Inside Mountjoy
THERE ARE SOME 450 IRISH PEOPLE IMPRISONED IN MOUNTJOY. These people are robbed of their dignity, they enjoy no privacy and they are subjected to a petty authoritarian regime which hasn't changed essentially for over a century. Pat Brennan has the inside story on Mounjoy.
It is true that some piecemeal reforms have been introduced in the last decade but the old prison rules, which demean prisoners, still prevail; there are no rehabilitative facilities, the educational facilities are availed of by only one in seven prisoners and only one prisoner in fifteen gets industrial trade training.
Although the charge is hotly denied by a defensive Department of Justice, solitary confinement is still operated as a punishment for relatively minor misdemeanours, there is effectively no access to the courts against arbitrary punishment, and no independent complaints procedure within the system for instance in its 55 years of existence the Visiting Committees have processed only 29 complaints.
All prisoners are locked up for 15 hours per day and it is hardly surprising that most complain of loneliness as the central feature of their imprisonment. The prison system is dominated by a paranoia about security, dictated by the Department of Justice - for instance there are no communal dining areas in the prison and even the modernization plans don't provide for one because of security considerations.
The prison officers' role is primarily a security one - they receive only the most elementary training for the job and the number of welfare officers and psychologists is meagre.
The recreational facilities are almost non-existent and the working routines either dehumanizing or also non-existent. Prison life for most of the 420 prisoners is idleness interspersed with petty and humiliating intrusions into their private lives.
An investigation of the male section of Ireland's largest prison, based partly on a tour of the prison complex.
About half of our adult male prison population resides in Mountjoy Prison - a miserable, steel-grey institution that was built in the middle of the nineteenth century. Its structure will be familiar to viewers of the BBC's Strangeways. Like Strangeways Prison, it is built around a central tower that connects the cell wings.
A former prisoner describes it: "Mountjoy is composed of four wings radiating from the centre - the circle. Old lags call the circle 'Picadilly' or 'Marble Arch'. Two wings run parallel to the North Circular Road about 150 yards back from the North Circular. The other two wings jut out in a V shape from the centre of this main wing. The main wing's about 600 foot long. There's A wing to your left and D wing to your right as you look up the avenue to Mountjoy. The blocks you can't see are B wing and C wing."
Each cell wing is divided into three landings. Since the last riots in the prison each wing and each landing within each wing has been caged off into self-contained units increasing the security of the prison but also adding to its desolate, menacing atmosphere.
There are about 450 prisoners in Mountjoy, and about 300 prison officers, 180 of whom are on duty on an average day. Mountjoy is the largest prison in the country and is one of the two committal prisons for adult offenders (the other is Limerick Prison).
This means that nearly all the adult prison population goes through Mountjoy. Some move on. Long-termers who aren't likely to cause trouble are moved to the more rehabilitative and pleasant Arbour Hill. Subversives would almost certainly end up in Portlaoise. Others who are thought to threaten prison discipline, may be shifted to the Curragh. Those who are judged to be likely to benefit from the open atmosphere of a small hostel-like prison may be transferred to Shelton Abbey if space is available. Others, considered safe bets for rehabilitation may be let out early on the temporary release programme.
For the rest, there is Mountjoy - a place which offers very little in the way of rehabilitation.
In 1979, 87 per cent of all those convicted were sentenced to a year or less. The percentage of short-termers in Mountjoy could be even higher since most of the long term prisoners are either in Arbour Hill or Portlaoise. The breakdown of figures for 1979 shows that half of the convictions were for offences against property, most of these did not involve violence. 58 per cent of men convicted in 1979 had been in prison previously. Of these, more than half had served more than six previous sentences. A picture emerges of a criminal for whom a stretch in Mountjoy is not deterrent, not a chance for rehabilitation, but an unpleasant liability of the job.
In 1979 the Prisoner's Rights Organization carried out two surveys of offenders - one on 50 children from Dublin's inner city who had delinquency records, and another on 200 adult offenders. These are the only available surveys of this kind. The results show that most offenders are born into large families living in Corporation housing on low incomes. Unemployment is the norm. A large number had brothers or sisters who had been convicted and 20 per cent parents with criminal records. Three quarters received no education beyond primary school level, and one third were totally illiterate. Of the rest the majority was only marginally literate. The lack of academic skills was not made up for in manual skills.
The average man in Mountjoy is an illiterate, unskilled, habitual petty criminal. He is not very likely to be transformed into anything else in Mountjoy, because most of the serious attempts at training and rehabilitation in our prison system are of benefit to the long term prisoner only, even though the short term prisoner may spend a greater proportion of his life in a succession of short sentences - behind bars.
The primary function of the prison system is the "safe custody" of those whom the courts have decided must be isolated from society. After the safe and secure imprisonment of offenders is taken care of, then the prisons consider the question of rehabilitation and training, with what facilities and resources are available. Rehabilitative facilities vary from prison to prison, but at Mountjoy they are at their worst.
The prison day in Mountjoy begins at 7.3 0 each morning when the prisoners are awoken. At 8 o'clock the cells are unlocked and the doors are opened. Prisoners then clean their cells and "slop out" (empty their chamberpots). When prisoners are locked up for the night at 7.30 each evening they are to tally reliant on chamber pots as their only toilet facility until 8 o'clock the next morning. There is, in some cells (particularly in St. Patrick's, the juvenile prison contained within the Mountjoy complex) a smell of urine.
It is particularly because of the inadequate toilet facilities that the recent complaints about food standards and subsequent outbreaks of diarrhoea caused so much anger among prisoners and tension within the prison. (The Department of Justice maintains that it investigated the complaints thoroughly and found that while there was an outbreak of diarrhoea in the prison this was definitely not caused by the food.)
Former Mountjoy prisoners refer to the existence of a "bomb squad" - a party of fellow prisoners whose duty it is to collect the parcels of faeces dropped from the windows of the cells each night by the inmates who couldn't last until 8 o'clock the following morning. Mountjoy Prison is in the initial phase of a 10 year modernization programme, but this does not include the construction of toilets in the cells.
After "slop out" each morning, prisoners collect their breakfasts and take them back to their cells where they eat alone. From 9 to 10 there is an hour of exercise - consisting in walking around or kicking football - in the tarmacadam exercise yard. If it is raining, "exercise" is taken in the recreation room: playing pool, talking and smoking. There are 12 pool tables in the prison, and "some games", although former prisoners complain that they are of the "snakes and ladders" and "Ludo" variety.
From 10 until 12.15 prisoners either attend classes or work in the workshops. One major workshop cum recreation area, is an enormous, barn like room. Here there is little pretence of rehabilitative craft work - men are just passing time making mats or mail bags in the bleakest surroundings. The toilets adjacent to this room afford almost no privacy - they are barely blocked from the main room with half doors.
From the Prison Rule Book:
A prisoner shall be guilty of a breach of prison discipline if he -
(1)Disobeys any order of the Governor or of any other officer or any
prison regulation.
(2)Treats with disrespect any officer or servant of the prison or any
visitor, or any person employed in connection with the prison.
(3)Is idle, careless, or negligent at work, or refuses to work.
(4)Is absent without leave from divine service, or prayers, or school
instruction.
(5)Behaves irreverently at divine service or prayers.
(6)Swears, curses, or uses any abusive, insolent, threatening, or other
improper language.
(7)Is indecent in language, act, or gesture.
(8)Commits a common assault upon another prisoner or any other
person.
(9) Converses or holds intercourse with another prisoner without
authority.
(10) Sings, whistles, or makes any unnecessary noise, or gives any
unnecessary trouble.
(11) Leaves his cell or other appointed location, or his place of work,
without permission.
(12) In any way disfigures or damages any part of the prison, or any
article to which he may have access.
(13)Commits any nuisance.
(14) Has in his cell or possession any unauthorised article, or attempts
to obtain such article.
(15) Gives to or receives from any person any unauthorised article
whatever.
(16)In any other way offends against good order and discipline.
( 17) Attempts to do any of the foregoing things.
Off this large room there is a more modern workshop where prisoners make tables for handicapped children. In the basement of the D wing of the prison there are small, specialised workshops featuring leatherwork, carpentry, upholstery and soft toy making. This particular area is claustrophobic and over heated, but a Department of Justice Official remarked that work was being planned to install a proper ventilation system.
Prisoners are paid 40p daily for their work in the workshops.
In Mountjoy prison it is conceded that men working at mat making or leatherwork are not being trained for useful occupations in the outside world. Those who are coming to the end of a long sentence might be lucky and finish their time doing one of the nine month courses in the Industrial Training Unit in Glengarrif Parade, just behind Mountjoy.
The Training Unit is a relatively recent addition to the prison system. Its function is to train prisoners for employment in industry upon release. Because of the length of the courses, the men who serve sentences of more than a year are more likely to be transferred to the Training Unit for a course of about six to nine months. Although there are places for 96 in this very modern prison, about one third of these places have been taken up by prison officers who have used the prison for their own training.
There are some 1,400 prisoners released from the nation's prisons annually. The training unit caters for only 70 at a time.
In Mountjoy itself, many prison officers feel that there isn't much point in trying to do anything more than just provide something that will help pass time for the prisoners. "By the time we get them it's too late, and we're criticised for not being able to pick up the pieces."
Of course, prison officers are not trained to be rehabilitative experts. One does not need any academic qualifications to become a prison officer although according to the Governor of Mountjoy, more and more trainee prison officers have their leaving certificates. New recruits receive a six week course in the Training Unit and a further six weeks on-the-job training. There are no refresher courses, or development courses for older prison officers who joined the prison service when there was little or no talk of education or rehabilitation.
One of the major problems in Mountjoy is illiteracy. Educational facilities in the prison have improved in recent years. Still, attendance at school is totally voluntary and many prisoners are reluctant to admit their literacy problems. According to the 1979 Prison Report, teachers attached to the Dublin City Vocational Education Committee "provided about 200 hours of tuition per week for up to 60 pupils". Most do not participate in the various educational classes (most of which are remedial). Certainly library facilities - a limited selection, mainly of novels - and the petty library regulations do not encourage an educational atmosphere. Prisoners are allowed to take out books from the library once a week only. If they finish their books mid-week, they are not allowed to swap with other prisoners. There are also restrictions on books that prisoners are allowed to have brought in from the outside. If the book is directly related to a course a prisoner is taking, he will probably be allowed to have it sent in. But there is no established right of prisoners to have any reading material they like sent into the prison for them. The prison officers judge w hat is to be read by, and w ha t is to be withheld from, prisoners.
At 12.15 prisoners return to their cell wings and collect their lunches which they bring back to their cells and there they are locked up until 2 o'clock. This is to facilitate the prison officers also taking a dinner break, without having to keep a large staff on duty to maintain security. Former prisoners complain that after a long stint in prison they are hardly able to eat with other people, they have become so used to eating alone locked in their cells.
The Department of Justice's modernization plans for Mountjoy Prison, do not include plans for communal dining areas. It is only the open prisons and the Training Unit that have these. According to a Justice Department Official, communal eating and any other situation in which large numbers of prisoners were grouped together, would represent a security risk, 'and a possible loss of control.
The afternoon programme in Mountjoy is similar to that of the morning with prisoners returning to the workshops. The aim of the prison is to keep the prisoners occupied in as small groups as possible. But the 1979 Prison Report acknowledged that "because of restrictions of space it is difficult to provide employment for all the prisoners". The Governor, Mr. Patrick McFadden, did not think that this was still a problem but certainly on the day of this visit there was no evidence of any number approaching 400 in the workshops.
According to one recently released prisoner: "Most of the jobs that are going are filled twenty times over the kitchen, cleaning on the landings, what's left of the trades and maintenance, the tailors, what's left of the shoemakers. Most of the guys in Mountjoy spend their time scratching their arises looking at each other, and talking about crime or sex.
Some prisoners are unable to attend workshops or classes in Mountjoy even when this is possible. In the hospital wing ill or depressive prisoners are isolated. Because of emotional problems some prisoners are nearly permanent residents of the hospital wing, which includes two padded cells.
Another cell in the men's section of Mountjoy is located in the notorious B Base. As far as the prison authorities are concerned, this is a segregation unit for those prisoners who must for their own safety be separated from the others. There is no doubt that in some instances - the Littlejohns, the UDA men, and the two Englishmen convicted of murder - this is the case. For the most part, these seven prisoners make up the long term residents of the B Base. On the day of this visit there were 12 B Base cells occupied. Five men were being segregated in the base because of discipline or violent emotional problems.
The B Base is a cavern-like basement with a small tarmacadam exercise yard. One prison officer remarked: "They always describe the B Base as subterranean. But it's not really. I mean, there are windows in the cells." There are windows in the B Base cells, high in the wall way above eye level as they are in all the other cells in the prison. Former prisoners refer to the Base as a punishment area and no matter how it is described by the Department of Justice most prisoners do genuinely believe that the Base is for punishment, particularly solitary confinement.
The Department of Justice has repeatedly stated that solitary is no longer used as a punishment but prisoners say that it is. A Department of Justice Official explained how this difference of opinion arises by saying that solitary confinement traditionally has meant isolation 24 hours a day in a darkened cell with meals shoved in under the door. That form of punishment, along with bread and water diets, still listed in the rule book, no longer exists. What does exist is called "separate confinement." Separate confinement means that the prisoner is isolated in a cell - probably in the B Base because isolation in his own cell, according to the Department of Justice Official, might cause unrest among the other prisoners on the cell wing. During separate confinement (which according to the rule book can last for nine months although it usually is a matter of days), the prisoner is let out of his cell for 1 hour a day. It is not surprising that prisoners to not see a great difference between the current "separate" and the obsolete "solitary" confinement.
Separate confinement, although it is not an uncommon practice, is not listed in the punishments in the annual prison reports. The most common form of punishment is loss of various privileges, the most serious is loss of remission. The list of punishable offences in prison is all inclusive, ranging from assaulting another prisoner to making any unnecessary noise to committing any nuisance. The most common violations of prisoners come under the heading "insubordination".
Punishment is meted out by the Governor. The prisoner's only recourse is to appeal to the visiting committee. However, according to the recent Commission of Enquiry into the Penal System, since the visiting committees first appeared in 1925 they have fully processed only 29 complaints by prisoners.
Prisoners can change prison rule;' and conditions, if not specific punishments, through the courts. Recently prisoners have had toilet facilities improved through court action, and had the pre-existing condition that prisoners released on parole could not talk to journalists dropped. However, prisoners taking cases to the High Court do not qualify for legal aid and are seldom able to afford it. Because of this, several complaints from prisoners to the courts have not been adequately presented and have been dismissed. The Prisoners' Rights Organization is worried that this trend is actually creating precedents that will hinder future cases brought before the courts.
Workshop activity in Mountjoy ends at 4.30 when prisoners are again locked into their cells for their evening tea. From 5.30 until 7.30 they return to the recreation room where the television is unlocked from its press. A very recent boon to Mountjoy prison is piped television. Before, there was only RTE 1 with its early evening children's programmes. Now they have a selection of five channels and some video facilities, which means that a sympathetic prison officer might record a programme aired after lock-up time to be replayed to prisoners the following evening.
At 7.30 prisoners are locked up for the night. Most have radios which are particularly valuable to those who can't read. Those who can read are able to do so, although the light is dim and centrally controlled. In some of the newer prisons like the revamped Arbour Hill there are bedside lights which can be turned on or off by the prisoner once they are switched on centrally. During the night the light is turned on from time to time to check on the prisoners. One former prisoner who complained that the switching on of the light in the middle of the night provoked insomniac tendencies, was allowed to leave the light on all night as the lesser of two evils. The use of this kind of discretion is left up to the prison officer.
Over the years the Visiting Committee to Mountjoy has recorded in its annual report that there are several disturbed people in Mountjoy who need psychiatric treatment. That situation has not changed. One prisoner is so severely disturbed that a cell in the Base is very nearly reserved exclusively for him. When he is convicted, quite regularly, as it happens, for short sentences, he spends his months in Mountjoy in separate confinement in the Base. Because this particular prisoner has swallowed knives, bed springs and just about anything else he can get his hands on, he is left in a cell with nothing but a foam mattress. At one stage he was on several foam mattresses to avoid the damp which inevitably rose through the stone floor of the Base.
In theory, disturbed prisoners are supposed to be catered for by the Department of Health in the Central Mental Hospital in Dundrum. Because of the unwieldy nature of the law, no one can actually be sent to Dundrum unless he is certified as legally insane. The authorities in Dundrum are reluctant to accept the violently disturbed Mountjoy prisoners, (they say they are not equipped to handle them safely) and prison officers allege that prisoners are sedated in Dundrum so that they might be declared sane and are then sent back to Mountjoy after a couple of weeks, in no better shape than they were when they left. One instance is cited of a female prisoner in Mountjoy who had a history of mental illness and who was sent to Dundrum and after two weeks declared sane and brought back to Mountjoy - so sane and non-violent was she that it took six men to force her back to Mountjoy. Another prisoner was sent back from Dundrum declared sane but with a warning that he might try to kill himself. He was left in a cell and checked on every fifteen minutes. Even then, the suicide attempt nearly succeeded.
In the female section of Mountjoy, there is a windowless cell reserved for very disturbed prisoners. Prisoners call it The Black Hole. This is where the prisoners who attempt suicide are isolated while they cool down or await transfer to Dundrum. Unlike similar cells in Mountjoy, The Black Hole is not a padded cell. According to the senior prison officer in the women's section, wrist slashing has become less common in recent months: "We haven't had a serious attempt in 8 months, touch wood." When a prisoner does slash her wrist a medical officer comes over from the male prison to apply stitches and sedation, unless the cut is very serious, in which case the prisoner is brought over to the Mater Hospital. While it is obvious that the prison system must ensure the protection of the prisoner, it is doubtful that a spell in a darkened cell is therapeutic for potential suicides.
When the prison sentence of any prisoner is up, the Department of Justice's responsibility for that prisoner and right to interfere or assist in his or her life ends. This limits severely after care services and also means that a violent person must be released when his sentence ends even if prison officers, welfare officers, and doctors agree that this person is likely to be violent and dangerous upon release. In one instance, a particularly violent prisoner who had been back and forth to Dundrum several times and had attacked prison officers, was released. He is now awaiting trial for attempted murder in Britain.
There are three full time psychologists attached to the prison service. Psychiatrists attached to the various health boards can also be called upon to visit prisoners. Psychiatrists counsel prisoners referred by the prison Doctor. However, there is no organized attempt to seek out people with problems that might be exacerbated by the loneliness of a stint in Mountjoy prison, where every prisoner is locked up alone in his cell for at least 15 hours each day, and the majority suffer a further loneliness imposed by the limitations of illiteracy.
According to one member of the Mountjoy Visiting Committee: "It's all too haphazard." For the violently disturbed there is only isolation in the B Base or in one of the padded cells of the hospital wing. There is nothing at all to identify and help those who aren't obviously disturbed but will eventually become so. For those who can be declared insane there is the largely futile shuttle to and from Dundrum. Several prison officers and at least one member of the Visiting Committee estimate that there are about 50 people in Mountjoy who should be in a psychiatric hospital and whose condition is actually deteriorating because of conditions in Mountjoy.
Within the prison, there are weekly meetings of senior officers, the Governor, and the welfare officers at which the cases of the prisoners are brought up and discussed. Once in prison, an inmate's life is a virtual open book as far as the prison staff is concerned. They feel that they need to know all there is to know about every prisoner, especially the long term prisoners and those who might become violent. According to one prison officer: "A fella wakes up
one morning and realises that he has another five years to go and cracks. I have to know everything I can about him because I have to deal with him, not some team of psychologists."
It is for this reason, and security, that there are so many restrictions governing censorship of letters and supervision of visits. Prison officers are within earshot of nearly all prison visits, except in exceptional cases or in the open prisons of the Training Unit. In the male section of Mountjoy visits take place across a long table, with prisoners and their visitors sitting on opposite sides. On a crowded day, when several visits are taking place at the one time, there might be a chance of some privacy. In the women's section of Mountjoy visits take place in a tiny room which is no bigger than the average cell, across a small table – no bigger than 3' x 4 '. The prisoner and her visitor sit on either side of the table with the prison officer at the head of the table. In this situation, there is no hope of privacy, although the individual prison officer might decide to bend the rules and make herself as scarce as possible in such a tiny room, but this is totally arbitrary.
When asked if he was not embarrassed to eavesdrop on something as personal as a prison visit between a husband and wife, a prisoner officer replied quite innocently and genuinely: "It's alright. You learn how to listen without letting them know you are." His point being that to cope with a particular prisoner he needs to know if there is trouble at home.
From the prisoner's point of view this essential and consistent invasion of privacy contributes enormously to a build up of tension and pettiness in the prison.
According to one former prisoner: "There is nothing about you they don't know. They read your mail, they listen in on your visits. No one on the outside can appreciate how petty everything becomes because there is nothing bigger in your life." Former prisoners claim that prison officers sometimes use the information gleaned from letters, visits, and most of all, prison gossip, to assert their power over prisoners. Given the vulnerable position of prisoners and their sensitivity to their complete lack of privacy, even a genuine concerned inquiry about the well-being of a spouse could be taken as a taunt. It is the build up of this kind of petty pressure which leads to hatred and periodically erupts in riots.
Much of the rebuilding of Mountjoy has as much to do with making the prison riot-proof, and securing the authority of the prison regime as with turning this archaic penal institution into a place of rehabilitation. In the riots of the early seventies, a great deal of property was destroyed. As the prison is being modernized, breakable porcelain sinks are being replaced with stainless steel ones. Wiring and plumbing are to be moved behind the walls. But more importantly, the old hospital building, which has been unused for several years, is being rebuilt at the moment as a secure, segregated unit for drug abusers and violent prisoners.
The Third Interim Report of the Interdepartmental Committee on the Mentally 111, chaired by Dr. Justice Henchy, recognised that there is a special category of person not suitable for treatment in a psychiatric hospital or incarceration in a prison - violent people sometimes called psychopaths or sociopaths - who require a special detention unit. However, the Henchy report also recommended the establishment of a Medical Review Body to guarantee that such a centre is not abused. At the moment, the building of this high security unit for violent prisoners is going ahead without any overseeing Review Body. It is thought that when this unit and the new high security prison in Portlaoise are completed, the Curragh will close as a place of detention for civilian prisoners. The Visiting Committee of the Curragh has on several occasions pointed out that prisoners requiring and in some cases receiving psychiatric treatment have been transferred to the Curragh where there are no psychiatric facilities and treatment is limited to medication, and that this practice should stop.
For the Department of Justice, the Curragh plays an instrumental part in maintaining prison discipline and control. Justice Officials claim that most trouble in Mountjoy - including actual riots - is caused by a few troublemakers who are able to manipulate less articulate prisoners. If these prisoners can be isolated, either temporarily in the B Base or more permanently in the Curragh, discipline problems are minimised, and there can be a more relaxed regime generally. If they do not remove those they see as ring leaders, they have to be stricter with everyone, imposing restrictions on tools available in the workshops or posters on the walls of cells. Along with the B Base and the rebuilding of the old hospital, another segregation unit is being built in the basement of the C Wing of St. Patrick's. This one consists of a self-contained unit with seven cells and a windowless, sound-proof cell which the Governor says will be "cladded, not padded."
Referring to the entire unit the Governor also offered the information that, "If it was finished at the moment I wouldn't have anyone to put down here." When asked why they were building it then, he replied, "We might need it in the future."
Besides the new segregation C Base in St. Patrick's, there is modernization and maintenance work in progress. In two years time the juvenile offenders will be moved out to the new prison in Clondalkin and Mountjoy will be emptied wing by wing - the prisoners being transferred into Patrick's while Mountjoy itself is being revamped. If not before then, the C Base in Patrick's will undoubtedly find occupants during this shuttle.
There are six welfare officers attached to Mountjoy. Their job is to act as a liaison between the prisoner and his family and to supervise those let out on parole. If a prisoner is released upon completion of his sentence, the Department of Justice and the welfare officers have no right to interfere in his life. However, welfare officers can supervise those who are let out before their time. According to the chief welfare officer in Mountjoy, this does not mean that they try to let all prisoners out a few weeks early (so they can provide aftercare). If they feel that an aftercare service would be a waste of time, they do not recommend parole.
The Chief Welfare Officer also feels that any former prisoner who wants to find a job will have no real trouble doing so, that employers aren't all that prejudiced against former prisoners. Former prisoners do not agree. Certainly, even in the Training Unit, there has been an underestimation of the employment problems encountered by former prisoners. One of the courses in the Training Unit, maintenance repair, was stopped because it was found that the trained prisoners couldn't get jobs - maintenance repair companies send their teams into their customer's homes and they weren't prepared to accept the risk of employing former prisoners.
Until the mid seventies, welfare officers didn't need any professional qualifications. Now they need a degree in social work, sociology or its equivalent.
But for the most part, in spite of a lot of well intentioned tinkering with the prison system, it remains degrading and oppressive and, most of all, extremely unlikely to affect any change in its prisoners, whom it is piously expected to rehabilitate into responsible, socially aware citizens.