The contemporary pains of imprisonment: A study of HMP ..., Exams of Literature

Download The contemporary pains of imprisonment: A study of HMP ... and more Exams Literature in PDF only on Docsity!

The contemporary pains of imprisonment:

A study of HMP Grendon

Ailsa Bridges

Her John Sunley Prize winning masters dissertation

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

2

Contents

Introduction 4

**1. Indeterminacy and uncertainty 9

2. The pains of psychological practices 14
3. Self-government: extension of control, reduction of pain 21
4. Legitimacy and fairness 28
5. Discussion 31**

References 34

Appendix – Reflecting on the research process 40

Acknowledgements 49

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

4

Introduction

Sykes (1958) famously argued that the core pains of imprisonment are the deprivation of liberty, goods and services, security, autonomy and heterosexual relationships. In the 60 years since Sykes’s (1958) piece, scholars have researched the experience of these deprivations in different contexts and have expanded his framework to account for modern penal trends. In 2011, Crewe pointed out that prisons have changed substantially since Sykes’s work and argued that three additional pains of imprisonment have emerged; the pains of indeterminacy and uncertainty, psychological assessment and self-government. He developed this typology from studies of a conventional, medium-security male prison. Drawing on data from six interviews, this thesis examines how the contemporary pains of imprisonment are experienced at HMP Grendon, a unique therapeutic community (TC) prison. Studying these contemporary pains in such ‘exceptional contexts’ will allow our understanding to become more nuanced, normally occluded phenomena to be examined and counterintuitive findings considered (see Shammas, 2014).

HMP Grendon Described as the ‘jewel in the crown’ of the penal estate in England and Wales (Genders and Player, 1995; 202), Grendon is the only prison in the UK to operate entirely as a TC (Stevens, 2010). TCs have four central features: ‘an informal atmosphere, regular meetings, resident participation in the running of the community and residents as auxiliary therapists’ (Miller et al., 2006:116). Although each of Grendon’s five wings operate autonomously, they share these core TC features (Wilson and McCabe, 2002). On Monday and Friday mornings all the residents on each wing attend community meetings to discuss the running of the wing. A resident (TC term for prisoner) presides over the meeting, directing discussion on matters ranging from administration to resolving conflict between residents. On remaining weekday mornings residents attend small therapy groups. These groups have eight men in each and are run by prison officers. In therapy residents work with each other and the staff to understand their pasts, the roots of their offending behaviour and how they might prevent offending in the future (Brookes, 2010). Small therapy group meetings are supplemented by psychodrama (Jefferies, 2010) and art-therapy (Wylie, 2010).

In addition to this designated time for therapy, the wider culture at Grendon is designed to facilitate therapeutic progress. People have to apply to transfer to Grendon from the mainstream system and are accepted only if they show commitment to therapy, among other criteria (Morris, 2002). New residents spend their first three to six months on the induction wing where they are assessed for their suitability for therapy. During this time, they can be returned to mainstream prison at any time if they break a rule or are judged as unsuitable for therapy (Stevens, 2012). If successful on induction, the resident is assigned to a wing in the main prison. Here, the men are expected to start contributing to how the community runs and commit to their therapeutic work. Residents police their own communities. They can ‘challenge’ their peers if they feel that a person has broken a rule or behaved in a way that has negatively affected others. What is reviled in other prisons as ‘grassing’ becomes part of how men safeguard themselves and their community. If someone

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

has broken community rules or lacks commitment to therapy a ‘commitment vote’ will be held whereby the staff and all the men on the wing can vote on whether or not to expel them (Stevens, 2012). The residents spend all day out of their cells. There is no segregation unit. Staff greet residents on first name basis, provide emotional support and generally treat them with humanity (Bennett and Shuker, 2010). Thus the entire prison is designed to provide an environment for openness and rehabilitation.

A large volume of empirical work has been conducted to investigate this unique prison. Studies exploring outcomes paint a largely positive picture. Despite the psychological fragility of many residents admitted to Grendon, the adjudication rates (Newton, 2006) and suicide rates (Rivlin, 2010) are much lower than in the wider prison estate. Qualitative interviews have suggested that Grendon provides protective factors against suicide, including feelings of positivity about the future, empowerment and control (Rivlin, 2010). The existing evidence for reoffending is unclear but seems to suggest that it is equivalent to or lower than other prisons (Shuker, 2010a). In addition to outcome measures, Grendon residents consistently report higher quality of life than prisoners at other institutions (Shefer, 2010). Qualitative interviews reveal that residents think highly of Grendon as a place to develop understanding their offending behaviour and their own victimisation histories (Stevens, 2012; Sullivan, 2010). These results are particularly impressive given that Grendon works with serious offenders who have been described as ‘damaged, disturbed and dangerous’ (Shine and Newton, 2000: 23).

Thus, although Grendon remains part of the broader penal system, its ethos and performance sets it apart from the mainstream prisons in many respects. Grendon explicitly makes effort to maintain this distance from the wider penal system (Rhodes, 2010a). Indeed, given the TC philosophy and the results of empirical studies, Stevens’ (2012: 369) conclusion that Grendon creates ‘for its residents a less painful experience in prison’ and produces ‘a greater moral performance as a prison’ seems natural.

The pains of imprisonment Yet, Stevens’ (2012) claim that Grendon’s more humane regime produces a ‘less painful experience’ is contrary to an expanding body of literature that has problematised the notion that ‘humane’ prisons are less painful. Nordic countries supposedly have more humane and moderate penal regimes (Pratt, 2008). Yet the pains of imprisonment remain significant features of life in Nordic prisons (Barker, 2013; Basberg Neumann, 2012; Mathieson, 2012). Shammas (2014; 104), for example, found the regime in a Nordic open prison was experienced as ‘bittersweet’, characterised by ‘pains of freedom’. Similarly, Hancock and Jewkes (2011) investigated prison architectures and found that modern prisons are cleaner and more humane, yet simultaneously represent a more subtle form of power that is accompanied by distinct pains. These accounts invite exploration into whether Grendon’s humane regime really does ameliorate the pains of imprisonment.

Perhaps the most influential framework developed in this area is Crewe's (2011) contemporary pains of imprisonment. Crewe (2011) argues that despite declines in physical brutality and neglect in British prisons, prison pains have not disappeared. Rather, in addition to the core pains of imprisonment, new pains have emerged from

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

prevented from fulfilling the responsibilities expected of them by the prison system’s ‘incoherent inclination’ of expecting responsibility yet simultaneously reducing prisoners to the status of dependent children (Stevens, 2012; 257). Crewe’s (2011) framework builds on this wider literature to explicate self-government as a specific pain of imprisonment. He argues that self-government is experienced as painful because prisoners become agents in their own punishment. They are simultaneously made responsible for decisions and deprived of clear instruction of what is expected from them.

These three contemporary pains of imprisonment are indicative of, but also create and perpetuate, a mode of soft power. This power is psychological. It is no longer immediate, but its effects are delayed and elusive. Information is withheld, labels are imposed and the prisoners must navigate their own way to release. These impositions of power result in a set of frustrations that Crewe argues characterise modern imprisonment. Crewe’s (2011) findings indicate that power and pain are intimately related. When soft power is exercised, pain seems to invariably follow.

The present study In this paper I examine Crewe’s (2011) contemporary pains of imprisonment at Grendon. Developing our understanding of the pains of imprisonment requires investigating them in different contexts (Shammas, 2014). Sykes’s (1959) original framework has been augmented and developed through research conducted in different contexts and with different penal populations (Riley, 2002; Soffer and Ajzenstadt, 2010; Ugelvik, 2014). Studying Crewe’s (2011) framework in different contexts could lead to a similar enrichment of understanding. With its divergent philosophies and practices, Grendon provides a unique context in which to develop further insight into Crewe’s typology. I am certainly not the first to explore potentially painful aspects of Grendon. Scholars have recognised the challenging aspects of therapy such as revealing intimate details about oneself and of hearing about others’ detailed accounts of offending (Smartt, 2001). Others have investigated why residents chose to leave Grendon (Sullivan, 2010). However, this study takes Grendon as its research site to more explicitly inform a theoretical framework of the pains of imprisonment.

Grendon is a particularly interesting context in which to explore Crewe’s (2011) typology. Despite its unique status in the penal system, past literature also indicates that Grendon’s system of control epitomises the form of ‘soft power’ described by Crewe in conventional prisons. Genders and Player’s 1995 study noted that although the goals of the prison and TC conflict in many ways, they share the common goal of regulating deviant behaviour. The soft, psychological power of the TC was recognised as playing an instrumental role in maintaining order. Residents must consistently self-regulate or they face expulsion from their community (Stevens, 2012). The uncertainty of their place at Grendon therefore motivates compliance. The residents themselves become part of the system of surveillance and punishment, monitoring one another and deciding on sanctions. These added disciplinary techniques, as well as the principle of non-confidentiality, engender a total institution that is ‘more encompassing than most’ (Rhodes, 2010a; 206). Previous literature suggests that high levels of compliance in Grendon are achieved not by regular displays of hard power, but by exercising the softer and more

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

8

enveloping psychological power Crewe (2011) describes as increasingly prominent in conventional prisons.

To explore the experiences of residents at Grendon I conducted six semi-structured interviews. Since the aim of the research was to develop insight into participants’ subjective understanding of their experiences in prison I used a qualitative methodology (Patenaude, 2004). Data were collected during May and June 2016. The interview schedule focused on participants’ experiences of uncertainty, therapy and self-governance and was developed as the research progressed. I also asked the residents about their experience of the research itself, a commonly neglected aspect of criminological research (Bosworth, 2005). Participants came from across the different wings, excluding the induction wing. Their index offences were domestic homicide (1), armed robbery (3), conspiracy to rob and converting criminal property (1) and rape (1). Four of the participants were white, one was mixed race and one was Asian-Pakistani. Four of the participants told me they had suffered serious sexual and/or physical abuse during childhood. Interviews were conducted on the resident’s wing, either in an office or therapy room, and ranged from 45 minutes to three and a half hours long. Where prisoner names are given pseudonyms have been used.

The paper dedicates a chapter to presenting the findings for each of the contemporary pains of imprisonment; 1) indeterminacy and uncertainty; 2) psychological assessment/practices; and, 3) self-governance. An additional section is included relating to fairness and perceived legitimacy. These topics were not discussed in Crewe’s (2011) work, however, they emerged as prominent themes in the data I collected. Including these topics provides a fuller representation of the residents’ experiences at Grendon and fills some gaps in understanding left by the previous three chapters. The final section is the discussion and conclusion.

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

10

period (Owers, 2008; Trust, 2011). Lewis found the loss of control hardest to cope with. He was used to ‘working rigidly’ to his own plans which were kept in calendars and diaries. Losing this control meant his mind was constantly ‘working overtime’ to try and make sense of his situation. The residents’ fixation with their release date is consistent with wide recognition in psychological literature that humans have a fundamental need to feel certain about the world around them and their future (Heine et al., 2006). Indeterminate sentences deprive residents of certitude, leaving them continually focused on matters of uncertainty, craving closure that is rarely offered.

Yet this deprivation of certainty is not accompanied by a deprivation of hope. Whereas the prisoners in Crewe’s (2011) study were uncertain about the requirements for release, this was not the case at Grendon. Indeterminate sentences remove much of the control residents have over their future. By being transparent about the steps residents need to make to secure release, Grendon allows residents to better understand their path to release and therefore regain some control over it. Adam felt he had a ‘head start’ because unlike conventional prisons ‘there’s a lot of communication at Grendon, there’s a lot of people sitting down and saying ‘this is what’s going to happen on your parole board and this is what’s expected’. Yasir added that ‘you are guided all the way through’. Although the actual decision of parole boards remained uncertain, the residents understood the processes involved.

Grendon does not just inform residents of what the parole board requires, but assists them in fulfilling these requirements and preparing for their hearing. Therapy provides the residents with skills to cope with imprisonment in ways that make release more likely. Henry told me that prior to coming to Grendon, he would ‘fight with a screw’ in response to his feelings of anxiety invoked by the uncertainty of the IPP sentence. This would further delay his release. His hard work in therapy at Grendon meant that, although uncertainty remained a ‘horrific’ experience, he now had the ability to ‘deal with it in a positive way’. In psychodrama, residents hold mock parole boards for one another, providing the opportunity for the resident to present their case, practice answering questions and managing their emotions. Wing meetings provided a gradual introduction to public speaking and speaking under pressure (Adam). As such, despite the uncertainties that arise from IPP sentences and parole processes, an element of self-determination remained for the residents I spoke to. They had multiple opportunities to actively improve their chances of release in a supportive environment, in which they were provided with information and feedback. The experience of these Grendon residents was therefore more multi- dimensional than that described by Crewe (2011) in conventional prisons. The uncertainty regarding the outcome itself and the pain associated with it is not removed. However, in the context of this unrelenting uncertainty, which remained ‘excruciating’ (Adam), some opportunities to take positive action and adequately prepare imbued a sense of hope into proceedings.

The therapeutic community Residents can be expelled from their community and returned to a mainstream prison at any time throughout their stay. This in itself is not unique. Prisons can move prisoners whenever they need to, to balance the needs of the prisoner and security (Bennett, 2008b). What is unique about Grendon is that this decision is more explicitly linked to residents’ behaviour and that a commitment vote held by fellow residents and wing staff will make this decision (Stevens, 2012). If the resident loses

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

this vote they will be sent back to the mainstream system. The residents I spoke to found this uncertainty painful during the early stages of imprisonment but it became less so as time went on. However, making residents’ places uncertain and linking that insecurity to behaviour remains a key mode of governance at all stages of a stay at Grendon.

During the induction stage, staff can determine a prisoner as ‘unsuitable’ if they have not engaged appropriately with therapy or if they have broken a rule (Stevens, 2010). Participants recalled the threat of removal during induction as very stressful and daunting. Yasir stated that a ‘constant fear’ on the induction wing was being ‘RTUd – returned to unit’. While Lewis commented that ‘You wake up every day asking ‘is this my last day at Grendon?’’ Michael claimed the issue was more complex than the question of whether they were staying or going. The uncertainty was imbued with a fear of further rejection. Having been ‘alienated’ from society, the prospect of being rejected from the program and told that they were ‘not good enough’ was intimidating (Michael). Arriving at Grendon had made Michael’s past victimisation of sexual assault ‘relevant again’. The threat of return to the mainstream prison system, without the necessary support to handle the accompanying emotions, prompted him to return to taking drugs to ‘bury’ the anxiety this induced.

Having earned a place on one of the wings, residents begin group therapy and become accountable to their communities. The men I spoke to valued their place at Grendon and did not want to risk their opportunity of rehabilitation. Lewis used the threat of being put on a commitment vote to guide his behaviour:

It’s always a factor in everything you do everyday. So everyday you’ve got to think of saying the right thing or if you’re going to say the wrong thing, say it the right way. ‘Cause otherwise you could lose your place in Grendon.

This quote suggests, by making residents’ places uncertain, and by linking that insecurity to behaviour, uncertainty becomes a powerful way of ensuring that residents’ behaviour is compliant with Grendon’s principles. Grendon exercises this power in a manner that parallels the interplay of soft and hard power Crewe (2011) describes. The control gained by making residents’ place uncertain is ‘soft’ for much of the time, encouraging residents to self-regulate. If uncertainty about a resident’s place gives way to the certainty of expulsion, the might of the penal regime is felt in a display of ‘hard power’ whereby residents are removed from Grendon. Uncertainty has been described as a fundamental aspect of governmentality in other institutions such as immigration detention centres, but has not necessarily taken the form of a ‘consciously designed aspect of the system’ (Griffiths, 2013; 280). In contrast, uncertainty at Grendon is an explicit form of governance, a conscious vector of control rather than a corollary of institutional practices as described by Crewe (2011) in mainstream institutions. The consistent imposition of soft power, reinforced with the threat of hard power should residents deviate, accumulates to form an efficient and encompassing control mechanism.

Using uncertainty as a mode of governance only works if residents actually want to stay. Grendon therefore derives its power from the combination of uncertainty and residents’ motivation to retain their place. Grendon’s ‘privileged’ status in the prison system is achieved by distancing itself from mainstream institutions (Rhodes,

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

comply with the community’s rules. Second, the fact that the residents believe that they are in control of whether they leave suggests that the power to expel residents is used fairly. Unlike Crewe’s (2011) description conventional prisons, actions and consequences in Grendon were seen as fairly and consistently connected; this enabled residents to take control of their position.

Grendon’s intersectional identity The previous two sections have shown that uncertainty is derived from Grendon’s place in the wider penal system and from unique aspects of the therapeutic regime. Grendon’s dual identity as a prison and a TC makes violence harder to predict, which participants found very stressful. David described being unable to anticipate instances of violence as ‘the hardest part’ of living in Grendon. Violence in conventional prisons may be more frequent (Newton, 2010), but the men told me that attacks were carried out according to known criminal values, making them easier to predict and therefore avoid. Participants described themselves and their peers as mostly committed to Grendon but suffering lapses when their ‘old criminal values come through’ (Lewis) which were difficult to predict. Soon after his arrival, Michael publicly challenged others for using drugs at a wing meeting, consistent with the therapeutic regime. The following day he was knocked out on the exercise yard for ‘being a grass’. Such events quickly become known to other community members, reinforcing their respective uncertainties about the extent to which they should embrace Grendon’s principles. This dual value system not only made it hard to predict violent incidents, but created uncertainty for residents as to how to behave in this ambiguous environment. The residents I spoke to wanted to engage fully in the therapeutic regime but also had to strike ‘a balance and stay safe’ (Yasir). Grappling with Grendon’s demand of displaying commitment to the therapeutic regime, yet being required to do so in an environment with violent and dangerous criminals, engendered feelings of insecurity.

Chapter conclusion Consistent with Crewe’s (2011) description of conventional prisons, uncertainty was a central feature of prison life for the Grendon residents I interviewed. Each source of uncertainty – the ‘prison side’ of Grendon, unique TC features and the intersection of these identities – caused pain. Fixation with release dates, anxiety about being expelled during their early months and uneasiness about violence were some of the hardest parts of their time at Grendon. However, the residents’ experiences of uncertainty were nuanced. Unlike Crewe’s (2011) research participants, the Grendon residents were hopeful about their release and parole processes. Although the experience of uncertainty is somewhat exaggerated at Grendon through its use as an explicit form of governance, the experience of this power is not painful throughout the resident’s stay. The insecurity of their place at Grendon invoked anxiety for the residents during their early months but became less painful as they settled into TC life. Although this sample is too small to draw any definitive conclusions, this finding prompts questions about the often implicit assumption that pain always follows the imposition of penal power.

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

14

2: The pains of psychological practices

Crewe (2011) discusses ‘psychological assessment’ as a pain of imprisonment. He describes how prisoners find that aggregate risk categories and psychiatric labels dismiss their self-constructed identity and sense of individuality. Crewe’s (2011; 516) primary focus is on assessment, although he does briefly discuss the tendency of courses such as cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) to ‘bulldoze alternative meanings of selfhood’. This paper includes a more in depth exploration of the experiences of therapy because, unlike Crewe’s study prisons, therapy is the core of Grendon’s ethos and an examination of the men’s feelings about it seemed integral to understanding their Grendon experience as a whole. Indeed, the interviewees spoke at length about therapy providing a large volume of rich data.

Two broad categories of pain emerged from the data. The first is ‘therapeutic pain’. Although acute, this is the emotional pain that might be expected to accompany therapy and was perceived by residents as constructive pain. The therapy and the pain it engendered were accompanied by hope for the future, making therapy at Grendon painful, but not universally negative. The second is pain more closely related to the use of psychological power. This division is simplistic. These are not the only sources of pain and the categories may overlap. Nevertheless, making this distinction helps to strike a balance between recognising positive contributions of what is often valuable rehabilitative work for a vulnerable population and explicating the pains of imprisonment.

Therapeutic pain The nature of the psychological therapy at Grendon is markedly different to the courses offered in conventional prisons. Mainstream institutions offer courses such as CBT that tend to focus on the offence itself, with less emphasis on broader demographic factors (Pollack, 2005). Grendon does focus at length on offending behaviour (Brookes, 2010). However this is accompanied by consideration of residents’ upbringing and any instances of victimisation, as well as their current behaviours in prison (Morris, 2004). The depth and intensity of Grendon’s therapy is simultaneously recognised by the residents as why it ‘works’ and why it is painful.

One of the most painful aspects of therapy, for the men I spoke with, was developing insight into the harm they had caused themselves and others. Self-disclosure is a ‘building block’ of psychological therapy (Calhoun and Tedeschi, 2013) and is an active process of becoming the subject of one’s own analysis (Rose, 1990). Adam aptly uses the image of ‘having a mirror in front of you’ to describe this process of self-reflection. He explained that therapy helps you ‘realise what kind of person you were. No-one can like seeing that if you’ve done the things we’ve done’. Lewis also found that ‘the hardest part of being at Grendon’ was confronting the pain he had caused his rape victims, of ‘accepting who you are, what you’ve done’. These insights mean that residents must confront the discrepancies between their ‘ideal self’ and ‘actual self’. A person’s ideal self is a representation of the attributes and behaviours they would ideally like for themselves. Their actual self is a representation of the attributes that they believe they actually possess (Higgins, 1989). Higgins’ (1989) self-discrepancy theory states that discrepancies between

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

16

Yasir did not disclose any victimisation but he nevertheless benefitted from opening up in therapy. His experience further reinforced the idea that the pains of therapy should not be separated from the resident’s broader narrative and shows how racial and cultural identities interact with therapy. Yasir identified as Asian-Pakistani and suggested that when he first arrived at Grendon his ‘cultural and own beliefs’ held him back. When asked to expand he stated that his culture dictated that ‘everything stays within the family dynamic’, so it was ‘pretty hard for me to talk to the other group members’. However, once he ‘got past that hurdle, [he] began expressing myself and understanding [his] emotions’. It was not, as other researchers have found (Newberry, 2010), that he felt that the therapists were insensitive to his culture or beliefs. He felt able to ‘talk to the staff’. They helped him to ‘trust the process’ and begin striking a balance between opening up enough to benefit from therapy and staying faithful to his cultural beliefs. Yasir’s experience reinforces the argument that the pains of therapy are not isolated from residents’ histories or from the identities they bring to the therapeutic environment. It also demonstrates that, although Yasir felt he had overcome them, there may be some culturally specific pains associated with making disclosures in therapy.

Group therapy has some significant benefits for residents but the corollary of the group format is that residents must listen to one another’s accounts of offending. The group format allows residents to challenge one another in a way that therapists may not; in essence it is harder to con a con (Brookes, 2010; Marshall et al., 2004). It also provides a support network for residents who share similar experiences (Petersen, 2003). Residents expressed the distress that hearing others’ accounts caused them. They did so in a manner that was not critical of Grendon itself; they accepted that this was unavoidable. As David pointed out, when hearing about other people’s crimes ‘you can’t blame him, that’s what he’s got to do’. Nevertheless, when placed in context of their own victimisation histories, hearing accounts of similar types of offences in explicit detail is incredibly painful. Adam, who was sexually assaulted as a child, told me:

I've had to sit in groups where I’ve heard people discuss in detail. They’re a serial rapist for example, they’ve snatched women off the street. Because of the nature of their work they have to go into detail and when I say detail I mean every detail down to smells, down to the look on the woman’s face, down to what she said when she was begging him to stop.

Henry’s sister, mother and partner had all been victims of sexual assault. Hearing others speak about committing these sorts of crimes made him feel like he was ‘betraying’ his family. He described feeling as though he was going to have a panic attack, of having nightmares and of intense anger. David found the ‘graphic’ detail of hearing about child sex offending the most ‘difficult’ and ‘horrific’ thing he had ever endured. It was clear that being exposed to such details over long periods of time deeply affected the residents and was a source of great pain.

The culmination of these intensely emotional aspects of therapy made Grendon the most painful period of imprisonment the residents had experienced; but this pain also engendered hope. Adam told me that ‘out of all those prisons and prison sentences, this is the hardest bit of prison I’ve ever done in my life’. Henry said that he would find it easier to return to a conventional prison and ‘sit in solitary for two years’ than

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

continue ‘facing up to things’. Yet the men were simultaneously passionate about the virtues of therapy at Grendon and derived hope from the progress they had made. Adam told me that ‘for what it’s done for me it’s like no words can explain it. I get really quite emotional when I think about it.’ His relationship with his family had improved after he told them about his victimisation for the first time, something that he ‘wouldn’t have had the confidence or the skills to do without Grendon’. Henry told me proudly that his ex-partner’s parents had written to the prison governor to express how thankful they were for the changes they could see in him. Having others validate his progress in this way was further evidence of his ‘hard work’. Yasir felt that he had ‘more confidence’ and could speak more openly. Michael was drug-free for the first time since his teenage years, something he credited to the combination of his own hard work and the environment Grendon provided. These were just some of the developments that the residents could see and feel. Achieving these improvements engendered positivity for the future.

The residents attributed their improvements and the hope they inspired to the emotional pains they had endured in therapy. The pain of therapy was the very thing that provided evidence that they were progressing. The common feeling was ‘in therapy if you don’t go through the pain then you’re not doing it properly’ (Yasir) and ‘good medicine never tastes nice’ (Henry). As Adam emphasised, therapy at Grendon was ‘not only one of the toughest things [he had] done in life, but one of the most rewarding’. This is not to say that the pain was accepted in this sanitised way and a linear path to progress experienced. Many of the men had handed in their papers to leave when therapy was tough but then changed their minds. Nevertheless, the pain of therapy meant something to participants; it symbolised growth, recovery and psychological transformation.

Psychological power The men recognised therapy-related pain as constructive, rather than vindictive or neglectful on the part of the institution. The emotional distress caused by therapy was therefore legitimated. While this pain was felt strongly, it was justified by the results residents had already observed and still hoped to achieve. Nevertheless, the prison remains an institution of power; power is not eliminated but rather changes form. Here, the pains that emerge from the intersection of psychological practices and penal power are considered.

As discussed in Chapter 1, the residents’ belief that Grendon is uniquely positioned to help them functions alongside uncertainty as a source of penal control. Conventional prison courses were described as ‘superficial’ ‘tick-box exercises’ (David). While these courses were considered helpful for ‘getting you out of jail quicker’, Grendon was regarded as the only place that could ‘keep you out’ (Michael). Michael described taking part in a drug rehabilitation programme in which he would sit in silence with other prisoners for the first half of the session, take drugs in the tea break and return to ‘talk the ears off each other for the second half’. The prominence of traditional criminal values, in addition to ‘superficial’ psychological courses, meant that residents unanimously dismissed the potential for conventional prisons to help them on their path to desistance. The experiences of these men suggest that Grendon does rely on ‘‘the system’ being as awful as it is, in order to maintain an obvious difference between itself and other prisons’ (Wilson and McCabe, 2002; 290; see also Genders and Player, 1995; 135). That Grendon is

The Howard League John Sunley Prize winner

‘oppressive and yet somehow light’. Residents are surrounded by surveillance that motivates them to behave in a manner consistent with Grendon’s rules.

The ‘total institution’ has been recognised as launching an assault on the personality (Goffman, 1961). Given that Rhodes (2010a) argues that Grendon is a particularly intense total institution, it is unsurprising that it comprises a substantial assault on the personality. To some extent, this is stating the obvious. Residents enrol in therapy specifically to make changes to their personality. However, these are positive changes that residents have chosen to make. Grendon also imposes therapeutic ideas onto residents’ identities that they do not agree with. Lewis found it frustrating that it was assumed he behaved a certain way ‘because it’s one of my criminal traits’. He countered: ‘No I’m doing it because this is how Grendon’s making me feel.’ David provided a particularly emotive account:

‘Cause I’m a criminal, it’s all about crime. Not that I want to be an individual, that I want to maintain a set of morals, that I want to stand up for myself. None of that’s important, forget all that ‘cause you’re a criminal. I’m expected to just drop all that and become a loyal servant to the cause. I refuse to do that and that can cause you some damage. It can knock you back for being recognised as achieving something, it can definitely stop you getting parole.

Thus, although Grendon tends to avoid the ‘dehumanising’ psychiatric diagnoses that cause distress for prisoners in mainstream institutions (Crewe, 2011), psychological assessments at Grendon can also feel one-dimensional and frustrating. Fox (1999; 94) describes resistance as ‘an opposition to the ‘privileges of knowledge’ – the power of experts to determine what’s real and right’. David (quote above) recognised the power that psychologists have, but chose to resist anyway. In particular, he resisted Grendon’s interpretations of what was real and what was right about his path to offending. Grendon attributed his offending to his father’s criminal involvement but David felt his crimes were an autonomous choice. As a result he was labelled as a ‘problem’. Consistent with Crewe’s (2011) description of psychological power, David’s resistance to the dominance of psychological discourse has the potentially ‘severe cost’ of damaging parole applications.

However, most of the research participants recognised the power that psychologists operated and chose to comply. Lewis told me that when he was faced with labels or assessments he disagreed with, he nodded ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’ to each one. He did so in recognition of the power psychologists have to delay his progression to a lower security prison: ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’. Lewis continued, ‘They can write something in a report, everyone’s going to listen to it, everyone’s going to believe it whether it’s true or false.’ The power of psychologists is clearly demonstrated when residents attempt to leave Grendon before they are considered to have ‘completed’ therapy. Although residents are ostensibly given a choice of whether or not to leave, David scoffed at this idea:

No-one’s here for 18 months unless you forcibly remove yourself from therapy. At which point you’ll be, not threatened but it’s an underhand threat. You know these types of language that’s basically in a roundabout way saying we’re not going to support you; it’s going to go against you effectively.

Bridges: The contemporary pains of imprisonment

20

Lewis reiterated these points, the process is ‘like blackmail’ because leaving against Grendon’s wishes would result in more prison time. When he had tried to leave, he had been given a ‘little talk’ by psychologists to discuss his options; he was left thinking ‘well I didn’t really have a choice’. In the face of this psychological power, it is in residents’ best interests to comply. The ‘choice’ of whether or not to leave is restricted to such an extent that it is no longer a choice between two realistic options. Such instances epitomise the psychological power identified by Crewe (2011). Control is not physically brutal, but is nevertheless coercive. Psychologists have the power to influence the progression of inmates and it is generally in their interests to comply.

Chapter conclusion It is crucial to strike a balance between recognising the pains that arise from psychological practices, while also appreciating what is often valuable rehabilitative work. The material that the men bring to therapy stems from pain; recognising the pain they inflicted on others and their own pain as victims. The emotional pain that is experienced in therapy is perceived as constructive. Observing their own progress cultivates hope and positivity for the future. Yet, the hope residents attach to therapy also forms the foundation of Grendon’s power structure. This is supplemented by the professional influence of psychologists and the intersections between therapy, surveillance and risk. Grendon operates a particularly pervasive form of all- encompassing psychological power. Psychological practices at Grendon not only deliver hope and transformation but also cultivate a form of soft, psychological power which serves penal interests of control.