To send content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about sending content to .
To send content items to your Kindle, first ensure firstname.lastname@example.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about sending to your Kindle.
Note you can select to send to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be sent to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This chapter draws on research into the lives and prison experiences of around 650 male and female convicts who were released on licence (an early form of parole) from sentences of long-term imprisonment in England in the mid- to late nineteenth century. While both men and women were overwhelmingly committed to the convict system for larceny, their treatment differed significantly. The vast majority of convicts were released early on licence from their prison terms, even those committing very serious offences. However, female offenders were released slightly earlier and under different conditions than men. Having offended against their gender as well as society, more moral rehabilitation was deemed necessary for deviant women than for men, leading to requirements such as entering refuges or shelters. Female convicts’ internment in these institutions after being granted a licence reveals the impact of gender expectations on female prisoners in England.
The Williams’ gang slaves illustrate the long history of wrongful convictions of defendants of color in US courtrooms as well as the compatibility of slavery with incarceration. Still, it was not until the demise of slavery as an institution that black and brown people became a majority of those incarcerated. That trend continues to the present. The latest innovation in the long history of racism and the carceral state is the emergence of private, for–profit prisons and the prison–industrial complex. Much like the domestic slave trade of another time, captives of color are redistributed to locations where their labor is in highest demand for the profits of others. But already by the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the historical memory of the internal slave trade was growing dim, the rich history of slavery in the very capital of the United States forgotten.
In R v Gladue, the Supreme Court of Canada famously remarked that the incarceration of Indigenous people represents a “crisis.” Since Gladue’s release, the language of “crisis” has been used with frequency in Canadian legal discourse. In this article, I analyze how this language has shaped the broader legal understanding of Indigenous mass imprisonment. My focus is not on specific iterations or uses, but on the cumulative impact of the language of “crisis” over the last twenty years. I suggest that however well-meaning these representations may be, their cumulative impact is harmful. In the face of the relentless intensification of Indigenous mass imprisonment, the language of “crisis” has operated to subtly entrench the colonial structures it purports to disrupt. Urging a shift away from its use, I argue that the language of “crisis” is not only ill suited to address the problem, but is part of the problem.
On the evening of 23 July 1918, twenty-nine British prisoners at the officers’ camp at Holzminden in Lower Saxony escaped after spending nine months digging a tunnel beneath their enclosure. Among them was Lieutenant Peter Lyons, a Western Australian of the 11th Battalion, who had tried to escape from Holzminden on two other occasions. Armed with a compass, a map of Germany, some money and a cut of bacon, this time Lyons was successful and took off across Germany towards neutral Holland with two other British officers. Lyons recalled hiding in woods during the day and avoiding all major roads and villages by night. ‘When night came and things were quiet, we would set out again … we travelled in this manner for 12 days, covering 185 miles [298 kilometres].’
In this article we engage in a critical examination of how local authority Housing Solutions staff, newly placed centre stage in preventing homelessness amongst prison leavers in Wales, understand and go about their work. Drawing on Carlen’s concept of ‘imaginary penalities’ and Ugelvik’s notion of ‘legitimation work’ we suggest practice with this group can be ritualistic and underpinned by a focus on prison leavers’ responsibilities over their rights, and public protection over promoting resettlement. In response we advocate for less-punitive justice and housing policies, underpinned by the right to permanent housing for all prison leavers and wherein stable accommodation is understood as the starting point for resettlement. The analysis presented in this article provides insights to how homelessness policies could play out in jurisdictions where more joint working between housing and criminal justice agencies are being pursued and/or preventative approaches to managing homelessness are being considered.
Chapter 3, From Prison to Court, provides an historical account of the Constitutional Court of South Africa as a key institution in the ‘new’ South Africa. Established at the point of transition from apartheid to democracy, the Court was built on the site of several former notorious prisons. The court building is a unique space by international comparison, not only because it has transformed the penal site but because it also incorporates artworks into the fabric of the building, and houses a large visual art collection developed by and for the Court. In order to understand the conceptual and concrete transitions of the Court, I trace its development with a particular focus on the unique policies and processes through which the art collection came into being. By drawing on key policy documents, as well reflections from people involved in the initial development of the Court and those who currently inhabit and manage the Court, I argue that art has been a central component of the most significant institution to emerge out of South Africa’s transition and it continues to be so.
The Mental Health Act in England and Wales allows for two types of detention in hospital: civil and forensic detentions. An association between the closure of mental illness beds and a rise in civil detentions has been reported.
To examine changes in the rate of court orders and transfer from prison to hospital for treatment, and explore associations with civil involuntary detentions, psychiatric bed numbers and the prison population.
Secondary analysis of routinely collected data with lagged time series analysis. We focused on two main types of forensic detentions in National Health Service (NHS) hospitals and private units: prison transfers and court treatment orders in England from 1984 to 2016. NHS bed numbers only were available.
There was an association between the number of psychiatric beds and the number of prison transfers. This was strongest at a time lag of 2 years with the change in psychiatric beds occurring first. There was an association between the rate of civil detentions and the rate of court orders. This was strongest at a time lag of 3 years. Linear regression indicated that 135 fewer psychiatric beds were associated with one additional transfer from prison to hospital; and as the rate of civil detentions increased by 72, the rate of court treatment orders fell by one.
The closure of psychiatric beds was associated with an increase in transfers from prison to hospital for treatment. The increase in civil detentions was associated with a reduction in the rate of courts detaining to hospital individuals who had offended.
Indigenous people are overrepresented in prison populations of colonised justice systems, and Indigenous prisoners in these countries are at a particularly high risk of poor mental health and well-being. There is an acute need to ensure the access of these groups to culturally appropriate, evidence-based interventions.
To conduct a systematic review, evaluating quantitative and qualitative evaluations of mental health and well-being interventions designed for Indigenous people in custody.
A search of relevant peer-reviewed journal articles to August 2019 was conducted. The focus was on colonised countries under a Western model of justice and health, including Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the USA. The review utilised Scopus, Web of Science, PubMed, PsycNET, EBSCO, Proquest Criminal Justice Database and Informit.
Of the 9283 articles initially found, only three quantitative and two qualitative evaluations of mental health or well-being interventions for Indigenous people in custody were identified. None were randomised controlled trials. Culturally based interventions appeared to have high acceptability and potential for increased recovery from trauma, reduced alcohol-related problems and lower reoffending. However, no studies quantitatively assessed mental health or well-being outcomes.
As yet there is no high-quality evidence on the impact on mental health and well-being from interventions specifically for Indigenous prisoners, although existing studies suggest programme features that may maximise acceptability and impact. There is a moral, social and practical imperative to build a strong evidence base on this topic.
Chapter 7 anchors reputation and individual worth to the body. Debt transformed bodies, from able working bodies to corpses, into forms of transmutable value, placing middling people’s liberty at risk. Though being in debt was a ubiquitous feature of life for most individuals, debt became embodied especially at the moment of default. When a debtor failed to pay, British law gave creditors the power to arrest their debtors’ persons, and during that moment of arrest, the debtor’s body was substituted for the value of the debt owed, temporarily assigning it a cash value. Thus, the confinement of debtors created a conceptual slippage between persons and things, with significant implications for notions of selfhood and independence. The chapter explores the consequences of the embodiment of debt in terms of mobility within the British Atlantic world and argues that imprisonment was part of a much wider cultural transition in which selfhood and objecthood became confused.
After surveying the existing historiography on credit, the social order and economic culture, this chapter proposes a new approach to the economic and social history of eighteenth-century Britain. It argues for the centrality of insecurity in its economic, social and corporeal forms to understanding the lives of individuals. It addresses especially the insecurities of the middling sorts, whose lives were intimately tied to processes of commercialisation. The chapter introduces the debtors’ prisons, which generated the records upon which the rest of the book is based.
Chapter 9 evaluates the legal precedents and practices surrounding student discipline. It begins with an analysis of the key Supreme Court cases dealing with student due process rights: Goss and T.L.O. Both establish deference to educators as the cornerstone of student discipline. Coupled with a reaction to numerous violent incidents in schools, this has resulted in an overreliance on exclusionary discipline. The balance of the chapter examines the tension between exclusionary discipline and the stated aspirations of policymakers. When scrutinized, it becomes clear that despite lofty rhetoric, exclusionary discipline is tacitly accepted. This tendency was confirmed in the recommendations of the Federal Commission on School Safety convened by President Trump. The chapter concludes by investigating the rise of the school-to-prison pipeline, and links the troubling racial disparities that have arisen in student discipline with many of the themes discussed earlier in the book. Finally, it proposes a combination of trauma-informed pedagogy and restorative justice as a more effective, constructive, and inclusive approach that will properly educate a democratic citizenry.
Psychosis is more prevalent among people in prison compared with the community. Early detection is important to optimise health and justice outcomes; for some, this may be the first time they have been clinically assessed.
Determine factors associated with a first diagnosis of psychosis in prison and describe time to diagnosis from entry into prison.
This retrospective cohort study describes individuals identified for the first time with psychosis in New South Wales (NSW) prisons (2006–2012). Logistic regression was used to identify factors associated with a first diagnosis of psychosis. Cox regression was used to describe time to diagnosis from entry into prison.
Of the 38 489 diagnosed with psychosis for the first time, 1.7% (n = 659) occurred in prison. Factors associated with an increased likelihood of being diagnosed in prison (versus community) were: male gender (odds ratio (OR) = 2.27, 95% CI 1.79–2.89), Aboriginality (OR = 1.81, 95% CI 1.49–2.19), older age (OR = 1.70, 95% CI 1.37–2.11 for 25–34 years and OR = 1.63, 95% CI 1.29–2.06 for 35–44 years) and disadvantaged socioeconomic area (OR = 4.41, 95% CI 3.42–5.69). Eight out of ten were diagnosed within 3 months of reception.
Among those diagnosed with psychosis for the first time, only a small number were identified during incarceration with most identified in the first 3 months following imprisonment. This suggests good screening processes are in place in NSW prisons for detecting those with serious mental illness. It is important these individuals receive appropriate care in prison, have the opportunity to have matters reheard and possibly diverted into treatment, and are subsequently connected to community mental health services on release.
The attorneys of the Public Defender's Office of the State of Rio de Janeiro (PDORJ) are heavily present in the penitentiary system of Rio de Janeiro, individually meeting the vast majority of detainees and conducting monitoring visits. This article presents the work of the PDORJ in the prison system, focusing on its role in the prevention of torture. Based on semi-structured interviews with public defenders, the article explains the paradox between the extensive presence of the PDORJ in the prison system and the few instances of torture that are officially reported. It also presents recommendations aimed at better identifying and responding to accounts of torture.
Prisons in England and Wales have reached a low point in service delivery. Despite initial improvements after National Health Service transfer in 2006, it has deteriorated since 2010, with numerous reports giving cause for concern. Improvements are now urgently required, and political courage and a revised national programme of expenditure are necessary.
Mansur Bushnaf's al-ʿIlka (Chewing Gum; 2008) is the author's sole novel, born of his twelve-year imprisonment in a Libyan jail, and his reflection on the nation's subjection to international marginalization and dictatorial rule under Gaddafi. The novel is centered on a 19th-century nude which confounds all who encounter it, and which lies neglected in a corner of Tripoli's Red Palace Museum. Through this statue, and the novel's broader poetics of stasis and “chewing,” I explore how turāth in Bushnaf's work, and wider Libyan fiction, is depicted through its abject vulnerability and exposure to historical vicissitudes, reflecting the parallel exclusion of human lives from rights and agency. In al-ʿIlka, I examine how this is formulated into a defamiliarizing perspective on the postmodern, and on historical trauma and erasure, in which the possibility of narrative is a driving concern, rooted in existential reflection, as well as the real precarity of those who tell stories in Libya.
Paul and Timothy are almost inseparable. The letters to Philemon and the Philippians are addressed from both Paul and Timothy and appear to be sent from prison. This makes most sense if both are in prison, especially given the risk inherent in naming an accomplice who remains free. And when Paul is in prison, Timothy is not sent anywhere. Could it be that Timothy was in prison alongside Paul? The personal tone and content of both letters nonetheless reflect concern only for Paul, what he has done and what will happen to him. No one cares about Timothy, so Timothy is probably not in prison.
While prisoners cannot vote, they are counted as residents of the often rural legislative districts where they are incarcerated rather than their home districts. We examine the extent to which incarceration shifts the balance of a representative democracy by considering its impact on legislative apportionment. Drawing on data from the Census, Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, and Pennsylvania Redistricting Commission, we develop a counterfactual framework to examine whether removing and returning prisoners to their home districts affects equal representation. Because prisoners are disproportionately African American, we also employ this counterfactual to assess racial differences in the impact of prison gerrymandering. Findings indicate that incarceration shifts political power from urban districts to suburban and rural districts through legislative apportionment. Moreover, non-White communities suffer the most. We conclude by considering how our findings fit a growing literature on the role of mass incarceration in [re]producing racial inequalities in the contemporary United States.