The Criminal & the Community

by James Devon

Commissioners are always appointed from among men in a good position whose minds have not been warped by any previous association with prisons. They can thus approach their duties without prejudice; and officials and prisoners alike have the satisfaction of knowing that they are in the hands of gentlemen.

Each prison has its visiting committee, consisting of members nominated by various local authorities with the addition of ladies nominated by the Secretary of State. Under the rules for prisons it has considerable powers of criticism, but they are not much used. In Glasgow the committee meets once a year, when its members arrange to visit the prison in pairs once monthly. In practice this means that each member spends in the prison two or three hours on an average every year. How much the members can learn about the work of the prison in that time may be surmised. They go round the place and ask each prisoner if he has any complaints, and they seldom receive any. They see that the place and its inmates are kept clean; that the food is good; that the sick are being attended to; and they may hear a complaint of breach of discipline and award a punishment therefor occasionally. They record their visits and make any suggestion that may occur to them. They may communicate direct with the Secretary of State if they choose.

They might perform a very useful part in the management of the prison if their powers were used to the full extent and their meetings were more frequent. They have no power to incur expenditure, but without doing so it is quite conceivable that by inviting the officials to explain matters and to direct their attention to special cases they might do a great deal to suggest improvements, with a view to prevent certain people from being sent to prison and to provide for others on their release.

They have the power to allow or to refuse certain privileges to untried prisoners. They are all agreed that the prison is an admirably managed institution, as free from faults as any place could be; but whether they have ever got the length of asking themselves what is the use of it is doubtful. It is clean—as it well may be; it is orderly—which causes no surprise, although its inmates are there because they “cannot behave themselves”; there are no complaints, and at the end of a visit they know as much of the inmates as they might learn of natural history by a walk round the Zoo.

They might conceivably be set to find out on behalf of the local authorities they represent why the prisoners are there and why so many of them return; whether it is not time we were seeking other means of dealing with them, and what means; whether nothing more and nothing else can be done than is done at present to help them on their liberation. The Commissioners have enough to do; and in the nature of things they are not so well qualified to deal with these subjects as the local authorities, for they cannot come so intimately in touch with local conditions. But the members of the visiting committees are usually busy men on the local Councils and have little time to spend on prison affairs, which may be a very good reason for the Councils nominating others who could find the time. So long as they merely see that the prisoner is not being ill-used outwith the rules, they are only looking after the interest of prisoners and public in a partial way. When they begin to examine matters from the standpoint of the public welfare—when they realise that the treatment of the criminal is as much a matter of public health as the treatment of the sick, and that it is to the interest of the community that it should be undertaken in such a way as to lead to his reformation—it will be better for everybody, including the prisoner.

I can imagine local committees making discoveries for themselves with regard to the causation of crime that would influence powerfully their whole administration; bringing pressure to bear within the law where it is most required and relieving pressure where it is harmful; using the powers they have, instead of lamenting the want of power which there is no evidence they could use if it were given them; but it needs a beginning.

Each prison is in charge of a Governor who is in daily communication with the office in Edinburgh. He visits the prisoners once daily and hears any complaints by them or regarding them. He has the power to impose certain punishments for offences against discipline, but if they involve a decrease of diet they must be confirmed by the Medical Officer, who may refuse to allow them on medical grounds. He is responsible for the carrying out of the rules and his discretionary power is very small. No qualification has been laid down for the position, and this leaves the Secretary of State free to appoint anybody whom he considers most likely to perform the duties satisfactorily, and prevents the post becoming a preserve for the members of any profession. In Scotland military men have been appointed, and members of the clerical staff and warders have been promoted to governorships, but no professional man has ever been placed in such an important position. When the Governor is absent or on leave his place is taken by the head warder, who performs the duties of this important office in addition to his own.

Where there are a sufficient number of female prisoners there is a Matron in charge of them, who visits them in the same way as the Governor does the males and discharges similar duties towards them.

The Prison Chaplain must be an ordained minister, and in the larger prisons he holds services weekly and conducts prayers daily. He visits the prisoners in their cells and administers spiritual consolation and advice; and he does what he can to help them on their liberation. Prisoners who are Roman Catholics and those who are Episcopalians are visited by clergymen of those Churches in a similar way.

The Medical Officer must be a registered practitioner, and it is his duty to look after the health of the staff and of the prisoners. Of all the officials he has the freest hand, for it has not so far been practicable to direct the treatment of the sick from a central office; but his very freedom—such as it is—may lead him into trouble should he pay regard to differences of temperament among prisoners and go beyond a consideration of merely physical signs. If he confine his energies to carrying out the rules he need never fear death from work or worry. He may hope to become a highly respectable fossil and have a place in the esteem of everyone to whom he has caused no trouble. He can do much to help prisoners, not by indulging them, but by humanising the place to some extent and setting the tone. He need not be a better man than his colleagues, but he is less a part of the working machine, and that should make a difference in his attitude. He is not concerned with discipline, for the sick are free of it, so that in a sense it is his business to interfere with discipline. His work is to do the prisoners good in a way they can understand; and he has even an advantage over the Chaplain, whom they also recognise as a humanising influence, for men are usually a good deal more anxious about their bodies than about their souls. The Governor may be a better man than either the Doctor or the Chaplain, but his position as the head of a system that the prisoners do not regard as directed to their aid handicaps his influence on them.