The Roots of Change

My brief sojourn into a local prison highlighted one of the issues that I struggle with in my research - different prisons can have wildly different cultures.

Short-term prisoners tend not to be involved in "prison politics". As they are, literally, not staying around then their incentive for speaking up is vague. Why even try to prompt change, when one won't be around to enjoy the fruits?

But there can be a deeper malaise than this conscious indifference. The prison system can look overwhelming and impervious, especially to those with only sporadic experiences of it. And this easily fosters a mindset that "nothing changes, why bother trying?"

This is common enough amongst long-termers, and an attitude I am always ready to challenge. It is a false view, and it dismisses the suffering of those who have fought to bring change.

Recent experience makes me wonder whether a more formal, organised alliance between prisoners and their families in pushing for change could be fruitful? After all, prisoners families do have a greater moral standing, a useful platform from which to argue.

IPP's

My time at Cardiff was spent on what passes there for a "lifer wing". It was actually an enclave of men serving IPP's.

And they were not in a good way. A large number were living their days as if they were still serving short, fixed sentences. Just as many had no clue as to the nature of their sentence. The institution had told them nothing.

This is a disaster for them. If they neither appreciate that they are essentially serving life sentences and adjust their attitudes and behaviours accordingly, then their tariffs will become distant memories.

And if no one explains what is expected of them, how to manage their sentence and gain release, then the waste of human life will be tragic.

A Ghostly Presence

My return wasn't met with a red carpet or rousing cheers. That was always unlikely! And the screws who were happy to laugh behind my back when I was stranded haven't had the balls to say anything to my face, the heroes.

Everyone knows I'm only here temporarily, which leaves me semi-detached. My credit rating is obviously crap, and I am separate from the many connections that we forge between each other, as in any society.

This leaves me slightly adrift, a ghostly presence wandering the landings. I am both present, yet only partly. The sooner I move, the better.

My Loud Voice

The recent events regarding my non-transfer to Open prison, my hunger strike and your incredible efforts on my behalf have highlighted my singular, blessed, position.

All that differentiates my experience at the hands of the prison service from that of my peers is that I have the advantage of a loud voice - and an audience that is listening!

The malevolence, the incompetence, and the sheer stupidity of prison policies and practices are weights under which 85,000 others labour on a daily basis. You tend to hear only my experience, but should your attention alight upon any of the thousands of other prisoners then you would be equally disturbed or outraged.

I thank you for your efforts, your patience and your attention. You all mean far more than I could ever express. But please, think of the others? And maybe pop along to the excellent people over at the prisonersfamiliesvoices blog http://prisonersfamiliesvoices.blogspot.com/

and lend your energies to them? Just remember to come back here afterwards!

I'm hungry

Two days later, the transfer to Frescoed not having materialised and being sick of being left without any information or explanation of what was happening, and incredibly worried about the future of my studies without access to my materials, I told wing staff that I was on hunger strike.

Why a hunger strike? Why not some other, more expressive or assertive course of action? Because, in different times, I would have promptly held up a metaphorical finger to the prison and parked myself in the Block.

I chose a hunger strike for two reasons. Firstly, because I suspected (as I write, I know now) that there was a hope amongst some of my keepers that I would react badly to the situation they had created, and given them an excuse to seriously delay or even remove my Category D status. And I wasn't going to bite.

But a solitary hunger strike is an incredibly risky move in prison. Hunger striking is a moral appeal to one's keepers, and regular readers will have long grasped that I judge the moral development of my keepers to be somewhat stunted.

The key would be my second reason - your support and the noise you could create on my behalf. I was wholly reliant upon management feeling the heat not from me, but from "outside" - and they hate it.

As is the general policy, my declaration of starvation fell into a Void. If managers jumped at every con who went on hunger strike, then we would all be doing it! So they ignore it, at least for the first few weeks. Even then, they don't come rushing.

Seven days later, and I'm back in Shepton writing this, stuffing my face on chocolate and crisps. I also discovered that Cardiff was telling everyone who phoned that I was being looked after, not on hunger strike, and ensconced in a nice single cell. God forbid I suggest Governors lie! But Cardiff Governors were lying like professionals. They lie first, to escape a problem, and worry about the consequences later. Rather like three year old children.

But I did not fall into the trap, I didn't bite, I didn't get nicked. Thanks to all of you and the efforts of the Editor, together we explored and developed the possibilities of the New Media to pressure the management successfully. Without you, I'd be getting a bit peckish by now...