Imagine jails without inmates
Paul and I vividly remember a very special event many years ago, a reading of my third book “The Seventh Year”. The book is a description of a cinematically documented climbing blind expedition, a journey leading up to an altitude of more than 6500 meters that came along with risks, and with several conflicts. The story also includes a passage that fits the topic of today’s blogpost, a police detention with house arrest in rural Sichuan. The book reading took place far away from the original scene, we found ourselves in a high-security wing of the prison in Werl, Germany.
The tour through the prison labyrinth to get to the actual venue was an adventure in itself.
Before entering the prison, we had to put all valuables in a safe, however, I could take my Braille reader with me. And then the gates closed behind us, fortunately only for a few hours.
The prison director kindly welcomed us and led us through the entire prison which left a strong impression on both of us. He addressed each inmate in person, shook hands and made funny remarks that were received with a lot of laughter. When we entered the high-security wing, a kind of a prison within the prison, he suddenly became more reserved towards the inmates. Paul had observed that here he remained friendly, but he avoided any physical contact. When Paul pointed this out to him later, he said: “if you knew what I know, you also would think twice about shaking hands with them.”
The audience for the reading was carefully selected. After all the listeners had gathered, the hall was locked and for the first time, we could be sure that no one would leave our performance prematurely.
The audience, all “heavy hitters” of middle age, were interested and, contrary to the predictions of the prison staff, were very focused. They were attentive, had good questions to ask, there was a lot of laughter and we soon found out that we had something in common: We were all “outsiders” and all of us struggled with social prejudices, albeit for different reasons.
With great curiosity, they inquired about my little ‘Pronto’ a Braille computer that I carry wherever I go. For a closer look, I passed it around. “You’re not gonna get that one back!” one of the inmates joked.
Later we were invited for a lunch that was prepared by prisoners who, as part of their rehabilitation, took part in a cooking course.
Was the experience disturbing? No, not at all. Perhaps the sunny late summer day did not leave room for a revolt. And instead of the expected strict orders, which we know from movies, there was overall a jolly atmosphere. Of course, I was not influenced by visual impressions of metal bars and watchtowers. And acoustically, it didn’t feel much different from any regular office setting. The only striking and perhaps stereotypical audio indicator was the rattling of keys and the constant locking and unlocking of doors and corridors.
In hindsight, the question arises: is this typical for a high-security prison wing? What about other federal state prisons in Germany? And what is the prison situation in The Netherlands, about 100 kilometres away from Werl?
K.R. Raja, a 2011 Kanthari graduate from Tamil Nadu in the South of India, explained details to me about my own neighbouring country: “The Netherlands is a world leader in its prison philosophy. Prisons were never seen as centres for punishment, but instead as institutions for resocialization. The prison staff usually have a psychological or socio-educational background. In Tamil Nadu, however, Raja says, “they are often mechanical engineers”, so they treat the inmates more like tools than fellow humans. The Netherlands are also at the forefront when it comes to decriminalization. And now they are even closing most of the existing prisons.”
“Why?” I want to know.
“One reason is certainly the comparatively low number of offenders. And among the relatively few that remain, there is a greater focus on rehabilitation, reintegration or the use of electronic tagging.”
And while prisons in many countries are hopelessly overcrowded, the Dutch prisons have been closed and are now used for different purposes, such as residential projects, artist collectives, office rooms for start-ups, alternative coffee shops and as accommodation for refugees…
Let’s look at the prison system in the Southern Indian state Tamil Nadu, the home state of Raja.
A little while ago we wrote about his inspiring work and commitment. Raja is the founder of the organization Global Network for Equality and, to the astonishment of many, he advocates for two marginalized groups who usually are not very well accepted in the Indian society. He mainly focuses on children of long-term inmates and the inmates themselves. Many of them who have murdered their wives. And in quite some of those cases, sadly, the children witnessed these killing. With the arrest of the fathers and the death of their mothers, they were practically orphaned and thus forgotten, both by the state and often by relatives too.
“Children must not bear the guilt of their parents.” Says Raja, who has been dealing with the fates of these children for nearly a decade. Many are abandoned and end up on the streets. Since 2012, when he founded GNE, he has supported more than 500 children of prison inmates. The support ranges from reintegrating them into their own families, usually with their grandparents, and financial support to cover fees so they can go to school, vocational training and/or further studies.
But Raja wants more: “The family can only experience emotional healing if the children can resume a relationship with the father.”
Therefore, he also focuses on the other group, the perpetrators. Due to illness, Raja has been physically disabled since he was 8 months old. Through pure willpower, despite many obstacles, he enrolled in good schools.
Before joining the kanthari Institute, he had studied social work and completed an apprenticeship in a prison. During his visits, he experienced first-hand conditions that, in his opinion, did not ensure that the inmates had a fair chance of resocialization.
After the violent and fatal attacks in a South Indian prison, in the mid-1990s – back then it was about brutal fights between different castes – the inmates were separated by caste and moved into different residential barracks, contrary to the Indian constitution. In addition, they were classified in their occupations according to the traditional caste professions. The Brahmins got the jobs in the kitchen, while the Dalits and scheduled caste groups had to do the dirty and dangerous work, cleaning latrines and sewage systems.
Normally such topics are hushed up in the outside world. But both, inmates, and staff trusted Raja because he was obviously different and did not belong to the mainstream. This gave him a unique chance to get an insightful impression and learned more than his fellow students.
According to the law, all inmates receive a salary for their work, but Raja discovered that this has been reduced to 70% in Tamil Nadu. Part of the salary went to the victim’s family, while another part was retained by the prison administration reasoning that this covered the costs for their accommodation in prison. So, he took action and wrote a Public Interest Litigation that was granted, so now the prisoners receive their fair share.
Raja also feels that medical care could be much improved. Often there are no special prison doctors available 24/7, and the private psychological therapist wouldn’t go within a mile of these prisons. But Raja is particularly critical of the lack of psychological support. Because of this lacuna, many inmates allegedly died by suicide in the prison. In Tamil Nadu, there is not a single prison that has an assigned psychiatrist who is available and could prescribe medication in cases of emergency.
The life of the inmates, their hopelessness of not being able to look forward to a dignified future, rendered him sleepless. And thus, he recently made a decision: “I will only be able to change conditions in the long term if I am taken seriously by officials, judges and prison directors.”
So, he began studying law, which he completed in a very short time. Due to the COVID crisis, during which he could not visit his clients in person, he had time for a master’s degree, and now he is even adding an LLM. His degrees not only ensure that the judges and prison personnel treat him with the necessary respect, but Raja also acquired important tools to revolutionize the living conditions in Tamil Nadu prisons. He fights for the rights of long-term inmates to be able to meet their families at important celebrations, such as weddings of their children, graduation events, or to attend a funeral of a direct family member, and he advocates for open prisons. He sees a model for a dignified prison in the neighbouring state of Kerala: not far from the kanthari campus in Trivandrum, there is the Nettukaltheri prison, an open jail, without watchtowers, metal bars and locked doors. It is an organic farm with livestock farming, organic vegetables, and fruit trees, a rubber plantation and with beekeeping & honey production, for which the prison has become particularly well known. The inmates can move around freely and do not take advantage of their freedom, because they get a good, solid education here.
They can also regularly stay in touch with their families, which strengthens the relationship. And, most importantly, they earn a reasonable daily rate, which is saved in full for the time after prison. All costs of accommodation and compensation for the victims are covered by the State of Kerala and are not diverted from the salary as it was done in Tamil Nadu.
Although Raja is of the opinion that the perpetrator should not relinquish their responsibility towards the victim’s family or to the state, He is nevertheless advocating for fairer rules.
According to a thorough field study, “Report on aftercare Services for Abandoned prisoners 26.11.2020”, prepared by him and his colleague, S.K. Venkat Raman, and submitted to Madurai bench of Madras high court, it becomes obvious that while there are laws that regulate aftercare and reintegration of former long-term offenders, they are not enacted as intended.
According to their findings, the lack of rehabilitation programs causes a significant relapse rate of more than 23%. They write: “It is understood that after release from prison, the accused becomes free but, on the contrary, the whole world becomes a prison for him.”
The authors describe in detail how reintegration becomes a huge challenge due to various factors: Often, former inmates are stigmatized and abandoned by their own family members. The situation is particularly difficult for long-term offenders who, before imprisonment, lived in a time without smartphones, Internet or ATM machines and now they have to learn all the automation in a relatively short time. And then there are those who come from a foreign country or a different state and thus have no connection to their family anymore. Without a functioning rehabilitation program, all these people will have little chance of reclaiming their way back to freedom and a dignified life.
Therefore, K.R. Raja and S. K. Venkat Raman are pleading for the following reforms in the state of Tamil Nadu:
– The establishment of at least five aftercare homes in which the released can be prepared for life in modern society.
– The transfer of prisoners to their own states or countries in order not to endanger family connections.
– Additionally, foreign prisoners should also have access to training programmes.
The organisation Global Network for Equality is supported by donations from private well-wishers. These funds finance expenses for the children of prisoners. Raja says: “When the father comes out of prison and sees how well his children are doing, it forms an extra motivation to start fresh again.”
“And what about you and your family?”, I want to know. Raja is married and has two children. “Who pays the lawyer who promotes the fundamental rights of prison inmates?”
He laughs and it sounds as if he is a bit embarrassed to speak about his own family needs.
But then he becomes serious: “Sometimes a family of an inmate gives me a little money for arguing their case in the court. But otherwise, it is difficult to raise funds to provide legal advice to perpetrators. Offenders have no lobby. But if we want the perpetrators to be able to start fresh again after serving their sentence, and if we want prisons not to be filled again by relapses, then inmates must be given legal and psychological care, so they (re)gain goals to live for.”