The inside story

”Very few people know what the prison system is like because – and this is obviously a good thing – very few have been through it.”

You can understand why the Wheatfield Governor, Ned Whelan’s feeling a bit ticked off. Here he is trying to run one of Ireland’s most progressive jails, and some scurvy rock ‘n’ roll hack’s asking him about drugs, racism, violence and what his charges get up to in the showers when the wardens are looking the other way?

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s no sex in prison,” he insists. “That sort of physical contact is against the regulations.”

But do they provide condoms, just in case?

“No, we don’t have condoms in any of our prisons. I think that sort of thing is a long way down the road. Each offender who comes in here has HIV explained to them, and is made aware of the treatment programmes we have in place should they need them.”

Whelan’s refusal to accept that incarcerated men are likely to indulge in homosexual sex is strange given the no nonsense realism which is the cornerstone of his regime. A high security prison – the average stay is six years – the Clondalkin complex is home to 368 inmates, many of whom are there for serious crimes like rape and murder.

“Ask the public how they think violent offenders should be dealt with and a fair few of them are going to say, ‘Throw away the key!’” Whelan reflects. “I can understand and, to a certain extent, sympathise with that point of view, but once sentence has been handed down, it’s our duty to work with offenders so that on their release they have the best possible chance of reintegrating into society.

“You get a lot of prisoners who got no formal education outside – the illiteracy rate here is around 20% - so one of the first things we do is sort out appropriate work and classes for them. We employ 22 people in our Education Unit, which offers such things as literacy and numeracy at beginner and improver level; the Junior and Leaving Certificate; Open University courses; and a range of activities like art, pottery, photography, drama, music, crafts and P.E. Then you’ve got the work and training activities, which can all be used to gain a qualification.

“Between January 2000 and July just gone,” he continues, “we’ve placed 53 people in employment on the outside through our Welfare & Probation service. Of those, only two have come back which is a very good success rate. We’ve invited employers into the prison and they’ve been amazed at the skill of the prisoners.”

That 4% re-offending rate wouldn’t be across the board, though, would it?

“If, out of every ten prisoners that come into custody, three or four of them never come back in, I’d consider that a job well done. We’ve a very good partnership approach here, by which I mean we work with the welfare, with psychologists, psychiatrists, nurses, doctors and our own prison team.”

Unlike Mountjoy, which has become increasingly bunker-like in its mentality, Wheatfield has adopted an open door policy towards the media, with Whelan happy to let us look at any part of the prison we want. The only ground rules are that we don’t take identifying photos of the inmates – the issue being their right to privacy – or say anything that directly relates to the offences they’ve committed.

While the constant locking and unlocking of doors leaves you in no doubt that it’s a jail, Wheatfield has none of the boiled cabbage and stale piss smell that’s overpowering in The Joy. Completed as recently 1989, each prisoner has his own room – “cell” doesn’t fit in with the progressive ethos – which comes complete with an orthopaedic mattress, washbasin, flush toilet and an RTE and TV3 receiving television.

“Which they pay for themselves,” he stresses. “Since the televisions went into rooms a year-and-a-half ago, the suicide attempt rate has dropped to zero and we’ve had less assaults – both on other prisoners and on members of staff.

“Not only that, but it enables offenders to keep upto date with what’s going on outside, which is especially important for those who are illiterate and can’t read newspapers. We used to have problems getting them into their cells at half-seven, but now they’re queuing up because they want to see Coronation Street!”

Whatever spin he puts on it, there are going to be people who seize on the fact that prisoners have TVs in their cells and trot out the old cliché about “prison being like a holiday camp.”

“If you saw offenders coming into prison for the first time, you wouldn’t say that. When that door is locked, and you’ve no contact with your friends or your family…well, that to me is the punishment of being in prison. Our job here isn’t to add to the punishment, but to make sure that they go out a better person than when they came in.”

One of the luxuries of being purpose-built, rather than inherited from a Dickensian age where prisoners were left to rot, is that Wheatfield offers a comprehensive range of educational opportunities. Indeed, strolling around their state-of-the-art welding, auto, computer, indexing, bricklaying, lathe, joinery, print and design workshops, you could easily think you’re in a college rather than a prison. That surreal, not at all what you expected feeling extends to the kitchens, which were the recent recipient of a Q Mark hygiene award. With a per person budget of £2.68 a day, the part civilian/part prisoner staff dish up the sort of fare that you’d find in any works canteen. Today’s menu is cereal and toast for breakfast, sweet & sour chicken and pineapple upside down cake for lunch and Cheddar cheese salad for dinner. It’s a sign of the multi-racial times that they can also knock-up kosher and halal grub on request.

As tasty as the pineapple upside down cake is, there are some cold harsh realities about prison life that can’t be escaped. A year-and-a-half ago a 31-year-old, who was serving a sentence for traffic offences, hung himself in his cel.., sorry, room. Days later, a prison officer suffered third degree burns when an 18-year-old inmate threw a jug of boiling water over him. A minor incident compared to the eight warders who required hospital treatment after two prisoners run amok with a knife and a broom handle.

“It’s not as common as people think but, yes, there is that side to prison life. Often, the cause is frustration at something that’s happening family or girlfriend-wise on the outside. Our staff are very good at diffusing that sort of thing, but very occasionally it boils over into violence.”

It’s not an untypical reaction for people to go “serves them bloody well right!” if an inmate is raped or assaulted while in custody.

“Well, it’s the wrong reaction,” Whelan retorts. “I’ve never come across a rape in prison, but if an assault occurs we have the procedure in place whereby the Gardai are brought in to investigate the case, and if necessary, initiate legal proceedings.

“If there’s low-level bullying going on, the person is taken to one side by an officer and told their behaviour won’t be tolerated. Should the bullying continue, there are a number of options such as moving the wrongdoer to another unit and/or withdrawing their privileges.”

Which are?

“Phone calls – they’re allowed one six minute call each night – and visits. Can I just say, though, that there have been very few instances where that sort of punitive action has had to be taken.”

Would racial abuse be classified as bullying?

“Absolutely, and we have a policy in place to deal with it. The message to prisoners and staff alike is simple – people from overseas are to have their culture and religion respected, and not be subjected to any sort of intimidation.”

Is there a danger of us ending up like America where prisons are divided along racial lines?

“I’ll never allow a situation where you have this nationality on one side of the prison, and that nationality on the other.

“I don’t care what colour, creed or religion a person is. We’ll treat them the same way as our other offenders here and encourage them to participate fully in prison life. Foreigners would still be only a tiny proportion of the prison population, but the ones we’ve had in so far have mixed very well.”

Does everyone in Wheatfield deserve to be there?

“There are some types of crime that shouldn’t result in a custodial sentence, such as non-payment of fines or small debts. We should find other ways of getting them to pay back the money.”

What about people who become criminalised as a result of their drug addiction?

“In the Dublin area, at least 50 to 60% of the prison population are drug users in one way or another. Often – particularly where heroin is concerned – they regard prison as an opportunity to overcome their addiction. With good food and good medication, something they don’t necessarily get on the outside, it’s amazing how quickly you see a change in them. We have 40 to 50 offenders on a methadone programme here, and are setting up a Drug-Free Unit which will have trained people running it, counsellors coming in from the outside, psychiatrists, probation and welfare staff and whoever else is needed to help them overcome their addiction. Often, the first time anyone shows an interest in them and their problems is when they come into prison. They’ll be linkages in and out, so when they’re released they’re not cast adrift. We want to give them back their lives”

Given the stringency of the security, it seems odd that drugs are so readily available inside Irish jails. Indeed, it’s been said in relation to Mountjoy that warders are in favour of illicit substances because it pacifies the prisoners.

“If a person wants to get drugs in, he’ll get drugs in. Thanks to the vigilance of the staff here, we’ve recently caught a number of girlfriends who’ve been attempting to smuggle drugs in in their mouths. The policy in those cases is to call the Gardai.

“On odd occasions, yes, heroin does get in,” he admits. “It doesn’t take us long to work out how and by whom, so we’re able to nip it in the bud. As for the notion that prison staff condone or turn a blind eye to drug use, I’d reject that out of hand.”

On their arrival, prisoners are presented with the Wheatfield Information Booklet, which reads like a cross between a parish newsletter and a student rag mag. The ‘Personal Hygiene’ section – “poor personal care can cause social isolation” – is a reminder of the disadvantaged background that the vast majority of offenders are from.

“When Christmas comes around, I actually feel sorrier for some of the visitors than I do the prisoners because they don’t have their own bed to sleep in, or three square meals a day. Another heartbreaking thing is seeing young lads coming to visit their dads, who’ve every chance of being here themselves in 10 years. They don’t know any other way of life.”

The Information Guide also gives the Daily Timetable, which breaks down as follows:

7.30pm Dress, receive breakfast, give any requests to the Unit Officer such as a letter or to see the governor.

12.20pm Return to unit, clean up, collect dinner, return to bedroom.

2.15pm Unlock and tidy up. Go to employment or school.

4.20pm Return to bedroom. Clean up and collect tea.

5.20pm Unlock for recreation.

7.30pm Collect supper, return to bedroom for the night.

Has Whelan ever wondered how he’d cope with a long sentence himself?

“I have to be honest and say that I’d find it very hard,” he admits. “I think what I’d do is become involved with as many activities as I could. If you sit around counting days, well, I think you’d go a bit crazy.”

Jailhouse Rock

Is prison the new rock ‘n’ roll? Probably not but if you’re a Wheatfield resident you’re guaranteed free entry to at least three quality gigs a year.

Thanks to the unpaid efforts of prison officers Maurice Doyle and Kevin O’Neill, the prison’s assembly hall has played host in recent years to the likes of Paul Brady, Christy Moore, Eleanor McEvoy, Kaydee, Blink and Aslan who rate it as one of the best shows they’ve ever played. Not that they want a residency there, you understand.

“Artists come in not knowing what to expect and leave completely blown away,” Doyle says. “We lay on a top of the range P.A. and lighting system and transport, so all they have to do is turn up with their instruments. Aslan you’d expect to go down well, but one of the best nights we’ve had was Eleanor McEvoy. The sight of a hundred tough, hardened criminals waving their lighters around to ‘A Woman’s Heart’ will stay with me forever!”

The lads, who transferred to Wheatfield from Mountjoy when it opened, are hoping to end the year with a bit of a spectacular.

“If Bono was to get in touch, we’d definitely consider his application,” Doyle deadpans. “No, it’d be brilliant for us and the inmates if we could get someone of the stature of U2 or Sinéad O’Connor in. If they, or anyone else, is interested in playing here, they can contact myself or Kevin via-the switch which is 01 6209400.”

Over to you, Mr. Hewson.