Rehabilitation

A Question for the Morally Conscious

The Michigan Department of Corrections states that its mission is "to protect the public by holding offenders accountable while promoting their rehabilitation."

But what does rehabilitation mean when the people being held are released without healing, recovery, or tools to live differently? More importantly—what does it mean when that promise becomes little more than a placeholder for real accountability?

Let’s consider the private sector for a moment. In 2009 and 2010, Toyota recalled more than 9 million vehicles worldwide due to issues with unintended acceleration linked to faulty floor mats and sticky gas pedals. The recall cost the company over $2 billion in repairs, legal settlements, and reputation management.

Why did they do it? Because their guarantee—to provide safe and reliable vehicles—was tied directly to their accountability. Customers, regulators, and the global public demanded it. Toyota didn’t have the option to ignore it.

Now consider the Michigan Department of Corrections. Their mission statement acts as a public guarantee. When a person is sentenced to serve time under the care of MDOC, the state is taking full custody—not just of that person's body, but of their future.

That guarantee carries a burden. It assures the public, the families, and the communities that the person who returns home will be safer, more stable, and better prepared than when they entered. But what happens when MDOC sends people home more traumatized, more volatile, and less prepared than they were going in?

The Cost of a Broken Promise

Each year, over 8,000 people are released from Michigan’s prisons. Yet the vast majority of these individuals leave with:

• No trauma recovery

• Minimal or no mental health counseling

• Little to no job readiness or life skills

  
  

They return to communities that are hoping—not expecting—that something has changed. But often, nothing has. Or worse, the trauma endured while incarcerated has deepened.

Over 67% of released individuals in the U.S. are rearrested within three years. In Michigan, that rate hovers just below the national average. And this is not just about poor choices post-release—it’s about a system that has failed to deliver what it promised.

Incarceration doesn’t erase pain—it often intensifies it. According to the National Center for PTSD:

• 21% of incarcerated men meet clinical criteria for PTSD

• 43% of incarcerated women do

  
  

But fewer than 10% of people behind bars receive any form of trauma-specific treatment.

And the data doesn’t stop there. The Prison Policy Initiative reports:

• Formerly incarcerated people are 10 times more likely to be homeless

• 5 times more likely to experience mental illness

• Face unemployment at nearly 5 times the rate of the general population

  
  

These numbers reflect a system that isn’t rehabilitating—it’s recycling pain.

Correctional Staff: The Other Side of the Trauma Coin

The damage isn’t limited to those incarcerated. Michigan’s correctional officers are being broken by this system too.

A comprehensive 2018 survey of Michigan Department of Corrections employees revealed:

• 1 in 3 correctional officers reported symptoms of PTSD

• Nearly 1 in 4 had considered suicide

• Rates of depression and anxiety were significantly higher than the national average

  
  

Correctional officers witness violence regularly. They absorb the same cold, tense environment. They are often given no outlets, no tools, no support. And they carry that stress home to their families, their communities.

This is not sustainable. For anyone.

Research continues to affirm that trauma is not only prevalent within correctional facilities—it is a defining feature. Ignoring it compromises rehabilitation entirely. According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), trauma-informed care is associated with lower disciplinary rates, improved emotional regulation, and increased engagement in educational and vocational programs.

Trauma recovery programming in prisons has been linked to measurable outcomes:

• A 2012 study published in the Journal of Offender Rehabilitation found trauma-specific interventions reduced recidivism by up to 50%.

• Facilities that adopted trauma-informed approaches reported fewer violent incidents, better inmate-staff relationships, and higher staff retention.

  
  

Rehabilitation that ignores trauma is not rehabilitation at all—it’s neglect. If trauma continues to be unaddressed, the result is predictable: broken people returning to broken communities.

Rehabilitation as a Standard, Not a Slogan

Just as Toyota recalled vehicles to uphold its standards, MDOC must evaluate whether it is upholding its promise to the public. If a corporation failed this consistently, it would be forced to restructure—or shut down.

And yet, when correctional systems fail to rehabilitate, we shrug. We default to the myth that these individuals simply “don’t want to change.”

But what if change isn’t the issue? What if it’s access?

What if we invested even 10% of Michigan’s $2 billion corrections budget into trauma recovery, workforce preparation, and mental health services?

The ripple effects would be undeniable:

• Lower recidivism

• Healthier family reunifications

• Safer prison environments

• Reduced staff turnover and mental health crises among COs

We need to pay attention to the language we use—and demand systems live up to the weight of their words. Because at the end of the day guarantees without accountability are just well-dressed lies.

Stay focused and be the change,

-Troy Rienstra