'Security Here is Not Safe': Violence, Punishment, & Space in the Contemporary U.S. Penitentiary

The US penitentiary at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, was retrofitted in 2008 to offer the country’s first federal Special Management Unit (SMU) program of its kind. This model SMU is designed for federal inmates from around the country identified as the most intractably troublesome, and features double-celling of inmates in tiny spaces, in 23-hour or 24-hour a day lockdown, requiring them to pass through a two-year program of readjustment. These spatial tactics, and the philosophy of punishment underlying them, contrast with the modern reform ideals upon which the prison was designed and built in 1932. The SMU represents the latest punitive phase in American penology, one that neither simply eliminates men as in the premodern spectacle, nor creates the docile, rehabilitated bodies of the modern panopticon; rather, it is a late-modern structure that produces only fear, terror, violence, and death. This SMU represents the latest of the late-modern prisons, similar to other supermax facilities in the US but offering its own unique system of punishment as well. While the prison exists within the system of American law and jurisprudence, it also manifests features of Agamben’s lawless, camp-like space that emerges during a state of exception, exempt from outside scrutiny with inmate treatment typically beyond the scope of the law.

"Security Here is Not Safe": Violence, Punishment, and Space in the Contemporary US Penitentiary

The US penitentiary at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, was retrofitted in 2008 to offer the country's first federal Special Management Unit (SMU) program of its kind. This model SMU is designed for federal inmates from around the country identified as the most intractably troublesome, and features double-celling of inmates in tiny spaces, in 23-hour or 24-hour a day lockdown, requiring them to pass through a two-year program of readjustment. These spatial tactics, and the philosophy of punishment underlying them, contrast with the modern reform ideals upon which the prison was designed and built in 1932. The SMU represents the latest punitive phase in American penology, one that neither simply eliminates men as in the premodern spectacle, nor creates the docile, rehabilitated bodies of the modern panopticon; rather, it is a late-modern structure that produces only fear, terror, violence, and death. This SMU represents the latest of the late-modern prisons, similar to other supermax facilities in the US but offering its own unique system of punishment as well. While the prison exists within the system of American law and jurisprudence, it also manifests features of Agamben's lawless, camp-like space that emerges during a state of exception, exempt from outside scrutiny with inmate treatment typically beyond the scope of the law

Aporias of Trauma in Joyce's Ulysses and Faulkner's Light in August

In this thesis, I explore the relationships between trauma, memory, and narrative, particularly the ways in which trauma simultaneously disrupts and engenders narrative structures. I consider various trauma theories by authors such as Cathy Caruth, Judith Herman, Ruth Leys, and Dominick LaCapra. I also consider how psychoanalytic theory and criticism, specifically the writings of Sigmund Freud, inform the study of traumatic experience from both literary and personal perspectives. Furthermore, I consider theories regarding the relationship between trauma and narrative by authors such as Peter Brooks and John Pilkington. James Joyce¿s Ulysses and William Faulkner¿s Light in August serve, for my purposes, as trauma-texts and reflect the ways in which trauma might complicate the simultaneous destruction and creation of narrative strategies. Reading Ulysses and Light in August as trauma-texts that are both in mourning and melancholic gives us complementary, and contradictory, reasons for why we enjoy them. Mourning constructs a relationship between victim and witness, in which we can hear the voice of trauma and engage it in discourse. Conversely, melancholia creates a relationship between performer and spectator, in which we experience, and are fascinated by, the spectacle of another¿s trauma. Laughter, perversity, sorrow, and respite engage the reader in both texts, and raise questions about how one `remembers-to-forget¿ traumatic experiences. The narratives of each text¿s characters offer unique performances of mourning and melancholia. Thus, while this thesis engenders more questions than answers, I hope to argue that Ulysses and Light in August are significant literary works because each engages the reader in traumatic discourse, entertains the reader with the traumatic spectacle, and enlightens the reader on the complex relationship between trauma and narrative.