Gender and Qualitative Research (1996)

Jane Pilcher, Amanda Coffey, Jane Pilcher, Amanda Coffey

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781138480506
• eBook ISBN: 9781351062763
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

This book gathers together an original collection of papers on gender and qualitative research. The contributors draw on a variety of research methods and research settings to demonstrate the value of a qualitative approach for studying gender related issues. Individual chapters include discussions on participant observation, ethnographic interviewing, focus groups and the analysis of documentary sources. The volume as a whole reflects the wide range of gender focused work which is ongoing in Cardiff – covering issues such as occupational cultures, violence, genetics and risk, the life cycle and time.

This book was originally published as part of the Cardiff Papers in Qualitative Research series edited by Paul Atkinson, Sara Delamont and Amanda Coffey. The series publishes original sociological research that reflects the tradition of qualitative and ethnographic inquiry developed at Cardiff. The series includes monographs reporting on empirical research, edited collections focussing on particular themes, and texts discussing methodological developments and issues.

1 Masculinity in prison

Keith Carter

This chapter discusses the construction and display of masculinity in a local prison in the United Kingdom. This is a predominantly male institutional environment where only four women prison officers work. It is argued that the men (inmates and staff) inside the prison highly prize and use their 'manliness' to establish and maintain self esteem, meaning and power. For inmates who are doing time (Cohen and Taylor, 1972) or staff who are serving time (Carter, 1995), everyday life in the prison depends on the ability to survive the pains of imprisonment (Sykes, 1958). The expression of masculinity is an essential survival strategy for staff and inmates alike. Such survival means getting through the day with 'easy time': with the least possible hassle. For all the institutional differences between staff and inmates, they share a common gender identity, similar educational experiences, and working class origins. They share a culture of strong language, humour and stereotyped ideas of maleness. Such cultural idioms are used continually by both the groups in negotiating easy time and personal respect.

Locating the research

The chapter draws on eighteen months of ethnographic fieldwork, examining the occupational culture of prison officers. Methods employed (observations, unstructured interviews, and a questionnaire to staff) were aimed at documenting the experiences, feelings and working practices of the uniformed staff and how they made sense of their world. I had unrestricted access throughout the whole prison, with my own set of keys. It is the first sociological study of prison officers since the study by Morris and Morris (1963) at Pentonville.

The prison is referred to by the pseudonym 'Martindale'. All social actors within the setting are also given pseudonyms. Martindale is a local Victorian prison located within the boundary of a medium-sized city. As a local prison, it houses a cross section of male offenders drawn from the immediate geographical area. Martindale acts as a holding site for offenders from the point of arrest until conviction. Once convicted, prisoners are usually transferred to other establishments. Because the prison holds offenders of all types, the prison population at Martindale is a highly volatile and transient one.

The prison officers who work at Martindale are also drawn from the local geographical area, and in the majority of cases share with inmates a working-class background and local ties (cf. Morris and Morris, 1963; Thomas, 1972; Fleischer, 1989; Kauffman, 1988; Lombardo, 1989; Carter, 1994). At Martindale it is not unknown for prisoners and prison officers to come from the same neighbourhood, to have attended the same school, to have mutual acquaintances and shared experiences. At the time of research Martindale had only four women prison officers out of around 200 male staff. Martindale is thus embedded in, and reflects, a local male working class culture.

Masculinity and the prison setting

Gender was not in itself the primary analytic focus of my ethnography of Martindale. However, it proved to be fundamental in understanding the prison regime, not least by virtue of the homogeneity of gender identities to be found there. Prisons do not have the social diversity found in the outside world because they are socially excluded from that world. Outside the prison setting, masculinity is complex, multidimensional and experienced differently within a myriad of changing and different cultural, historical and social locations (see Mac an Ghaill, 1995; Connell, 1995).

If, as Edley and Wetherell (1995) argue, masculinity is the sum of men's characteristics; at work, with their families, in groups and institutions, then masculinity in the prison is one-dimensional. Inside Martindale there are no families, no permitted sexual relationships, no workplace (in comparison with the outside), no gender balanced home or community. What is left are institutional male groups of staff and inmates. In the absence of a diversity of social relationships the men draw on a common stock of understandings about masculinity, and institutional modes of expression.

Much of the contemporary literature and criminological research on masculinity refers to gender and violence (Hall et al., 1978; Stanko, 1990; Liddle, 1993; Messerschmidt, 1994; Scully, 1989; Dobash and Dobash, 1992). Issues of masculinity in Martindale were not restricted to problems of criminal violence, however. Some of the inmates did have records of serious violence, but such behaviour is rare inside the prison. The prisoners used other means to express their masculine identity. In the rest of the chapter I discuss some of those strategies; displays of composure, strength and physical control; the exercise of power and bargaining skills; ritual combat and linguistic display.

Composure, strength and physical control

Research has shown that men are often reluctant to admit to vunerability or fear (Stanko and Hobdell 1993). Many of the staff and inmates at Martindale would not admit to each other that they were frightened (although they might have admitted it to a researcher outside the hearing of their colleagues). Prison officers viewed requests for help from colleagues to betray professional weakness. There was an implicit understanding that asking for help was tantamount to admitting that you were not man enough to do the job. Officers must always appear to be strong and able to deal effectively with all eventualities. Asking for help, showing fear or emotion is not occupationally acceptable. Prison Officer Read told me,

When I transferred here I really felt vulnerable because no one told me what to do. There's no support, you just get on with the job. I remember going home and just crying to my wife. You cannot do that in prison.

This was typical of prison officers expressions of occupational culture. On numerous occasions I was told 'you have to be in charge'; 'take no shit from them'; 'it's really about being a man'. Criticising a fellow member of staff, Prison Officer Hall said,

We call him the 'mouse' because he's frightened of the cons. He's no fucking use in a fight. I don't know how he got the job as a prison officer.

A similar criticism was made of the new prison governor by Prison Officer Church,

What do you think of the new governor? He's like a fucking weed. If he expects to lead a group of men he's got no chance.

Staff themselves had a clear picture of the personal qualities needed for working inside prison - physical strength and a 'manly' appearance (Cohen and Taylor, 1972; Carter, 1995). Prisoners also paraded their physical strength in front of the prison officers and other inmates. Many of them were active body builders and appeared to earn respect through their muscular appearance, and potential strength. Prison Officer Dodd said,

Look at that bloke, he's built like a brick shit house. He's here on three charges of rape, but he's not Rule 43 [Vulnerable Prisoner Unit], he can cope with anything - no one will give him a hard time.

A muscular physique is a source of respect. It conveys to others the message to 'leave well alone'. Not all inmates look muscular and many of them who were not believed the best strategy was to keep their distance from the more physically powerful.

The value attached to physical strength is matched by the need to display emotional control. The expression of emotion may be taken for weakness. A prisoner remarked, about domestic visits,

It's better not to show that you're upset to the family, it only adds to their worries. I try to put on a show so my wife does not worry about me. What's the point if we both end up crying in front of all those bastards. You cannot say what you want inside visits.

Inmates attempted to hide from prison staff and other prisoners what could be construed as a gentler side. They believed that showing any kind of 'soft' emotion was dangerous. Like the Government Health Warning advertisement on cigarettes, one inmate remarked to me,

The Health Warning here is keep to yourself and be distant. Being open or too caring can be injurious to your health.

When we were alone, another prisoner told me:

Keith, here I keep myself to myself. It's no use being gentle or too friendly in a place like this. Someone might take it the wrong way. You've got to be a man's man.

Inside Martindale being seen as a 'man's man' was a central survival strategy for staff and inmates. The concept of being a man's man is linked to traditional male gender stereotypes of strength, aggression and individualism (Archer and Lloyd, 1985). Both groups therefore engaged in public displays of physical and emotional strength, while hiding private fears and weaknesses. Edley and Wetherall (1995, p.211) argue that 'men choose their masculinity but only within the confines of the menu'. Prison menus are limited. Variety is perceived as dangerous; behaviour that strays from restricted norms of masculinity is institutionally unacceptable. Masculinity in prison is not a private identity, but is institutionally framed by publicly observable action. What counts as being a man inside Martindale is limited to those institutionally defined codes of conduct and comportment. The local norms of strength and control impose a restricted set of available definitions of acceptable masculine identity.

Power and bargaining skills

For the men in Martmdale, masculinity was essential to their everyday survival. This in turn, was linked to processes of bargaining, negotiation and control. For the prison officers, this depended upon their ability to exercise control over prisoners. This reflects more general orientations towards work and the problematic nature of control. Edley and Wetherell (1995, p. 103) argue that:

work can ... be a place where men act out a macho sense of being proper men, validating this identity through various male fraternities. Yet for many working-class men, work has become an experience of powerlessness, of interchangeability with others, of redundancy, an experience of humiliation through subordination to authority.

Many of the prison officers believed that their power to control inmates had been eroded over the last fifty years or so, by several elements. The pressures of overcrowding, new prison routines and new competing managerial ideologies were felt to have undermined the exercise of control. This is not restricted to Martindale, but reflects wider changes in prison policy and practice (Home Office, 1987; Woolf, 1991; Senese, 1994). These have also resulted in new liberal regimes and personal freedoms inside the prison - increased association, more visiting privileges and access to telephones. Many of these changes have empowered the inmates and reduced the power of the staff over them (see Woolf, 1991). Many of the prison officers at Martindale believed that their power to control inmates had not only been eroded by the liberalisation of prison regimes. The organization of prison officers' work regimes was also pointed to. At Martindale there was an apparent lack of any cohesive and systematic supervision of landing officers (basic grade staff who work with the inmates on the wings). This was matched by a lack of organized solidarity among the staff. The lack of directive supervision allowed each officer to interpret the prison rules individually. The consequence was a loss of collective power. This lack of control made some of them, at times, fear for their own safety and feel inadequate. They felt less masculine. Prison Officer Carole stated that,

After the riots, we all worked together. It was a tight ship and the cons knew where they stood. We were together. Now every officer does what he wants. If a con cannot get it from me he just goes somewhere else.

During normal working periods, when there are no serious disturbances or riots, there is only a minimum number of officers in the prison to supervise the inmates, and the emphasis towards strict security is diluted. At these times, each officer interprets the rules and regulations on an individual basis and there appears to be no internal group solidarity amongst the staff. Group power has dissolved at Martindale. As Arendt (1970, p.44) suggests:

Power is never the property of an individual; it belongs to a group and remains in existence only so long as the group keeps together. When we say of somebody, that he is 'in power' we actually refer to his being empowered by a certain number of people to act in their name. The moment the group, from which the power originated to begin with (potestas in populo, without a people or groups there is no power), disappears, 'his power' also vanishes.

Group power to control inmates at Martindale had been diluted and marginalised by inconsistent and individualistic working practices, the lack of a corporate policy and the lack of supervision by some of the staff. As a result, the control of inmates was like a see-saw, operating rigidly only in times of serious disturbance or riot situations. In times of 'normality', which is the vast majority of time, the prisoners were able to exercise considerable influence over the officers' capacity to control the prison.

In practice there was a great deal of bargaining between individuals. Individualistic treatment of prisoners was tacitly condoned as long as it did not disrupt the internal prison routines. Equally, such treatment should not threaten the status of the officer in the eyes of his colleagues or inmates. Such condoned deviation from normal practice was often of a token nature. One example of such behaviour would be granting permission to an inmate who wants to shower in other than during his allotted time. The request may be allowed if there are sufficient prison officers, or the shower would not affect the normal routines, or the officer would not be seen by the other cons or his colleagues, as a 'soft touch', 'weak', or favouring the inmate, and thus less of a man's man. The dilemma facing some staff working in such close proximity is elucidated by Officer King:

If you allow one to buck the system then they all want it. If you allow one to get away with it then how can I say no to another. Giving them extras just causes extra friction and problems.

Thomas (1978, p.55) suggests that prison staff have two ways to enforce conformity amongst pri...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Original Title
• Original Copyright
• Contents
• Notes on editors and contributors
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1. Masculinity in prison
• 2. Coping with pit closure in the 1990s: Women's perspectives
• 3. From 'honorary chap' to mother: Combining work in the professions with motherhood
• 4. Childish things: Men, ageing and violence
• 5. Chance to choice: Two generations of reproductive decision making
• 6. In the company of other women: A case study of menopause support groups
• 7. Focus groups, young people and sex education
• 8. Men and feminist research
• 9. Time for feminist approaches to technology, 'nature' and work