Article
Change
Freedom
Mental Health
3 min read

Coping in the chaos: Pentonville’s neurodiverse unit is changing prison life

A radical and caring prison experiment has changed both prisoners and wardens. Nick Jones visited London's oldest prison.

Nick is the senior editor of Seen & Unseen.

An arched gateway to a prison sits behind a low raised wall. No windows are visible
First opened in 1842, Pentonville Prison serves a large part of central and east London.
Ben Sutherland via Wikimedia Commons

A London prison has seen a reduction in violence among prisoners and improved staff morale thanks to a new neurodiverse unit.  Pentonville prison’s new unit identifies and treats prisoners with autism, brain-injury, learning difficulties and even dementia. 

Jo Davies, Pentonville’s managing chaplain, helped set up the programme after conducting many regular prisoner reviews with colleagues. She noted that there was an apparent higher incidence of autism among prisoners than the general population. 

Prison is a challenging environment for those with autism. Routines are imposed, vulnerabilities are exploited by others. Frustrations can boil over into violent and self-destructive behaviours. Non-verbal behaviour also makes each interaction with other prisoners and staff a potential flashpoint leading to protesting behaviours or withdrawal.  All against a backdrop of a harsh white noise. Metal doors slam, Conversations and challenges are shouted, all constantly echo through the four open floors of each wing of the prison.  

Other neurodiverse conditions are present in prisons. An ageing prison population even has prisoners suffering from early onset dementia. Some forget the circumstances of their imprisonment.  

Teaming up with prison officers and support staff like psychologists, doctors and teachers, chaplain Davies notes that “now staff make it their business to work out how to work with these prisoners”. The unit has capacity for 45 prisoners in single cells. They share a common area for eating and other activities. Staff spend 10 weeks assessing the prisoners who can then benefit from up to 12 weeks of additional support. 

Ruth Hipwell, who leads the new unit, says: “it’s good to have a place in prison for those people who can’t cope.” Support ranges from little things like teaching a prisoner how to make a cup of tea or providing earplugs to reduce noise, to helping prisoners make better plans for coping and learning – both in prison and outside. 

On the wall of the unit is a timetable of events, illustrated by pictograms. Sessions include how to handle familiar tasks in the unfamiliar environment of prison: how to buy things or use the telephone, getting clean clothes and even how to handle being unwell.  Other sessions include accessing learning and getting a job.  

Robbie*, a prisoner in the unit says:

“It relaxes you. It’s wicked. The difference is the support.” 

The unit started work in October 2022 and the difference it made was spotted fast. It transformed staff, recalls Hipwell. “They have found their purpose. We have a level of multi-agency integration others can’t match.” 

Ian Blakeman, Pentonville prison’s governor, identifies additional benefits. “It frees up staff time and staff export skills to other parts of the prison.” These positive effects also help him keep good staff. A major challenge in London’s competitive labour market.  Other programmes reinforce this change in culture across the prison range from addiction treatment to rebuilding family relationships affected by gang affiliations.  

Pentonville now has the lowest self-harm rates in the country and is the least violent prison of its type in the UK. 

With prisons a low political priority, it’s even more remarkable to learn that Pentonville’s neurodiverse unit required no additional budget. Its win-win results are a flicker of hope in a bleak landscape. Times columnist Matthew Parris recently wrote: 

“Every generation looks back and spots an outrage. Today, when we think of slavery, child labour and lunatic asylums, we wonder how our ancestors could have been so cruel. What will horrify our own successors is our disgraceful prison system.” 

In response to Parris’s column, Jonathan Aitken, a former prisoner and now a chaplain at Pentonville who works with the neurodiverse unit, wrote to the Times.   

“The real disgrace lies not inside our prisons but in the failure of both public and private rehabilitation efforts to help prisoners into jobs, housing and law-abiding lives after their release. The good work done by prison officers, managers and governors is underreported… We are on a roll of improvements… But such advances are like clapping with one hand if they are not met by comparable efforts to rebuild the lives of prisoners after they walk out of the gate. Correcting the failures in this area should be a high priority for our politicians and for our society.” 

Article
Comment
Conspiracy theory
Freedom
Justice
4 min read

Why free speech might just need a crime of passion defence

Horrific crimes against our humanity tell us we must protect our freedoms, not constrict them.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A protester stands with back to the camera, his baseball hat is turned backwards, it reads 'freedom'.
Gayatri Malhotra on Unsplash.

One of the silliest legal defences ever must be the “crime of passion”. Or crime passionnel, as the French knew it for centuries, which should really appear on a menu as one of those haute cuisine desserts they so adore, featuring poached passion fruits in Chantilly sauce: “Non, garcon, tenez-vous la Crepe Suzette. Aujourd’hui je voudrai la crème passionel, s’il vous plait. Et vite – ma femme arrive bientot.”

But to digress in a first paragraph is a crime journalaise, which incidentally is a piece of Franglais that should apply to everything in Le Figaro. So back to crimes of passion. The idea was that an act of spousal infidelity could arouse such a passionate rage that the romantic interloper deserved what they got. First-degree murder could be downgraded to manslaughter, because obviously there can be no malice aforethought in the heats of passion. 

The crime of passion’s bastard offspring is the “gay panic defense”. Note the tell-tale “s” there (though, breathtakingly, interpretations of this defence remain available in both the UK and the US). It runs that a defendant may allege to have found a same-sex sexual advance so offensive or frightening that they were provoked into murdering or otherwise injuring their alleged seducer. Victim-blaming or what?  

Anyway, we might want to dust off crime of passion defences because a leaked report from the Home Office suggests that the definition of extremism in law could be extended to cover “extreme misogyny”, “environmental extremism”, “left-wing, anarchist and single-issue extremism” (it even has its own acronym, LASI) and “conspiracy theories”. 

Now, I’m all for catching misogyny before anyone gets hurt, but all these things are covered by existing laws. And some of them are just plain bonkers. Were I to be charged with holding an extremist environmental opinion or an extreme left-wing, anarchist or single-issue view, I think I’d want to say that it was a crime of passion.  

By which I would mean that there was no malice aforethought because I was acting in the heats of passion for my cause at a time when my balance of mind was impaired. Otherwise, I could get nicked for simply thinking or saying something. Sticks and stones and all that.

But horrific crimes against our humanity tell us we must protect and defend our freedoms, not constrict them. We want to prevent murders, not the saying or thinking of both silly and vile things.

To adopt Serious Face for a moment, I’m aware that hate crimes are a very big thing indeed. How could it be otherwise when we’ve just commemorated Holocaust Memorial Day. And we’ve also the other week had the sentencing of someone – I wouldn’t even spellcheck his name – for the murder of three little girls in Southport. 

But horrific crimes against our humanity tell us we must protect and defend our freedoms, not constrict them. We want to prevent murders, not the saying or thinking of both silly and vile things. Our concentration should be on that prevention, not the forbidding of attitudes that might (but probably won’t in the vast majority of cases) lead to a violent crime. 

Don’t get me started on Non-Crime Hate Incidents (NCHIs). Oh, you just did. Telegraph columnist Allison Pearson was visited by police last Remembrance Sunday and, surprisingly for someone who has built a career on telling snowflakes to grow a spine, came over all oppressed and persecuted. They were following up a photo she’d posted, claiming it was of Metropolitan Police posing with what she called “Jew-haters” at a London rally in support of Palestine. 

In reality, the photo was taken in Manchester and featured Pakistanis, not Palestinians. There was a clue in their flag having “Pakistan” written on it. But that makes her not a very good journalist. Not a bad, far less a criminal, person. 

A saying usually ascribed to St Augustine, in one of his letters, is that we are to “hate the sin and love the sinner”. Similarly, we must try to hate the crime, but love the criminal. That must remain humanly impossible for the crimes already mentioned in this column. (Though, astonishingly, history records some Jews finding it in their hearts to forgive their Nazi persecutors). 

But we acknowledge that this is where the gospel bar is set. We’re to love our enemies, even if we don’t like them and we condemn their actions. In practice, that means preventing crime in law and holding perpetrators to justice. What it does not mean is going after people who say hateful and stupid things, while other people are actually doing hateful things. The former may and should be about sound intelligence gathering; the latter is effective policing. 

This principle is rooted in our culture, founded on the golden rule of loving our enemies and our neighbours as ourselves. There’s always room for forgiveness as well as justice, as crimes of passion demonstrate.  

And if that sounds recklessly self-sacrificial, we might look at the Passion of Christ and the crimes of passion that were committed during it. As he said himself, tout est accompli.  

 

* "No, boy, hold the Crêpe Suzette. Today I would like the passion cream, please. And quickly – my wife is coming soon." 

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