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Dr Stephen O’Brien is the Dean for the Faculty of Health and Society at the University of Northampton
The other week I had the opportunity to visit one of our local prisons with academic colleagues from our Criminology team within the Faculty of Health and Society at the University of Northampton. The prison in question is a category C closed facility and it was my very first visit to such an institution. The context for my visit was to follow up and review the work completed by students, prisoners and staff in the joint delivery of an academic module which forms part of our undergraduate Criminology course. The module entitled “Beyond Justice” explores key philosophical, social and political issues associated with the concept of justice and the journeys that individuals travel within the criminal justice system in the UK. This innovative approach to collaborative education involving the delivery of the module to students of the university and prisoners was long in its gestation. The module itself had been delivered over several weeks in the Autumn term of 2017. What was very apparent from the start of this planned visit was how successful the venture had been; ground-breaking in many respects with clear impact for all involved. Indeed, it has been way more successful than anyone could have imagined when the staff embarked on the planning process. The project is an excellent example of the University’s Changemaker agenda with its emphasis upon mobilising University assets to address real life social challenges.
My particular visit was more than a simple review and celebration of good Changemaker work well done. It was to advance the working relationship with the Prison in the signing of a memorandum of understanding which outlined further work that would be developed on the back of this successful project. This will include; future classes for university/prison students, academic advancement of prison staff, the use of prison staff expertise in the university, research and consultancy. My visit was therefore a fruitful one. In the run up to the visit I had to endure all the usual jokes one would expect. Would they let me in? More importantly would they let me out? Clearly there was an absolute need to be on my best behaviour, keep my nose clean and certainly mind my Ps and Qs especially if I was to be “released”. Despite this ribbing I approached the visit with anticipation and an open mind. To be honest I was unsure what to expect. My only previous conceptual experience of this aspect of the criminal justice system was many years ago when I was working as a mental health nurse in a traditional NHS psychiatric hospital. This was in the early 1980s with its throwback to a period of mental health care based on primarily protecting the public from the mad in society. Whilst there had been some shifts in thinking there was still a strong element of the “custodial” in the treatment and care regimen adopted. Public safety was paramount and many patients had been in the hospital for tens of years with an ensuing sense of incarceration and institutionalisation. These concepts are well described in the seminal work of Barton (1976) who described the consequences of long term incarceration as a form of neurosis; a psychiatric disorder in which a person confined for a long period in a hospital, mental hospital, or prison assumes a dependent role, passively accepts the paternalist approach of those in charge, and develops symptoms and signs associated with restricted horizons, such as increasing passivity and lack of motivation. To be fair mental health services had been transitioning slowly since the 1960s with a move from the custodial to the therapeutic. The associated strategy of rehabilitation and the decant of patients from what was an old asylum to a more community based services were well underway. In many respects the speed of this change was proving problematic with community support struggling to catch up and cope with the numbers moving out of the institutions.
My only other personal experience was when I spent a night in the cells of my local police station following an “incident” in the town centre. This was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. (I know everyone says that, but in this case it is a genuine explanation). However, this did give me a sense of what being locked up felt like albeit for a few hours one night. When being shown one of the single occupancy cells at the prison those feelings came flooding back. However, the thought of being there for several months or years would have considerably more impact. The accommodation was in fact worse than I had imagined. I reflected on this afterwards in light of what can sometimes be the prevailing narrative that prison is in some way a cushy number. The roof over your head, access to a TV and a warm bed along with three square meals a day is often dressed up as a comfortable daily life. The reality of incarceration is far from this view. A few days later I watched Trevor MacDonald report from Indiana State Prison in the USA as part of ITV’s crime and punishment season. In comparison to that you could argue the UK version is comfortable but I have no doubt either experience would be, for me, an extreme challenge.
There were further echoes of my mental health experiences as I was shown the rehabilitation facilities with opportunities for prisoners to experience real world work as part of their transition back into society. I was impressed with the community engagement and the foresight of some big high street companies to get involved in retraining and education. This aspect of the visit was much better than I imagined and there is evidence that this is working. It is a strict rehabilitation regime where any poor behaviour or departure from the planned activity results in failure and loss of the opportunity. This did make me reflect on our own project and its contribution to prisoner rehabilitation. In education, success and failure are norms and the process engenders much more tolerance of what we see as mistakes along the way. The great thing about this project is the achievement of all in terms of both the learning process and outcome. Those outcomes will be celebrated later this month when we return to the prison for a special celebration event. That will be the moment not only to celebrate success but to look to the future and the further work the University and the Prison can do together. On that occasion as on this I do expect to be released early for good behaviour.
Barton, R., (1976) Institutional Neurosis: 3rd edition, Butterworth-Heinemann, London.
As I am outside the prison walls on another visit I look at the high walls that keep people inside incarcerated. This is an institution designed to keep people in and it is obvious from the outside. This made me wonder what is a University designed for? Are we equally obvious to the communities in which we live as to what we are there for? These questions have been posed before but as we embark in a new educational environment I begin to wonder.
There are city universities, campuses in towns and the countryside, new universities and of course old, even, medieval universities. All these institutions have an educational purpose in common at a high level but that is more or less it. Traditionally, academia had a specific mandate of what they were meant to be doing but this original focus was coming from a era when computers, the electronic revolution and the knowledge explosion were unheard of. I still amuse my students by my recollections of going through an old library, looking at their card catalogue in order to find the books I wanted for my essay.
Since then, email has become the main tool for communication and blackboard or other virtual learning environments are growing into becoming an alternative learning tool in the arsenal of each academic. In this technologically advanced, modern world it is pertinent to ask if the University is the environment that it once was. The introduction of fees, and the subsequent political debates on whether to raise the fees or get rid of them altogether. This debate has also introduced an consumerist dimension to higher education that previous learners did not encounter. For some colleagues this was a watershed moment in the mandate of higher education and the relationship between tutor and tutee. Recently, a well respected colleague told me how inspired she was to pursue a career in academia when she watched Willy Russell’s theatrical masterpiece Educating Rita. It seems likely that this cultural reference will be lost to current students and academics. A clear sign of things moving on.
So what is a University for in the 21st century? In my mind, the university is an institution of education that is open to its community and accessible to all people, even those who never thought that Higher Education is for them. Physically, there may not be walls around but for many people who never had the opportunity to enjoy a higher education, there may be barriers. It is perhaps the purpose of the new university to engage with the community and invite the people to embrace it as their community space. Our University’s relocation to the heart of the town will make our presence more visible in town and it is a great opportunity for the University to be reintroduced to the local community. As one of the few Changemaker universities in the country, a title that focuses on social change and entrepreneurship, connecting with the community is definitely a fundamental objective. In this way it will offer its space up for meaningful discussions on a variety of issues, academic or not, to the community saying we are a public institution for all. After all, this is part of how we understand criminology’s role. In a recent discussion we have been talking about criminology in the community; a public criminology. One of the many reasons why we work so hard to teach criminology in prisons.
For those of you who follow The Criminology Team on Facebook you might have caught @manosdaskalou and I live from Eastern State Penitentiary [ESP]. In this entry, I plan to reflect on that visit in a little more depth.
We first visited ESP in 2011 when the ASC conference was held in Washington, DC. That visit has never left me for a number of reasons, not least the lengths societies are prepared to go in order to tackle crime. ESP is very much a product of its time and demonstrates extraordinarily radical thinking about crime and punishment. For those who have studied the plans for Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon there is much which is familiar, not least the radial design (see illustration below).
This is an institution designed to resolve a particular social problem; crime and indeed deter others from engaging in similar behaviour through humane and philosophically driven measures. The Philadelphia Society for Alleviating the Miseries of Public Prisons* was philanthropic and guided by religious principles. This is reflected in the term penitentiary; a place for sinners to repent and In turn become truly penitent.
This philosophy was distinct and radical with a focus on reformation of character rather than brutal physical punishment. Of course, scholars such as Ignatieff and Foucault have drawn attention to the inhumanity of such a regime, whether deliberate or unintentional, but that should not detract from its groundbreaking history. What is important, as criminologists, is to recognise ESP’s place in the history of penology. That history is one of coercion, pleading, physical and mental brutality and still permeates all aspects of incarceration in the twenty-first century. ESP have tried extremely hard to demonstrate this continuum of punishment, acknowledging its place among many other institutions both home and abroad.
For me the question remains; can we make an individual change their behaviour through the pains of incarceration? I have argued previously in this blog in relation to Conscientious Objectors, that all the evidence suggests we cannot. ESP, as daunting as it may have been in its heyday, would also seem to offer the same answer. Until society recognises the harm and futility of incarceration it is unlikely that penal reform, let alone abolition, will gain traction.
*For those studying CRI1007 it is worth noting the role of Benjamin Rush in this organisation.
The recent reforms to the probation service were examined in the BBC Panorama programme ‘Out of Jail: Free to Offend Again?’ The title of the programme struck me with a clear sense of ‘we told you so’ given the warnings and concerns raised by those working within the probation service and colleagues in criminology departments. Just look at #faillinggrayling on twitter – there you can chart the anxiety as the reforms were proposed and then implemented.
The programme began with the case of Connor Marshall who on a night out with friends was attacked by a stranger, David Braddon who had a history of violent offending, along with alcohol and drug misuse. Sadly, Connor died in hospital a few days after the attack and then, the details of David Braddon’s circumstances were revealed, during the review into Connor’s death. David was on probation, under the supervision of ‘Working Links’, a private consortium who took over running of probation for most of Wales, under the new Transforming Rehabilitation (TR) arrangements in 2015. TR promised radical reforms which would privatise the probation service for low and medium risk offenders, with high risk offenders still being managed under the National Probation Service (NPS). Ian Lawrence, General Secretary of the National Association of Probation Officers (NAPO) spoke on the programme about how they warned the government about the risks, due to the extensive re-organisation, costs to the taxpayer and crucially, the impact on public safety. In addition, an internal memo from the Ministry of Justice (MoJ) gave explicit warnings about the danger of the TR failing, citing that an ‘unacceptable drop in operational performance which might lead to delivery failure and reputational damage.’
Connor’s case was described in the programme as an ‘early failure.’ The phrase reminded me of the cold and calculated response when we are told the casualties of war are ‘collateral damage.’ There was a sense of acceptance of failures, given the extent of the reforms. David Braddon had a catalogue of missed appointments and non-compliance, along with becoming increasingly withdrawn, all of which should have been flagged up by those supervising him, and action taken. This reminded me of another pivotal case in probation, which highlighted the impact of over-loading probation officers and not responding properly to those offenders who are clearly at risk and not complying with their supervision. In 2008, Dano Sonnex and Robert Falmer killed two French students in south east London, in a violent attack. The Serious Case Review, focusing on Dano Sonnex, revealed a catalogue of errors, resulting in part from caseworkers in probation being overloaded and inexperienced in dealing with someone with such complex needs as Sonnex. The fact that this occurred in London was worrying when the presenter presented the views of a whistle-blower, working for MTC Novo, a company who was now delivering probation services for low and medium risk cases in London. The premise of TR was that ‘Community Rehabilitation Companies’ (CRCs) would take on expanded caseloads from widening the net for supervision to those on short term sentences, where re-offending rates are particularly high. MTC Novo and Working Links are just two examples of new CRCs now responsible for low and medium risk offenders. The programme then examined the experiences of probation, from the perspective of a service user, probation officers and those involved in inspecting the service.
Sean Grant, out of prison and living with friends reported he had very little contact with MTC Novo, his first appointment took 3 weeks to set up after his release and he had no support to get stable housing in place. He also reported his view was that the service had not improved, compared to his previous contact, and later in the programme, it transpired he was at risk of recall, due to missed appointments which he knew nothing about. This was particularly galling since he had secured work and seemed to be doing everything he needed to do to prevent re-offending, albeit with little help from the probation service.
This experience chimed with the views then given by a ‘whistle-blower’ from within MTC Novo, who reported that the company was now employing fewer fully qualified probation officers, and his caseload had risen from 50 to 76, including some vulnerable offenders who were not getting the intervention they needed. They also cited the problems associated with not having time to build a rapport, with monthly meetings of 20 minutes, asking ‘how will you open up? I don’t know them, they don’t trust me.’ It seems the long held and valued principles of the probation service to ‘advise, assist and befriend’, already eroded by risk management and efficiency drives, were now being further undermined by TR. More worryingly, the probation service as an effective means to reduce re-offending was also undermined, when the same whistle-blower referred to an ‘explosion in re-offending’, including violent offences. For others outside London, probation had become a service which staff described as a ‘mess’ and time spent with clients had fallen from 15 to 2 hours a week, and was also characterised by division and in-efficiency.
Dr Lawrence Burke, Ian Lawrence and Dame Glenys Stacey all agreed that the calls for a rethink on TR were growing louder, the service was in danger of becoming de-stabilised and of putting lives at risk. This feels very much like reform which was imposed on a service which was functioning relatively well – not perfectly – but which is now facing significant issues, all of which were meant to be addressed by TR. The harrowing cases, while still rare events, can cite the failings of probation as contributing to the serious crimes which occurred and therefore, the key aim of the service, to protect the public, is not being met. The rising prison population and especially the continued use of short term prison sentences means the service will continue to be overloaded, while CRC managers continue to cut costs to keep solvent. Therein lies a fundamental problem – making a profit through the management of offenders is not viable, sustainable, advisable or safe. The probation service, much like the NHS, the police and other public services can deliver well and do good work when it is not diverted by concerns over cost savings and trying to deal with increasing workloads.
Senior Lecturer in Criminology
As we are gleefully coming towards the start of yet another academic year, we tend to go through a number of perpetual motions; reflect on the year past, prepare material for the upcoming year and make adjustments on current educational expectations. Academics can be creatures of habit, even if their habit is to change things over. Nonetheless, there are always milestones that we all observe no matter the institution or discipline. The graduation, for example brings to an end the degree aspirations of a cohort, whilst Clearing and Welcome Week offer an opportunity of a new group of applicants to join a cohort and begin the process again. Academia like a pendulum swings constantly, replenishing itself with new generations of learners who carry with them the imprint of their social circumstance.
It was in the hectic days at Clearing that my mind began to wonder about the future of education and more importantly about criminology. A discipline that emerged at an unsettled time when urban life and modernity began to dominate the Western landscape. Young people (both in age and/or in spirit) began to question traditional notions about the establishment and its significance. The boundaries that protect the individual from the whim of the authorities was one of those fundamental concerns on criminological discourses. A 19th century colleague questions the notion of policing as an established institution, thus challenging its authority and necessity. An end of 20th century colleague may be involved in the training of those involved in policing. Changing times, arguably. Quite; but what is the implications for the discipline?
My random example can be challenged on many different fronts; the contested nature of a colleague as a singular entity that sees the world in a singular gaze; or the ability to diversify on the perspectives each discipline observes. It does nonetheless, raises a key question: what expectations can we place on the discipline for the 21st century.
If we and our students are the participants of social change as it happens in our society then our impressions and experiences can help us formulate a projective perspective of the future. Our knowledge of the past is key to supplying an understanding of what we have done before, so that we can comprehend the reality in a way that will allow us to give it the vocabulary it deserves. A colleague recently posted on twitter her agony about “vehicles being the new terrorist weapon,” asking what is the answer. The answer to violence is exactly the same; whether a person gets in a van, or goes home and uses a bread knife to harm their partner. Everyday objects that can be utilised to harm. A projection in the future could assert that this phenomenon is likely to continue. The Romans called it Alea iacta est and it was the moment you decide to act. In my heart this is precisely the debate about the future of criminology; is it crime with or without free will?
Despite my love of criminology, there are also aspects which I find deeply troubling. One of the earliest things that an undergraduate student learns to parrot is that “crime is a social construct”. Unfortunately, for much criminological research whilst this may be acknowledged it is largely ignored, with the focus firmly on those actions which are defined by law to be criminal. The first of my concerns, is criminology’s potential to do harm all in the name of making contributions to solving the “crime problem”. All this measuring, trying to find out what works, always seems to involve finding innovative ways in which humans can be
forced coerced to do another’s bidding. It seems to me that this project is inherently designed to hurt individuals, supposedly in the name of justice.
Another concern is criminology’s seeming inability to address bigger issues, which are often dismissed as some other unspecified form of harm, rather than crime.Those of you who have studied with me are likely to know that my academic interests revolve around institutions and violence. I’m not interested in what they do and how we measure their supposed efficacy and “improve” them – administrative criminology leaves me cold – but the impact of these institutions on individual lives.
Much criminological research focuses on individual motivations for criminality (as reflected in some of our earlier blog entries on cyber crime, murder and manslaughter) and these explanations can offer extraordinary insight. Such individualised explanations often follow the classical tenets of freewill and choice, leading to discussions around punishment, and particularly deterrence. Whilst these offer the promise of understanding crime and criminality they run the risk of decontexualising crime; removing the criminal(s), the victim(s) and the criminal justice system from the environments in which both operate. If we consider events such as the Aberfan (21.10.1966) and Hillsborough (15.04.1989) disasters and more recently the catastrophe of Grenfell Tower; (14.06.2017) individualised criminological explanations make little sense, instead we are faced with complex arguments as to whether or not these are actually crimes. However, the sheer number of deaths and injuries involved in these tragic events cannot simply be dismissed as if they are somehow natural disasters. Furthermore, the violence inherent in all of these events is far bigger than any one individual, making traditional criminological theories appear inadequate.
It would seem that perhaps the concept of institutional violence, although contested, can offer a gateway to a more nuanced understanding of crime and harm. One of my starting points for understanding institutional violence is Steven Lee’s question ‘Is poverty violence?’ (1999: 5). He makes his standpoint explicit and argues that ‘[p]overty results in a whole range of serious physical and psychological harms: higher risks of disease, shortened life spans, stunted mental and emotional development, and inadequate opportunity to lead a meaningful life’ (Lee, 1999: 9).
Such a perspective widens our view of what might be understood as violence, taking it away from the overt (two chaps squaring up after a night out) to something less obvious and arguably more damaging. It also recognises that events such as the fire at Grenfell Tower do not happen in a vacuum but are predicated on historical, social and political factors. Justice for the victims of Grenfell Tower cannot be achieved through blaming individuals and rationalising their actions (important as that may be). What is required is a great deal of soul-searching and an exploration of the wider institutional harms, including poverty. Only then can we really begin to understand the impact of institutional violence on the everyday lives of the residents of Grenfell Tower which ultimately led to such devastation on the night of 14 June 2017.
Lee, Steven, (1999), ‘Is Poverty Violence’ in Deane Curtin and Robert Litke, Institutional Violence, (Amsterdam: Rodopi): 5-12