HMP Pentonville, London. Photo: Ian Waldie/Getty Images
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Lessons learned far too late: Inside the prison system with the Conservative justice minister Andrew Selous

Following rumours of overcrowding and poor morale, Ashley Cowburn visits Onley Prison - and asks why the system is in such a state.

Around a dozen male inmates are gathered in a warehouse at Onley Prison in Warwickshire, taking part in a bricklaying course. The lessons are among the many “multi-skill” workshops offered by the institution to prepare prisoners for their release. Every inmate wears identical clothing: green trousers and a red T-shirt, caked in cement. Their tools have tags on them.

Chris, a 34-year-old, is holding a buttering trowel as I approach him. He has been in and out of prison for over 17 years and expects to be released in just two months’ time.

“This place is all right, compared to other prisons,” he says. I ask him what he means. “Well, put it this way, Pentonville is a lot worse . . .” But, before Chris can explain, a Ministry of Justice press officer interrupts and asks us not to discuss “other prisons”.

Built as a borstal in the late 1960s, Onley held young offenders for more than three decades. Many of the original buildings still stand. At the turn of the century, the facility was transformed into an adult prison for “category C” prisoners – those who cannot be trusted in open conditions but are unlikely to make a determined effort to escape. Today, one of its main functions is to act as a resettlement institution for the Greater London area. Many of the inmates are approaching the end of their sentences.

The prison governor, Stephen Ruddy, is a plump, middle-aged man with a trimmed, white moustache and a northern accent: the perfect image of a prison governor. He tells me that Onley has 742 inmates, which means that it is operating at maximum capacity, but is quick to add: “There’s no overcrowding.”

“What we should have, we’ve got,” he says.

The Howard League for Penal Reform claims that prison overcrowding is at a “crisis” point in England and Wales. The charity reports that, over a two-year period (January 2013 to January 2015), 12 prisons were closed down, cutting the number of places available from 78,935 to 75,374, despite an increase in the number of prisoners. It stresses that overcrowding has coincided with “deep staff cuts and a rise in the number of suicides, self-harm incidents and violent attacks behind bars”.

Yet Andrew Selous, minister for prisons and the Conservative MP for South West Bedfordshire, claims that overcrowding is lower than it was under the previous government. We meet at the Onley visitors’ centre on the day he arrives to trumpet the achievements of a pilot scheme, “Inside Out”, which looks after the well-being of both prisoners and prisoners’ families. He says that prison crowding peaked in 2007-2008 and is “actually coming down”. “We have crowding but we’re building more capacity,” he tells me. “We’ll end this parliament with more adult male capacity than when we started it.”

I ask about the alarming increase in suicides in British prisons. Selous acknowledges that the number is high. Last year, it was reported that 125 prisoners in England and Wales had killed themselves over a 20-month period – an average of more than six a month.

“We try and learn lessons from every single incident,” Selous says. “Essentially, it’s about giving people hope. Why do people take their own life? It’s because things look bleak.

“The number of suicides is going up in society . . . and prison reflects what’s going on in society. The area I would like to concentrate on is trying to give the vision of a positive future at the end of the sentence.”

Ashley Cowburn writes about politics and is the winner of the Anthony Howard Award 2014. He tweets @ashcowburn

 

 

This article first appeared in the 19 March 2015 issue of the New Statesman, British politics is broken

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Jeremy Corbyn faces a dilemma as Brexit solidifies: which half of his voters should he disappoint?

He comes from a tradition on the left that sees the EU as a capitalist club.

Imagine a man who voted to leave the European Economic Community in 1975. A man who spoke out against the Maastricht Treaty in 1993, saying that it “takes away from national parliaments the power to set economic policy and hands it over to an unelected set of bankers”. A man who voted against the Lisbon Treaty in 2008.

You don’t have to imagine very hard, because that man is Jeremy Corbyn. When campaigning for the Labour leadership in 2015, he told a GMB hustings, “I would ­advocate a No vote if we are going to get an imposition of free-market policies across Europe.”

When Labour’s Brexiteers gathered to launch their campaign in 2016, several seemed hurt that Corbyn and his shadow chancellor, John McDonnell, were not there with them. “It is surprising, when we voted against the advice of the chief whip on a number of European issues over the last decades, that Jeremy and John, who have always been in that lobby with us, that they would want to lead a campaign that isn’t even asking for a renegotiated position,” said the MP Graham Stringer.

I mention this because since the election campaign started in April, I keep having an odd experience – people insisting that Corbyn is not a Eurosceptic, and that he will use Labour’s new-found strength to argue for a softer Brexit. Others claim that Labour’s current position on freedom of movement (ending it) is the obvious, common-sense – even progressive – choice.

This matters. Look, if the evidence above doesn’t convince you that the Labour leader is intensely relaxed about exiting the European Union, I don’t know what else would. Yet it’s clear that some Labour activists strongly identify personally with Corbyn: they find it hard to believe that he holds different opinions from them.

The second factor is the remaking of Brexit as a culture war, where to say that someone is a Eurosceptic is seen as a kind of slur. Perhaps without realising it, some on the left do associate Euroscepticism with Little Englanderism or even flat-out racism, and see it as a moral failing rather than a political position.

But I’m not impugning Jeremy Corbyn’s character or morals by saying that he is an instinctive Brexiteer. He comes from a tradition on the left that sees the EU as a capitalist club. You can disagree with that premise but it’s a respectable line of reasoning.

Also, the Euroscepticism of Corbyn and his allies will undoubtedly give them an advantage in the months ahead; they are not consumed by fatalism, and the members of McDonnell’s shadow Treasury team feel that the removal of European state aid restrictions can help revive ailing bits of the British economy. They have a vision of what an ideal “Labour Brexit” would be – and it’s not just sobbing and begging Emmanuel Macron and Angela Merkel to take us back.

We do, however, need a reality check. Now that the necessary humble pie has been eaten, Labour’s unexpected revival at the ballot box means we can begin to treat Corbyn as a normal politician – with the emphasis on the second word. He’s not the Messiah, but he’s not a joke either. He is a charismatic campaigner who is willing to compromise on second-tier issues to achieve his main objectives.

From the general election, we can see just how good a campaigner Corbyn is: he can fire up a crowd, give disciplined answers to interviewers and chat amiably on a sofa. That throws into sharp relief just how limp his performances were last year.

He might have little else in common with Theresa May, but they both looked at the EU referendum and thought: yeah, I’m going to sit this one out. He called on activists to accept the EU “warts and all”; and said he was “seven, or seven and a half” out of ten in favour of staying in it.

For both leaders, this was a pragmatic decision. May did not want to be overtly disloyal to David Cameron, but neither did she wish to risk her career if the result went the other way.

Anyone in Labour would have been equally sane to look north of the border and back to 2014, and remember just how much credibility the party immolated by sharing stages with the Conservatives and allowing itself to be seen as the establishment. By limiting his involvement in the Remain campaign and whipping his MPs to trigger Article 50, Corbyn ended up with a fudge that gave Labour some cover in heavily pro-Brexit regions of the country.

That’s the politics, but what about the principle? I can’t shake the feeling that if Corbyn campaigned as hard for Remain in 2016 as he did for Labour in 2017, we would still be members of the European Union. And that matters to me, as much as left-wing policies or a change in the rhetoric around migrants and welfare claimants, because I think leaving the EU is going to make us poorer and meaner.

That’s why I worry that many of my friends, and the activists I talk to, are about to be disappointed, after waiting and waiting for Labour to start making the case for a softer Brexit and for the single market being more important than border controls. As Michael Chessum, a long-standing Momentum organiser, wrote on the New Statesman website, “Recognising the fact that immigration enriches society is all very well, but that narrative is inevitably undermined if you then choose to abolish the best policy for allowing immigration to happen.”

Labour’s success on 8 June was driven by its ambiguous stance on Brexit. To Leavers, it could wink at ending freedom of movement when they worried about immigration; to Remainers, it offered a critique of the immigrant-bashing rhetoric of recent times. But can that coalition hold as the true shape of Brexit solidifies? Over the next few months, Jeremy Corbyn’s biggest decision will be this: which half of my voters should I disappoint?

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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