January 22 2022

Prison’s dark night of the soul

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Prison’s dark night of the soul

Koestler awards, Ariane Bankes Outstanding Award for Oil 2008


Kvetch - HMP Grendon, Buckinghamshire, Ariane Bankes Outstanding Award for Oil Acrylic Painting 2008

HMP Grendon, Buckinghamshire, Ariane Bankes Outstanding Award for Oil Acrylic Painting, Koestler awards 2008

Readers of this blog often ask me about what my experience of imprisonment means to me as an ex-prisoner. This article previously appeared on Alex’s blog Prison UK (here).

Usually they are facing a prison sentence, sometimes quite long stretches, and are trying to make sense of what is about to happen to them. Or else it could be family members who are anxious over what their loved one might be going through in jail and concerned about how incarceration might change the person they know and care about.

Although it’s relatively easy to describe the basics of prison in a straightforward, factual way, it be can much more difficult to deal with the psychological and emotional impact of confinement.

A blessing in the heaviest disguise?
Prison changes everyone. Often for the worse, but sometimes the experience can also provide an opportunity for personal growth and greater self-awareness.

Prison is a voyage of discovery, a journey into the depths of the night, the longest night of the human soul, and maybe it is a wicked thing to say, but it has been a blessing in the heaviest disguise.

I rediscovered these words – written by the English novelist John King – when I was searching through some prison paperwork this morning. I had read his dystopian account of confinement, The Prison House (2004), when I was banged-up in a pretty grim Victorian-era Cat-B prison and this particular sentence really stood out.

In fact, it came to mean so much to me that I actually wrote it out on a spare prison envelope and pinned it to my cell notice board next to my bunk. This scrap of paper is one of the survivals from my time inside and I have it on my desk beside me as I’m typing this post.

Seeing time in prison as a journey appealed to me, as did the idea of using my time inside as a journey of discovery about myself, as well as others. Almost anyone can imagine being deprived of material possessions, decent food and even sympathetic human contact, but really experiencing this for months or even years is entirely another thing. You can never really be sure about the limits of your own endurance until you have explored them.

The view of imprisonment – and human suffering – as a dark night of the soul isn’t new. The 16th century Spanish friar and poet St John of the Cross explored this in his famous poem Dark Night of the Soul. John was no stranger to imprisonment, having been jailed by a faction of his fellow friars who disapproved of his reforming zeal. During the nine months he was imprisoned in the most terrible conditions he was regularly flogged – at least once a week – as well as being nearly starved to death.

Those saintly friars really knew a thing or two about dishing out Christian charity. No doubt they would be readers of the Daily Mail nowadays as they seem to have shared similar views on the best way to treat prisoners.

Eventually, John managed to break out of his cell, then climbed out of a tiny window and escaped from his torturers. He went on to become one of Spain’s most celebrated poets and religious reformers.

Emotional battery
Fortunately, my own time in the slammer didn’t involve physical flogging, but there was a degree of emotional battery, including periods spent in solitary confinement and the realisation of what losing your liberty really means in practice. No longer having any real choices. Not being able to engage directly with family members and friends at will. Obeying orders, no matter how ridiculous or unfair or humiliating they might be. Being told off like a naughty child. Witnessing acts of extreme violence. All of these can have lasting impacts, emotional as well as psychological.

Occasionally, I still get angry about things that occurred in prison, even though I’ve now been out for two years. Not all of these incidents happened to me, but often to those around me. There were acts of gratuitous cruelty, sometimes committed by members of staff, but often between prisoners themselves.

Like other closed communities, prison can offer a playground for sadists who enjoy causing pain and hurt to others, so perhaps that should come as no great surprise.

On the other hand, I have also witnessed amazing acts of kindness and selflessness. I’ve written about this phenomenon previously (read here), but it is still worth emphasising again that many prisoners demonstrate a genuine capacity for caring for those around them, especially those who are in distress or suffering from ill-health.

Recognising this was also an important part of my own journey through this unfamiliar terrain that I was exploring.

Of course, I had my own ‘dark nights’ in my cell. Everyone does. There were nights after the lights had gone out that I genuinely hoped I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Or that if I did, this would all turn out to have been a very long and vivid nightmare.

At times, I was genuinely amazed at how resilient I actually became behind bars. Experiences that I’m sure would have left me crushed or devastated in my previous life could now be endured or even laughed off. I had never really taken Nietzsche’s famous comment ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger’ seriously before, but it was a common expression amongst prisoners. I doubt that the old German philosopher could have imagined that one of his quotes would become the motto of many prison inmates, but it really has, even if many of those who quote it have no idea of its origins.

Blessing in disguise
I’m sure that testing your own limits is a strong driving force for many explorers and adventurers. Programmes about travelling to distant or inaccessible lands, or else rowing across vast oceans, have become part of the stable diet on television, particularly when some celebrity or other is dragged through the wilderness or the snow. Even US President Barak Obama recently got in on the act (backed up by an enormous retinue of secret service agents and other flunkies who mainly kept out of camera shot).

In some way or other, it is a fascinating experience to pass through some testing ordeal and emerge at the other end a stronger, better or wiser person – preferably all three.

Is it so far-fetched to imagine that a period of imprisonment might have a similar impact? That is an important question at the time when there is an ongoing debate about the nature and purpose of prison sentences.

So could time in prison ever be ‘a blessing in the heaviest disguise’ as John King had his narrator state in The Prison House? Well, in some cases, I think it can be, even when it has been reduced to little more than human warehousing.

I remember men who I’ve met in prison who have overcome a lifetime of literacy with the help of volunteer mentors trained by the Shannon Trust and can now read and write for the first time. I’ve spent time with them in prison libraries while they choose books to read for themselves.

Then there are those who have lived dangerous and chaotic lives on the street who have had the time to reflect on their choices, as well as starting to confront some of their inner demons. Others have actively sought mental health support or help with their dependencies. Some embrace therapy to equip them to better manage their anger and lack of self-control. Many are all too aware of the suffering they have inflicted on others, something that can be very difficult for some people to live with.

However, progress towards rehabilitation can be intense and time-consuming which is why short prison sentences are often counter-productive. Confining people with complex personal and psychological needs to tiny shared prison cells for 23 hours a day will very rarely address any of these issues. It is rather like putting a patient in hospital and then confining them to bed all day with no treatment whatsoever or, in too many cases, without even an initial diagnosis.

If a 5-minute conversation during the reception process with a member of the healthcare team is the total extent of most prisoners’ assessments, it is unsurprising that so much mental illness goes unrecognised and untreated in our prisons, while incidents of self-harm and suicide are increasing annually. The simple truth is that the necessary resources just aren’t there to cope in this era of overcrowding and understaffing.

Exploring our prison system isn’t just about confronting one’s own fears and anxieties during the voyage of discovery. It is also about seeing how others behave and how they are treated – or else how they are warehoused and neglected prior to being released back onto the streets. If we really want people to change for the better and to cut rates of reoffending, then sentencing thousands to watch the Jeremy Kyle Show all day on TVs we rent them for 50p a week really isn’t going to make any difference.

Had I never had these experiences myself, I would never have written so much about prisons and imprisonment based upon my own journey into the depths of the longest night. John King was right. For me, it really has been a blessing, even if it was in the heaviest of disguises.

5 responses to “Prison’s dark night of the soul”

  1. Mrs Clark says:

    My husband has been wrongly convictedhsa, a fantasy crime that did not happen. I know this as I was there. The jury guessed as there was no evidence and they certainly did not believe me or my stepson. It was an outrage. We have been married for 32 yrs and have spent every day together., working together, bringing up a family together and saving to retire together. He has been dragged away from me at a time when we should be slowing down and enjoying life together. I now spend my 60s researching,looking for new evidence of a crime that did not happen. He is sat in a cell wondering “how can this happen?, how did it happen”. He is learning the ropes. I am serving every moment of this sentence with him. He is coping probably much better than me. I don’t tell him about how lonely I am, and the feelings I must endure as I don’t wish to make his journey any worse than it is. I am serving a prison sentence too. We had just moved to the coast to retire, when this happened to us. My family are therefore 100 miles away, so I must cope alone. My husband did everything, he maintained the home, the car, cared for me. It is like I am grieving. I now find myself struggling for money, as I am retired, I must maintain my own car and I have learned to drive on motorways,as I travel a 200 mile return journey on 2 motorways at peak time with all the wagons, just to see my husband for an hour and half, every week. I do not qualify for any help in travelling costs. I sit in the visiting waiting rooms listening to all the visitors including many children, stating that they visit regularly and stay in hotels without paying a penny. My whole life revolves around ensuring my husband has enough money to ring me daily and ensuring I visiting every week. I don’t put the heating on and I skip meals just so that I can put fuel in my car and send money in to help pay for the phone calls. These phone calls and visits are my lifeline. I research daily on ways in which to appeal. A door is shut in my face every week. But I will not give up hope, I will keep knocking on doors to get help. So yes I understand about prison sentences and how they affect people’s lives. I in the meantime must ensure that I stay alive until my husband comes home and hope that this country will come to its senses about prison sentences and wrongful convictions.

    • William says:

      Yes! It is sad and my heart supports you during this terrible time. I too stood open mouthed as I was convicted of Sexual Assault by the same Salem law which convicted witches in medieval times. This being that a pointing finger and gossip are placed before a mixed jury whose nature is to protect the weak from the strong. It also did not help that at the court I was seated in a separated box with a police guard sitting next to me whilst my adult accuser gave evidence behind closed curtains so only the judge and jury could see her. So before my trial the whole world was being shown that I was guilty and she was innocent and this was before the trial started — so I to was found guilty as are 90% of those so accused by any suggested evidence. (In my case any adult could see that the main evidence against me could not be true) – And this the year 2010. I was then sentenced to 56 months which was increased by 50% to 7 years – because I maintained my innocence. It is also sad that many unknown unpublished false pointing fingers are still convicting thousands of men. It is also a sad fact that all such accusations are seriously supported by the accusers’ compensation claims which can amount from £10,000 to £50,000. It is also a fact that the compensation case against me cost me £73,629 of which £18,648 went to my accuser and the rest to her solicitors which is why so many pointing fingers are being aroused for they have nothing to lose for if the man is found Not Guilty – they just walk away and none know of her deeds whilst the man has been “criminally” published in the papers for all to see.. And yes – this is the year 2016.. And sad again for all those who can do something about this false law are hiding and are afraid to stand up and claim that people cannot be convicted by opinions that have no supporting evidence — shame on them but they will get their rewards.

  2. andy weaver says:

    Hi Alex , how long did you spend in jail & which victorian prison did you serve time in. I notice , no mention of Listeners in prison who voluntary help their fellow inmates get through difficult times. I too spent time in victorian jails in the 80s, which wasn’t a nice place to be due to the 100% corrupted system. In the 80s it was cons v screws who detested each other with a vengeance ! Prison today is a joke & that’s why it no longer works.
    All the best Alex, Andy.

  3. William says:

    I understand much of what has been said by this communication, although I feel that the words used show a fear of reprisals which must have been picked up by the authors time in prison and for this reason they keep bouncing back from the realty of an inmate’s prison life – I am old so I am not afraid. The reality is that they are hacking houses in which the closest description you can describe is that inmates are treated as slaves who are controlled by the “opinions” of their masters and not by the law of the land in which they live. At least 30% of the controllers “masters” seek personal pleasure in abusing this system and if an inmate stands up against these injustices they are quickly shown that “slaves” have no rights but are governed by false opinions of their masters which are always accepted by the ruling authorities as a definite truth, so the slave suffers in smouldering silence — until the he is freed to live in fear or seek reprisals against how our country has treated him- for I understand that 80% of released inmates return to prison and that 15% are in prison for the first time. So a business decision would state that 80% of this 15% will return making an estimated 92% and if we add to this figure released inmates who have died – I would understand that our prisons show a 98% failure rate and they are not being very successful in rehabilitating and recalibrating ex-prisoners back into the community to which they belong — Is this fact true?

  4. Loll says:

    Our daughter is currently in prison, first time and was sentenced to nine years for a section 18 which she plead guilty to immediately on arrest. She has a seven year old daughter who is in our care, the Judge during his sentencing of our daughter, as there was no trial because of her guilty plea; berated our daughter for a full hour and called her some of the most audacious names one has ever heard from a man of such standing. The fact there was much mitigating evidence in which to support our daughter of her terrible wrong doing, this we feel was never really considered, he the “judge” had made his mind up very early on as to how he would sentence our daughter. We had a very weak legal team, and this also we feel was due in part to the lack of mitigation ever reaching the judge or at the very least questioned.

    Our daughter has been quite ill whilst in prison, having serious health issue through out her life, she was diagnosed with a recurring problem of a DVT this took ten days and many phone calls to the governor before finally being taken to hospital for the required treatment. Oh I could go on & on about the lack of provision in women’s prison, if Michael Gove really wants to change the justice system he really needs to listen and undertake what prisoners and families are saying, we as a family find it increasingly frustrating just the normal basic requirements are not even being met, who ever said prison was easy, needs to walk a mile in any prisoners shoes.

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