repository.edgehill.ac.ukrepository.edgehill.ac.uk/.../Hostels_and_Community_Ju… · Web viewof...
Click here to load reader
-
Upload
hoangthuan -
Category
Documents
-
view
212 -
download
0
Transcript of repository.edgehill.ac.ukrepository.edgehill.ac.uk/.../Hostels_and_Community_Ju… · Web viewof...
Hostels and Community Justice for Women: The 'Semi-penal' Paradox
Alana Barton & Vickie Cooper
Introduction
Escalating rates of imprisonment bring into sharp focus a range of serious concerns
around human rights and social justice for criminalised women, as other contributions in
this book have adroitly highlighted. One apparent remedy for these problems is to increase
the use of community penalties as an alternative to incarceration (Gelsthorpe et al, 2007).
Increasing the use of community penalties for women has received academic and official
approval for a number of reasons. First, women offenders are deemed to be ‘lower risk’
than men, generally committing less serious and non-violent offences. Second, women are
believed to be ‘less resistant to accepting community supervision than men’ (ibid: 7) and
statistically a higher proportion of women than men complete their community sentence
successfully (Prison Reform Trust, 2010). Third, community sentences are perceived as a
means of minimising the adverse impact that a woman’s offending, and subsequent
punishment, might have on her family (Ministry of Justice, 2008a).
Hostels in particular have been depicted as suitable sites of community punishment and
rehabilitation for women. They are presented as offering re-integrative and restorative
opportunities whilst still providing the necessary restrictions on liberty demanded by a
sentence of the court and ‘success’ rates (in terms of non-reconvictions) are higher for
individuals sentenced to a condition of residence in ‘approved premises’ than for those
who are unable to access a place (Cherry & Cheston, 2006). However, despite these
commendations, hostels for women (both approved probation premises and other non-
statutory hostels) have been subject to very little critical scrutiny when compared with, for
example, analyses of the prison. Those studies that have been conducted have tended to
focus on the specific benefits (in terms of practicality, financial viability and ‘effectiveness’)
that hostels offer over custody for women (Carlen, 1990; Rumgay, 2004) or the benefits of
single-sex institutions over mixed accommodation (Wincup, 1996). Whilst these studies
are valuable, very little consideration has been accorded to the ideological assumptions
that underpin the philosophies and regimes of female hostels or to the politics and power
1
relations around which they operate which, in turn, have implications in terms of rights and
justice for women.
In this chapter we examine the use of hostels, arguing that these institutions are
paradoxical in terms of the delivery of ‘justice’ for women. We begin, on a practical level,
by examining the scarcity and uneven geographical spread of hostel accommodation for
women, contending that this has detrimental implications for any notion of resettlement
into the ‘community’. We then continue by examining those institutions that are available
for women and we conceptualise these as ‘semi-penal’ (Barton, 2004; 2005). Here we
propose that women’s hostels represent a blurring of the ideological boundaries both
between the prison and the domestic sphere and between the construction of
‘criminal/deviant’ and ‘vulnerable/needy’ identities. We highlight that, in addition to
approved probation premises, non-statutory hostels (traditionally utilised for vulnerable but
non-criminal women) are part of a ‘semi-penal web’ (see Archard, 1979). Finally, we argue
that women-specific regimes in semi-penal institutions are not dissimilar to those of the
prison, in that they can serve to reproduce feminized identities through dominant gendered
ideologies of the ‘home’ and techniques of maternalistic governance. In particular we
examine how the supremacy of the concepts of personal responsibility and
‘empowerment’, achieved primarily thorough compulsory ‘groupwork’ and ‘self-reflection’,
can be conceptualised as contractual and feminised forms of governance.
The chapter will draw on two pieces of research conducted by the authors in Merseyside,
England. The first piece explored the experiences of criminalised women in an approved
bail and probation hostel (see Barton, 2005). The second (currently unpublished) study,
conducted by Cooper in 2011, focused on offenders’ and ex-offenders’ paths between
homelessness and imprisonment. The female participants in this research were, at the
time of interview, residing in one of three forms of hostel accommodation, namely an
approved bail and probation hostel (the same hostel that was the focus of Barton’s study),
a female refuge and a female homeless hostel.
Gendered Geographies of Punishment: Disempowerment and Dispossession
2
The main element of discrimination against female prisoners and by extension
against female hostel residents was the distance between their family and
community and where they were located (Ministry of Justice 2008a:43).
According to the Equality Act 2006, there is a legal obligation placed upon local and
national authorities to eliminate unlawful sex discrimination and harassment and promote
equality of opportunity between women and men (Player, 2007). Despite this legislative
progress, provision for women in the community is not ‘compatible with equalities
legislation’ (Ministry of Justice, 2008a: 42). The lack of accommodation availability,
coupled with its uneven spread across the country, makes it ‘geographically patchy’
(Gelsthorpe et al, 2007: 8). In 2012, there are 100 probation hostels (or ‘approved
premises’): six are female only and 94 are male only. There are no mixed sex hostels. 1 Up
until 2005, 28 probation hostels were mixed-sex, however the national directive suggested
that, due to ‘the abusive nature of many male residents and vulnerability of some female
residents’, mixed-sex hostels were impractical for reducing reoffending (Ministry of Justice,
2008a: 10). As such, it was recommended that mixed-sex hostels ‘should be converted to
single-sex establishments with immediate effect’ (Ibid: 15). Consequently, 26 hostels
changed to male only, but only two converted to female hostels (Ibid).
What we witnessed here was a paradoxical response to the perceived ‘needs’ of women.
Whilst it was clearly proclaimed that female single-sex hostels were better equipped to
respond to women’s ‘criminogenic’ requirements than mixed premises, the response was
to contract female hostel provision to the benefit of the men’s estate (Ministry of Justice,
2008a: 42). Consequently, women deemed in need of probation accommodation would
have to be dispersed around the country in order to have their offending needs met. In
Cooper’s study 66% of the female respondents did not originate from the regional area
(Merseyside) where they were residing when interviewed (compared with 28.5% of men).
Women in the probation hostel had relocated from a diverse range of places including
North Wales (Kayleigh), Cumbria (Elaine) and the Midlands (Catherine). In addition, the
histories of these women indicated that relocation around the country was not a rare event.
Natalie for example, was originally from Carlisle but in the previous six years, via prison
and various statutory and non-statutory hostels (with spells of homelessness in between),
1 Of these 3 female hostels and 10 male hostels are managed independently. Information concerning the numbers of hostels was gained via personal communication with the National Approved Premises Association (9th March 2012).
3
had moved between Cumbria, the North East and Merseyside. The geographical
displacement of women from their home areas presents considerable challenges when
considering community rehabilitation and reintegration. Put simply, women may be
released to and/or serve punishment in a community, but generally not their community: as
such, they are in but not necessarily of the community (see Duff, 2001). Relocating women
for the purpose of a community sentence can mean social and family networks are
disrupted in much the same way as they would if a prison sentence had been imposed.
Making the transition to new and unfamiliar ‘communities’ can be a disempowering
experience, leaving women disassociated from existing personal support systems and
deprived of feelings of membership and belonging. Consequently, this can exacerbate
feelings of social exclusion, isolation and distress. As such, it is argued that these
experiences intensify problems associated with their offending (Gelsthorpe et al, 2007;
Ministry of Justice, 2008a). Nonetheless women are generally compelled to make the
move in order to avoid custody. As Belinda put it, ‘I’ve had to cut all ties, social services
and everything. But I don’t want to go back to jail’ (in Cooper, 2011).
Cooper’s study also found that, for the women who were referred to the hostel in
Merseyside from out of the area, this was often not a temporary relocation. Rather, several
women ended up permanently resettling in the locale. For some women, Merseyside may
have been simply their preferred location, but for others, given that previous social
contacts had been lost and the hostel had become their primary means of practical
support, the decision to remain in Merseyside was a pragmatic one. Clearly, providing
such support is obviously not a negative aspect of hostels per se, however the women in
Cooper’s study sometimes appeared resigned, rather than enthusiastic, about their future.
As Shirelle and Kate explained:
I’ve been trying for six years to get somewhere to live. I’ve been in and out of jail
because if you only do short sentences you don’t get help with housing so I just get
released straight back onto the street… I have decided to relocate up to here
(Shirelle, originally from Macclesfield).
I would rather be rehoused in Wrexham because that is where I am from [u]nless I
could get the money to go private and I don’t think that is going to happen …I have
been off the drugs now since I have been out of prison… I think that is mainly due to
being [in the hostel] and having the support and what not. But if I went back to
4
Wrexham, I would just be taking a big step backwards I think because of the
housing situation… you go and present yourself as homeless and then they just put
you in a B&B which is full of other drug addicts. You do all that hard work to get put
back in the middle of it all (Kate, originally from Wrexham).
We suggest that women’s experiences of being supervised in approved premises (or of
residing in non-statutory hostels after being released from prison with no fixed abode) can
be considered antithetical to, what are clearly, idealized ideologies of ‘the community’.
Whilst academic studies have deconstructed ideological discourses surrounding
‘community punishment’ (Worrall, 1995) and identified various practical difficulties in terms
of meeting women’s needs in the community (Gelsthorpe et al 2007; Malloch and McIvor,
2011) we remain bereft of the real meaning of ‘community’ for female ‘offenders’ and ‘ex-
offenders’. The notion of ‘community’ generally has been politically idealised yet
theoretically under-developed (Cohen, 1985; Worrall, 1997; Duff, 2001) and arguably only
really exists at a conceptual level (Frazer and Lacey, 1993). Even though ‘community’ has
become an essential part of criminal justice rhetoric (Duff, 2001), within this discourse the
term remains equivocal, referring solely to a geographical location which can be as
indistinct as ‘outside the prison walls’. With regard to hostel accommodation, there has
been a tendency to present this form of ‘community’ as being qualitatively antipodal to
‘custody’. This false polarisation of the two sites implies that because custodial institutions
are regulative environments, hostels are presented as restrictive but primarily supportive,
‘curative’ and, importantly, ‘empowering’ institutions (Buckley, 1987; McLeish, 2005), like
an extension of an idealised ‘communal’ unit such as the family (see Sinclair, 1975;
Sheppard, 1979). In the following section of this chapter we challenge this romanticised
notion, examining the ways in which hostels for women might be considered an extension
of rather than an alternative to formal custodial punishment.
The hostel for women as a semi-penal institution
Hostels for offenders were originally perceived as the ‘high watermark of welfarism’ (Cowe,
2007: 69) and as far back as the early 20 th century had been accepted as appropriate
forms of community punishment and justice for women (Barton, 2005). But the welfare
element of hostel accommodation has not been sufficiently theoretically untangled from
5
the inherent disciplinary functions of such institutions. Barton (2005) characterised
probation hostels for women as ‘semi-penal’. This description refers to their paradoxical
construction. Probation hostels are not formally incarcerative or wholly punitive in the
sense of the prison and they clearly lack the visible symbols of exclusionary punishment
such as high walls, locked cells, solitary confinement, uniformed guards, continuous
surveillance and so on. But nor are they representative of the idealised forms of informal
social control or support associated with the ‘community’, which is most commonly
represented by the neighbourhood or family. Whilst probation hostels provide shared
spaces for living, socialising, eating and food preparation (and could therefore be defined
as physically ‘communal’), residents are subject to surveillance and supervision on the
premises and hostels generally provide no, or at least very limited, private space for
residents from which others can be excluded. As the title of the HMI Probation (2007)
report ‘Not Locked Up but Subject to Rules’ infers, although hostels provide various
systems of practical support, they necessarily have to function around formalised
regulations and regimes that imitate those found in custodial institutions. Thus, for
example, rules prohibit the use of alcohol and dictate if and when residents can leave the
premises. Visitors are strictly regulated with visits from children not permitted (Ministry of
Justice, 2008a). Moreover, residents’ actions and behaviours are monitored and recorded
and they are frequently required to engage in a range of compulsory activities, to the
extent where some female residents have complained that hostel regimes are stricter than
those they had experienced in prison (Ministry of Justice, 2011).
As stated above, Barton’s characterisation of ‘semi-penal’ institutions was originally based
on the physiognomies and structures of probation hostels for women. However, it is
important to establish that although probation hostels are the primary (but not sole) focus
of this chapter, they are just a part of a much wider ‘semi-penal network’ for women which
encompasses a variety of statutory and non-statutory premises. In this ‘network’ individual
institutions accommodate a mixture of convicted offenders on supervision orders, non-
convicted bailees and ‘vulnerable’ non/ex-offenders. Thus, the conceptual boundaries
between women’s ‘criminality’, ‘deviance’ and ‘vulnerability’, and responses to them,
become indistinct. Of course, this is not unique to the hostel environment but rather
reflects the hegemonic, and paradoxical, construction of ‘normal’ femininity, whereby
women’s conduct is understood and explained by recourse to (biologically and socially)
deterministic conceptualisations which, in turn, ensures their personal/social problems
6
and/or moral ‘failings’ become conflated with their ‘deviant’ or ‘criminal’ behaviour
(Heidensohn, 1996; Carlen, 1998; Ballinger, 2000).
Both the female homeless hostel and the female refuge in Cooper’s study were
accommodating a combination of women with a history of offending (although not
necessarily on formal supervision orders), homeless women released from prison, women
fleeing from domestic violence and women with substance misuse and offending related
needs. In the probation hostel, residents primarily consisted of convicted women on
supervision orders but even in these cases it was not always solely the woman’s ‘offender’
status that led to her referral to the hostel. For example, Natalie was being supervised by
MAPPA2 (and thus deemed a ‘high risk’ offender). However, having had a history of
homelessness and domestic violence, her referral to the hostel had been considered
necessary both as a punishment and a means of protection.
…the police, drug councillors…and other agencies like Freedom Programme for
domestic violence…[t]hey used to have meetings about me and…what was best for
me. They all decided that it would be best for me to come somewhere like this.
Obviously, because my partner was released three weeks ago from prison then I’m
at risk because of him (in Cooper, 2011).
In addition some women were resident in the probation hostel under the ‘emergency
accommodation’ facility and thus had not been charged with or convicted of any criminal
offence at all. For instance, Shirelle had been referred because she was homeless
(Cooper, 2011).
It has been argued that community disposals provide a necessary remedy for breaking the
cycle of offending and punishment for women (Carlen, 1990). However, we propose that
semi-penal institutions can become part of the cycle rather than a solution to it. The
blurring of institutional boundaries means that ‘deviance’ and ‘vulnerability’ become
conceptualised as mutually reinforcing characteristics of particular groups of women for
whom institutionalisation (custodial and non-custodial) is seen as the necessary response.
2Multi Agency Public Protection Arrangements (MAPPA) were introduced under the Criminal Justice and Court Services Act 2001 and consolidated in the Criminal Justice Act 2003. They were set up to supervise and monitor high-risk offenders within the community. Police and probation are mainly responsible for delivering multi-agency protection, but there is also a duty placed on wider agencies to ensure that offenders are supported within the community, in accordance with their offending-related needs and risks. Agencies can include domestic violence units, drug and alcohol action teams, health authorities, mental health trusts and social landlords. (Wood and Kemshall, 2007).
7
Thus, these women become entrenched in an enveloping network of institutionalisation.
This process is starkly highlighted by the following ‘snapshots’ of the paths between
homelessness and (penal and semi-penal) institutionalisation for two women over a period
of six years from Cooper’s study.
Natalie (originally from Cumbria) –> HMP Durham -> homeless in Cumbria -> HMP
Durham -> homeless in Cumbria -> HMP Durham -> domestic violence refuge in Carlisle -
> homeless in Cumbria -> approved probation hostel in Liverpool (on supervision order
and fleeing from domestic violence).
Sarah (originally from Warrington) –> homeless in Manchester -> drug rehabilitation
centre in Nottingham -> HMP Styal -> approved probation hostel in Liverpool (on
supervision order).
Not only are convicted women, non-convicted women and non-offenders accommodated
together in the semi-penal network but, more significantly, they are frequently subject to
the same compulsory regimes of ‘rehabilitation’ which raises concerns about the potential
‘net-widening’ and stigmatising impacts of the ‘parity’ of treatment between these groups.
Requiring unconvicted individuals to participate in programmes regarded as ‘punishment’
(which, according to the Approved Premises Handbook National Probation Service for
England and Wales, 2002) is necessary in order to aid their re-integration into the
community), is premised on a presumption of guilt and deemed to be in contravention of
the Human Rights Act. Because of this, the Handbook goes on to stipulate that the
consent of bailees must be sought if they are asked to take part in such programmes.
However, several of the bailees in Barton’s (2005) study complained that they experienced
considerable levels of coercion with regard to group activities, in particular those
programmes aimed at confronting/reflecting on offending behaviour. They reported that
they felt under pressure to participate because they were unconvicted, for as Kate noted,
‘it looks better [at your trial] if you go with a good record from the hostel’ (in Barton, 2005:
126). Furthermore, women may find their (understandable) reluctance to take part in
compulsory programmes institutionally re-constructed as evidence of their personal failings
or ‘denial…in respect of their needs’ (McLeish, 2005: 14). Thus, contrary to the assertion
that women in rehabilitative programmes ‘are encouraged to voluntarily examine and
reshape their own subjectivities…’ (Kendall 2002: 186. Emphasis added), they may feel
8
compelled to participate in (mostly compulsory, often daily and frequently offence based)
group work in the semi-penal institution (Cruikshank, 1999; Barton, 2005; see also
McLeish, 2005).
Referring to the complexity and nebulousness of the multi-agency response to young
offenders, Stan Cohen supposed that, in the official imagination, ‘[t]he “deprived” are not
very different from the “depraved”’ (1985: 60). Arguably he could easily have been
describing the situation for women. Semi-penal institutions provide ‘a service which is
simultaneously a response to [deviance] and to other ‘crises’ (family breakdown, deviant
leisure styles…) in the “normal” life cycle’ (ibid. Emphasis added). In other words, rather
than interrupting women’s trajectory through the penal system, the semi-penal network
acts as a ‘magnification and expansion’ of mechanisms of penal and social control for
women (Barton 2005: 19). The formal facets of hostel life discussed above emphasise
their status as semi-penal in that they offer a ‘modified form of imprisonment as opposed
to a modified form of liberty’ (Cowe 2007: 69). However, as noted earlier in this chapter,
hostels function not only around the regulatory methods and disciplinary techniques
generally employed in the prison but also, importantly and paradoxically, around the
dominant, idealised and feminising ideologies of the ‘home’. In this sense, they are semi-
penal and it is to this feature that the chapter now turns.
The reproduction of feminised identities in the semi-penal institution
Regimes within custodial institutions for women have historically operated around
feminised constructions that serve to regulate female prisoners as gendered beings. As
Sim has argued, ‘the social order of the institution has been sustained and reproduced not
only by organisational demands and individual personalities but also through deeply
embedded discourses around masculinity and femininity’ (1994:102).
Such discourses are not confined to the prison. Probation officers have also been accused
of ‘colluding’ with the stereotyping of women according to entrenched constructions of
femininity, specifically in terms of women’s perceived ‘emotionality’ and ‘irrationality’.
Rumgay contends that within the realm of community penalties there is a ‘professional
preoccupation’ with the ‘social and personal distress’ of women (2004: 104). Thus
women’s offending becomes mediated by an emphasis on their personal characteristics,
‘dangerous’ desires and interpersonal relationships ‘as a target and vehicle for change’
9
(Rumgay, 2004: 107; Haney 2010). So, whilst research indicates that male and female
probationers share similar ‘risk factors’ (eg. anti-social attitudes, (un)employment and
substance misuse) women are perceived as having a higher ‘frequency of need’ in terms
of personal/emotional, marital and family relations (Dowden et al., 2001 in Cherry and
Cheston, 2006: 260).)
This fascination with the ‘personal’ aspects of women’s lives deflects from a consideration
of women’s social and structural circumstances. Instead, as Rumgay has argued, it
promotes a consensus that what women on community orders require are programmes
that seek to resolve intrinsic problems relating to issues such as ‘poor self-esteem’ (2004:
106). In other words, a conceptualisation of women as agentic beings is undermined by a
deterministic discourse around personal and emotional deficiencies that can, and should,
be remedied. A recent Ministry of Justice report highlights this clearly. In its presentation of
the various community programmes available for offenders (which include those focused
on drinking and driving, domestic violence or sexual offending), the programme developed
specifically for women is described as ‘a programme with an emphasis on managing
emotions and building healthy relationships’ (2008b: 3). Similarly, in her recommendations
regarding the resettlement of women ‘offenders’ into the community, Baroness Corston
claimed that ‘…forming and maintaining relationships, developing self-confidence, simply
being able to get along with people… must come before numeracy and literacy skills’
(Corston, 2007: 7). She went on to remark that, as well as accommodation needs and
employment training, there is an overarching need for life skills training for women ‘for
example, how to live as a family or group, how to contribute to the greater good, how to
cook a healthy meal’ (ibid: 6).
The construction and perpetuation of idealised forms of femininity are particularly evident
in the semi-penal institution. Herein, pedagogies of ‘life-skills’ are concerned with women
coordinating their daily conduct in a way that is congruent with ideologies of the family.
We expect the women here to treat this hostel like they would their own homes.
They have to do the dishes…help make the tea… It’s nothing new for them, they’d
be doing that at home (staff member, in Barton, 2005: 128).
Such ideologies represent romanticised conceptualisations of ‘the family’ even though, as
Frazer and Lacey (1993) point out, the domestic arena frequently embodies the principle
features of women’s oppression. Ideologies of the family are primarily rehearsed and
10
mobilised through maternalistic power relations in semi-penal institutions for women.
Maternalism refers to the diverse and complex set of relations that emerge when women
play a role in the discipline and government of other women. At the most basic level, the
presence of female staff can legitimise and justify specific, and intrusive, practices and
procedures that male staff cannot. As Sarah (probation hostel) articulated:
I think there should be more male staff here. I bet you the rules would be
different if there were more men on the staff… no way would a bloke come into
your room in the morning to get you up out of bed (in Barton, 2005: 133.
Original emphasis).
Moreover, maternalism represents a deep and redoubtable discourse in the management
of ‘deviant’ women. Hannah-Moffat (2001) argues that prisons for women function around
maternalistic relations between female guards and prisoners which mirror family
relationships. Similar processes can be observed in the semi-penal environment. For
example, in Barton’s study, when probation hostel resident Martine refused to do the
dishes after dinner she was warned by a female staff member that continued resistance
would result in none of the residents receiving any supper that night. This was, according
to hostel staff, an effective strategy to ensure women’s compliance with the rules. The
threat to punish all residents for one person’s misdemeanour resulted in the ‘offender’
being subjected to ‘peer pressure [from] the others’ and this usually made her acquiesce
(staff member in Barton, 2005: 120). These ‘familial’ forms of discipline, which operate
through displays of ‘parental’ chastisement, ‘sororal’ disapproval and eventually ‘filial’
conformity, are powerful and infantilising.3 The language used by Vivienne, a respondent
in Cooper’s study, to describe relations in the probation hostel clearly expresses this.
[The manager] is very fair [but] I’ll tell you something, don’t get on the wrong side of
her! But …if you’re in the wrong, you’re in the wrong [and] if she knows that you
have been naughty, then you will be punished.
In the probation hostel domestic work (doing the dishes, cleaning floors and so on) was
frequently used as an informal means of punishment (known as ‘sanctioning’). Such was
the gendered normality of domestic expectations that many staff members did not even
3 This is not to suggest women always willingly accept or conform to ‘infantilising’ regimes. On the contrary, both pieces of research established that women are able to resist the constraints of institutionalisation in both subtle and overt ways. Word length prevents us from discussing these here however see Barton (2005) for a full discussion of women’s resistance in the probation hostel.
11
consider sanctioning as a form of discipline, even though it was invoked as a penalty for
minor rule breaking. Rather, it was generally perceived as part of a ‘normal’, disciplined
routine for women. As one member of staff stated:
…It’s a bit pathetic, making out that doing the dishes is a punishment for the women
here… it’s only doing the dishes, they’d do that at home anyway. Most of them here
have it easy because at home they’d be doing more than a few dishes and making
their beds. They’d be running around after husbands and families as well (staff
member, quoted in Barton, 2005: 128).
Expectations of femininity also underpinned many day to day recreational activities, for
example cookery and hairdressing sessions which were presented as a crucial part of
rehabilitation work with women.
Rehabilitation is attempted through assertiveness courses, drug work, even in the
hairdresser coming in once a week. This gives the women pride in their
appearance…They get their hair done and they look better, they feel better and I
suppose you could argue that they are better….that’s part of the process towards
getting on their feet…it’s a step towards independent living (staff member, quoted in
Barton 2005: 128-9. Original emphasis).
Disciplinary mechanisms for women have become socially and culturally entrenched
through seemingly ‘benign’ practices such as dietary and make up regimes. Through such
practices, women become self-regulating with regard to ‘appropriate’ outward
appearances (Bartky, 1988; Grimshaw, 1999; Haney 2010). What is represented as ‘free
choice’ (for example, ‘getting their hair done’) becomes entwined in an institutional process
of normalisation because the ‘appropriate’ appearance is itself a normalised one. In the
semi-penal institution women’s ‘rehabilitation’ was often symbolised by their outward
appearance and this, in turn, was seen as evidence of a developed self-confidence, self-
reliance and a potential to successfully re-integrate into society. Undoubtedly there are
particular personal and social rewards for institutionalised women who conform to notions
of feminine normalcy (Bosworth, 1999). However, from a critical perspective, it is
problematic to assume that a sense of self-belief derived from such superficial and fragile
12
foundations (ie. ‘looking good’) will have enduring personal, social or political benefits for
women who are structurally and politically marginalised.
One of the most formalised mechanisms through which women’s ‘empowerment’ and
rehabilitation are achieved in semi-penal institutions is the use of various forms of
‘groupwork’. In the last decade, crime and control studies have highlighted that ‘new
modes of governing crime and criminality are emerging’ (Hannah-Moffat 2000: 511).
Rather than acting upon deviant and socially excluded populations in society, there is an
increasing reliance upon discursive practices that get individuals to act within their own
subjection, ostensibly to construct responsible and empowered agents. Carlen and Worrall
argue that the empowerment model has been adopted by prison managers to help women
prisoners make real life choices about ‘how they live their lives in prison and in preparation
for their release’ (2004: 75). Practices of ‘empowerment’, ‘participation’, ‘citizenship’ and
‘life-skills’ are prominent discourses that correspond with a political ideology that aims to
construct responsible agents (Cruikshank 1999; Lemke 2002; McKee and Cooper 2008).
Moreover, the ‘women centred-empowerment model … has feminised the discourses and
practices of punishment’ (Hannah-Moffat 2002:209).
Empowerment is a slippery concept to capture in action. It is heavily embedded in the
routines of semi-penal institutions and sinks into the everyday code of conduct. Although
many activities are not explicitly labeled as about ‘empowerment’, they nonetheless
encourage women to work upon their self-esteem and/or critically reflect on their offending
patterns in relation to their self-esteem. In all three hostels in Cooper’s study daily group
work activity formed the main space wherein empowerment training was facilitated.
Female residents claimed that most of their daily institutional activities took place around
group work:
When you sign up to come to here you do groups every day and it’s like stress
awareness, anger management, drug awareness and we are actually doing one
today and it’s about women empowerment, you know about domestic violence and
stuff (Nicola, probation hostel)
There is no doubt that group work activity mobilized feelings of individual confidence,
expressed through a stronger sense of self-regard. While no female participant used
13
‘empowerment’ language per se (‘I am/feel empowered’), many did express feeling safer,
more stable and secure, than before arriving at the hostel and they described
actions/events such as ceasing their substance misuse, being rehoused, making friends
and building strong relationships with their children (and their children’s legal guardians) as
positive steps in their own sense of self and direction.
I had to do a drink detox [before arriving here] because I was a bad alcoholic and I
was taking Crack and Smack all the time but I’m off all that now. Since I’ve been
here it’s sorted my head right out (Shirelle, homeless at probation hostel).
Yeah, since I’ve been here … how can I put it, I’ve never felt so stable in the whole
of the drug life that I’ve had, than I’ve had being in here. I could honestly say that it
has got its good points about it in the end (Vivienne, probation hostel).
[T]hey’ve been great with me [at the hostel].. They’ve helped me sort all my benefits
out [and] I know I’m safe and no one can touch me here. It’s just nice to feel safe
and have somewhere to live for a change (Belinda, female homeless hostel).
There are clearly positive benefits that women derive from groupwork and from feeling
‘empowered’ and it is not our intention to reject or deride such experiences. However,
belying this happy ideology of empowerment are concerns that such methods of
‘emotional training’ can become instruments of control rather than liberation, wherein the
‘deviant’ and/or ‘vulnerable’ woman must critically reflect on how her lack of self-esteem
impacts upon her ‘pathological pleasures’ and ‘dangerous desires’ (Haney 2010). As
Hannah-Moffatt argues, empowerment training ‘stresses responsibility and accountability,
not structural relations of power or inequality’ (2002: 207). It devolves responsibility from
the institutional level to the individual (Ibid). Through groupwork sessions, hostel residents
are encouraged to decontextualize their socio-economic problems and pressures and
focus instead on their own individual personal failures, demonstrating how their life choices
have led to offending and ‘criminogenic’ behaviours (Hannah Moffatt 2002; Kendall 2002).
Semi-penal institutions facilitate spaces for what Kendal refers to as ‘psycho-social’
practices for governing and disciplining deviant women (Kendall 2002:186).4
You see it’s down to you, you’re the individual person, if you want to make a go of
4 However, the term psycho-social must be applied with trepidation because such activities were not generally carried out by trained or qualified psychotherapists but rather they were carried out by hostel staff and outreach workers.
14
something then you’ll make a go of it…if you’re determined to get off the drugs.
You see, people don’t realise, they just don’t, it’s you. You have got to want the
help. [There’s] no point in people helping you if you’re not going to help yourself and
you’re not prepared to help. Because at the end of the day if you make a go of it this
place can help you… (Vivienne, probation hostel. Emphasis added).
Up until now I haven’t been drinking, I’ve had the opportunity to drink but I’m not
[drinking]. I just don’t want to go back to prison because that’s what it will lead to…
Maybe if this had happened to me a few years ago I wouldn’t be in the mess that
I’m in now because it is a shock with me being old as well. I’m 52 now, it’s not right
is it? (Suzanne, probation hostel).
Empowerment training mobilizes critical reflection and introspection. Experiences such as
sexual violence, childhood neglect, separation from children and mental health problems
were ‘talked into’ the institutional setting and were explored via a discourse around
women’s ‘pathological pleasures’ and ‘criminogenic needs’, such as substance misuse,
alcoholism and crime (Hannah-Moffat, 2002; Haney, 2010). Relying upon the power of
care women are encouraged to critically reflect upon their individual paths to crime (or, for
non-offenders, homelessness or domestic violence) (Hannah-Moffat, 2001; Haney, 2010).
Cooper’s study highlighted how hostel residents were encouraged to confess to and
empathize with each other and with staff, sharing their intimate and traumatic experiences
in group settings. Following one such session, a staff member was emotionally distressed
as female residents’ personal accounts of homelessness and domestic violence reminded
her of her own previous history. This method of ‘collective’ empowerment’ clearly fostered
a mutual respect between the residents and staff and is reportedly favoured by hostel
managers as it helps develop a positive ‘hostel culture’ (Ministry of Justice, 2011: 34).
However, semi-penal institutions rely upon individuals opening up discourses of ‘the self’
and engaging with institutions on a private level. Arguably, this creates a sense of
‘institutional intimacy’ whereby residents develop an emotional attachment, not just to the
staff, but to the hostel itself.
I know it sounds weird, because I have just wanted to get out of [this] place, but you
get loads of support here and I’ve got no family. And the friends I’ve got, they are all
in this house. I didn’t know anybody when I came, at all. (Nicola, probation hostel).
15
Conclusion: The Semi-Penal Paradox
Despite the concerns we have raised in this chapter, it is not our intention to wholly
denounce or dismiss the use of hostels for women. It is clear that the experiences of
women in prison undermine any concepts of rights and justice for women offenders and
therefore we must seek viable and apposite alternatives. The crux of our argument
however is that, as the situation currently stands, whilst hostels are often presented as a
means of challenging injustice for women they may actually constitute environments that
intensify, rather than resolve, discriminatory and unjust treatment of women. This is the
semi-penal paradox and it is manifest in a number of (interconnected) ways.
First, despite considerable academic and official support for the development of ‘women-
only’ institutions, with ‘women-centred’ regimes (Corston, 2007), the continued absence of
women-only hostels is clearly discriminatory and seemingly indicative of an official
disinterest in women’s ‘needs’. Second, the lack of hostels, and women’s subsequent
dispersal to remote communities, simply replicates many of the problems caused by
incarceration: it dislocates women from existing support networks and leads to further
marginalisation. Notwithstanding the benefits of those single sex hostels that do exist,
sending women to a new community exacerbates feelings of social exclusion and isolation
and can trigger the onset of emotional distress. Third, this process of disempowering
women, in turn, creates an attachment of necessity between the individual and the hostel
whereby women foster their own community from within the institution. This is
unequivocally co-produced through female-centred models of rehabilitation and
approaches to building self-esteem such as (ironically) the empowerment model. These
methods are underpinned by powerful gendered ideologies. They are predicated on
women’s assumed irrationality and incapacity for self-governance and, it can be argued,
serve to reproduce normative and disempowering discourses of femininity. Further, such
practices absolve political regimes of punishment from accountability for women’s
offending related problems. Instead, substance misuse and alcoholism are de-
contextualised as women’s ‘pathological pleasures’, whilst mental health issues and social
exclusion are treated as outcomes of having a low sense of self-worth.
Thus in conclusion we contend that female-centred models of punishment and
rehabilitation in semi-penal institutions have not essentially redressed the practical or
16
ethical problems associated with women’s incarceration, nor have they fundamentally
challenged the hegemonic and ideological construction of ‘normal’ femininity that has
traditionally underpinned penal regimes. Rather, in their current form, they have arguably
extended the scope of women’s subjugation.
Bibliography
Archard, P. (1979) Vagrancy, Alcoholism and Social Control, London: MacMillan Press.
Ballinger, A. (2000) Dead Woman Walking: Executed Women in England and Wales 1900 – 1955, Aldershot: Ashgate.
Bartky, S. (1988) ‘Foucault, Femininity and the Modernisation of Patriarchal Power’ in I. Diamond and L. Quimby (eds) Feminism and Foucault: Reflections on Resistance, Boston: Northeastern University Press.
Barton, A. (2004) ‘Women and Community Punishment: The Probation Hostel as a Semi-Penal Institution for Female Offenders’ Howard Journal of Criminal Justice, 43 (2): 149-163.
Barton, A. (2005) Fragile Moralities and Dangerous Sexualities, Aldershot: Ashgate.
Bosworth, M. (1999) Engendering Resistance: Agency and Power in Women’s Prisons, Aldershot: Ashgate.
Buckley, K. (1987) ‘Why We Should Keep Women’s Hostels’, Social Work today, 19 (8): 13.
Carlen, P. (1990) Alternatives to Women’s Imprisonment, Milton Keynes: Open University Press.
Carlen, P. (1998) Sledgehammer: Women’s Imprisonment at the Millennium, London: Macmillan.
Carlen, P. and Worrall, A. (2004) Analysing Women's Imprisonment, Cullompton: Willan.
Cherry, S. and Cheston, L. (2006) ‘Towards a Model Regime for Approved Premises’, Probation Journal, 53: 3, pp248-264.
Cohen, S. (1985) Visions of Social Control: Crime, Punishment and Classification, Cambridge: Polity.
Cooper, V. (2011) 'Homelessness, Housing and Offending', Unpublished Report for Howard League for Penal Reform.
Corston, J. (2007) The Corston Report: Executive Summary, London: Home Office.
17
Cowe, F. (2007) ‘From Probation Hostels to Approved Premises: A Rehabilitative Thermometer – Where Next?’ in P. Senior (ed) (2008) Moments in Probation, Crayford: Saw and Sons.
Cruikshank, B. (1999) The Will to Empower. Democratic Citizens and Other Subjects, London: Cornell University Press.
Duff, R. A. (2001) Punishment, Communication and Community, New York: Oxford University Press.
Fazel, S. and Benning, R. (2009) ‘Suicides in Female Prisoners in England and Wales, 1978 – 2004’, British Journal of Psychiatry, 194: pp183-184.
Frazer, E. and Lacey, N. (1993) The Politics of Community: A Feminist Critique of the Liberal-Communitarian Debate, Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf.
Gelsthorpe, L., Sharpe, G. and Roberts, J. (2007) Provision for Women Offenders in the Community, London: Fawcett Society. Online. Available HTTP: http://www.fawcettsociety.org.uk/documents/Provision%20for%20women%20offenders%20in%20the%20community(1).pdf (accessed 23 January 2012).
Grimshaw, J. (1999) ‘Working Out with Merleau-Ponty’ in J. Arthurs and J. Grimshaw (eds) Women’s Bodies: Discipline and Transgression, London: Cassell.
Haney, L. (2010) Offending Women: Power Punishment and the Regulation of Desire, California: University of California Press.
Hannah-Moffat, K. (2000) ‘Prisons that Empower: Neo-liberal governance in Canadian Women’s prisons’, British Journal of Criminology, 40 (3): 510-531.
Hannah-Moffat, K. (2001) Punishment in Disguise: Penal Governance and Federal Imprisonment of Women, London: University of Toronto Press.
Hannah-Moffat, K. (2002) ‘Creating Choices: Reflecting on Choices’ in P. Carlen (ed), Women and Punishment, The Struggle for Justice Devon: Willan, pp199-219.
Heidensohn, F. (1996) Women and Crime 2nd Ed, London: Macmillan.
HMI Probation (2007) Not Locked Up but Subject to Rules. Online. Available HTTP: http://www.justice.gov.uk/downloads/publications/hmiprob/not_locked_up_but_subject_t1-rps.pdf (accessed 2 February 2012).
Kendall, K. (2002) ‘Time to Think Again about Cognitive Behavioural Programmes’ in P. Carlen (ed), Women and Punishment, The Struggle for Justice, Cullompton: Willan. pp 182-198.
Lemke, T. (2002) ‘Foucault, Governmentality and Critique’, Economics, Culture and Society. 14(3): 49-64.
18
Malloch, M. and McIvor, G. (2011) ‘Women and Community Sentences’, Criminology and Criminal Justice, 11 (4): 325-344.
McKee, K. and Cooper, V. (2008) ‘The paradox of tenant empowerment: regulatory and liberatory possibilities’ Housing, Theory and Society, 25 (2): 132-146.
McLeish, G. (2005) Exploring Provisions for Women in Approved Premises, London: The Griffins Society.
Ministry of Justice, (2008a) Probation hostels: Control, Help and Change? A Joint Inspection of Probation Approved Premises. London: Ministry of Justice. Online. Available HTTP: http://www.hmcpsi.gov.uk/documents/reports/CJJI_THM/OFFM/JIN_20080301.pdf (accessed 23 January 2012).
Ministry of Justice (2008b) Community Sentencing – Reducing Offending, Changing Lives. London: Ministry of Justice. Online. Available HTTP http://www.justice.gov.uk/publications/docs/community-sentencing.pdf (accessed 3 February 2012).
Ministry of Justice (2011) Equal but different? An inspection of the use of alternatives to custody for women offenders, London: Ministry of Justice.
National Probation Service for England and Wales (2002) Approved PremisesHandbook, London: National Probation Directorate.
Player, E. (2007) ‘Remanding Women in Custody: Concerns for Human Rights’, Modern Law Review, 70 (3): 402-426.
Prison Reform Trust (2010) Women in Prison, London: Prison Reform Trust. Online. Available HTTP: http://www.prisonreformtrust.org.uk/uploads/documents/Women%20in%20Prison%20August%202010.pdf (accessed 30 January 2012).
Rumgay, J. (2004) ‘Living with Paradox: Community Supervision and Women Offenders’, in G. McIvor G (ed.) Women who Offend, London: Jessica Kingsley.
Sheppard, B. (1979) ‘A Survey of Residents of Hostels in the West Midlands’ in J. Andrews (ed) Hostels for Offenders, London: Home Office.
Sim, J. (1994) ‘Tougher than the rest? Men in Prison’ in T. Newburn and E.A. Stanko (eds) Just Boys Doing Business: Men, Masculinities and Crime, London: Routledge.
Sinclair. I. (1975) ‘The Influence of Wardens and Matrons on Probation Hostels: A Study of a Quazi-family Institution’ in J. Tizard, I. Sinclair and R.V.G. Clarke (eds) Varieties of Residential Experience, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Wincup, E.(1996) ‘Mixed Hostels: Staff and Residents’ Perspectives’, Probation Journal, 43 (3): 147-151.
19
Wood, J. and Kemshall, H. (2007) The Operation and Experience of Multi-Agency Public Protection Arrangements (MAPPA). London: Home Office.
Worrall, A. (1995) ‘Real Punishment for Real Criminals? Community Sentences and the Gendering of Punishment’, The British Criminology Conferences: Selected Proceedings Volume 1: Emerging Themes in Criminology. Papers from the British Criminology Conference, Loughborough University, 18-21 July 1995.
Worrall, A. (1997) Punishment in the Community: The Future of Criminal Justice, Harlow: Longman.
20