The first is the importance of retaining prison bosses. Take HMP Altcourse in Liverpool, another G4S jail. It was the first English prison to be built under the private finance initiative, under which private firms stumped up for public buildings and then leased them back to the government. It opened its doors six months early, in 1997. It is the same type of prison as some of the worst-performing ones, but it is highly rated. Inspectors praised the jail for “bucking the trend” of rising violence; incidents of self-harm halved in the last year, staff say.
Managers at Altcourse attribute much of the prison’s success to stability. Five of the eight senior managers joined the prison on its first day and have worked their way up from the lowest rank. And about a quarter of the original intake of warders are still at work. In the public sector, churn is high. About half of the warders in state-run jails have three years’ experience or less. The continuity appears to have kept staff morale at Altcourse relatively high. Sick days are well below the public-sector average. Andrew Neilson of the Howard League for Penal Reform, a charity, says private prisons do a better job at retaining senior staff. “Whenever someone is good [in the public sector], they get moved to another prison to deal with problems there.”
The second lesson is the power of decentralisation. Private prisons find it easier to innovate than public ones, which are often constrained by the need for clearance from Whitehall, says Rupert Soames, boss of Serco, which runs five jails in England. Altcourse was one of the first prisons to buy a full-body scanner to detect hidden drugs and knives. Serco installed computers in cells long before the prison service. Prisoners use them to arrange family visits, freeing warders from menial tasks to spend more time with prisoners. They also help occupy inmates. “You keep prisoners busy or they will keep you busy,” says Mr Soames.
At Altcourse managers try all kinds of wheezes. Depressed or anxious lags can spend time handling birds of prey to gain confidence. Prisoners spend more time out of their cells than at many comparable jails. Some keep bees and make their own honey (“so good, it’s criminal,” the labels boast). Others work 40-hour weeks in a welding workshop, making skips and table legs. “You forget you’re in jail sometimes, when you’re a bit busy,” says one con, measuring up the latest creations. If only more inmates could say the same. ■