Way back in 2018 I had the privilege to meet and interview Michael Darlow, a fascinating man that had produced the ITV documentary about Johnny Cash’s 1969 concert at San Quentin prison.
Michael had visited the prison as part of the annual Penned UP Arts and Literature festival – another casualty of the Covid lockdown! Each year, @manwithbooks (David Kendall), steers a committee that sees a number of visitors come to Erlestoke Prison to share their live life’s experiences with prisoners. There is a link to the 2018 magazine that was produced to mark the event at the end of this blog.
Only recently I was reminded of Michael’s work when I saw a large prisoner screaming abuse at two prison kanga’s. I was looking from my window over the fence onto the unit next door. It transpired that the pair of kanga’s had announced that the wings exercise had come to an end and that they needed the lads to come back to their cells. How outrageous?!?
The screamer – I couldn’t help but picture the telegram in the Harry Potter movie – was apoplectic with rage. He sported a vitriolic stream of clichés…
- Do you think I’m a fucking baked bean? (Nope, I have no idea either)
- Are you trying to mug me off?
- Do I look like a bitch to you?
- I’ll fuck the two of you up!
- Go on! Press your alarm, I’ll mess all of you pricks to come near me.
Fair play to the kanga’s – they just let him rant – hands by their sides, keeping a respectful distance while the rest of the lads shuffled past on either side to get back on the wing. Finally the lads seem to run out of steam – or got everything off his chest and walked onto the unit. I never heard any subsequent alarms, nor did I see the charging procession of counters on their way to an incident so I assume that all had ended calmly. I just thought it was ironic that I witnessed again something that I had heard described by the Head Warder of San Quentin during that 1969 documentary.
Michael Darlow described the head warder as ‘one tough cookie’. He told me that ‘if I had been conscripted to fight in a war like Vietnam, then this guy would be the one I hope was leading my platoon.’ In the documentary, the warden had described the various ways that men try to cope with coming to San Quentin prison, most of them terrified – no matter who they were. Some beefed up, some became submissively homosexual, but another group targeted the staff. These guys would shout and bluster at prison staff because it was safer than shouting at another con who might very well take offence and do something about it. The warden reasoned that these guys were targeting staff because they knew that the retaliation would have to be limited, but it gave them a chance to scream and show all the other cons how tough they were and that they were on the con’s side against the staff.
50 years later and the same thing was happening today. How ironic. But the other thing that I noticed was the theme of RESPECT. In some ways I agree with the author James Gilligan, (who wrote a book called ‘Violence – reflections on our deadliest epidemic’), who claimed that the majority of criminals who are in prison can drill back to the point where respect and/or shame are at the root of their offence.
Gilligan talks about the two types of shame. The first is the internal shame we feel about the things we have done, felt or thought but that nobody else knows. The second is the external shame – the stuff that has been witnessed by our peers – for example, being disrespected in front of a crowd. During my sentence I have seen so many stupid incidences where an insult has been inferred and led to serious violence. I have tested the whole ‘shame is the root of all crime theory’ over the years and so far it has held up to scrutiny. Here are a few examples.
I was selling drugs.
The initial need to sell drugs stems from developing a drug habit. This drug habit was a way of self-medicating to bury internal shame.
I sold drugs. Not because I was ashamed, but because I wanted the money.
You wanted the money to provide a better lifestyle and to own nicer things. You were ashamed of the things you had when you compare them to others.
Most violence is shame related. Perhaps the guy was dissing them deliberately. Or if there was a debt, not enforcing that debt could be perceived as a weakness by peers. In cases of domestic violence there is little doubt that shame is perhaps the biggest emotional trigger – especially among men. If an intimate partner is thought to be unfaithful it is perceived as a slight on an individual’s sexual prowess or virility. Not being able to provide for a family is a huge indictment of virility.
Over the duration of my sentence I have learned not to take myself so seriously in the first instance. In the second instance I really don’t give a fuck about what anybody else in here thinks. I don’t put much stock in praise so I don’t put much stock in criticism either. I tried to do the right thing, not cause harm to anybody and get a good night sleep.
As Kipling suggested, I try to meet both Triumph and Disaster and treat both these impostors just the same. Good advice.
