The announcement by Alok Kumar, Karnataka’s new Director General of Prisons, about introducing AI-based intrusion detection systems has opened a conversation that goes far beyond prison walls. While security improvements sound appealing, we must pause and ask a fundamental question: Are we ready to let algorithms decide what constitutes suspicious behavior among people who have already been judged by society?
Let me acknowledge the legitimate security benefits first. AI systems can genuinely help detect cell phones being smuggled through ingenious methods, identify ganja and other contraband hidden in food packets or thrown over walls, recognise when one inmate is intimidating or physically dominating others, and spot patterns of gang formation before they solidify into dangerous groups. These are real problems that plague prison administrators daily. A guard cannot watch every corner simultaneously, but AI can flag the moment someone receives a package in an unusual location or when the same group of inmates repeatedly corners someone alone. For preventing violence, stopping illegal communication with outside criminals, and maintaining order, this technology offers undeniable advantages that we should not dismiss.
However, picture this scenario. An inmate paces back and forth in the courtyard because he received devastating news from home. The AI system, trained to detect abnormal movement patterns, flags this as potential escape planning. Guards rush in, the inmate gets questioned, perhaps even isolated. His grief gets treated as a security threat. This is not a hypothetical worry but a real consequence of replacing human judgment with machine interpretation. AI sees patterns, not pain. It recognises deviation, not desperation.
Countries that have rushed to embrace this technology are now discovering its limitations the hard way. In several American prisons using AI surveillance, the systems repeatedly flagged African American inmates at higher rates than others for identical behaviours. The bias was not intentional but baked into the training data that reflected existing prejudices. In one British facility, the suicide prevention AI failed to alert staff before three deaths because the inmates did not display the standard behavioral markers the system was programmed to recognise. They suffered silently in ways the algorithm could not comprehend. Yes, these same systems did successfully detect contraband and prevent violence in numerous instances, but the failures reveal fundamental flaws in assuming technology can understand human complexity without mistakes that carry heavy consequences.
What troubles me most about this development is the timing and balance. India’s prison system is gasping under the weight of overcrowding, with occupancy rates exceeding two hundred percent in many states. Undertrials, who are legally presumed innocent, languish for years awaiting hearings. Basic amenities like clean water, adequate food, and medical care remain distant dreams in most facilities. Mental health support is virtually nonexistent. Against this backdrop of humanitarian crisis, we are discussing sophisticated surveillance technology that costs crores to install and maintain.
The money required for implementing AI systems across even a fraction of our prisons could instead hire hundreds of additional counselors, teachers, and healthcare workers. It could upgrade sanitation facilities, create vocational training workshops, establish libraries, or build proper rehabilitation centers. These investments actually prepare inmates to rejoin society as productive citizens. Yes, AI can detect a smuggled phone, but does that phone exist because an undertrial desperate to contact his lawyer has been denied legal aid for months? Surveillance watches problems more efficiently but rarely addresses why they exist.
There is also something deeply disturbing about normalising total surveillance as the primary solution to institutional problems. Today we implement it in prisons because inmates have limited rights to object. Tomorrow, this technology becomes standard in schools to monitor potential troublemakers. Then in public housing to track suspicious residents. Eventually in all public spaces because if it works for criminals, why not for everyone? This slippery slope is not paranoia but documented reality in several countries where surveillance creep has steadily expanded from controlled environments into everyday life.
The rehabilitation aspect deserves special attention. Prisons should theoretically transform lawbreakers into law-abiding citizens. This requires treating inmates as humans capable of change, not permanent threats requiring constant monitoring. When someone knows that every gesture, every conversation, every moment is being analyzed by an AI looking for deviance, how does that foster the self-reflection and personal growth necessary for genuine rehabilitation? Even if the system successfully stops contraband and bullying, it creates an environment of perpetual suspicion where inmates can never escape being defined by their worst moment.
I understand the security concerns that drive DG Alok Kumar’s initiative. Prison staff face real dangers, and contraband phones enable continued criminal activity from inside jail. Ganja and other substances create additional control problems. Dominant inmates who terrorize others make rehabilitation impossible for victims. These issues demand solutions. However, the root causes lie in overcrowding that forces desperate survival behaviors, inadequate staffing that leaves vulnerable inmates unprotected, poor training that fails to spot warning signs, and lack of meaningful engagement programs that would give inmates constructive alternatives to prison hierarchies and contraband economies.
What DG Alok Kumar and policymakers must consider is whether technology serves humanity or replaces it. The best prison systems globally, like those in Norway and Germany, achieve low recidivism rates not through surveillance alone but through dignity combined with security. They use technology intelligently while providing education, therapy, work opportunities, and treating inmates as future neighbours rather than permanent outcasts. Their security comes from addressing why people commit crimes and helping them build better lives, not from only watching them more carefully while keeping everything else broken. If we must explore AI in prisons, let it be comprehensive. Yes, use it to detect contraband and violence. But also use AI that predicts which inmates need mental health intervention, analyses patterns indicating readiness for rehabilitation programs, and identifies systemic failures in prison administration. Use technology to enhance both security and human welfare, not perfect human control at the expense of dignity. The future DG Alok Kumar is building will define what we believe about punishment, redemption, and human worth.
(Girish Linganna is an award-winning science communicator and a Defence, Aerospace & Geopolitical Analyst. He is the Managing Director of ADD Engineering Components India Pvt. Ltd., a subsidiary of ADD Engineering GmbH, Germany. The views expressed in the article are those of the author.)
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: ZEE News
