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Why Volunteer?
Bethany is an Associate Lecturer teaching modules in the first year.
Before I started lecturing at the university, unsurprisingly, I also once attended university as a criminology student. Very similar to the current university experience, I had deadlines, money stress and at times a lack of direction of what I wanted to do. Therefore, firstly, if you have experienced this or if you currently are, then you can find some comfort in knowing that you are not alone.
About 2 months into my first year, my seminar leader mentioned a volunteering opportunity for a mentor role at Milton Keynes Probation Office. I contemplated the idea for a couple of weeks; I was interested in the idea of volunteering, mainly because I had near enough zero work experience at all. I was however complacent in the idea of working for free, which is a common issue for students. However, when I took the plunge and put myself forward for it, it was honestly one of the best decisions and jobs I have ever had.
After getting out of my comfort zone in the first few weeks, In which I had some training about general health and safety and data protection. I suddenly found myself helping out in classes for English, maths, stress management, ICT and even a construction class! In these classes, there were ‘students’ who were issued to attend as part of a court order or had it suggested to them following a meeting with their probation officer. It was very rewarding and made me understand a lot of what I was doing in my modules.
The most important points from this for me that I feel should be shown more to all students is that:
- Time: You can give as much time as you want: I started only helping out in 1 class which lasted less than 2 hours every other week. I increased this to every week when I started my second year and more so again in my third year.
- Money: No, you will not make money, you will however 99% of the time be able to claim your expenses from the company running the volunteer group. I was able to claim for all my train tickets and any lunch I had while volunteering. Also mimicking the above point on time, I was able to still do volunteering alongside university and a part-time
- Experience: This was not only a good experience because I was able to do both my 2nd-year criminology placement at the probation office, but I was also able to interview offenders for my dissertation. But also you have great hands-on experience in the criminal justice field and you might actually help someone who is vulnerable and needs your patience and support.
This post is therefore in no way to make people feel bad for not volunteering or to say its’ easy, as it has many challenges and we are not all in the same position to give up time. However, If you are considering volunteering, whether that be to build up your CV, prepare for placement or you just want to give back for an hour or so. Below are some places currently looking for volunteers and I am sure your criminology expertise will be of use:
SOVA: Probation Volunteering
https://www.sova.org.uk/search-roles
Victim Support
https://www.victimsupport.org.uk/get-involved/volunteer
Safe Families For Children
Step Together ( Supporting Rehabilitation of Ex-Offenders)
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Tattoos: deviance or individualism?
For my blog this week I thought I’d follow up on @charlottejdann’s blog on tattoos and add some personal experiences to the discussion. The media certainly have had their part to play in the negative connotations surrounding tattoos and the types of people with them, however I question the extent to which the media influence those perceptions today. Based purely on my own experience and opinion I believe that tattoos have become relatively common and as we saw in Charlotte’s blog the rise in tattoo studios would certainly seem to support this assumption. In fact, I think a process of normalisation has occurred whereby it is more surprising when someone hasn’t got a tattoo than when they have. Furthermore, the negative connotations and ‘expressed shock’ at the increase in tattooing is, in my humble opinion, typically associated to those of the older, more traditional generation for whom tattooing was a symbol of deviance, rebellion and/or disrepute.
I got my first tattoo when I was just 14; a small black panther discreetly placed on my thigh. My choice of phrase here is not accidental, being just 14 and below the age of legal consent the placement of this tattoo had to be discrete to hide it from my mother. The intentional law breaking and deception of this act would certainly look like deviance to an outside observer. Since then I added two more tattoos to my collection and have another one planned for the near future. Reflecting on this notion of deviance and my own motivation I arrive at a number of conclusions. My first tattoo was, without doubt, an act of rebellion against the expectations placed upon me by family and peers to be a ‘good girl’ and a ‘high achiever’. I don’t in any way regret that tattoo but I can recognise the reason for getting it. My second tattoo was more daringly placed on my upper arm and in hindsight was not thought through or carefully picked but at the same time it was not an act of rebellion. Those of you with tattoos may understand when I say that getting tattoos is like an addiction, you either love them or hate them but once you’ve got one, you want more. It was this ‘addiction’ so to speak that led to my second tattoo. My third tattoo which covers my foot and spreads up my ankle, symbolises the changing direction of my life after the birth of my first child and is by far my favourite to date. In short, the meaning or motivation for each tattoo has shifted over time reflecting my growth as a person and my life experiences.
At the point of my third tattoo I’d entered the world of academia and was establishing my professional identity; an identity that was in some ways at odds with my tattooed body. Wearing a professional suit and heels with a tattoo on my foot and ankle certainly led to some raised eyebrows and disapproving looks from older colleagues. This reaction was nothing compared to the openly disapproving judgements I later encountered from fellow magistrates; not only was I young to be a magistrate but I was also tattooed and had the audacity to display them in court! Linking this reaction back to my earlier statement about deviance, rebellion and disrepute, the simplest thing would be for me to wear a trouser suit in court and hide my tattoos, in essence, conforming to societies expectations of that position. However, my reasons for not doing so are twofold, firstly I am a bit of rebel at heart and secondly, I do not see my tattoos as an act of deviance but one of self-expression. In all other areas of life, I conform to the norms and values of society, I have a career and present myself as a professional, I’m trying to raise my children to be good law-abiding citizens, I pay my bills on time, I put out my rubbish when asked and I try to treat others with compassion and respect. In short, I’ve joined the collective, blended into society and accepted the expectations of me as a woman, a mother, a daughter and so forth. My tattoos therefore are a reflection of self-expression, my little rebellious side that says, “I’m more than one of the collective, I’m an individual”. Each tattoo reflects my journey, where I have come from, what I have experienced, who I am and where I am going. They tell the reader that I am more than just a number, I am an individual embracing self-expression through body art because to me tattoos are not just ink, they are pieces of art symbolising your life journey. For this reason, I agree with Charlotte’s argument that tattooed people cannot be stereotyped as a homogeneous group because tattoos by their very nature make us unique individuals.
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“Letters from America”: Why do we even bother?
As I sit in one of those busy hotel cafés writing these lines, worrying that someone will spill their double decaf latte with a dash of hazelnut, over my laptop, I wonder. What is the point to a conference? Why seemingly normal academics will spend any time in hotels next to noisy honeymooners or loud party people who like to play their tunes at 03:00?
As we finished our first session the other day, in keeping with our own tradition, we overran, we sat and had a long discussion of the key points we got out of the session. The discussion was very interesting to talk to people who may do something similar to you, but so very different. “Comparing notes” has always been one of those processes in academia that promote understanding and enhance the way we learn.
The conference for any discipline is a mass gathering of professionals that do just that; exchange ideas and engage in discussions about the discipline and its practices away from all the other less academic endeavours of the profession.
Usually conferences carry a theme, our conference the theme this year is “Crime, Legitimacy and Reform”. I found it interesting, considering the sessions we are presenting, focus on subverting facets of an established penal institution into providing higher education classes and altering ever so slightly some of its founding principles. Reform? Perhaps, but definitely an attempt to address a profound disciplinary question what are prisons for? This is a question that considers if prison is a relevant institution for a 21st century society. Education in prisons is not a novel idea, but introducing HE education inside a carceral environment provides a new suggestion of what prisons might be for. Clearly this is something worth debating and this week we have been exploring some of the aspects of our work and research.
In a group discussion after one session, we identified the principle ideas of our approach to HE in prisons. The notions of mutual respect, equity for all and educational purpose are the things we identify as the most important. It was interesting to hear the responses from other delegates who seemed to have slightly different views about who ought to participate in such an educational initiative. Sessions such as these allows me to reflect also on what we do. One of the thoughts, I have had regarding the educational approach we have taken, is whether we “normalise” incarceration in a way that justifies/legitimises its hold as an established penal institution rather than challenging its authority (as @paulaabowles asks, quite graphically, is it better to be inside the tent and pissing outside than be outside the tent pissing in?!) Leaving colourful metaphors to one side, the question of what is the obligation/duty of a modern day criminologist regarding criminal justice institutions remains. In essence, should it be different from before; what Liebling calls; a critical friend towards all those institutions of control or not?
Finally the conference is where trends and ideas come to be tested, explored and debated. I remember being in one session back in 2000, when one colleague said; looking into the new century and predicting that the main concern for criminology will be youth crime and initiatives to control it. A year later, 9/11 made terrorism an emerging priority and the collective discussion shifted quite dramatically.
What are conferences for? A great deal of academic discourse…and an interaction that reaffirms why we care so deeply for our discipline
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Do you consent to read on?
The more eagle-eyed amongst you may have spotted that @manosdaskalou and I are due to present during ‘I Heart Consent’ Week (still plenty of time to book a space!). The topic – ‘Consent in the Classroom’ is one that is close to our hearts and something we have discussed in different environments with different people. In this week’s entry I want to consider why the subject of consent is particularly important for criminologists.
An obvious area to start is research; ethics are fundamental to all of the projects we do from undergraduate all the way through to seasoned academic. Discussions around ensuring participants are able to fully engage in the process of gaining informed consent are imperative. At times this may be viewed as procedural; simply going through the motions but given the sensitivity of much criminological research it has a primacy and an urgency necessary to avoid harm.
The last few weeks have seen a flurry of accusations directed at Hollywood’s “finest” (cf. Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Ed Westwick et al.) and government ministers and MPs (cf. Michael Fallon, Stephen Crabb, Kelvin Hopkins et al.). These often, light on factual evidence and heavy on prurient judgement, throw the spotlight once more on the issue of sexual consent. These cases are concerning on many levels and it is apparent from much of the discussion which often ensues whether on television, radio, in the newspapers or on social media, that many people are confused around the very nature of consent. Attempts have been made to counteract these lack of knowledge, often in creative ways; for example ‘Consent: It’s as simple as tea’ but looking at many of the comments, there is still a great deal of work to do. There are also wider issues in relation to consent; the absence of the victims’ consent to have their information paraded to feed the public’s desire for detail Likewise, the nature of summary justice being dispensed (e.g. expulsion from organisations, cancellation of contracts and resignations) deprives suspects of their right to defend themselves in court; there is no option for those suspected to opt for a trial by media.
Notwithstanding, the imperative to understand sexual consent, for Criminology, there is a further complication. When much, if not all crime, criminality and criminal justice, is predicated on the absence of consent, the issue becomes even more tenacious. If we consider that victims don’t consent, offenders may not consent to what ensues; certainly the criminal justice system’s [CJS] apparatus deliberately and meticulously removes consent throughout the process. Even when it comes to the professionals who work within the CJS, they may not consent, rather they are obeying guidance/policy/instructions/orders (delete as appropriate). After all, it cannot be consent if derived at the barrel of a gun, or in a police interview suite or a prison cell or when the economic situation is so bleak you are terrified of losing your job. When there is no room for manoeuvre, there can be no consent. Institutions and individuals may decide that this is a necessary price to pay in respect of crime and punishment, but that decision should never be taken without reflection.
All of the above shows the importance of consent, not only between the sheets, but in all aspects of criminology. Whatever side of criminal justice you might find yourself on, an understanding of consent is essential.
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Reading is dead, long live the book
The first week of teaching is always a bit of a culture shock. The transition at the end of term from teaching to other activities and vice versa marks a change of tempo and a change of focus. For me, the summer is a time of immersion in reading, thinking and writing. All of these activities continue throughout the year but far less intensively. It’s is perhaps ironic then, that this week’s blog post has left me struggling for ideas…
Previously, I have blogged about the stresses and strains of writing, so this week I thought I might turn my attention to reading; a far more pleasurable personal experience. The first questions is why read? The simple answer is to accumulate knowledge, to find the answer to a question and to educate and entertain. Arguably, all of these purposes can be achieved far more easily by looking on the internet, getting a quick (if not always correct) answer. Why bother learning things when the internet can provide information 24 hours a day? Furthermore, who can fail to find something to entertain and amuse on the television, in the cinema or on the internet? Perhaps the death knell for the old-fashioned art of reading books is sounding with increasing urgency and volume? I disagree!
I learnt to read at around the age of 5 and very quickly I was hooked. Throughout my childhood I was teased for my seeming inability to put a book down even with eating or walking. This never dissuaded me away from the book and even when that one was finished, there would always be another one to take its place. This reading “addiction” has never left me and has meant that I have been able to explore mythical places such as Eastasia, Erewhon, Gilead, Lilliput, Manderley, Narnia and Utopia and without even leaving my armchair. I have explored America, Australia, Botswana, Germany, India, the Netherlands and South Africa to a name a few, not to mention my home city, both over ground and underground. In my reading life, I have travelled on the Orient Express, fought in the American Civil War, WWI and WWII, hidden from Nazis, as well as served prison sentences in Reading Gaol and Robben Island. I have solved crimes with Mikael Blomkvist, Scout Finch, the Famous Five and Hercule Poirot. I have felt the pains of Lady MacBeth, Jane Eyre and the second Mrs de Winter, been left unmoved by Flora Poste and Jay Gatsby and felt terrorised with Joanna Eberhart, Offred and Gregor Samsa.
Whilst the above may illustrate my love of reading, it does not really explain why it is so important to me and my career. For one, it is the only activity that really holds my concentration, particularly for extended periods of time. In the twenty-first century, where life seems so fast-paced and we jump from screen to screen, triggered by notifications as if we are one of Pavlov’s dogs, such a skill requires protection and cultivation. Second, it is intensely independent and personal; I can share stories with others, I can even discuss books in detail, but my reading is my own. Thirdly, and probably the most important for criminology is the opportunity to try someone else’s life for size. The famous line from Harper Lee; that ; ‘[y]ou never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in it’ sums this up beautifully (1960/2006: 30). By reading accounts of crime, criminality, victimisation and criminal justice; even if fictionalised, we have an opportunity to test out ideas, to find out how comfortable we are with responses, actions and penalties. In particular, dystopic novels offer the unique potential to imagine the world differently. Whilst on the surface such texts, as with criminology, are presented as negative; dealing with uncomfortable, frightening and disturbing behaviours and responses, they are ultimately full of hope. The potential for change is both explicit and implicit in dystopic fiction and criminology; all is never lost, hope remains no matter what.
If you still need to be persuaded by my argument for reading everything and anything that can get your hands on, perhaps Beccaria’s words of wisdom will help ‘I should have everything to fear, if tyrants were to read my book, but tyrants never read’ (1872: 18).
And after all, who wants to be a tyrant? Not me!
Beccaria, Cesare, (1872), An Essay on Crimes and Punishments, (Albany: W. C. Little Co.), [online]. Available from: http://oll.libertyfund.org/index.php?option=com_staticxt&staticfile=show.php%3Ftitle=2193&Itemid=27 [Last accessed 24 March 2012]
Lee, Harper, (1960/2006), To Kill A Mockingbird, (London: Arrow Books)
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Welcome Week
Every year in late autumn, all universities prepare to welcome new students onto their campuses. In the media, we know this as “Freshers week”, a period when new students become familiar with university life. Throughout the years this particular week has grown in importance for the students’ social life, activities and other out of classroom activities. Students can taste the nightlife of the campus and that of the nearby town, engage in group activities, join a society and of course have, in many cases, their first taste of independence away from home. For the University, it is the first opportunity to engage students and get them involved in societies, volunteering and other after hours activities.
Year by year, this week is becoming increasingly important for the student calendar.
Returning students participate and graduating students remember when they were involved. A clear watershed moment in the student diary, so much so that special wristbands are produced and different special events are organised, only for this week. There is clearly some attraction, into being part of “freshers” so strong, that is now recorded into our collective vernacular. Finally, the freshers apart from the commercial, cultural attractions, is even connected with health, the infamous “freshers flu” is presented as the scourge for many students who will suffer some ill-health in their first term at Uni/life.
For an academic welcome week is interpreted differently. It is definitely an important week because it signifies the start to another form of education. It is transitional in terms of age for those who just crossed the 18 year old threshold marking the first part of adult education. It is a declaration of independence for many students and the time to make one of the many transitions into the world of academia.
This is why, instead of wristbands, I was frantically preparing my plenary lecture last week. Every year, I dig deep inside to find something that will signal to our newest cohort why I feel so passionate about criminology. This year, using the 50 years since the decriminalisation of homosexuality, I considered the importance of criminology, as a discipline. The main points focused on the multidisciplinary nature of criminology, the ability of criminology to holistically explore complex phenomena and the immense service, criminology offers to understanding crime from a dynamic/ever changing standpoint. The reason for going through the “pains” of delivering a plenary is clear to me: welcome week is the first week of the next three years of academic study. The start of a wider conversation that allows lay people to embrace those skills that will allow them to understand, evaluate, critique and argue with evidence and knowledge. Unfortunately there is no wristband for that, only a certificate at the end of the road, that will just about quell the thirst for knowledge. For many, this thirst will grow further and whilst the wristband may fade and the band attended may break-up, the knowledge that our students will acquire will be with them forever. This is the tool we offer and this is the beginning of how we do it.
To all of our new students, Welcome!
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Back to school (again)!
Over the last couple of weeks I’ve revisited my life as a student. That’s not to say I haven’t been studying on a regular basis, but the last fortnight or so has seen a return to more “intensive” times. Having c. 20,000 words to prepare for Ph.D transfer, plus a rationale to tie it all together has led to some very late nights, not to mention days in the library. With the presentation still to prepare, not to mention the thesis, this looks likely to continue for some time. As an undergraduate student I was fortunate enough to study full-time and work part-time; this time the roles are reversed.
As an undergraduate, you get into the flow gradually; at the beginning the dissertation appears impossible; how can anyone write 10-12,000 words on just one subject when you’re struggling to write 1,000? By the time you get to that point, the question changes; how can I be expected to get everything I want to say into just 10-12,000 words? The process and progress is gradual and at times, haphazard; when you are in the throes of studying, success can be almost imperceptible. It is only at the end when you can really begin to consider how far you have come, from that early timorous foray into academic life. By the time you get to graduation you have forgotten the anxieties which often go hand-in-hand with academia.
Although I have studied more or less constantly, since taking my first hesitant steps back into education via an Access course, it’s been some time since I have been confronted by word counts and deadlines. For almost a decade, I’ve been setting them for other people rather than be subject to them myself. It’s come as quite a shock!
I’d forgotten how painful writing can be, especially to deadlines, reliving all the old anxieties and noticing the feelings of inadequacy flooding back. Not only trying to satisfy curiosity, develop understanding and construct arguments, there is also the knowledge that this is not private, your output is designed for an audience, albeit small. When I start writing, it is if I am back in primary school, trying to make sentences which not only make sense, but say what you want them to say. Trying to ensure that the words you choose are not going to bore your audience into submission and yet still get your message across. The perpetual internal competition, between wanting to give up and wanting to succeed, seems to grow ever more insistent the more you write.
So why do it? Why not just walk away, do something less painful, less challenging, less meaningful? Why bother with education when you don’t have to? The answer for me, as with all of us, is intensely personal and largely integral to my own sense of being. Even to put my rationale/motivation into words is extremely difficult; I’m not sure I have the words to do justice to the experience. Fortunately, some years ago my daughter did find the words; replace Philosophical/Philosophy with Criminological/Criminology and you’ll get the gist….
The Philosophical Orgasm
Philosophy is difficult. You can read the same piece over and over, making little progress each time, losing faith and on the verge of giving up and then… something happens. The fog clears, everything slots into place, the philosophy offers itself up to you, the tension subsides and your whole being is filled with warmth and understanding; new clarity dawns. This moment is something many of you will be familiar with. It comes on quickly, and strong. And it changes the way you understand forever. You’ve taken it, conquered it, made it yours. Borges sums it up perfectly; in that moment of clarity we become part of something larger than ourselves – we access that shared knowledge (shared, that is, by all those who have gone before, who have walked the same path) and can speak the words as our own. Some people call this the ‘Eureka!’ moment, but I am inclined to say there is even more to it than that. The Ancient Greek εὕρηκα translates roughly as ‘I have found it!’, hence its association with scientific discovery. We can all recall the story of Archimedes jumping out of his bath and running naked through the street exclaiming ‘eureka!’ upon his discovery that the volume of water displaced in his bath was equal to the volume of the part of his body that was submerged. In the case of philosophical understanding, something more personal is going on. It is not merely a case of seeing how concepts operate within arguments – the understanding goes deeper than that, is internalised, changes you. It’s like an orgasm in your mind, that permeates your whole being. The more difficult the philosophy you are trying to grasp, the more intense the orgasm. It isn’t about finding a solution to a problem, it’s about augmenting your ideas in preparation for the next exploration. On each subsequent journey, you’ll take those new ideas along with you. (Saffron Garside).
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The Criminology of the Future
As we are gleefully coming towards the start of yet another academic year, we tend to go through a number of perpetual motions; reflect on the year past, prepare material for the upcoming year and make adjustments on current educational expectations. Academics can be creatures of habit, even if their habit is to change things over. Nonetheless, there are always milestones that we all observe no matter the institution or discipline. The graduation, for example brings to an end the degree aspirations of a cohort, whilst Clearing and Welcome Week offer an opportunity of a new group of applicants to join a cohort and begin the process again. Academia like a pendulum swings constantly, replenishing itself with new generations of learners who carry with them the imprint of their social circumstance.
It was in the hectic days at Clearing that my mind began to wonder about the future of education and more importantly about criminology. A discipline that emerged at an unsettled time when urban life and modernity began to dominate the Western landscape. Young people (both in age and/or in spirit) began to question traditional notions about the establishment and its significance. The boundaries that protect the individual from the whim of the authorities was one of those fundamental concerns on criminological discourses. A 19th century colleague questions the notion of policing as an established institution, thus challenging its authority and necessity. An end of 20th century colleague may be involved in the training of those involved in policing. Changing times, arguably. Quite; but what is the implications for the discipline?
My random example can be challenged on many different fronts; the contested nature of a colleague as a singular entity that sees the world in a singular gaze; or the ability to diversify on the perspectives each discipline observes. It does nonetheless, raises a key question: what expectations can we place on the discipline for the 21st century.
If we and our students are the participants of social change as it happens in our society then our impressions and experiences can help us formulate a projective perspective of the future. Our knowledge of the past is key to supplying an understanding of what we have done before, so that we can comprehend the reality in a way that will allow us to give it the vocabulary it deserves. A colleague recently posted on twitter her agony about “vehicles being the new terrorist weapon,” asking what is the answer. The answer to violence is exactly the same; whether a person gets in a van, or goes home and uses a bread knife to harm their partner. Everyday objects that can be utilised to harm. A projection in the future could assert that this phenomenon is likely to continue. The Romans called it Alea iacta est and it was the moment you decide to act. In my heart this is precisely the debate about the future of criminology; is it crime with or without free will?
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Farewell
After much deliberation and careful consideration I have decided to leave the University. I have, for the most part, enjoyed my time here and have learned a great deal from my colleagues who are never short of advice and a willingness to share it. Their patience, enthusiasm, understanding and commitment have been greatly appreciated and are something I shall strive to emulate. Much is often made of the importance of the ‘student experience’ without commensurate attention afforded to the staff experience. Whilst I do not wish to enter into discussion about the institutional factors that prompted my decision to leave, I would like to acknowledge some positive elements of my ‘staff experience’.
I taught across all three years of the criminology degree programme and have met some very interesting students. Of course not all shared my passion for the discipline or enthusiasm for studying but a number of students made the lecturing experience incredibly thought provoking and enjoyable. Those to which I refer were never short of challenging questions, views, opinions and the drive to seek out answers to complex questions if only to be in a position to ponder more searching questions; in short every lecturer’s dream. What I found most remarkable was their willingness to listen, to consider and perhaps even accept new ideas that not only challenged their existing world view but elements of the very discipline they were studying. This receptiveness allowed me to pitch ideas and content, at what was considered a high level, which was not only understood and owned but utilised in seminar discussions, social media commentary and assessments. If I could take you with me I most certainly would.
As I move to another university, and since I cannot take you with me, I would like to offer some last bits of advice which you may take or leave as you like.
- Maintain your intellectual curiosity and continue to develop your critical faculties. Remember success in your studies is built from perseverance rather than some innate intellectualism you think you may or may not have. Persevere with what may appear as ‘long and boring’ readings, do not become disheartened if you do not understand; more sticks than you might think and besides seminars are the ideal place to explore what you understood and what you did not.
- Resist the temptation to view yourself as a customer, granted the issues around fees make this difficult, but ultimately it does more harm than good. As a customer you expect the commodity (a degree) for which you are in the process of paying to be given to you. Yet as a student you earn through determined perseverance a qualification that is infinitely more valuable.
- Lastly, make the most of the opportunity. Work hard and attain the best degree that you are capable of achieving. Remember that, whilst there are people around to support you throughout your studies, it is ultimately up to you.
It has been a pleasure, good luck for the future.
Justin Kotzé, August 2017
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You’re never too old to learn
Early 2017 the University of the Third Age (U3A) in Market Harborough asked me to give a talk to retired and semi-retired people on ‘The state of the prison system today’. Obviously this is a huge topic and they hoped that I’d include sentencing, courses, attitudes of people, lives and challenges faced, family connections, rehabilitation, demographics and more, in short everything I knew. Making this more of a challenge I was only given 30-40 minutes to talk, rather than a whole day which might have been more feasible. Anyway, I accepted the challenge and on 13 April 2017 I addressed a small group from a range of backgrounds. Unlike a classroom, it is difficult to predict the response you might get, I knew some would challenge my opinion on the prison system and I was not disappointed. At first the group sat quietly and simply absorbed my brief history of the prison system, nodding in places and jotting down a couple of notes. This changed dramatically when I challenged media constructed images of ‘prison being a holiday camp’ and the appropriateness of prison as punishment. Clearly some in the group had been victims so the discussion quickly turned to a punitive knee jerk reaction to all offenders. Underpinning this was a sense of fear, social unrest, and helplessness where crime was concerned. As you might expect comments like ‘in my day a bobby would have clipped you around the ear and taken you home to your parents for a good talking to’, closely followed by ‘parents of today have no control over their children’ or ‘where has the respect and discipline gone, bring back national service’. Whatever the tone, the group was clearly passionate about issues of crime and the ‘state of the prison system’, actively contributing to the discussion. When I led them towards issue of socio-economic conditions, a lack of opportunities, and the impact that prison had on these problems their empathy started to emerge. At this point I was asked the most difficult question of all ‘what is the answer, what can we do? My response was a simple one; try not to judge, put yourself in others shoes, consider carefully who you vote for, and most importantly don’t believe everything the media tells you. In essence I left them with more questions than answers but also a spark in their eye. They were hungry for more, they were hungry for action, and they wanted to be part of the solution. This led me to reflect on two things; firstly the pure joy I felt discussing prisons with a group of people who were fully engaged and curious about the topic area, and why most of our own students don’t exhibit the same level of enthusiasm. Secondly, the lack of fear I experienced in both the preparation and delivery of this talk. This made me think back to my own student years and a conversation I had with a lecturer who said that he’d put together his lecture on the train. At the time I thought this reflected his lack of interest in what he was delivery and I’m ashamed to say, a degree of laziness, however this experience has led me to reconsider my judgement. For instance, had I been asked to do this talk a few years ago I would have probably spent days, maybe weeks agonising over what I would say, writing copious notes, and shaking all through the delivery. The reality is that I spent a couple of hours that morning putting some points together and experienced no nerves at all. In short, I realised that I know a lot more than I thought I did, and my nerves are somewhat a result of not knowing my audience. I knew this audience would be engaged rather than sitting there stone faced or playing on their phones. This leads me to surmise that while I agreed with New Labour’s idea that education should be open to everyone, I no longer believe that that should include university. Too often I’m faced with people who do not want to be at university, or those that simply see it as logical progression, rather than the eager faces of those who want to learn, who are curious and passionate about the world, and make you leave a class with a feeling of elation rather than despondency. In short, the more enthusiastic the audience, the more enthusiastic the lecturer.
Thoughts from the criminology team 