Joined-up sentences

    These are tense and troubling times: almost certain war with Iraq
    putting a match under the Middle East powder keg; invasion by
    asylum seekers polluted, according to The Sun (28
    January), with disease and terrorism; immigration so out of control
    that government wants to withdraw from the European Convention on
    Human Rights; billions of pounds wiped off share values. In this
    harsh moral climate, London School of Economics professor Richard
    Sennett expresses pessimism about the whole future of welfare. It
    is not the best time to argue for the rights of young offenders –
    that great scourge on society – but, as great oaks grow from little
    acorns, the makings of a social time-bomb always began many years
    in the past.

    More young offenders receive custodial sentences. More young people
    become parents. By extension, more young offenders are parents. As
    the inmate population rises year on year, the proportion of young
    fathers will also increase, but their needs, and those of their
    children and partners, are generally ignored.

    Prisons are institutions that deny individuality and
    self-determination – the privately-run Ashfield young offenders
    institution, from which 170 inmates are being removed because of
    the appalling conditions, is an admittedly extreme example of a
    deep-seated problem. Outside, a young man may be a son, brother,
    partner, father, but inside he will lose much of his identity. Too
    bad: in the popular mind, he has only himself to blame. In the
    popular view, a careful construct of both media and politicians,
    teenage mothers are feckless and promiscuous, using pregnancy as
    the passport to public housing and benefits, while the fathers of
    their children are judged fly-by-nights who drop their seed at
    random. Some no doubt fit the stereotype but many do not.
    Nonetheless, they are all tarred with the same brush, a contempt
    that extends to their offspring.

    There is universal acknowledgement of the trauma children suffer
    from the loss of a parent through death or divorce, but none where
    the relationship is severed by imprisonment, despite the fact that
    the child may witness the parent’s removal in terrifying
    circumstances. While custody confers social invisibility on the
    offender, so little heed is given to the impact on his family as to
    imply that they share his guilt. Often, they become pariahs and
    victims of reprisal.

    Prison alienates and degrades. Life inside is brutal and aimless,
    frightening and supremely tedious, underscored by the drug culture
    that infests mainstream society. For those from society’s margins,
    life outside can be equally bleak. The challenge to motivate the
    repeat offender, who regards imprisonment as an occupational
    hazard, is enormous, particularly as each episode behind bars
    results in greater desensitisation and a deeper absorption of
    negative values. Prison staff, similarly at the mercy of the
    system, must also manage the constant meddling of politicians and
    perpetual vacillation in the current moral climate.

    When particular crimes catch the public imagination and the media
    whips up a moral panic on behalf of “the people”, politicians feel
    obliged to react, usually with some ill-conceived strategy that
    makes matters worse. Within the space of a year, two diametrically
    opposed sentencing policies appeared: first, life imprisonment
    after a third conviction, no matter the offence; second,
    non-custodial sentences for the first two burglary convictions.
    Rehabilitation depends largely on a unified understanding of the
    purpose of custody; without that, prisons are just
    warehouses.

    Last year, the Howard League for Penal Reform successfully
    petitioned the High Court for the protection of the Children Act
    1989 to be extended to young people in custody. However, the onus
    for implementation will not fall on the Prison Service and,
    inevitably, councils have reacted with dismay to the prospect of
    additional burdens on already overstretched resources.

    Young fathers in custody are themselves often little more than
    children. Custody fractures lives, resulting in despair inside and
    out. The collapse of existing relationships is almost a given and
    suicide rates among young prisoners are alarmingly high. Offending
    behaviour should not abrogate the rights of the individual: once
    the sentence is served, the slate is clean.

    Stock Exchange whimsies notwithstanding, Britain is a rich country
    and one of the world’s safest, yet its record on child welfare is
    appalling. Post-Laming, it is surely time for inclusive children’s
    policies that fully embrace the young offender and his
    offspring.

    Alison Taylor is a novelist, a former senior child care
    worker and the winner of the 1996 Community Care Readers’
    Award.

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