The prison population recently rose over 80,000 in England and Wales for the first time. There is every chance it will continue to be there at Christmas. Nor is the story very different in the rest of the United Kingdom. The population in Scotland was running at 7,131 in October – a new high too. Northern Ireland is seeing fast growth following the reduction at the end of the troubles. All in all, the United Kingdom has almost 37,000 more prisoners than France, despite having the same population, as this year draws to a close.
And, of course, the effects of prison ripple out much further. The government does not record the children of prisoners. It is a shameful omission – although the government has promised to rectify it when the prison records are finally computerised. However, we do know from Home Office research that each year more than 17,700 children are separated from their mother’s imprisonment in England and Wales. Including fathers, the total comes to an estimate 150,000 who have a parent in prison. To put it another way, during their school days, seven per cent of children experience their father’s imprisonment.
It is an unseasonable note, but a useful reminder that the reality of mass imprisonment has far reaching consequences. The sad fact is that while the prison population has been rising, family visits have been falling. In a crowded system, it is difficult to keep people near their families in the first place. Men in prison are held an average of 51 miles from their home. That can be quite a journey with kids in tow, on public transport or by car. Sometimes people and the press adopt a dismissive attitude to the needs of prisoners’ families. At worse they are guilty till proven innocent, to be treated like criminals when visiting prison. The very business of organising a visit is often a trial. I have spoken to people in tears after days or phoning a prison only to get an engaged tone, or a perpetually unanswered ringing. It is as though the court sentenced the whole family.
Charles Clark when home secretary, gave the Prison Reform Trust annual lecture in 2005. He pointed out eloquently the relation between family contact and reduced re-offending: ‘I believe that we sometimes fail to give enough emphasis to the powerful impact of supportive relationships to prisoners – to realise that offenders often care deeply about letting down those closest to them, and want to show that they can change.’ The Social Exclusion Unit’s study on reducing re-offending by ex-prisoners confirmed the strong link between family contract and successful resettlement in society. It also revealed the breathtaking efficiency with which the prison system achieves precisely the opposite: 45 per cent of partnership and marriages break up during a prison sentence.
On Christmas day itself the only contact between prisoners and their families, in most cases, will be by phone. Phone systems in prisons are provided by a BT as a monopoly provider. People can only phone out, and the call is charge at five times the rate from a public payphone. That mark up is even more grotesque when you consider that the average prison wages hovers around £8 a week. It is neither humane nor politic to place such a heavy burden on the main link between prisoners and their families. Of course, the stories most likely to be in the press at this time of year, will be outraged tales of turkey dinners for prisoners. From the grim experience of prison lunches, I can testify that the bird, if there at all, is most likely to be served ‘a la twizzler’. The real story will be the human story of families separated – more than they need to be.