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Do you have any rituals? I’m not talking about religious or ceremonial practices, but little routines you repeat every day when completing certain tasks.
Apart from military service, prison is the most ritualistic environment in our society.
Being incarcerated means adapting to a host of rules, regulations and formalised processes. Everyone is required to know what is expected of them, how they should act, and where they should be at a given time. This applies as much to prison staff as to inmates themselves.
In prison, rituals control every aspect of our lives – just read any one of the dozens of procedural documents located on the prison intranet: Commissioner’s Requirements, Deputy Commissioner’s Requirements, Local Operating Procedures, etc.
From laundry, to working, to appropriate clothing – we have a ritual for everything. Even being involved in an accident requires particular rituals. From counts (How we stand. Where we stand. If we say our names); to movement (Always have your card. Where you can and can’t go); how medication is dispensed (Set times. “Hat off”. “Card in the slot.” “Say your name.”); to how we receive our meals (“Line up, in cell order, by last name.”); and when we attend contact visits (pat-down before entry. Where we sit. How we interact with our visitors. And of course – the post-visit strip search).
And if the regular rituals don’t go to plan? There are more rituals to fall back on – they’re called “codes”.
Do you have any rituals? I’m not talking about religious or ceremonial practices, but little routines you repeat every day when completing certain tasks.
Apart from military service, prison is the most ritualistic environment in our society.
Being incarcerated means adapting to a host of rules, regulations and formalised processes. Everyone is required to know what is expected of them, how they should act, and where they should be at a given time. This applies as much to prison staff as to inmates themselves.
In prison, rituals control every aspect of our lives – just read any one of the dozens of procedural documents located on the prison intranet: Commissioner’s Requirements, Deputy Commissioner’s Requirements, Local Operating Procedures, etc.
From laundry, to working, to appropriate clothing – we have a ritual for everything. Even being involved in an accident requires particular rituals. From counts (How we stand. Where we stand. If we say our names); to movement (Always have your card. Where you can and can’t go); how medication is dispensed (Set times. “Hat off”. “Card in the slot.” “Say your name.”); to how we receive our meals (“Line up, in cell order, by last name.”); and when we attend contact visits (pat-down before entry. Where we sit. How we interact with our visitors. And of course – the post-visit strip search).
And if the regular rituals don’t go to plan? There are more rituals to fall back on – they’re called “codes”.
The daily repetition of prison rituals becomes familiar, comforting and, after a while, mind-numbing. Some inmates find such comfort in routine that they ritualise virtually every aspect of their prison lives. Creating day-long repetition; from the time they get out of bed in the morning to when their head hits the pillow at night. To me this feels like “total surrender to the system” – to be avoided at all costs.
Once inmates have been lulled into a sense of passivity and conformity, any disruption to those rituals causes fear, anxiety and frustration. “Why can’t they be consistent with unlock times?” “Stupid public holiday – I want to go to work so I’m not bored.” “Dammit! We were supposed to have hot dogs for lunch!”
This highly ritualised environment is most likely one of the chief causes of inmate institutionalisation. The reliance on order and ritual becomes so all-encompassing that the average inmate can no longer function of their own volition once released. Life is too chaotic, too random – prison becomes their safe-haven.
One way to survive this creeping indoctrination process is to vary the rituals where possible; eating at whatever time suits you; doing your laundry on different days; varying your fitness regime; even taking random moments to just sit and relax.
I try to stop and appreciate natural beauty around me – the weather, the mountains beyond the wall, and the bird life.
Although ironically even nature follows its own rituals.
Self-catered cottage living allows you to extract a measure of independence from the mundanity of prison life. Keeping your mind and body active through education and physical fitness also helps.
Ultimately, if you can see the rituals for what they are – control measures – then you can set them aside as irritants, and structure (or de-structure) your day to reduce their impact.
Nobody wants to become a hostage to these rituals, but the insidious creep of institutionalisation will happen – if you let it.
The daily repetition of prison rituals becomes familiar, comforting and, after a while, mind-numbing. Some inmates find such comfort in routine that they ritualise virtually every aspect of their prison lives. Creating day-long repetition; from the time they get out of bed in the morning to when their head hits the pillow at night. To me this feels like “total surrender to the system” – to be avoided at all costs.
Once inmates have been lulled into a sense of passivity and conformity, any disruption to those rituals causes fear, anxiety and frustration. “Why can’t they be consistent with unlock times?” “Stupid public holiday – I want to go to work so I’m not bored.” “Dammit! We were supposed to have hot dogs for lunch!”
This highly ritualised environment is most likely one of the chief causes of inmate institutionalisation. The reliance on order and ritual becomes so all-encompassing that the average inmate can no longer function of their own volition once released. Life is too chaotic, too random – prison becomes their safe-haven.
One way to survive this creeping indoctrination process is to vary the rituals where possible; eating at whatever time suits you; doing your laundry on different days; varying your fitness regime; even taking random moments to just sit and relax.
I try to stop and appreciate natural beauty around me – the weather, the mountains beyond the wall, and the bird life.
Although ironically even nature follows its own rituals.
Self-catered cottage living allows you to extract a measure of independence from the mundanity of prison life. Keeping your mind and body active through education and physical fitness also helps.
Ultimately, if you can see the rituals for what they are – control measures – then you can set them aside as irritants, and structure (or de-structure) your day to reduce their impact.
Nobody wants to become a hostage to these rituals, but the insidious creep of institutionalisation will happen – if you let it.
Save the dramas, forget the muster, and if one or two people are missing, they’ll be out, charged, denied bail, and back in before the next count anyway.
Alcohol sets off both a physical allergy and a mental obsession.
After multiple sentences and long stints in prison, I am in the process of understanding myself and the impacts of my behaviours. I am writing to About Time to share with others what I have learnt. I hope this is helpful to others in similar situations to me.
Even behind bars, there are ways to soften the edges. Ways not just to pass the time, but to leave prison carrying something more than the baggage you came in with.
Help keep the momentum going. All donations will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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