The nature of prisoner input into how the programme was run

Clearly, prisoners had a high degree of responsibility for delivering the workshops- something they all embraced. Yet accounts of the extent of their input into how the programme was delivered were far more contested and were littered with contradictions. Generally, having an input appeared to enhance fulfilment of BPNs for competence and autonomy, yet certain restrictions upon the input they could have limited the extent to which these needs were satisfied. Taken together, however, the overall narrative was that prisoners felt they had some input into how the programme was delivered but that this input was limited. Nevertheless, having some input was better than having no input at all.

Firstly, prisoners described how they had some input into the operation of the programme, such as being encouraged to make suggestions, provide feedback on Event Days and (sometimes) having their ideas implemented. They spoke of how programme staff regularly asked their opinions, and decisions regarding how to evolve the programme were often made as a team:

“If someone has an idea and says, “No, but I feel that this would work” like, we will sit down and everyone will get together and say, “Okay, if you think that’s going to work, how do we implement that?” and if it is worth

180 implementing we’ll implement it, if it’s not then it’ll come out in the

conversation that this is the reason why we don’t think we should implement it.” (Corey)

“They give us their feedback about our performance, areas where we were strong, areas where we may need to develop so it’s all quite constructive and obviously, we give our views as to how we felt the events went.” (Jonathan)

Some prisoners felt that staff acknowledged their aforementioned ‘expertise’ enough to take their suggestions seriously. However, the final decision for any alteration to the programme content was down to staff. Generally though, whether their ideas were implemented or not, prisoners appreciated them being considered:

“…having lived the life that a lot of these young guys are living you recognise you have insight and maybe, dare I say, they don’t. […] So they do take it on board to an extent albeit they make the final decisions […] Sometimes they take it on board, sometimes they don’t but that’s cool.” (Ed)

This was because being invited to contribute and listened to was a welcome change to run-of- the-mill prison life, where decisions were made for them:

“I’d like to go to the gym at a certain time but I have to go at the time they tell me I can go to the gym and then I’d like to eat whatever food I’d like afterwards but obviously, I can only eat what they give me” (Ollie)

However, having this ‘voice’ was particularly motivating when suggestions they had made did result in changes being implemented, however small (see Vansteenkiste, Lens and Deci, 2006):

“Like, just say to do the workshop a certain way, they might say, “I think you’re right, it would be good to do it this way” and we’ve changed it do that, like that and then you feel like yes, they’re listening to me. […] It’s not like, “Oh, whatever. You lot are prisoners you don’t even have a say.” (Sanjay)

181 When their ideas were not implemented, prisoners stated that the rationale behind decisions was usually made clear to them by BrightHorizons, supporting their sense of autonomy. This meant they were more inclined to continue participating, even if they did not agree with the way everything was done or their suggestions had not been incorporated into the programme delivery: “…if I make suggestions they are listened to… and if nothing’s changed I can understand the reason why I’m always given the reason, yes.” (Matthew).

Additionally, the tone in which such decisions were communicated was important for motivation, because the sensitive nature of the work meant that being asked to present something in a certain way could be taken personally:

“I understand their [programme staff] balance is like, well, we’re doing stuff for the kids, isn’t it, but at the same time when we’re doing stuff for the kids we’re dealing with our lives, isn’t it, this is our life story so when you are talking to us about our life story and you tell us to take something out, the way you talk to us about it, it might be something that’s very sensitive to us…” (Corey)

Accounts suggested that when staff provided prisoners with what they perceived to be a legitimate reason for decisions and explained this respectfully and patiently, they were more willing to adapt their behaviour, without this undermining their autonomy. At other times, not having their suggestions taken on board was described as frustrating and demotivating. After all, they had been ‘entrusted’ with responsibility over delivering the workshops, but were then told specifically how this had to be done:

“I can feel like I’m under a lot of pressure sometimes and, you know, sometimes if something’s not going quite right and then I’m getting told I have to do it this way or something it can be a bit stressful and I just think, “Do you know what, I don’t want to be here anymore” (Erica)

Erica and Corey’s above quotes allude to the second point within this sub-theme- that prisoners felt that their input was limited. Much of the restriction to their input was a result of the fact that the programme content was outlined in the programme manual (see section 1.5.2) and was

182 largely unchangeable. This was due to BrightHorizons’ commitment to maintaining treatment integrity, which refers to the degree to which an intervention is implemented as intended- and is an important component of evaluation (Lowenkamp, 2004; Andrews and Dowden, 2005; Maguire et al., 2010). Many spoke of how they nevertheless managed to incorporate their own interpretation and individual style into the workshops, particularly through roleplays. This allowed them to express their personality and “make it your own” (Gary) in ways they felt would resonate most with young people: “although there’s a script, the character, you can bring to life in your own way so that they can identify.” (Jonathan). Which was reinvigorating when the work began to feel repetitive- a demotivating aspect of BrightHorizons that many referred to:

“… there was times on BrightHorizons where it was kind of like, “Oh no, going to work, we’re going over the same workshops”… I started to think, right, you know, let’s look at the other workshops… that motivates me, let me see if I can do something different with this…” (Elouise)

Thus, prisoners had found subtle ways of exerting their influence via the ways that they delivered the material. For example, adapting and updating the language they used, such that young people would be better able to identify. They perceived that small changes such as these could make a big difference: “… the framework remains the same, but some of the language sometimes changes, you know. Small changes, small changes happen but kind of to get a better result.” (Jordan).

However, some felt their own creativity and the evolution of the programme was too limited (see also Strauss and Falkin, 2000). There was a clear gender divide within these narratives. Women expressed a willingness to work within the parameters of the original framework. Keira, for example, understood that “a lot of things have been not changed because we can’t change the initial thing”, and Elouise described herself as “always one for coming back to the manual”. These women understood the importance of staying focused on the fundamental aims and objectives, and that any changes had to be made without losing sight of these.

In contrast, men adamantly stated that they wanted more input. For example, Steven said he wished staff would “give us licence to do what we want”, and Drew wanted “more freewill of how to present something.” Men readily identified more aspects of BrightHorizons that they

183 would change if it was up to them than women- which mainly revolved around what they delivered being too tame, rigid and outdated, and that they were not allowed to speak more frankly to the young people. This appeared to undermine the sense of autonomy otherwise gained from delivering the programme. For example, Ed said that he wanted to deliver: “something a little bit more, I don’t know, edgy…”, Jordan something: “a bit more raw”, Darren that he wanted to: “…just not lie and just tell them the truth, the children because there is some stuff you can’t tell the children.”, Henry felt that: “every kid that comes in you’ve got to be able to bend and convert it so he understands it. That’s where more needs to be done.”, and Steven said: “I feel like some of the things can be trimmed, some of the workshops. It doesn’t need to be as long as it is…”, that he would “make the workshop more flexible in general” and that BrightHorizons “could do with a younger facilitator just to give it a new energy.” Identifying these perceived shortcomings of programme delivery ultimately reminded these prisoners of their limited ability to act on their own behalf (see also Rowe, 2016).

Men also spoke of their annoyance when their point of view was cast aside in favour of what the staff or manual dictated- again thwarting fulfilment of the BPN for autonomy and relatedness (see section 7.2.1) (see also Hettema, Steele and Miller, 2005; Britton et al., 2011). Their perception that BrightHorizons was resistant to change, and that the manual was overly relied upon, was described as its main shortfall. This was because prisoners believed that they had a deeper understanding of the issues BrightHorizons covered with the young people, yet this was not optimally utilised: “…it sounds like academics have written the spiel to be delivered by people who’ve lived that life to people who may be on the path to that life and it doesn’t always correlate” (Jonathan). Similarly, for Joe: “I felt like they don’t get enough intake from prisons or prisoners to try and help the course run better…everything is very, very, to the book…”.

Accounts suggested that this frustration was felt most acutely when it came to the limitations placed upon prisoners’ interactions with the young people. Prisoners stated that they felt that their limited input into how the workshops were delivered hampered their ability to effectively communicate with the young people (thus also thwarting fulfilment of the BPN for relatedness). As has already been established, prisoners and young people relating to one another was widely considered the essential ingredient for the successful operation of BrightHorizons and prisoners generally felt that they positively impacted the young people (see section 6.2.3). However, the prisoner-young person connection was also described as fragile

184 and something that could be lost. Because of this, some prisoners expressed concerns that they were not always able to interact with the young people the way they were naturally inclined to, because of the restrictions of the programme. For these prisoners, their ability to get through to the young people was impeded by not being allowed to say certain things. For example, they spoke about how perceived requirements to ‘gloss’ over the details of their offence, eliminate any positive side to crime, and exaggerate certain aspects of prison reduced their credibility:

“…to be realistic, there is a good side to the crime that people commit. Like, if we’re talking about someone who’s a drug dealer they have lived a certain lifestyle and I feel like we kind of told, “No, tone that down” whereas if you’re a child that’s coming in here that is seeing people out there living that lifestyle and you come here and we’re telling you, “No, it’s not like that, they’re lying to you” you’re not going to believe us because we’re here to stop you from committing crimes, there’s nothing, you’re just trying to stop me from committing crime, you’re not really trying to, you’re not really relating to where I’m coming from… You’re not going to believe me so everything else that comes out of my mouth you’re going to think, “Oh, this guy’s just lying.” (Corey)

These prisoners felt that having further responsibility to speak more freely and honestly would enhance the impact they might have on young people, as many were worried that the mechanical delivery and holding things back negatively influenced how young people responded to them:

“So, because at some stage for me it’s like them old comedies where you wait for the boom, boom, boom and you’re thinking that just sounds, it sounds scripted and the thing is with young people you have to let them know that actually, this is flowing, this is, although it’s a workshop that we probably run all the time it’s personal; because of that script it just not so… They’re not having that (laughter). […] You’ll lose them.” (Jonathan)

“I believe that obviously that giving them choices, yeah, is an effective tool. But I also think that sometimes … because of the source … because of the host environment that we’re in, we deliver a message that sometimes is a bit

185 diluted, yeah… Sometimes I see that on the faces of some kids where they

look at us and think, yeah, no I’m not buying that message, do you know.” (Jordan)

Prisoners spoke of how what they were required to deliver did not always match up with their own lived experiences (see Laursen and Laws, 2017) and those that they suspected the young people were living:

“…it sort of seems sometimes like they’re just a puppet rather than actually giving their personal experience. […] Sometimes the person is a bit robotic and some of the people do sort of say, “That’s not what I’m thinking, that’s not how I’m feeling.” […] it just seems everyone has to say the exact same thing.” (Drew)

Feeling pressured to do it ‘by the book’ regardless could sometimes lead to disengagement by reducing their perceived capability to use their advantage of common ground to help the young people- undermining both competence and autonomy (see also Jaffe, 2012): “I feel that some of the things that we’re told that we can’t say give, I think it’s that missing link to why some of the kids may not relate to us…” (Corey).

Overall, prisoners’ strong desire to help prevailed, and they continued participating. They reasoned that they had more of a voice and more responsibility at BrightHorizons than could be said of anything else they had done in prison. Leading into the final point- that having some say was better than none: “I’ve got an appreciation for the small things like again one of the benefits [of prison] is that freedom, doing without it for so long you really do appreciate what it is to have choice” (Ed). Furthermore, they all endorsed the underlying philosophy of BrightHorizons - if not precisely how this was applied - which meant they could still get behind it: “there are some fantastic initiatives here but just some of them I feel like just need a little tweak here and there.” (Joe). Similarly, Jonathan said: “there’s lots of different things that I think could be tweaked but the format in general is very, very good.” They spoke of how maintaining motivation necessitated balancing the requirements of the programme with their own ideas: “I just watched and learned and delivered it my way, like, some way that I’m comfortable with, sticking to the script” (Sanjay). Frustration was further alleviated by an awareness demonstrated by most that restrictions upon their behaviour were not personal and

186 that staff were not disregarding their ideas, opinions, or capabilities. Rather, it was “about being practical and what can be changed and what can be implemented” (Matthew) in the prison context. This indicates an understanding- albeit at varying levels- of the importance of managing risk and maintaining programme integrity. Thus, most respected the boundaries and remained motivated to participate within them: “We can have fun, you can, you know, enjoy yourself and so forth, but there are parameters that we function in and we have to stay within that.” (Jordan).

6.5 Concluding thoughts

Findings presented in this chapter indicate the ways that participating in BrightHorizons facilitated prisoners’ fulfilment of BPNs for competency and (albeit to a lesser extent) autonomy, fuelling motivation to participate over time. Prisoners were motivated to continue participating in three main ways. Firstly, by the sense of empowerment that they gained from receiving support and encouragement from programme staff for their personal development (both inside and out of BrightHorizons), the positive feedback they received from programme staff and visiting members of the public, and seeing and believing that they were having a positive impact on the young people. Thus supporting the idea of altruistic activity as meaningful correctional treatment (Toch, 2000; Maruna, LeBel and Lanier, 2004). Secondly, from the sense of self-mastery gained from feeling an increased sense of control over their professional development through discovering their personal strengths; being inspired towards long-term career goals; gaining experience of working life; and having the opportunity to network with potential future employers from outside organisations. Also, they had an increased sense of personal control over coping with life in prison. Feeling that they had gained some sense of control over the future appeared to have provided a sense of calm in the here and now, underpinned by their focus upon developing themselves for returning to the outside world. Participating in BrightHorizons had facilitated this via instilling a generally positive outlook within prisoners; providing a pleasant environment in which to spend their time and enabling them to do something they enjoyed and that challenged them. Finally, from the sense of achievement and responsibility gained from the pride of being a BrightHorizons team member and surpassing the ongoing challenges of the role, having responsibility over delivering the workshops, and having an input into how the programme was delivered (such as making suggestions, providing feedback and having their ideas implemented). Whilst their input was limited (see below), prisoners continued participating because having some input

187