For my PhD I interviewed men at the start of a long-term sentence, men at the end of a long-term sentence (a few months before release) and men on license (supervision in the community). Looking at my interviews, I was struck by the similarities in two fragments: the phrase ‘I’m still here doing it’ echoes in both.
I’m still here,
that’s the main thing at the end of the day,
I’m still here,
I’m still daein’ it,
I’m still free
(Tim* – on license)
It’s still fair,
I’m here I’m doing it
(Peter* – at end of sentence)
Both fragments describe ‘hanging in there’, the endurance of difficult circumstances. You would expect (or at least, I expected) that life outside should be easier than being in prison. Other interviews, as well as these two, made me see that life after imprisonment can actually be harder in some ways than being inside. Most of the men I interviewed in prison felt okay about themselves. They worked, had created a routine for themselves and were hopeful about the future. The men on license, though, were often disappointed in themselves. Now that they were ‘free’, they compared themselves to other ‘free’ people, most of whom had never been to prison, and found themselves wanting. Their ‘straight’ friends had families, jobs and houses – they didn’t. Most of them wanted to get jobs, but the last time they had worked had been in prison; having a criminal record meant that most employers rejected their application out of hand. For some, their reliance on ‘the dole’ created problems in their relationships. One man was asked by his partner to leave their shared house; because he could not find a job and they lived together, she was expected to support him – he would get more benefits if he lived alone. Many of the men I spoke to described isolating themselves because they wanted to avoid trouble. This often meant avoiding old friends, enemies and police officers who knew them and might have some scores to settle. Staying ‘in the house’ meant that license could be as lonely as, and more empty than imprisonment. There was also no light at the end of the tunnel, in prison there is release to look forward to, but on license there is nothing that promises better times ahead.
This situation is unlikely to change unless the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act 1974 is reformed. I spoke to an employment lawyer on the train last week, and she has started asking employers why they are asking questions about previous offending on their application forms. Often, they have no idea. In many countries in Europe, your offending can only be disclosed if it is relevant to the job you are applying for. In France, social workers will even help you to fill the gaps in your CV created by imprisonment. There is also research evidence that after a certain number of years of non-offending, those who have offended are no more likely than the general population to (re)offend in the future. Why, then, do offences that have been punished with prison sentences of over 2.5 years need to be disclosed to all employers who ask (often for no real reason), for ever more?
*the names are pseudonyms