Law360 Canada (October 15, 2026, 9:30 AM EDT) --
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| Harpreet Ahuja |
Segregation is seen as a necessary and justifiable punishment for maintaining safety and order in a prison. But as I presided over more than 900 disciplinary hearings in B.C. provincial prisons, it became clear that the
practice failed to achieve its purpose. Rather than rehabilitating, it made prisoners worse, creating a revolving door.
Many of the individuals who stood before me carried institutional records as long as their lists of
mental health diagnoses. Testimonies of sexual abuse and childhood trauma were all too common. The majority of them, due to historical and ongoing
systemic racism, were intergenerational survivors of the Indian residential school system who had been funnelled into foster care, enduring lifetimes of abuse.
Every time I sent a prisoner to segregation — “the hole” — confining them for 22 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact, I knew I wasn’t making the prison safer or “teaching a valuable lesson.” I was perpetuating their trauma and worsening their condition. After spending time in isolation, prisoners would return to their range
disoriented, depleted and depressed. They were met with the same problems: heightened animosity and the need to look over their shoulder. It was only a matter of time before a violent incident or a near-fatal overdose led to the same penalty — a vicious cycle that plagued all 10 prisons.
Us versus them
It was difficult to convince prisons that people in custody were deserving of dignity and respect — that hurt people hurt people, and that what they did (if they actually did it) wasn’t necessarily who they were. It was equally difficult to convince prisoners that the officers weren’t “out to get them.” At the same time, the officers suffered from high stress, burnout and PTSD. Facing high turnover and staff shortages, prisons prioritized staff morale by protecting their own, even when they were in the wrong. This further increased division and distrust, creating a mutual “othering” that allowed the system to sustain itself, divided between the keeper and the kept.
Human-centred discipline
Take the case of Mr. Henry (not his real name). An intergenerational survivor of the Indian residential school system, he grew up in foster care and had been in and out of custody since he was 12 years old. Years of institutionalization made him what staff called a “
frequent flyer.” As far back as he could remember, nobody cared about him. All he had known was a life of abuse and homelessness. He was not seen as a victim; he carried a history of criminal activity, and in this instance, he owed a street debt and was before me for doing someone’s dirty work (though he would never admit it for fear of being labeled a “
snitch”).
The drawing offered by Mr. Henry (not his real name) represents a creative, human-centred approach to discipline, one that aligns with the spirit of Gladue principles.
Mr. Henry was reluctant to speak to me at first, but as we talked, he began to open up, visibly taken aback that I was asking questions about him, listening and empathizing. The charging officer mentioned knowing Mr. Henry for years and praised his reputation as a talented artist, a claim supported by the impressive drawings the officer had seen. Toward the end of the hearing, it was clear that Mr. Henry found a sense of calm and satisfaction from drawing. Seeing an opportunity, together with the charging officer, I interpreted the
extra duties penalty broadly and assigned him to complete a drawing as a form of accountability.
He walked into that room expecting to be sent back to the hole. Instead, by recognizing his humanity and encouraging an interest he was passionate about, he left with something to feel proud of — a shift that completely changed his attitude. He walked in cold and angry, and walked out a little lighter.
I never saw him again in my hearing room.
It was a human-centred approach that brought the spirit of
Gladue principles directly into the hearing room — considering context, trauma and meaningful alternatives to punishment for Indigenous people (
R. v. Gladue, [1999] 1 S.C.R. 688). Yet in the disciplinary system across B.C. provincial prisons,
Gladue is almost entirely absent.
Nobody heals alone in a dark box
Under B.C.’s
Correction Act Regulation, the extra duties provision was the only sanction I could interpret expansively, one that allowed me to impose positive, productive penalties aligned with rehabilitation and restorative justice. But I was limited in how frequently I could apply it. The prisons viewed the provision as “a slap on the wrist” and labelled me biased in favour of prisoners, revealing a system where attempts at rehabilitation were disregarded as weakness.
Nobody can heal alone in a dark box. I found that when people in custody were treated as lesser beings and deprived of basic needs, they pushed back against those oppressive forces. But when they were acknowledged for their positive actions and contributions, they felt valued and, in turn, treated others with that same respect.
To make shifts like Mr. Henry’s the norm rather than the exception, we desperately need to reform the legal framework governing prison discipline. We need regulations that embed
Gladue principles into decisions, restrict isolation, mandate penalties that build skills and restore trust, and guarantee adequate, culturally relevant mental health support.
Author’s note: The cases are drawn from my experience as an external independent decision-maker presiding over disciplinary hearings for B.C. Corrections (2021-2023). Identifying details have been changed to respect confidentiality and protect privacy.
Harpreet Ahuja is a lawyer, human rights consultant and social justice advocate. Her work explores the intersection of law, policy and lived experience — and tells the human stories behind injustice. Ahuja is based in Vancouver and publishes on her website. Read part one of my solitary confinement series.
The opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author’s firm, its clients, Law360 Canada, LexisNexis Canada or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is not intended to be and should not be taken as legal advice.
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