If you have to, do you still want to?

When I was an undergraduate, there was one tutor who would talk to us about why  we wrote essays. Our obvious reply was that if we did not write them we would fail. He then asked us if we were interested in what we were writing about. Some of us were, and some of us were not. But the strange thing was that, even if you were interested before you had to write an essay, by the time you handed the essay in, you had usually started to dislike the topic. And were probably less likely to read anything more about it than before.

In my PhD research, I found similar reactions to having to do things among the men I spoke to in prison. Many said they wanted help with aspects of their behaviour, and they were motivated to tackle their problems (for example, dealing with anger). But they were not able to access cognitive behavioural courses because (or when) they wanted to, but only if they had been assessed as NEEDING them. Even then, the prison time table dictated when they could take part. Taking part was not absolutely compulsory, but if you refused to take a course that you were assessed as needing, you would not gain any of the incentives, like a lower security risk, more comfortable living conditions, a move to the open estate or parole. So really, for most there was little choice. What this meant, though, was that the participants in the courses were there because they had to be, not because they wanted to be. And this, said some of the men, meant that little progress could be made.

Both these counterproductive arrangements are examples of the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. When we do something because we enjoy it or are interested in it, this is intrinsic motivation. But when someone rewards us for doing it (or punishes us for not doing it), this is extrinsic motivation. And it turns out that if extrinsic motivation is imposed when we had intrinsic motivation to do something, we are less likely to have any intrinsic motivation left afterwards.

I am worried that even those men who want to attend cognitive behavioural courses, will actually lose their own motivation to engage and change their thinking or behaviour, because they are not there because of their motivation. Another worry is that, when these courses do have a positive effect, what will happen when the expected reward does not follow? For example, a few of the men said that they had attended the courses, but then had not been allowed to move to the open estate. Will they keep trying to apply what they had learned, or will they think the whole thing was based on false promises and give up?

Would it be possible to make more of intrinsic motivation within the prison? Universities are, so far, not managing this. Students are not allowed to only hand in coursework when they feel like it, on topics they like, because often there would be nothing to assess. Prisons have to run courses with enough participants, which means they are not always available and some people have to wait for the next programme. But it would be interesting to see what would happen if at least a few places on each course would be open to voluntary participants. Would there be any? Would this have an impact on the rest of the group? And what would happen if one course was run with only voluntary participants, who were not expecting rewards for attending?