No justice in Irish prisons

WITH the creation of jobs and the rejuvenation of industry to the forefront of all the parties’ pitches in the throes of the General Election campaign, there has been little acknowledgement that successive Irish governments of all shades have created and maintained some very effective factories over the last few decades

These factories are churning out career criminals and drug addicts, who are tutored in a life of violence and have their self-esteem shattered by the vile conditions in which they have been created. I am speaking about those who have passed through the Irish prison system.
A European committee on torture recently issued a report criticising the “degrading, inhumane and unsafe” conditions in Irish prisons. While the publication of the report received passing mention in news bulletins and coverage in newspapers, it has not leapt to the forefront of political discussion by any stretch of the imagination.
No candidate I have spoken to who is seeking election has said that the issue has been raised on the doorsteps and yet, if we consider it logically, it is a very significant one for everybody in the country.
Firstly, there is the obvious problem of people’s basic human right being denied by a State institution but on a deeper, more selfish and perhaps personal level, there is the consideration of how widespread crime is in the country. Like most prison systems around the world, Ireland’s is based, in theory, on the concept of rehabilitation. If a person finds themselves in prison then they must give up their liberty for a set period of time and hopefully rejoin society at the end of their stretch and become a reintegrated and productive member.
In reality, most people who enter the Irish prison system find themselves in a desperate world of violence, sexual, psychological and physical, drug abuse, fear and intimidation. In many cases, the only new skills they learn are how best to inject heroin or fight their corner within the criminal fraternity.
Combine this with the networking, which is perhaps inevitable in such situations, and the prison system looks more like a manufacturing facility for crime and deprivation than anything else.
This is coupled with the stigma attached to a prison term when the offender is released, supposedly to start their life afresh, having served their sentence. The stain of incarceration will follow them in many cases for the rest of their lives and make it difficult, if not impossible, to find gainful employment. This leaves a life of crime as possibly the only option for some people, whether or not this is what they would choose for themselves.
The report on Irish prisons was compiled by the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment and what it highlights should be a source of deep concern to anyone who hears the details. It tells of stabbings being an almost daily occurrence in Mountjoy and of a culture of violence, gangs and drugs. This environment is neither safe for staff nor in any way good for inmates.
The concept that any person might experience any kind of reform or rehabilitation in such a situation is laughable. It should also raise serious questions about the use of short-term prison sentences to punish petty criminals. Many other countries in Europe now use community-based schemes, rather than straight custodial sentences, to deal with such offenders. This system would seem a much better option both in theory and practice and, from a purely humanitarian standpoint, saves at least some people from being forced to endure what are frankly hellish conditions and what amounts to torture in terms of mental stress, anxiety and fear.
It is enlightening to discuss this issue with people. The subject reveals why the conditions in Irish prisons have been allowed to degrade to the point that they have. There is a strong feeling that these people are bad, that they somehow deserve everything they get. In the minds of many, the punishment aspect of the justice system is to the forefront.
For this reason, those who fall foul of the law are a kind of ‘other’ in the collective mindset of ‘ordinary decent people’. They are different and not worthy of similar treatment to everybody else. This is a very dangerous mindset. It is blind to the reasons that people become involved in crime in the first place. It ignores the marginalisation and social exclusion, the inequality and the injustice that characterises many people’s lives from the moment they are born.
This is in no way intended to justify any criminal act, however trivial, but if a frank discussion is to take place and if society’s problems are to be discussed in a reasonable way, considerations like this must be taken into account.
It is difficult to be hopeful that any such discussion will take place in the coming years. The politicians seeking the votes of ‘ordinary decent people’ in the coming week are aware that those ‘ordinary decent people’ feel threatened in their own everyday lives and that there are no votes in speaking out on behalf of prisoners. Nothing will change when they are in power when moving legislation to ease the suffering within the country’s prisons will be way down their list of priorities, if it figures there at all.
The prisons of Ireland stand as physical monuments and stark reminders of deeper failures in Irish society. Within their walls are the people who fell between the cracks, some through their own choices and many through their misfortune to be born into extreme poverty, deprivation and marginalisation.
There are many bankers and politicians in the country whose acts over the last few years are considered by many to be criminal but they will not be put behind bars in vile conditions that threaten them physically and mentally. They will enjoy bountiful pensions and comfortable retirements. Where is the justice in that?