What's the point of prison?

A couple of weeks ago, when down in Christchurch, I was given a tour of the women's prison. It's clean and, although not exactly comfortable, every necessity of food and shelter and many of well-being are provided for.

Facilities include a library, a mini gym and a games room. Some prisoners share villas with a couple of other inmates. Mothers and babies have special areas for family development. Legislation states that a baby born in prison stays with the mother for the first 6 months, although this may be extended with approval.

With a heavy dose of understatement, the corrections officer explained, "It's not the baby's fault - it's quite strange. The legislation currently is looking at extending that to the age of two which in itself is going to create a lot more issues. Currently our self care unit is the area where we keep mums and babies because you can’t be locked in the cell with a baby from 5-8; it doesn’t work. But toddlers in prison; where are we going to keep them?"

Prison nurse, Anne Hofmeester, tells me that some people don't feel prisoners are entitled to health-care or indeed any benefits at all. "They are quite shocked that we provide prisoners with any help. They think they should get absolutely nothing. People in the community get cross that they have to go to their doctor and pay – it’s $70 to go to after-hours – but prisoners get it for free."

When the prisoners have demonstrated that they are ready to be rehabilitated and they are no longer a threat to others, they are relocated to 'villas' within the prison, where they share with three others in a flatting type situation, learning to budget for their food and toiletries and getting a small allowance for these necessities once a month. According to the Department of Corrections, the average cost of keeping an offender in prison is $90,747 a year.

They work in various 'industries' which includes the sewing room, kitchens, gardens and painting and decorating. Some of them take courses through the Open Polytechnic. As a corrections officer said, "Why wouldn't you? You've got the opportunity there to make something - to better yourself."

Again, some people disagree with this. They argue that they would like to study and learn to sew or play a musical instrument, but they are busy working every day to pay for food, clothing and shelter. How can it be right that those who have committed crimes, get the perks? Well, I can see their point, but I guess it comes down to the purpose of a prison. Do you want to punish, or do you want to rehabilitate?

She says she connects with the prisoners by talking about their family. Many of them miss their children more than anything while they are locked up and, for those who break the cycle of re-offending, they do so because they want to spend more time being a parent and less being absent or detained.

The prisoners are locked in their cells for a couple of hours over midday so that the corrections officers can have their lunch and do their paperwork. They are also locked up alone (for now - there is talk of introducing double-bunking in some prisons, but that is a separate issue) from 5pm until 8am, unless they have special duties. The cells they are locked in are tiny. I spent three minutes in one and I got claustraphobic.

There is a sense of menace in this place, compounded by the close proximity and the boredom of the inmates. They are constantly watched and frequently resentful. No matter what these people have done, the corrections officer I spoke to explained that her job is to ensure the "safe, secure and humane containment" of the prisoners.

"Getting through the day safely without any incidents is always a good one, and ensuring that your prisoners are safe. That to me is your challenge every day – that yourself and your colleagues are okay, and your prisoners are okay. The judging has already been done, which is why they’re in prison. It’s not up to me to judge again."

Naturally, everyone who enters and leaves the prison is searched and monitored. There may be wide blue spaces above, but there are razor-wire perimeter fences around the premises. In The Ballad of Reading Gaol, Oscar Wilde refers to "that little tent of blue that prisoners call the sky". When he learns that one of his fellow prisoners is to be hanged, he declares, "Dear Christ! The very prison walls/ Suddenly seemed to reel,/ And the sky above my head became/ Like a casque of scorching steel;"

To be deprived of freedom is a terrible thing. It may well be a necessary thing, but what do you do with people when you have locked them up? If you don't agree with the death penalty, which I don't, then surely you intend to release them back into society at some point. And hopefully they will have managed to have altered their behaviour in such a way that they will never want to return again.

Having seen the inside of a prison, albeit a nice new one with pleasant facilities, I know that I never want to be in there again, and certainly not if the means to get out don't rest in my hands. What price do we put on freedom? I know that I value it at more than a pool table and an open polytechnic course.

By the way, you can click on any of these pictures to make them bigger. The inmates can't.