Authors: Vicky Pryce
When I bought the newspaper that morning, in the queue was a young black man who asked me outright whether I was Mrs Pryce, then introduced himself and shook my hand. He asked in front of everyone whether I had indeed gone to jail and how it had been for me and then asked whether the women in prison had tried anything on me. He then proceeded to say that surely I would have hit them back if they had attacked me as I looked like a fighter! He finished by saying how nice it was to have met me. I kept my cool – I didn’t worry about him asking all these
questions in a loud voice in front of everyone. I had been impressed by Erwin James, the ex-offender and well-known commentator and journalist, telling me when I met him that I should keep my head up high. In any case no one had quite followed our conversation as the place seemed to be packed with eastern Europeans buying phone cards and travel cards who didn’t much care what was being said and the young Pakistani chap behind the counter wasn’t paying any attention either. No, what struck me was the perception that women are violent and that women’s prisons are dangerous places, both things which for the most part are not true.
The public is uninformed. A recent survey suggested that people thought that women in prison were there mostly for violent crimes, just like men, but the numbers of women imprisoned for such crimes is only a small percentage of the overall total. And women die in prison not because of fights but because of
depression
. Data suggests that up to 80 per cent of women in prison suffer from a variety of health disorders, which are brought about by abuse in childhood, homelessness, domestic violence and drug-related issues. And they are jailed for non-violent crimes in the main, such as handling stolen goods and shoplifting, serving generally short sentences for petty offences. As they are generally left without support they often reoffend – some 49 per cent of women with sentences under twelve months reoffend within a year and have a high reconviction rate of 58 per cent. All campaigning bodies would want to see the perceptions of that young man who talked to me in the corner shop about women in prison changed. This is not to say that there aren’t any violent incidents but there are a
lot less than imagined and the numbers committed by women in prison have been going down.
But it is a common perception. I probably thought exactly the same two years ago, even a few months ago, and if I had watched the recent programme on BBC called
Prisoners
which covered life in Holloway, among other prisons, I would have got a very frightening view of what goes on in female prisons if I hadn’t been in prison myself. According to an Ipsos MORI survey conducted in 2008, when those surveyed were asked whether they believed crime was rising (which figures suggest is not the case), 57 per cent said they believed it was because of what they see on television and 48 per cent said it was because of what they read in tabloid newspapers.
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This suggests a serious degree of misrepresentation of the issue on behalf of the press and TV channels. Looking into the portrayals of women offenders in prime-time TV crime dramas, one piece of research found that in a single series of the popular American programme
CSI
, 36.4 per cent of characters committing offences were female and of these offences 70 per cent were for homicide.
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Although this was higher than several other programmes, it
nonetheless
plays a role in public misconceptions. In a 2009 Ipsos-conducted survey, when members of the public were asked if they felt more threatened by men who commit crime, women who commit crime, or both, 58 per cent said that they felt threatened equally by both.
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The same 2009 Ipsos survey revealed that 34 per cent of respondents mentioned violent crime when asked which types of crime they felt threatened by, and that about half of the respondents felt there was no difference in the likelihood of committing crime between
men and women.
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These answers would suggest quite a large discrepancy between what the public thinks about female offenders, that they are just as likely as men to commit crimes and just as
threatening
, and the reality, that women are much less likely to commit crime and much less likely to commit violent crimes as the prison population figures demonstrate. Indeed, another investigation revealed that although crime has gone down significantly over the last ten years, only 4 per cent of people believed it had done so for the last twelve months in 2010.
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When it comes to how offenders should be sentenced, 65 per cent of the public believe prison would be
effective
in preventing crime and disorder. Yet, in addition to this there is widespread support for better mental healthcare (80 per cent in favour), making amends to victims (79 per cent in favour), unpaid community work (76 per cent in favour) and better treatment to tackle drug addiction (74 per cent in favour).
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Furthermore, an ICM poll in 2010 showed that 80 per cent strongly agreed that centres addressing the root causes of crimes committed by women, where they can also work in the community, should be available.
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Similarly, approximately two thirds of people believe that for non-violent and non-serious offences, alternatives to prison are more appropriate.
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Finally, regardless of offence a similar number thought alternatives were more appropriate for offenders with children.
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The trends suggest that although the public endorse tough sentencing by the courts people do tend to react to information rationally if they are given the correct facts. A senior civil servant recalls a survey in the early 1990s which, almost as would be the case now, found
that most people when asked thought that if anything sentences in general were too lenient. When the question was put to them another way, with the crimes actually explained, the verdict was that the sentences were in fact too harsh.
Baroness Whitaker, with whom I co-chaired a design commission enquiry into design education a year ago, wrote to me in prison and was the first to send me the famous Corston Report, which duly arrived in a brown envelope at East Sutton Park and was delivered to me without incident. She later arranged for me to meet Baroness Corston in person as soon as possible after my HDC release.
The three of us met at the peers’ entrance of the Houses of Parliament but then walked all the way through the building to Portcullis House for lunch in the Adjournment restaurant. Three women lunching together attracted some attention and Jack Straw shouted out my name as we were going to our table and gave me the regards of his wife, Alice Perkins, who used to be a colleague at the civil service. My very good friend Stephen Glover was at the next table having lunch with David Davis. It was so nice to be back in town. And so good to hear Jean Corston so passionate and knowledgeable about the issues of women offenders.
Another visit to the House of Lords but this time to embark on a completely different mission. I was asked soon after I was released to give expert evidence to the House of Lords European Union economic and
financial affairs select sub-committee on the eurozone. I duly arrived at 10.30, was greeted by the clerks of the committee at the Black Rod entrance and then brought up to committee room 3. I was joined by my old friend Ruth Lea, who I knew from her early days in what was then the Department of Trade and Industry but who was now at Arbuthnot Banking Group, and by Professor Stephen Haseler from the Global Policy Institute.
I only realised that this was not going to be an ordinary meeting when I was approached by a group of journalists who were lurking outside the entrance to the committee room. They introduced themselves as political sketch-writers from various newspapers, asked me how I was and then followed us in. I don’t think the sub-committee, chaired by Lord Harrison, who I knew of old, and containing people like John Kerr, ex-permanent secretary in the Foreign Office, and Patrick Carter, who had written a lot about prison reform, has ever had so many people from the public attending any open hearing for a technical session that was also televised live on the
parliamentary
TV channel. The poor sketch-writers all had to listen patiently to the technical discussions as I and the other panel members answered the questions posed by the learned lords before we were finally, an hour and a half later, invited to join their lordships for coffee at the House of Lords bar – without the journalists. Some nice words were written about my contribution the next day but the fascination seemed to be mainly with trying to guess where my tag might be hiding around my body. I had by then, following my release from ESP, already given talks on Europe, participated in panels, chaired events, written the odd
piece for the papers and was generally getting back to what I do best, namely commenting on economics. My prison sentence had not been mentioned by anyone and no journalist had asked any questions about it when I appeared on platforms. Given the day’s interest, however, I couldn’t fail to wonder how easy it would be for me and the other girls I met in ESP who were due for release to get back to normality.
While waiting for James Timpson this morning at the entrance of the Charing Cross Hotel to discuss the policies towards training and employing offenders and ex-offenders in his company, a lovely porter, a young half-Italian, half-Spanish guy, started to chat to me. He was very happy with the world and told me how much he had learned since he came to London. ‘I love my job,’ he told me. ‘I love London. I love talking to people and helping them. Can I help you?’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘Where would you suggest I go for coffee with my friend who is about to join me?’ ‘Don’t worry at all,’ he said, ‘I will take you up to the breakfast room with great views over Trafalgar Square and will get you the best table.’ As soon as James arrived he did exactly that. Up he led us, into the breakfast room, cleared a space for us on the best table by the window, had a quick chat with the
waiters
and he was gone.
The service was impeccable. I learned a lot from James and he gave me plenty of help and suggestions of who to talk to further. An hour and a half, and quite a few cups of coffee and tea, later we tried to pay the bill. No payment required, they all said. However much we insisted they refused to let us leave
any money, not even a tip. ‘This has never happened to me before,’ said James. ‘Ever.’
I had a mid-morning meeting with Roma Hooper of the charity Make Justice Work at some wonderfully understated club on Shaftesbury Avenue; the problem was, I couldn’t find it, that is how understated it was. Finally I pushed the doorbell on an unmarked door and went up the flights of stairs into a large, airy and packed restaurant area half an hour late.
After chatting with Roma for a few hours, I was off again to a lunchtime event at the Centre for the Study for Financial Innovation (CSFI). I arrived only a minute before it was due to start and to my surprise was ushered to the platform by its director, Andrew Hilton, as apparently I was meant to be part of the panel. Panic!
On my return home on the almost empty upper deck of the number 88 bus the woman sitting in the front row recognised me and said she and the congregation in her church had been praying for me throughout the service. It is probably what got me through the previous terrifying hour and a half on a panel in front of lots of City experts, all keenly watching my performance knowing full well where I had been and why. Fortunately, it went well and I thanked the lady on the bus for her prayers.
My last day with the tag. Serco were meant to come between 10 p.m. and midnight according to the licence document I was given at ESP when I was leaving. I met my colleagues from my previous job for
coffee in the Strand after a lunch and they advised me not to risk being late returning home. All thoughts of going briefly to Bastille Day celebrations at the French Embassy in Kensington Park Gardens were abandoned to ensure I didn’t mess up on the last day; traffic on Chelsea Bridge on the way back could have made me late for my curfew.
Back at home I settled in for the evening and began cooking for the people who were coming for dinner to celebrate with me. This time it would be the ESP pork and sausages bought by my children nearly three months earlier during family day and kept in the freezer for me ever since, earmarked to be cooked on my unconditional release date… And then, to my delight, two ladies from Serco turned up at 7.30 p.m. Nice and early. They took my tag and monitor off super efficiently and there I was, free. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself, so resumed cooking. In theory, I was still on curfew until midnight. Although no one could monitor me anymore, I decided to stay put.
My sentence finally at a close, a number of things have become clear to me and I end this part with a summary of my thoughts on the prison system. So at the end of four of the most charged months of my life how am I feeling and what do I think? The most important personal lesson I have learned is that love and support of family and friends are precious beyond belief. The second is that the women I met in prison were as much victims, often of men, as they were guilty of crimes which in countries not driven by atavistic media-generated retribution and revenge would not lead to costly and wasteful imprisonment.
The third lesson is that despite the impressive
network of academics, reform organisations, think tanks and support groups, the cause of
reforming
prisons is very far down the political agenda. The main parliamentary spokespersons for reform I encountered were all unelected peers well into retirement age. (No ageism is intended as some of the best and most vigorous of our parliamentarians are peers over sixty-five but great reform movements need the energy of youth and belief that a cause will help advance a political career.) Few MPs, or rising ministers or shadow ministers, seem to show much interest in reducing the number of women sent to prison each year either to serve a sentence or on remand. There are MPs who do make the occasional speech or ministers who claim, no doubt sincerely, that they would like to improve prisons but the massive increase in the prison population and the extent to which prisons release so many who only go on to reoffend suggests that the good intentions mentioned by ministers do not translate into policy or practice.