If you are reading the blog, you almost certainly know about the “Ban the Box” movement, the idea that employers should be barred from asking job applicants about their criminal history as a preliminary step toward employment. The Ban the Box thinking says: you get out of prison; you fill out an application; they ask if you have ever been convicted of anything; you tell the truth and say “yes”; the employer puts your application immediately into the trash. If you a reader who has ever been incarcerated, this thinking seems to pervade your working world. Let’s see the logic from the felon’s point of view: Why would an employer ask such a question unless it was disqualify an applicant? How many companies are asking that question because they have a burning desire to help people who have been in trouble with the law? After all, those con-positive organizations almost always get a feel good human interest story on a local or cable news show, and given that we don’t see too many of those segments, we can safely surmise that those employers aren’t flooding the market with job offers. Don’t believe me? Commit a felony and try to get a job.
OK, so maybe you don’t want to go that far. Furthermore, you do some internet research and see that a couple studies by some respectable institutions even indicate that, for at least certain demographics, banning the box might lead to few job applicants. Because I’m trying to stay on a twelve-step path AWAY from academic analysis, I won’t really dig into their research methodology or interpretation of data. I’ll just stipulate that they are respected research institutions, and that there is room to differ even with respected researchers. Take it from me: nobody ever seemed to have difficulty differing with my research, respected though it may have been. My point is really that, even granting the accuracy of well-respected research, is the small gain in employment gained by maintaining the box worth the cost to all those who are banned from employment by that same box? When is a small gain in one demographic area reasonable justification for a loss in another? Moreover, what exactly are such questions driving at and how helpful could they be to the safety of the employer?
One of the respectable research institutions I have mentioned asks a criminal history question right out of the gate. If you apply for a job there, they want to know about your criminal history even before you tout your qualifications. They want to know about misdemeanors and felonies. So, do you have a lead foot? Abuse your spouse? Write a bad check? Drive drunk? Deal some dope, in quantities either small or large? Get caught urinating in public? Steal a car? Whatever it is, they want to know about it. Now such an institution, being a bastion of caring compassion, claims that they will only use this information in a case-by-case manner. They swear that saying yes doesn’t necessarily disqualify your application. They ooze care when they justify the practice by saying that, well, you can’t have someone convicted of assaulting a minor working with children. And again, this all seems pretty reasonable. Unless you have been to prison and have become very sensitive to the scent of institutional bullshit. Of course you don’t want bad driving drunks driving your busses. But what we are talking about here is not banning alcoholics from driving; we’re talking about not having any more substance dependents driving buses.
The presumption at work in the box is: you did it once, you will do it again. It’s the scarlet letter of recidivism. It’s the logic that says: if you got caught, you are done; if you haven’t been caught, well that’s not really our affair. Consequently, the argument isn’t about about safety, but about using stereotype to preserve the illusion of safety. It’s kind of like the “random” TSA shakedowns I became so familiar with after 9/11. I wasn’t a terrorist but because I, to some people, might resemble one, it’s reassuring government theater to put me through the very public but “random” enhanced search. . .6 out of the first 10 times I flew after 9/11. No contraband on me, but there sure could have been on pretty much everybody else on the plane. Still, I can understand some hesitance in hiring someone convicted of serial DUI, except that I can also point out your employees who are already doing that. Frankly, I’m more concerned about both their alcoholisms than I am about the public relations damage the institution feels it might face in being “associated” with them … you know, as if corporations are people, too, my friends. This is to say, as I know from experience, that fine institutions that do good research are already filled with precisely the “kinds” of people they want to ban with the box. You want speeder and speed dealers, domestic abusers, thieves, and fraudsters? Just look around your workplace. You likely won’t recognize them. Because they don’t necessarily fit a “type,” and because, as convicts are fond of saying, “they haven’t been caught …yet,” you will get to work in ignorant bliss. Hooray for your safety.
I’m a convicted felon. It doesn’t mean I will commit more crimes. I frequently work with those who can tout a spotless background check, and that certainly doesn’t mean that you would them to handle any matter that was of personal importance to you. I might have something valuable to contribute to fine institutions, either of great renown or obscure stature. When convictions are seen as a kind of genetic predisposition, the social construction of the felon becomes a virtually unassailable stigma on par with racism and sexism. In the case of the former convict, however, it’s all for the greater good. But just ask women and black folks how the same line of reasoning has worked out for them.