Creativity can flourish in prison despite the prejudices of both staff and prisoners. Erwin James reflects on his own experience of the arts in prison.
Rehabilitation not retribution
One of the major problems that prevents us from using imprisonment to benefit society in the best possible way is that, in spite of the evidence (especially the re-offending statistics) that tells us that current practices are generally not successful, we continue to insist on combining retribution with rehabilitation. Somehow the prison sentence is meant to both punish and reform. Though this may appear desirable and reasonable in theory, in practice it limits the possibility of a positive response from the imprisoned person. It is natural for most of us to want those who have offended against us to suffer. But unless we can overcome this instinctive response to crime, we should not have great expectations about the rehabilitative power of imprisonment.
In my own case, early on in my sentence I decided that I wanted to use my prison sentence in a positive way. I had massive failings to overcome: I went to prison ill-educated, inarticulate and harbouring chronic social inhibitions, yet I did find that prison was a place abundant with opportunities. But before I could begin to address my failings and take advantage of the opportunities on offer ? every prison I was in had an education department, a library, a gymnasium, a chapel ? I had to learn to live safely in a hostile environment and cope with the punitive attitudes of the majority of uniformed prison staff. In particular it was these attitudes that I found to be the biggest obstacle to my personal development.
This became even more apparent once I began attending education classes. Such classes were not deemed to be a priority activity by those in charge of organising regimes. Generally, teaching staff were tolerated by uniformed staff rather than held in high regard. There were often displays of resentment among the latter whenever facilities for prisoners were upgraded, new computers or gymnasium equipment for example. Success in constructive activities depended on the minority of uniformed prison staff and governor grades (to be found in every prison) who recognised the value of these activities and went out of their way to ensure that classes were allowed to go ahead, that teachers were treated with respect, and that prisoners were unlocked in time to attend.
With such negative attitudes dominating however, it should come as no surprise that creative activities, such as art, drama, creative writing and craftwork, were considered to be even less of a priority than academic education. It was left to particular individuals, special people who were prepared to swim against the tide, who understood the power of creativity, to promote the creative arts. This meant that prisoner access to such activities was severely limited and the benefits minimal. Yet in my experience it was the creative arts that had the biggest positive impact on the lives of the prisoners who took part.
A lack of self-worth, self-esteem and self-confidence are the failings that affect the majority of people who end up in prison ? none more so than me. More than anything else, involvement in creative activities enabled me to find my voice and gave me the confidence to use it. The power of promoting the arts in prison and the potential gains they can bring must not be underestimated.
Erwin James was released from prison six months ago, after serving 20 years. Five years before his release he began writing a regular column for the Guardian newspaper entitled A Life Inside. Since his release he has continued to write a regular column for the paper, now entitled A Life Outside. He will be speaking at Doing The Arts Justice ? a major conference for artists, arts organisations, policy makers and those involved in working in the criminal justice system which will be held on 6 April at the NCVO Building in London.
t: 01227 470692;
e: info@a4offenders.org.uk