2025/08/18

Taiwan Today

Taiwan Review

Treating prisoners like human beings

July 01, 1983
An old tongue twister notes, "A jeweler sells watches, and a jailer watches cells." But the truism is no longer the case in Taiwan, where-except in small towns—electronics outlets rather than jewelers sell most watches. And at Taitung, in eastern Taiwan, there is even a jail without jailers.

Not only that, but the Wuling jail has no encircling walls ... or armed police. The guard at the door is himself a prison­er, serving a 15-year term. The man in charge of inmate meetings with families and friends is a former schoolmaster, now serving a seven-year term. And, behind all this:

"Our aim here is to cultivate self­-discipline and self-respect among the prisoners," explains Chen Chang-ho, su­perintendent of the prison facility.

Because inmates and their managers can trust each other, prisoners may re­quest leave to spend weekends with their families, or if they like, to invite their families to spend a week in the prison every month.

The prison occupies a natural setting, scores of kilometers wide, and its occu­pants are better treated than farmhands. There is no sweatshop as evidenced in a conventional prison.

Wuling Prison Farm in Taitung was originally a farm for the Taitung Prison. It became an "open prison" on July 1, 1976.

Because the Wuling experiment has been very successful, the ROC Ministry of Justice is planning a duplicate establishment in Tainan County, having found that an open prison, properly man­aged, is (under certain conditions) more effective than a prison secured by tall walls.

"Select" prisoners were originally assigned to the open prison to engage in reclamation work along the highway be­tween Taitung and Hualien.

The prison crews tamed the land, enhancing eastern Taiwan's economy and attractiveness. Because the prisoners were contributing to the economic devel­opment of eastern Taiwan, Wuling was made independent of the Taitung Prison administration.

Workers for the farm facility are always selected from among physically able and exemplary inmates of Taiwan penal facilities, with dangerous criminals specifically excluded.

All newcomers are told in advance that they will be undergoing a six-month rookie training period, including heavy labor on such projects as building bridges and opening slope lands for development purposes.

After this strenuous training test, they are transferred to such lighter duties as office work and dairy farming. They are even asked to make project proposals. Some prefer to raise pheas­ants, others volunteer to raise geese, still others show interest in cultivating "fight­ing cocks." The prison authorities let all of them fulfill their wishes.

A college graduate convicted on a smuggling charge is now serving his time as a warehouse manager. A schoolmaster convicted of fund misuse serves as a registrar.

In 1972, a dozen customs and harbor police officials were implicated in a smuggling case; five of these- the major of­ fenders-were sentenced to prison terms of 15 years. These five are completing the final years of their sentences at the Wuling Prison Farm.

The prison has a staff of 60-twenty of them charged with controlling the 400 prisoners, one to each 20 inmates.

The dorms are along a riverbank. There is no watch tower. The 20 manag­ers can be easily distinguished (although they are not armed, even with a trun­cheon) because of the whistles hanging from their necks.

These staff members blow their whistles only when they need to assemble the prisoners. According to the super­intendent, though the prison has arms, it has never faced the necessity of using them.

Prisoners rise at 5:30 a.m. and go to their work sites after breakfast, usually traveling by a tractor-pulled personnel trailer.

"Have there been any escapes?" "Only one in all these years," replied the superintendent, and that one char­acterized by mitigating circumstances. A prisoner took "French leave" when he learned that his wife had deserted their two children.

The superintendent stressed: "Here, every prisoner can escape easily whenever he likes. A crew manager cannot physically interfere if a prisoner pats his shoulder and says, 'See you.' But the fact is they don't do this, because they know the consequences."

If a prisoner breaks his trust, he will be given a stiffer sentence and be shut behind the bars of a conventional facility.

The prisoners are divided into four classes in accordance with their behavior­ al records. As each prisoner must spend six months at heavy labor, the prison authorities can easily rate their perform­ances. Efforts to garner lighter assignments falling outside this rating system are to no avail. Superintendent Chen insists: "No privilege is allowed in this facility." Otherwise, there will be no justice and no peace, he states.

After the first three months, prison­ers are allowed to leave the prison over weekends, returning on Mondays. Their official departure time, Saturday noon, launches the prison's busiest hour. Taxis wait at the gates to take the inmates to the Taitung railway station and airport. The prisoners come from all over Taiwan and are anxious not to lose one minute of their family reunions. Tickets are booked by the prison authorities.

"Concern and patience are not just slogans here. If you treat the men kindly, they will never rebel against you," said Chen.

Class One prisoners can live in family quarters at the prison farm seven days each month with visiting parents, wives, and children.

Though there are also family quarters at certain other Taiwan prison facilities, at other facilities such quarters are guard­ed by rifle-toting officers. The family facilities at Wuling—2 housing units in a garden setting—all offer one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a utilities room.

Prisoners at the family facilities are required to go to work sites together with other inmates, but are allowed to return "home" for lunch with their families.

Family problems of the prisoners are of serious concern to Wuling officials. When Chen learned that a college-graduate inmate had been divorced from his wife in a tragedy of misunderstand­ings, he offered his good offices. He went to the woman's home and ex­plained the facts of the case to her and her parents. The family was reunited. This inmate took advantage of a weekend leave to stage another wedding ceremony; he and his "wife-again" spent a seven-day second honeymoon in the pri­son's family quarters.

Eleven o'clock is lunch time, and the inmates enjoy very good meals, partly because they have voluntarily contribut­ed some of their own wages to augment the government-provided food budget.

The menu of the day was written on a blackboard:

Breakfast: Honey beans, pickled vegetables, and steamed bread.
Lunch: Carrots with pork, fried beancurd with soy sauce, fried vegetables, onion with meat, and egg-drop soup.
Supper: Fried chicken, fried bean­curd with soy sauce, fried vegetables, and egg-and-laver soup.

The meals are managed by the inmates, who buy the provisions and cook the food themselves. Some inmates have advised Superintendent Chen that they don't believe they will be able to fare better after completing their terms.

After lunch, several inmates reached into their pockets for cigarettes, offered them to friends, and engaged in conversation.

"Smoking is not usually allowed at a prison mess, but we do not stop smoking here," said the superintendent. "If I or­dered them not to smoke, they would smoke somewhere on the farm. I do not give orders I cannot carry out," he declared.

Cigarettes are sold at a co-op store at market prices. But although smoking is not banned, drinking is taboo. "An inmate found drinking a third time will be sent back to a walled prison," Chen said.

Each inmate is required to write a weekly report, including such items as a self evaluation, lessons learned from work, and suggestions.

One inmate wrote: "Eating has been uninspiring recently, because the rice is not well cooked."

The management, investigating, found that the rice cooker was leaking. The fault was repaired immediately.

Another wrote, "After a month here, I have found that all the managers treat us like men, not prisoners. My fear of them has gone, and I can work harder."

Superintendent Chen commented, "I never regard them as prisoners. They are permitted to keep their hair styles, and to wear street clothes and leather shoes when they go out. I understand that prison rehabilitation programs cannot be effective if the inmates are treated as inferior beings."

When an inmate moves up to Class One status through exemplary performance, every 16 days he spends in custody is counted as a month, a powerful incen­tive. As a result, everyone of them strives to carry out his assignments with great care.

Many of the crops growing along Taitung-Hualien area highways were planted by these prisoners, a definite contribution to the economic develop­ment of eastern Taiwan.

The Wuling experiment in prison ad­ministration has been studied by officials from other countries and has been so successful that Japan and the Philippines have now indicated their intentions of es­tablishing similar open prison facilities.

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