âHe who opens a school door, closes the prisonâ, is the famous proclamation of Victor Hugo. On the face of it, it appears that Hugo is endorsing the value of education in reducing criminality. Yet there are those who argue that Hugo is referring instead to the role that education has to play in the liberation of the person from the prison of the mind. It matters little which interpretation is favoured; both have merit. Education undoubtedly has a role in developing skills and opportunities that provide the person with a legitimate source of income and ties to society and immerses them in pro-social norms that prevent them from offending. However, notwithstanding the development of skills and opportunities, educationâs true power often lies in its ability to open the human mind to the world, creating a taste for knowledge and a capacity to explore the self and training the mind to use its own resources. Education is considered a basic human right, not only because of an entitlement to the acquisition of knowledge but because it is inherently linked to our capacity to be human, to think critically and to behave humanely. Therefore, while education is often seen as a structural asset, it is a deeply personal resource that allows us to participate fully as citizens in society.
In terms of criminality and the closing of the prison, both interpretations of Hugoâs statement apply. In order to âclose the prisonâ, a person must be provided with the skills and opportunities associated with traditional education in order to participate actively in society and circumvent the social disadvantages that lead to offending. Conversely, the impact of education on the mind of the person is liberating, allowing one to think independently and critically, broadening horizons and perspectives, enhancing self-awareness and morality and creating a sense of empowerment. Such facets ground the person, creating stability and supporting their role in society, in an indirect way keeping them from criminality. For those whom education eludes, destabilisation in society and consequent offending is a real risk due to either structural or cognitive weakness or both. It is true that the vast majority of prisoners are typically undereducated by comparison to the general population (OâMahony, 1997; Morgan and Kett, 2003). While the links between prisonersâ levels of education and offending are indirect, such a prevalent deficit among prisoners must surely play a role in their criminality. Education in prison is a means of addressing this issue. And consistent with the two possible interpretations of Victor Hugoâs statement, the purposes of prison education include both the traditional aims of education to create skills and opportunities and also the power of education to liberate the human mind from the confines of both actual and metaphorical prison, enhancing the whole person and their ability to experience the world. Given its potential, it is little wonder that education is often used in prisons as a staple part of ârehabilitativeâ efforts.
Despite the significant potential of prison education, is a vastly under-researched discipline. However, this is gradually changing with a continuing desire to know âwhat worksâ. While academic interest in the area is gathering pace, the output is still minimal by comparison to other areas of criminology. Prison education can be seen to be a valuable resource, having been shown to have an impact on recidivism rates (Steurer et al., 2001). Furthermore, taking a more subjective approach, other studies have shown that education increases self-confidence and the belief in oneâs ability to succeed (Tewksbury and Stengel, 2006), increases self-esteem and decreases behavioural problems (Callan and Gardner, 2005), can help repair broken ties with family (Porporino and Robinson, 1992) and mitigates the harms of imprisonment (Council of Europe, 1990; Warner, 2007). While this is only a brief synopsis of the benefits that can be attributed to prison education, it is clear that it has significant capacity to contribute to the lives of prisoners. The research that underpins this book seeks to ascertain educationâs true potential. This is achieved by exploring experiences of prison education from the perspective of Irish prisoners with a view to finding a unique way of conceptualising the impact of prison education and to begin connecting prison education to the wider crimino-logical framework. The research seeks to step away from the traditional use of recidivism rates as a measure of educationâs value, instead seeking to understand the ways in which education can support the development of the mind, the individualâs own personal growth and the process of escaping each conceptualisation of Hugoâs prison.
Research framework
Prison populations have been increasing globally in recent decades, with a reported growth of 20% in the numbers incarcerated between 2000 and 2015 to the current estimate of 10.3 million people incarcerated worldwide (Penal Reform International, 2019). In the European context, the prison population has increased from 102.5 per 100,000 in 2018 to 106 per 100,000 in 2019 (Aebi and Tiago, 2020), representing a significant jump in a one-year period. Ireland compares favourably with these figures, with a total prison population of 4214 persons in custody (Irish Prison Service, 2020), though this rate of imprisonment is rising, increasing from 79.5 per 100,000 in 2018 to 81.2 per 100,000 in 2019 (Aebi and Tiago, 2020).
Recidivism contributes significantly to these statistics, posing a challenge for criminal justice systems in each state. In Ireland, OâDonnell et al. (2008) found that 27% of Irish prisoners return to prison within the first year of release, with this figure gradually rising to 49% after four years. This was confirmed in a more recent study where the Probation Service (2012) found an identical recidivism rate of 27% for the first year post-release. In the most recent study, the reconviction rate at two years was 58.3% and was 62.3% within three years (Irish Prison Service, 2013). The United Kingdom has a one-year recidivism rate of 29.2%, rising to 75% within nine years of release (Ministry of Justice, 2020). Australia reports a two-year reconviction rate of 53% (Fazel and Wolf, 2015). The United States federal rate stands at 60% within two years, jumping to 83% after nine years, though this is based on rearrest as opposed to reconviction (Alper and Durose, 2018). Norway reports a 20% reconviction rate at two years post-release (Fazel and Wolf, 2015). While this is merely a snapshot of the recidivism figures, it highlights the significant problem that reoffending poses. The average cost a prison bed in Ireland is âŹ73,730 per annum (Aebi and Tiago, 2020). High reoffending rates therefore add a considerable financial burden to penal budgets. This is without even considering the high social costs of crime and imprisonment such as the emotional and financial impact on victims and the impact of reincarceration on the offender, their family, their friends and their community in terms of fractured relationships and decreased social capital. With such high financial and social costs, it is little wonder that there is such a focus placed on finding ways to reduce recidivism and discovering âwhat worksâ in rehabilitation.
Like in most jurisdictions, prisoners in Ireland mostly come from socially disadvantaged backgrounds. OâMahony (1997) found that 56% of prisoners in Mountjoy Prison came from six communities in Dublin, all of which are char-acterised by high levels of socioeconomic deprivation. The typical offender experiences serious social and personal problems including drug or alcohol addiction, social exclusion, economic deprivation, ruptured family ties, poor mental and physical health and, of most relevance, low levels of educational attainment and skills (OâDonnell, 2002). Education levels among prisoners appears to be a serious issue, with the National Crime Council (2002) stating that low levels of education attainment is one of the leading causes of offending, due to the limitations it places on a personâs life choices and opportunities. Studies have shown that education levels among prisoners are much lower than in the general population (Morgan and Kett, 2003; Hawley et al., 2013). OâMahony (1997) found that 80% of the prisoners had left school before the age of 16, with no formal skills or qualifications. Furthermore, 29% had significant problems with literacy (OâMahony, 1997). These results are echoed by Morgan and Kett (2003), who found significantly low levels of literacy among the prison population. These points highlight the problems that prisoners are facing. In an increasingly educated workforce, literacy and skills are prerequisites to many advancement opportunities in life. Therefore, being illiterate or having low levels of education are severely limiting factors. Furthermore, when offenders leave prison, often significantly depleted by the experience, they face further social exclusion and barriers to reintegration, such as broken family ties, limited access to social services, homelessness, addiction and limited healthcare, which perpetuate the cycle of reoffending outlined earlier (Martynowicz and Quigley, 2010). In order to break this cycle, repeated calls have been made to focus on measures that facilitate the reintegration of prisoners (National Economic and Social Forum, 2001; Irish Penal Reform Trust, 2019). One such measure is education (Irish Penal Reform Trust, 2019), which has been shown to have an impact on reoffending rates (see for example Steurer et al., 2001; Lochner and Moretti, 2004; Chavez and Dawe, 2007; Anders and Noblitt, 2011; Nally et al., 2012; IPSOS, 2018). However, as outlined earlier, prison education remains an under-researched discipline and, despite its reported role in reducing recidivism, the research tends to underrepresent other aspects of its potential in supporting reintegration.
What might be standing in the way of understanding the true value of prison education is the way in which it is researched. The âwhat worksâ movement seeks to ensure that rehabilitative efforts are evidence-based. The drive to discover âwhat worksâ to reduce recidivism underpins much of the research that has been carried out in relation to prison education, which tends to be quantitative in nature and focused only on recidivism as the measure of success or failure. Steurer et al. (2001) stated that the most likely reason for investigating correctional education is in order to decide whether funding will continue to be applied to a particular programme. Such an approach is limiting in several ways. First, it leads to a very narrow focus. Education by its nature is a broad concept, yet by focusing on a singular outcome the scope of education is reduced to being an instrument of rehabilitation and nothing more. Any programmes developed on foot of such narrow research will undoubtedly end up being rehabilitation-focused and limited in scope, aimed only at correcting a flaw rather than at developing the whole person. Moreover, with such an approach to researching prison education, its value is reduced to a sole outcome â that is, a lack of recidivism â and therefore ignores the many other benefits that education can have for the person. It also assumes that education was the catalyst for behaviour change. There is no scope to assume that a person may have wanted to settle down, have had a child, or have had to care for an aging parent or have won the lottery. It ignores the other factors that may be had an impact on the journey away from criminality. Finally, while the prison education research shows what can be achieved in terms of reduced recidivism, it tells us nothing of the process by which this occurs. Why does it have this impact? How does it help the person? What are the mechanisms by which prison education supports change? These are not new questions, yet they remain unaddressed. As far back as 1976, Robert Martinson, who is synonymous with the âwhat worksâ movement, asked â(b)ut what specifically is the method? ⌠what is it? What is the actual process that takes place by which ârecidivism is reduced?â (Martinson, 1976: 189). While these are complex questions and certainly outside of the scope of just one study, it is these questions that this research sets out to answer in order to find a road away from âwhat worksâ to âwhat helpsâ and âhow and why it helpsâ.
The desistance framework appeared to be the most logical and appropriate framework in which to situate this study. The correctional and desistance literature is already aligned in their respective findings. The benefits of prison education outlined briefly earlier such as increased confidence, self-awareness, employability and parenting skills, for example, are closely related to the composite elements of various theories of desistance such as theories of cognitive change, social bonds theory and the concept of social capital. Unpacking and exploring these links would be beneficial in reconceptualising the effects of prison education in the wider criminological framework. Furthermore, desistance relates to the process of change. While recidivism and desistance have generally been seen to be incompatible paradigms, they have much in common, including their focus on change. Desistance is best understood as a process and not just a singular event, which is contrary to the one-dimensional approach that has characterised prison education research to date. It explores the factors that support the transition to a life of conformity. Only by knowing why and/or how a person changes can we truly tailor supports that compliment that process. In the context of understanding the potential of prison education, it is important to move it beyond âwhat worksâ thinking and to connect the research to the wider body of criminological research. This research uses this philosophy as its foundation. The aim is to move away from the focus on recidivism and to begin exploring prison education from the perspective of those who have undertaken it and to connect any impacts or benefits to the wider desistance and criminological frameworks in order to illuminate the processes through which education may be supporting the desistance process.
This approach appears to satisfy both schools of thought reflected in Hugoâs quote. On the one hand, the idea that prison educationâs goal is to minimise the harm to the person during the prison sentences is addressed through the subjective exploration of prison educationâs benefits. The measurement of social capital levels among those participating and not participating in prison education also demonstrates the benefits of education and the manner in which prison education can minimise the harm of the prison sentence. On the other hand, in terms of the idea that prison education is a means of reducing reoffending, the situation of the benefits of education within the wider desistance framework demonstrates how prison education can facilitate a reduction in reoffending. However, the advantage of using desistance as the focus, rather than recidivism, is the ability to explore the intervening processes of change that occur when a person engages in prison education. The recidivism figures reveal little information on how or why prison education is working; the desistance literature, however, is concerned with examining the processes involved in leaving criminality behind. It is proposed that much more can be learned about how and why prison education works by exploring it subjectively and qualitatively, particularly by contextualising it in the wider desistance framework.
