finally the prison administration changed, and she was allowed to return to Donaldson to complete her film.

It made, she said, for a perfect ending. In a place with virtually no hope, the men involved in the project had found inner salvation, and a way to live with themselves, the crimes they had committed, and to hope for a life beyond mere survival in unimaginable circumstances.

The movie is released in broad distribution this month, and a book called "Letters from the Dhamma Brothers" has also been released.

The movie has reopened dialogue about what, exactly, meditation, and Vipassana in particular, has to offer prison inmates.

For one thing, it can offer moments of internal silence in world which reverberates with continual noise. The only peace and quiet these men may ever have is that which comes from within.

Prison officials are noticing that their meditation practitioners are not returning to jail on new charges nearly as often as others.

What they are also noticing is that Vipassana meditation is proving to be an excellent tool for combating drug and alcohol abuse, which are often linked to crimes, especially those involving impulsive actions.

The alcoholic or drug abuser tends to be an impulsive thinker, and Vipassana teaches its practitioners to be aware of any feelings, desires, thoughts, or cravings that arise and simply notice them before letting them go. It may help strengthen impulse control in those who struggle with addictive tendencies.

For a more long term prisoner, who may have no hope of returning to the outside world, Vipassana can still offer something: the hope of being able to know oneself, make an internal connection, heal deep wounds. It can give a prisoner the hope of inhabiting an internal world, something desperately needed in a world where there is little else.