When I returned to the UK after almost a decade abroad, one aspect of 21st century Britain astonished me more than almost anything else. This was the prevalence of illegal drugs in prisons, and what seemed the resigned tolerance on the part of politicians and prison authorities alike. If the powers-that-be either would not, or could not, prevent prisoners getting hold of drugs, what use were many custodial sentences at all?
That was in 2002. More than 10 years on, prison walls seem as porous as ever, with the traffic in illegal substances now augmented by so-called legal highs. These are being blamed for an upsurge in prison violence, prompting new calls for “something to be done”. Now, on paper at least – and, of course, unrelated to the imminence of an election – something is being done.
This week, the justice secretary, Chris Grayling, is issuing new guidance to prison governors to “reinforce the prison estate’s zero tolerance approach to contraband”. The penalties for prisoners found smuggling in forbidden items, including legal highs, range from curbs on visits and longer confinement to cells to the withdrawal of privileges or a longer sentence. Where illegal drugs are concerned, a prisoner could be prosecuted under the law as it pertains “outside”.
This bravura statement of ministerial intent was preceded by the disclosure (in response to a parliamentary question) that drug seizures at prisons in England and Wales had risen from 3,800 in 2010-11 to 4,500 in 2013-14 – a statistic presented as evidence of success, but which could equally be seen as evidence of failure. It was accompanied by a long list of measures, such as more sniffer dogs, a new “project” to extend urine testing and “a major push on prison communications” to impress upon inmates and their visitors the consequences of being caught with drugs.
Forgive my scepticism, but if an additional 700 seizures is what “the prison estate’s zero tolerance approach to contraband” achieved over three years, it is hard to have much faith in the latest clampdown.
Grayling’s announcement has set off a slanging match of sorts between those who claim that corrupt prison officers are the chief source of drugs in prison and those who mainly blame visitors. Others let both off the hook, citing the incidence of drugs and mobile phones thrown over prison walls – the accuracy of the “drops” assisted, apparently, by Google Earth.
For most people on the outside, however, the actual mechanics of how drugs get into prisons is probably of less concern than the incontrovertible fact that they do – in sufficient amounts to dictate the hierarchy of inmates in some jails. Is it really so difficult to stem the flow of drugs into prison, or does it rather reflect weakness of will?
Whatever view you take of drugs – to legalise, decriminalise or stiffen enforcement of existing laws – more than half of those in prison, according to the Ministry of Justice, have some prior history of drug use. Others – in a truly shocking indictment of the system – become addicted while they are there.
Lax enforcement, however, is all too understandable in a system where the biggest mark of failure for a prison governor is not the proportion of prisoners who reoffend or leave with a drug habit, but a riot that makes the national news. No wonder then if staff turn a blind eye to drug use, if it is deemed to help keep often overcrowded establishments quiet.
If legal highs are now being blamed for increasing violence, could the interests of the prison authorities and the expectations of the public at last converge? An early promise from the next government should be to purge – initially just a few – prisons of drugs, and mean it. There are prisoners and their families who would surely welcome some real zero tolerance, too.
