The prison of the real
Prison is a test of
our humanity.
First, ask
yourselves, why do prisons exist? Why do we have these monoliths of
incarceration standing gauntly in our midst?
Are we reminded to
be good boys and girls as we walk past them, constantly reminded of what awaits
if our behaviour deviates from the social norm? Do we feel a sense of justice
being done, that the bad guys have lost the freedom to walk down the street just
outside their barred windows because of their misdeeds? Or injustice at their
being fed three times a day and housed at the tax payers expense after what
they have done?
Prisons serve
several functions: retribution,
incapacitation, deterrence, and rehabilitation. (cf. Stop the Crime)
Incapacitation: It
is necessary that the doers of wrong be taken out of society - that they are
prevented from further acts of harm and we are protected from them. If, for no
other reasons, prisons are necessary.
Retribution,
vengeance, the need to punish those who have wronged. Murder, rape, theft - we
human beings do terrible things to one another; it is only right that the
perpetrators are punished.
The question, of
course, is how should they be punished?
Locking away a
person, who has already proven him/herself willing to break the laws of
society, for long periods of time with others of a like mind hardly seems
conducive to future good behaviour. But what alternatives are there?
Prisons may not be
the perfect answer but at least they act as a deterrence and provide the
opportunity to rehabilitate the offender. Do they?
Having worked in
Prison Education for 7½ years, during which time I designed and implemented the
Education Department's contribution to the rehabilitation programme, I still
have my doubts about the ability of prisons either to deter crime or
rehabilitate offenders.
In response to
questions about the amount of time spent in prison, away from family, one
inmate responded, "It’s just one of the hazards of the job."
This is an
interesting response in that it shows that prison had no deterrent effect what
so ever and that, for this person, crime was a 'job'. What is a job but a
legally sanctioned means of making an income to support self and family. This
inmate, and this is a widespread view among his 'colleagues', his criminal
activity, to him, was not in fact criminal. Such a mind-set will never be
deterred from crime, certainly not by time served.
Another time, I was
chasing a piece of written work from one inmate who was due to be released. His
response was, "I'll give it you next time I'm in." Prison humour, no
doubt, but telling for all that.
One more example,
just because I regard this one as my claim to fame. It's not often you get
snubbed by a serial killer!
We had the pleasure
of Harold Shipman's company for a while. Shipman is slated as the most prolific
serial killer in UK history, having been found guilty of 15 murders and
suspected of anything over 200. He, like all new arrivals, was offered the
opportunity to benefit from the education programme. When it was suggested by
my Education Manager that he might want to do the Psychology course, he
allegedly replied, "I know more about psychology than your teacher will
ever know!" Ouch!
Of course, he was
probably right.
Successful
criminals, and being caught and serving time doesn't make you an unsuccessful
criminal - quite the contrary - are not stupid. Shipman, being a doctor, an'
all, likely had some professional training in psychology, but this isn't what
he meant. His proficiency was a direct result of his natural ability to read
and then manipulate his victims. It is not an uncommon skill among criminals.
It's not so easy to rehabilitate a clever and crafty mind.
If deterrence and
rehabilitation don't work - and a miniscule number of successes doesn't prove a
case - that leaves only the roles of retribution and incapacitation as the
purpose of prisons.
And I have my doubts
over retribution. Why do so many Americans stand outside a prison, baying for
blood, at the hour of execution?
Having a violent
offender locked away does not provide the sense of vengeance implicit in
retribution.
F. Emasculata,
the twenty-second episode of Season Two, offers an alternative. Being adamantly
anti-death penalty, I in no way suggest that we should actually use inmates as
medical Guinea pigs, as they are in this creepy episode. The F.B.I. has,
however, already shown the way with the work of men like Robert Ressler
and John Douglas.
If there's one thing
I know for certain after my years working with the guests of Her Majesty, it is
that criminals do like to talk about themselves. If you know how to listen, and
not be hood-winked by the flim-flam, there is an awful lot to learn from this
captive resource.
Knowingly or
unknowingly, a criminal providing valuable information on the inner workings of
the criminal mind is at least giving something useful back to the society
he/she has wronged. It will never fully compensate for murder, rape or theft,
but it is certainly more beneficial than merely locking them away in the
misguided hope that they'll somehow learn from their fellow inmates that their
previous patterns of behaviour are socially unacceptable.
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