In 2025, the New York State legislature passed the Prison Reform Omnibus Bill (S8415/A8871), mandating surveillance cameras in all correctional facilities—a necessary but far from sufficient step in the increase of accountability and transparency of prison operations. Cameras merely record events. Their presence may deter some instances of criminal conduct by staff against incarcerated individuals, but it cannot get to the root of malfunctioning workforce cultures and criminal choices.

For meaningful prison reform we need to get to the root of the problem. We need changes of the “heart”—staff’s values and core beliefs. From these motives, thoughts, intentions, and choices emerge —whether healthy or unhealthy. For humane environments that facilitate rehabilitation, we need staff capable of self-control, sound problem-solving, empathy, and compassion. Otherwise staff’s attitudes create environments that betray or even overturn the intent of policies. The state of staff’s hearts determines if a smile and a supportive attitude replace a smirk or snark—or not. For staff to be able to operate in healthy ways, they need to be healthy themselves.

Having spent the past 25+ years—22 of which full-time as the founder and Executive Director of the nonprofit Desert Waters Correctional Outreach—studying, treating, and training thousands of correctional staff regarding mental health and overall wellness, my experience is that the majority enter the profession eager to make a positive difference. What happens to some over time to cause them to descend to the depths of deadly criminal choices regarding incarcerated individuals?

The unraveling of a person’s mental health and/or moral code does not happen overnight or in a vacuum; it tends to be a gradual decay. I have named this deterioration Corrections Fatigue to describe cumulative negative changes in staff’s personality, health, and functioning, and the workforce culture due to undealt-with occupational stressors. Corrections Fatigue captures the combination of traumatization, burnout, and moral injury. Studies provide incontrovertible evidence that correctional staff are exposed to extreme rates of potentially traumatic stressors (such as violence, injury, or death), as well as operational stressors (such as mandatory overtime), and organizational stressors (such as conflict with other staff). They endure these stressors regularly, while tasked with maintaining safety and security, and while expected to exhibit impeccable self-control. Working mandatory overtime must be highlighted because of the sleep deficits it creates. Sufficient sleep daily is a biological necessity, not a luxury. Staff are mandated to work double or triple shifts several times weekly, with shattering consequences on health and functioning and the disruption of personal and family life. They end up operating as under the influence. How would the public react if corrections administrators ordered staff to only allow incarcerated individuals to sleep 2-4 hours daily? In detention settings, this would be considered torture.

Moreover, staff are typically provided with little preventative training regarding resilience skills, and few if any resources or organizational support. Unsurprisingly, they may get “stuck” in fear and anger, leading to hypervigilance, overreactions, and explosive outbursts. Symptoms of disorders such as PTSD and Major Depressive Disorderabound. Substance abuse becomes the preferred coping mechanism. And staff build “soul calluses”—emotional numbing and indifference—to shield themselves from the horror, grief, and suffering around them, and so they can return to work the next day—and again and again, for 30 years or more, doing “their time” right along with the incarcerated.

Given these stressors in the context of relative absence of resilience skills, healthy workforce cultures, and adequate recovery time, it is no surprise that staff eventually succumb and “break,” both individually and collectively as a culture. When that happens, preoccupation with their own survival, the desire for punishment and revenge, and a strong “us against them” mindset prevail. Suicides occur. Murders occur. Cameras cannot fix that. Prison reform cannot occur in such settings. We can’t build a house on a rotted foundation.

I am not making excuses for criminal conduct. Crimes committed by staff must be prosecuted. Instead of recognizing the staff’s unraveling, however, we stop at demonizing them when they cross red lines. No effort is made to understand and help try to prevent future deterioration and damage. We expect corrections staff to remain professional and to deliver “by the book,” no matter what their state of mind, overall wellbeing, and working conditions may be. The truth however is that corrections staff are not invulnerable robots. They too are victims of crime. They are human beings with limits, with breaking points. We may retort, “It’s their job. They get paid for this. They’re trained to deal with this.” No amount of training can effectively prepare someone for the sheer volume and intensity of what corrections staff encounter on the job—and repeatedly so, for years on end, all while being biologically undermined by chronic sleep deficits and both acute and chronic stress.

When dealing with incarcerated individuals, even in cases of heinous crimes, we try to understand what led them to make criminal choices—their history, circumstances, context. We do that so we can help people heal and be rehabilitated. Grace is extended to them. Why can’t we do the same for corrections staff? The ultimate goal would be harm prevention or reduction—to themselves and those they manage; recovery from physical and psychological injuries; and the promotion of true professionalism—so we can attain true prison reform.

The corrections environment is very sick, and whoever comes in contact with it gets infected to some degree. Neither the incarcerated individuals nor the staff designed this system. Yet they are now in it, and they and their loved ones are paying a heavy price for that. This is why we desperately need prison reform. The Norwegian Prison System was at a similar crossroad in the 1950s. For the last several decades they have been making the necessary sacrifices and investments, and today they are regarded as the role model for successful correctional practices.

To pour a new and solid foundation, the following key pieces must be put in place, at minimum:

  • Recognition, acknowledgment, and validation by administrators and legislators of staff’s toxic, inhumane work conditions. Staff need consistent evidence that they have the support and understanding of their employer.
  • Data-driven, comprehensive, “wholistic,” and corrections-specific wellness programming. Such programs cost much less than equipment such as cameras; than lawsuits brought against the agency for staff’s criminal conduct; overtime pay due to short-staffing; or onboarding new hires.
  • Advanced-level staff training on emotional intelligence interpersonal and self-regulation skills.
  • Investing in the building of healthy workforce cultures.
  • Prioritizing the improvement of work conditions.
  • Destigmatizing seeking mental health and other types of assistance.
  • Involving families both to support staff and to receive support themselves. Toxic effects of work on home life affect staff’s performance and even retention. And helping correctional families is just the right thing to do, as they essentially become “collateral damage.”

In conclusion, the needs and rights of incarcerated individuals and staff must be equally embraced, with staff wellness being a priority—without cutting corners. There can be no prison reform without staff wellness, and there can be no staff wellness without prison reform. A house can’t stand for long on a damaged foundation. We need to repair the corrections foundation—the staff—and maintain it if corrections systems are to stand.