Technically Justice
All views are my own, they stand distinct and independent of the Ministry of Justice. The discussion and arguments raised in this blog are at no point affiliated to the policy position of the Ministry of Justice. This blog will focus on global justice systems and the role that technology could theoretically play. It will not be and is not reflection on the work that the Ministry of Justice is undertaking in prisons nor intends to undertake. The intention of Technically Justice is not to guide policy or politics but rather to act as a platform for academic reflection and discussion outside of government
In prison, all borrowing is “double bubble”. That first night, when your liberty and material possessions have been stripped from you; you have nothing that is truly yours. Life in prison is empty and within its echoey halls, basic personal possessions do not just become rare luxuries but pure currencies. If you borrow a shower gel, vape or teabag, you pay back with double what you borrowed. It’s a long-standing and notorious feature of prison life, one well navigated by seasoned prisoners and a precarious initiation for first-timers. But there is another bigger double bubble that hangs over global justice practices. One with consequences that ripple beyond prison walls. One that could be conceivably resigning convicted offenders to a life of crime. This double bubble?
That the cost of your crime will be priced at the loss of not only physical liberty but your digital freedom too.
In most prisons across the world, from the start of their sentence to the end, a universal, blanket ban on digital access is enforced. No prisoner will be afforded legal, legitimate access to the open internet. For most of us, it is possible to imagine an hour, day, perhaps even a week without internet access but years?
Consider that a recently released individual who was sentenced to twenty years in 2000, could be seeing for the very first time: Amazon, Google, Gmail, GOV.UK, Zoopla, Online Banking, Kindles, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram. Yet on release, it’s anticipated that they will be able to re-integrate into a society where securing housing, jobs, financial status and even McDonald’s requires digital literacy.
Globally, most prisons remain one of the last systems where an entire infrastructure is run and maintained through the exchange of pieces of paper. This state of affairs is not necessarily due to neglect. Wiring up a prison in a secure and sensitive manner is no small task and one that often, rightly so, needs to be forfeited for more pressing and urgent needs. But as the social fabric of society gets further plugged into the digital grid, prisons are gradually becoming one of societies last digital deserts. Those locked in its clutch for years at a time, get further divorced from digital life on the outside and dislocated from re-integration.
Why should you care?
You may be questioning why the idea of double punishment even matters. After all, we all know right from wrong, they’ve done the crime, they should be aware of the conditions of the time. Well, for theoretical argument’s sake lets run through a few reasons.
First, using the UK for illustration, not all who face the clang of prison cell doors are incarcerated for life. Whole-life order has only been issued in approximately 100 cases since its introduction in 1983. The prison population is 80,000 strong and growing. In fact, 70% of prisoners are already on their seventh conviction or caution. The majority of prisoners will be released, reintroduced to society and as the saying goes could well end up as your neighbour. By depriving these individuals, no matter how callous or horrifying we find their crime, of digital inclusion, we could be sentencing them with a virtual ball and chain, that prevents them from re-integrating. Consequently, for many, recidivism may become the only option. After all, you don’t really need to know how to use email to rob someone or run a drug deal but you do to apply to a job. For many, prison is a better-known entity, offering three meals a day and a roof over your head compared to what could seem like an increasingly alien & digitised society.
Secondly, as a state, we hold the longstanding and widely deemed logical position that the price for your crime is the loss of liberty. The length of that loss of liberty is measured against the severity or frequency of that crime. However, little has been said in the way of how such sentencing practice should be mirrored in the loss of digital freedom. Rarely, if ever, has the academic question been floated that severity of crime or nature of the crime should dictate the level of digital access you are granted on the inside.
Thirdly, there is the economic and social position to consider. What is the financial loss of denying an 80,000 strong population access to the internet and the skills, innovation and opportunity that could be born from such a concentrated period of learning? Socially, are we not missing a huge and valuable opportunity for rehabilitation through digital upskilling? Freelancing across the digital sector, for example, offers ample space for the rehabilitation of offenders. After all, the current recidivism rate in the UK stands firm, at 60% for short sentence offenders. For the majority then, prison isn’t working and that recidivism rate comes at the cost of £22,000 per prisoner, per year, to the public purse.
What can you expect?
Over time, this blog will attempt to academically interrogate the value of these questions. It will explore the consequences, economics, ethics and politics of removing digital freedom from prisoners. It will draw on examples of approaches taken from across the world, academic work and startups operating in this space.
This blog intends to be a sounding board, a place to theoretically discuss the role technology should play in rehabilitative justice. Think of it as a public square where both sides of the argument, on a global level, should and can be discussed. A sample of some of the topics, in no particular order, that will be up for investigation are:
- Prison influencers: Should prisoners have Instagram to maintain family ties?
- Algorithmic justice: Can we rely on algorithms to sentence offenders?
- “My pad mate, he ain’t ever even seen Youtube” What is it like seeing digital platforms for the first time?
- The right to write: Should prisoners completing further education have access to Microsoft word in their cells?
- Learning to log on. How do prisoners up for release apply for jobs posted online, when some have never used a computer?
- A different digital prison: What is the impact on young offenders of losing access to their social media profiles and digital footprint?
- Bugs instead of drugs. Does our prison population present a great opportunity for plugging a national tech shortage in digital and coding professionals?
- Dynamic security. Given the challenge prisons face of drugs being soaked into paper correspondence, could digital correspondence tools offer a better solution?
Who am I?
I’m a digital anthropologist.
I have a masters degree from Oxford which focused on the impact of the internet on society. I’m no expert but I am passionate about the intersection of technology and public services.
Whilst this blog is a personal pursuit, professionally, I spend my days as a userresearcher for the Ministry of Justice, moving across the prison estate, meeting and interviewing prisoners and the staff who keep our prisons running 24/7, 365 days a year, often without even a glance at a laptop. The views in this blog are my own, they do not reflect those of the Ministry of Justice and are no reflection on the work that the Ministry of Justice is undertaking in prisons nor intends to undertake but they are no doubt shaped by what I have the privilege to see on the ground.
I have started this blog because I think that opportunities for balanced discussion in the digital public square are slowly being eroded with the polarisation of digital spaces. I hope that in reading this blog others are encouraged to reflect critically on what role technology could play in spaces typically shielded from the public eye: Prison.
