Enlightened rehabilitation systems in UK and US show the way, writes Judith van Heerden.

New Correctional Services commissioner Zach Modise’s plans to transform South Africa’s 243 prisons into “centres of excellence” is commendable, especially that he is “determined to get rid of gangsterism in prisons”.

This is a formidable task, easier said than done when taking into account that prison gangs have been around for more than 100 years. Having come up through the ranks since 1979, Modise will know how entrenched the gangs are; how much time and effort it will take.

The story behind the prison gangs is told in Charles van Onselen’s book The Small Matter of a Horse (1984). It begins with the birth of Nongoloza Mathebula in Zululand in 1867. At 16 he started work as a gardener; by 19 he was taking care of horses. Within his first month of service one of the horses strayed; when it could not be found, he was expected to work back the cost of the animal over 24 months.

He fled to the Rand, realising that to escape the law he had to break family ties and change his name. By 21 he was working for highway robbers and trained his own band of robbers. By the mid-1890s there were frequent reports of black gangsters posing as policemen, robbing migrants’ pay packets.

Imprisoned after 1900, Mathebula passed on his skills, including the introduction of gang ranks.

By 1912, gangs virtually controlled organised crime in the prisons, mining compounds and townships of the Transvaal and Orange Free State. Prison gangs flourished and today the remains of Mathebula’s Ninevite gangs exist in prison as the feared 28 gangsters.

This raises the question: how much influence do Nongoloza’s prison gangs wield in prisons and within communities today?

Jeremy Vearey, one-time Section 29 detainee, SAPS member and author of Nongoloza’s Legacy: Prison and Street Gangs in the Western Cape, says gangsters don’t set much store by accepted conduct and social norms. Their reactions are dictated by the rituals and conventions of the group, with their rigid (read violent) initiation and training. Any threat to the cohesion of the gang demands an immediate, usually violent, response.

Territorial boundaries are jealously guarded and turf wars are known to draw blood. Although the 26 and 28 gangs led the way, communities on the Cape Flats have in the past few decades also been at the mercy of street gangs such as The Americans and The Sexy Boys.

The activities of prison gangs were blanketed in silence for decades, partly because during apartheid there was racial separation in prison, but primarily because the Prisons Act of 1959 strictly controlled media reports.

It became illegal to publish photographs of a prison or prisoner, or sketches or writings by or about prisoners. It was also an offence to mention prison matters in personal correspondence.

Media reporting was further curtailed during the State of Emergency (1986-1990), when the police, army and prison services had a right to detain any person who in their opinion endangered the maintenance of public order.

Under Section 29 of the Internal Security Act, people were held in solitary confinement for the purpose of interrogation, and detention for interrogation meant obtaining evidence by way of torture. Detainees in isolation were at the complete mercy of their captors.

The decades of media constraints resulted in a lack of information about South African prison policy and practice. An alternative was therefore to review prison conditions in other countries.

Arriving as a stranger in a foreign country to review prison conditions would have been futile without the support, guidance and advice of international human rights organisations. This work enabled me to devise a programme that covered all aspects of prison policy, practice and training as well of independent monitoring organisations.

Bedford Hills Correctional Facility is a federal maximum security prison for females in New York State. In the early 1990s it accommodated 700 inmates, a cross-section of society from graduate political activists to illiterate ghetto women.

About 80 percent had children, two-thirds of them 10 years or younger. Prison systems make little provision for mothers, babies and young children. Sister Elaine, a Catholic nun and social worker, aimed to strengthen the mother-child bonds and initiated a visiting programme for children.

Female prisoners could await their kids in the visiting room, to welcome them. Book and toy libraries were established and a literacy programme enhanced their reading ability.

A parenting centre offered workshops on pregnancy, infant care and health care. Also significant was the establishment of foster homes, which shielded children from the shame of a prison connection.

Historically, Bedford Hills was the only US prison that permitted mothers to keep their infants in prison for a year after birth. A nursery plus kitchen was established in the medical wing to cater for 16 nursing mothers. A crèche was launched to help free mothers to work or study and inmates could enrol in a Child Development Associate Course to gain practical infant care experience.

With this experience plus proficiency in writing and reading, trainees qualify to work in any registered US nursery school.

Although the training was mainly supervised by the prison personnel, it also involved those inmates with qualifications as teachers. The monotonous hours in prison now had some purpose, which gave hope for the future.

All these interventions prepared mothers to return to the free world with confidence in their ability to interact positively with their children and society. The programmes built self-esteem and the skills necessary to withstand, hopefully, the temptation of further crime.

During my visit, I was also impressed by Choices-and-Changes, a personalised image-building workshop run by a social worker. Participants volunteer and selection is by personal interview.

Some individuals were so damaged that there was little left to work with. They then had the option of attending Family Violence and Substance Abuse workshops.

But it is the Aids Counselling and Education programme that stands out. A fine book is available, Breaking the Walls of Silence: Aids and Women in a New York State Maximum-Security Prison.

In the UK, prison reform took a different route. The trigger was the devastating Strangeways Prison Riot on April 1, 1990. It was different from others – more violent. Prisoners objected to unfair treatment and for 25 days TV images of destruction flashed around the world: 47 inmates and 147 staff were injured, the prison was badly fire-damaged and all at a cost of £60 million.

Within days there were major disturbances at six other prisons. The government’s response was swift. On April 6 the Home Secretary announced a judicial inquiry to be headed by Lord Justice Woolf. There had been previous commissions of inquiry that dealt with prison law and regulations, administration, infrastructure and officers’ conditions of employment. But the terms of reference for Woolf’s inquiry were much wider: it was to be held in public, and the brief was to be interpreted broadly.

Evidence was collected from staff and inmates on prison management, justice in prison, prison service administration, and the criminal justice system.

In his far-reaching report, Woolf focused on daily activities and the interaction between officers and prisoners. He recognised that law and order, including hard labour, may have resulted in discipline and obedience but it did not change attitudes; one person could not force good conduct on another. As an objective, rehabilitation had failed.

From the onset it was made clear that offenders were sentenced to imprisonment as punishment, not for punishment. It is the length of the sentence that measures the degree of punishment and not the conditions under which it is served.

The task of the prison staff is to keep safely in custody those committed by the courts and to prepare them for life after prison. Their duty is to provide humane care in conditions that do not add to the suffering of imprisonment.

The purpose of imprisonment is to remove the convict’s liberty and freedom of movement; prisoners must be held in a safe place and treated with humanity and justice.

All prisons are expected to provide proper sleeping and toilet facilities, decent food and time for exercise and recreation. They should allow regular family contact.

It was reported that if a prison is managed by fear and coercion, there is constant tension; when this reaches boiling point, chaos and anarchy result. If the principles of decency, fairness and justice are agreed upon, they lead to greater harmony between staff and inmates.

Working towards positive outcomes, it is essential that officers treat prisoners with decency and respect, and allow them to lead as normal a life as possible, one that keeps them occupied. All such strategies also enhance the safety of the staff. Prisoners are then able to serve their time constructively, knowing they will not be used as a free labour force for prison gains.

A different approach to prison management was adopted. It shifted the style of how prison life should be run. On intake, every new inmate is allocated to an officer who will guide, support and encourage him. Prisoners are given the option of using their time in prison positively: they are talked through their future plans; they can choose from a range of artisan skills training.

Once they decide which direction to follow, a timeline with short-term goals is agreed upon and their allocated officer monitors progress every two to three weeks. Any delays or difficulties are discussed and solutions sought. Inmates can attend literacy and numeracy classes. The aim is to restore self-esteem and obtain a qualification that will improve job opportunities after release.

When Andrew Coyle was appointed governor of Brixton Prison in 1991, he introduced the above prison management guidelines. Judge Tumim, Her Majesty’s Inspector of Prisons, had described Brixton as “a corrupting and depressing institution”, otherwise known as the “hellhole of Britain”.

In three years, Coyle managed to turn Brixton into a model prison.

One wonders where Modise stands, what his reforms envisage.

* Dr van Heerden is a retired medical doctor doing extensive research on prison health care.

** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media

The Sunday Independent

Judith Van Heerden

Prisons should arm inmates for life outside