Danely, J. (2024). Unsettled Futures: Carceral Circuits and Old Age in Japan. Vanderbilt University Press
Reviewed by Haruna Suzuki, PhD Student, University of Melbourne, Department of Criminology
In Unsettled Futures: Carceral Circuits and Old Age in Japan, Jason Danely explores the intersections of aging and criminalization in life after prison. Through an appreciation of each 出会い [de-ai; “empathetic encounter”] with formerly incarcerated elderly people, the book provides a rich empirical case study of how Japanese welfare systems produce cycles of carcerality. The book argues that formerly incarcerated elderly people experience a state of ‘unsettled-ness’ that is manufactured by the convergence of welfare and punishment. Importantly, Danely clarifies that ‘unsettled-ness’ “is not the opposite of ‘resettlement’ but rather, the political and affective thread that ties the physical violence of incarceration to the structural violence of post-release welfare bureaucracy” (p. 4). In other words, the process of ‘resettling’ itself exacerbates and breeds ‘unsettledness’ in life after prison.
Danely uses ethnographic methods to learn from formerly incarcerated elderly men receiving resettlement support from nonprofit organizations (NPOs) in the Greater Tokyo Metropolitan Area. Danely (p. 22, p. 121) acknowledges that despite best efforts, there were challenges obtaining a sizable sample and diverse genders of participants: there are very few organizations providing post-release resettlement support, let alone ones that are specialized for elderly people. The lack of such NPOs, in and of itself, is a testament to the way Japanese society has largely overlooked the experiences of formerly incarcerated elders. Hence, the book is an essential step in broadly giving credence to their experiences. Although there is an apparent absence of other subjectivities like those of older women (p. 121), the book nonetheless attempts to resist the policies and practices of the state that keep the existence of elderly people relegated to the “dead zones of the imagination” (Graeber, 2012).
At the heart of Danely’s analysis is Gill et al.’s (2016) concept of the ‘carceral circuit.’ This concept emphasizes the cyclical nature of the carceral system, whereby diverse organizations beyond prisons are involved in producing conditions that lead to further (re)criminalization and (re)incarceration of formerly incarcerated people (Gill et al. 2016; Moran, 2016; Moran, et al. 2017). Applying this framework, Danely maps out the complex ways in which welfare systems in Japan produce precarity and punishment during resettlement, making one more likely to return to prison. For instance, one participant, Jī, an elderly man with a chronic disability, was arrested and detained shortly after his release (p. 53). He was apprehended by the police for stealing a meager ¥20 (approx. $0.02) from a shrine’s donation box out of desperation for food (p. 53). As a result of the arrest, and even though he was not sentenced, he was cut off from his only source of income, the 生活保護 [Seikatsuhogo; Public Assistance for Livelihood Protection] (p. 53). Such examples from the book starkly demonstrate how welfare is used as a means of informal punishment, in which the state becomes an arbiter of ‘deservingness’ through the withdrawal of assistance. Rather than acknowledging Jī’s precarious circumstances, arguably, the state responded disproportionately to a minor incident—leaving Jī more entrenched in poverty than before his arrest. Examples like this illustrate how the criminal justice system achieves carceral circuitry—through interconnections with wider social systems, where even encounters with institutions that are perceived as ‘sites of care’ increase the likelihood of recidivism and criminalization (Gill et al. 2016; see also Moran, 2016 on the carceral ‘churn’).
What also stands out in Danely’s research is the consistency with which the absence of a ‘family’ exacerbates the likelihood of incarceration. While there have been recent policy developments that gradually shift away from the family as the main source of care (see Moore, 2020), historically in Japan, extensive state involvement in elderly-care was considered unnecessary. It was, both socially and legally, assumed to be the responsibility of the kindred (p.37). This expectation has also led to families taking accountability and responsibility for resettlement when a relative is accused of a crime (p. 97). As such, elderly people who have strong connections to their families are less likely to be imprisoned as they are returned to relatives. However, elders who are isolated from their families are more likely to be incarcerated (p. 98). When arrested, the lack of a family is perceived by the state as a ‘risk’: the accused is assumed to not have the capacity or support to resettle alone (pp. 98). This does not mean that elders who are socially isolated from their families are more likely to commit crimes or are not able to resettle on their own. Rather, Danely highlights that those who are isolated are more likely to be perceived as ‘problematic’ and ‘unsettleable’ in the eyes of the state. Despite this risk, many participants could either not rekindle old ties with family members after their release, due to complicated family histories, or had to live alone in order to qualify for certain welfare benefits (Chapter 8). Thus, formerly incarcerated elders without strong family connections are ensnared in the carceral circuit, whereby they continue to be susceptible to criminalization as a result of their isolation.
Danely is careful to clarify that this does not mean the solution to incarceration is to return to traditional family values. Instead, one of the book’s major contributions is to underline the importance of alternative and non-traditional forms of ‘kinship’ in life after prison (p. 97). For instance, Danely spent time working with Mother House, an NPO run by a dedicated founder, Igarashi-san, who has lived-experience of incarceration (Chapter 3). The support that Igarashi-san and Mother House provide transcends traditional conceptions of kinship by encouraging intergenerational and interrelational bonds that cultivate alternative forms of belonging. Through Mother House, many participants, including Ji, found people to support them in times of adversity, such as when they are re-arrested or when their health deteriorates (p. 113). Through examples like Mother House, Danely highlights the transformative difference that reliable connections and belonging can have on the reintegration and resettlement of formerly incarcerated people. It is a powerful reminder to abolitionist scholars, activists, and organizers alike of the necessity to build communities that provide mutual care outside formal state welfare systems.
As a Japanese reader, I particularly appreciated some of the Japanese words that were left untranslated—the words that I could tell were too loaded with meaning and emotion to accurately translate into English (eg. シャバ [shaba; a term with Buddhist origins that describes the ‘earthly’ reality where freedom is not absolute and the world must be endured through patience and suffering. Now colloquially adopted to signify the world outside prison that must be survived with endurance, it still holds the weight of its original meaning]). However, I remained curious about the methodological process of translation, especially when it came to ethnographic accounts. If giving a voice to formerly incarcerated older people was a key objective of the research, how might the act of translating their words into English potentially recast or dilute their voices? Challenges with the act of translation are not an issue unique to Unsettled Futures. Multilingual translations introduce complex questions of power as participants’ voices are negotiated through the researcher’s perspective and values (Martynowicz, 2024; Temple & Young, 2004). Arguably, this is also not an issue distinct to multilingual translations, but pertinent to any qualitative methodology with an interpretative component. However, in the face of these challenges, Martynowicz (2024) advises that we should bring “…the elusive translator out of the shadows of the research process into a more deliberate presence in our research design and methodological reflections” (pp. 129). This may entail being transparent about the process of translating by disclosing if they collaborated with local interpreters, discussing the positions of language hierarchies, or specifying analytical frameworks used in the interpretive process (Martynowicz, 2024). While there is no ‘correct’ way to translate between languages, the translator always leaves a mark on the research through the political, epistemological, and methodological decisions that they make (Temple & Young, 2004). Multilingual research like Unsettled Futures may strengthen its methodological credibility by reflecting on the translator’s role in producing knowledge on social life (Martynowicz, 2024; Temple & Young, 2004).
Ultimately, Unsettled Futures is a political intervention. In the popular imagination, there exists an assumption that Japanese Confucianist values of filial piety uphold a positive relationship with their elders (Moore, 2020). With a large population of centenarians and high life expectancy, Japan maintains an image of an aging society where elders are respected and well-treated (Moore, 2020). However, this assumption largely obscures the reality of rising anti-aging sentiments, as the growing elderly population is often referenced in public discourse as a financial and social ‘burden’ to society (Moore, 2020). These attitudes have politically and socially manifested into ageist ‘Successful Aging’ movements, a neoliberal narrative that assesses the value and ‘success’ of an elder based on their ability to stay physically, mentally, and aesthetically youthful to avoid long-term dependence on their children or state welfare (Danely, 2018). As a result, aging becomes framed as an encumbrance and risk to society that needs to be policed, making elders more susceptible to marginalization as they face the inevitable impacts of aging. Danley’s research thus ‘unsettles’ this popular imagination of a thriving aging society, as he brings to the fore the experiences of formerly incarcerated elders at the margins of an ageist society. In doing so Danely reminds us that “The more we pull at the unsettled threads of the carceral condition, the wider we make the openings for ways of aging otherwise” (p. 5).
References
Danely, J. (2018). ‘I don’t want to live too long!’: Successful aging and the failure of longevity in Japan. In Clack, B. & Paul, M. (Eds.), Interrogating the neoliberal lifecycle: The limits of success (pp. 189-212). Springer International Publishing.
Gill, N., Conlon, D., Moran, D., & Burridge, A. (2016). Carceral circuitry: New directions in carceral geography. Progress in Human Geography, 42(2), 183-204.
Graeber, D. (2012). Dead zones of the imagination: On violence, bureaucracy, and interpretive labor: The Malinowski Memorial Lecture, 2006. HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory, 2(2), 105-128.
Martynowicz, A. (2024). The elusive translator-reflections on the methodological and ethical challenges of bilingual research in prison. In Radziwinowiczówna, A. (Ed.), Research Methods in Deportation (pp. 118-132). Edward Elgar Publishing.
Moore, K. (2020). Who cares for the elders? Aging, independence, and interdependence in contemporary Japan. In Shea, J., Moore, K., & Zhong, H. (Eds.), Beyond filial piety: Rethinking aging and caregiving in contemporary East Asian societies (pp. 191-217). Berghahn Books.
Moran, D. (2016). Carceral geography: Spaces and practices of incarceration. Routledge.
Moran, D., Turner, J., & Schliehe, A. K. (2018). Conceptualizing the carceral in carceral geography. Progress in human geography, 42(5), 666-686.
Temple, B., & Young, A. (2004). Qualitative research and translation dilemmas. Qualitative research, 4(2), 161-178.