Article
Change
Freedom
Mental Health
3 min read

Coping in the chaos: Pentonville’s neurodiverse unit is changing prison life

A radical and caring prison experiment has changed both prisoners and wardens. Nick Jones visited London's oldest prison.

Nick is the senior editor of Seen & Unseen.

An arched gateway to a prison sits behind a low raised wall. No windows are visible
First opened in 1842, Pentonville Prison serves a large part of central and east London.
Ben Sutherland via Wikimedia Commons

A London prison has seen a reduction in violence among prisoners and improved staff morale thanks to a new neurodiverse unit.  Pentonville prison’s new unit identifies and treats prisoners with autism, brain-injury, learning difficulties and even dementia. 

Jo Davies, Pentonville’s managing chaplain, helped set up the programme after conducting many regular prisoner reviews with colleagues. She noted that there was an apparent higher incidence of autism among prisoners than the general population. 

Prison is a challenging environment for those with autism. Routines are imposed, vulnerabilities are exploited by others. Frustrations can boil over into violent and self-destructive behaviours. Non-verbal behaviour also makes each interaction with other prisoners and staff a potential flashpoint leading to protesting behaviours or withdrawal.  All against a backdrop of a harsh white noise. Metal doors slam, Conversations and challenges are shouted, all constantly echo through the four open floors of each wing of the prison.  

Other neurodiverse conditions are present in prisons. An ageing prison population even has prisoners suffering from early onset dementia. Some forget the circumstances of their imprisonment.  

Teaming up with prison officers and support staff like psychologists, doctors and teachers, chaplain Davies notes that “now staff make it their business to work out how to work with these prisoners”. The unit has capacity for 45 prisoners in single cells. They share a common area for eating and other activities. Staff spend 10 weeks assessing the prisoners who can then benefit from up to 12 weeks of additional support. 

Ruth Hipwell, who leads the new unit, says: “it’s good to have a place in prison for those people who can’t cope.” Support ranges from little things like teaching a prisoner how to make a cup of tea or providing earplugs to reduce noise, to helping prisoners make better plans for coping and learning – both in prison and outside. 

On the wall of the unit is a timetable of events, illustrated by pictograms. Sessions include how to handle familiar tasks in the unfamiliar environment of prison: how to buy things or use the telephone, getting clean clothes and even how to handle being unwell.  Other sessions include accessing learning and getting a job.  

Robbie*, a prisoner in the unit says:

“It relaxes you. It’s wicked. The difference is the support.” 

The unit started work in October 2022 and the difference it made was spotted fast. It transformed staff, recalls Hipwell. “They have found their purpose. We have a level of multi-agency integration others can’t match.” 

Ian Blakeman, Pentonville prison’s governor, identifies additional benefits. “It frees up staff time and staff export skills to other parts of the prison.” These positive effects also help him keep good staff. A major challenge in London’s competitive labour market.  Other programmes reinforce this change in culture across the prison range from addiction treatment to rebuilding family relationships affected by gang affiliations.  

Pentonville now has the lowest self-harm rates in the country and is the least violent prison of its type in the UK. 

With prisons a low political priority, it’s even more remarkable to learn that Pentonville’s neurodiverse unit required no additional budget. Its win-win results are a flicker of hope in a bleak landscape. Times columnist Matthew Parris recently wrote: 

“Every generation looks back and spots an outrage. Today, when we think of slavery, child labour and lunatic asylums, we wonder how our ancestors could have been so cruel. What will horrify our own successors is our disgraceful prison system.” 

In response to Parris’s column, Jonathan Aitken, a former prisoner and now a chaplain at Pentonville who works with the neurodiverse unit, wrote to the Times.   

“The real disgrace lies not inside our prisons but in the failure of both public and private rehabilitation efforts to help prisoners into jobs, housing and law-abiding lives after their release. The good work done by prison officers, managers and governors is underreported… We are on a roll of improvements… But such advances are like clapping with one hand if they are not met by comparable efforts to rebuild the lives of prisoners after they walk out of the gate. Correcting the failures in this area should be a high priority for our politicians and for our society.” 

Article
Creed
Easter
5 min read

Barbie’s rift in the universe is no doll play

How to heal it at Lent, with some help from AA too.

Julie connects Christian spirituality with ordinary life in Wenatchee, Washington State, where she teaches and writes.

Barbie stands on a balcony and waves while looking out over her city.
Barbie in Barbieland.
Warner Bros.

The Barbie movie opens with Stereotypical Barbie having a Perfect Day in Barbieland – until she has an intrusive thought about death. Everything screeches to a halt (even the music). This intrusive thought is about to ruin everything for Barbie, unless she can restore the rift in the universe (and the now resulting threat of cellulite) that it caused.  

Christians begin one of their most sacred seasons precisely here: facing thoughts of death. Refusing to name them as “intrusive” but instead acknowledging them, blessing them, and signing peoples’ foreheads with ashes as a reminder that they too will die. On Ash Wednesday, the worldwide church doesn’t rush forward to soothe this fear and move on to happier thoughts, but rather turns to face it and make the facing of it sacred. Annually, again and again. Barbie’s rift in the universe is no doll play. 

We create our own trances not only with alcohol, but with culturally acceptable addictions like obsessive thinking, performance hits, binge-watching, TikTok scrolling.

The earliest Christians began their anticipation of Easter by taking time to fast during the 40-hour lead-up to the day, knowing the psychology of short-term deprivation for long-term transformation. They wanted to anticipate the day of their spiritual liberation (Easter) from fear and death, with not only their minds but also their bodies. It was a fully integrated longing. (What is easier to feel – a hunger in one’s soul or body?) They knew the role of their body in their spirituality and discovered that often the body helped the transformation of their hearts. By the fourth century, these culturally specific fasts for Easter merged into a international consensus of forty days. Forty days which began with ... meditations on death. Lent begins by facing our intrusive thoughts of death – the rift not only in the universe, but in each of our souls as we pursue death in one thousand little ways daily. Things which, using the language of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Twelve Steps, we have become powerless to control. We create our own trances not only with alcohol, but with culturally acceptable addictions like obsessive thinking, performance hits, binge-watching, TikTok scrolling. None of us enjoy facing reality.  

And while freedom is at the top of our cultural priorities, for many of us it is not external things that limit our true freedom, but things internal to ourselves 

As Richard Rohr tells us, the old-fashioned language for addiction is “sin” – something we can’t seem to resist, change, and which perpetually has us in undertow. All of us, to an extent, are in the grip of some addiction, some thing we cannot change and that we continually choose to our own (and our deepest relationships’) destruction. Death and sin have always been held together in biblical poetry, because in many ways they are the same. We are all held in their grip. 

One of the most freeing things in AA is coming face to face with one’s powerlessness over addiction, to finally stop running from it. Step 1 says “We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.” But of course, there are other things we do to numb our pain. AA’s Twenty Questions regarding alcohol are a wonderful tool for diagnosing that neurotic thing lurking in the back of your mind as you read this article, and don’t want to face. Just fill in the blank: 

Has ____ ever damaged your primary relationships? 

Has ____ ever interfered with your work life? 

Do you ever ____ alone? 

For an alcoholic, the answers are easy: alcohol/alcohol/drink. But what about more socially acceptable numbing techniques: what about over-analysis? (Has thinking ever damaged your primary relationships – or interfered with your sleeping?) What about workaholism or an addiction to success? (Has an obsession with success ever damaged your primary relationships? Do you overwork to escape from worries or to build up your self-confidence?) Is there is something you do obsessively to relieve your anxiety, and is not working for you or those in your intimate sphere? Lent is the church’s annual invitation to take this obsession seriously, to stop making excuses, and to put yourself in an enforced recovery group with a bunch of other addicts for 40 days. Lent is not about restriction for its own sake, but freedom.  

Of course, you can just fast for 40 days to see if you can do it. You can do a “dry March” instead of a “dry January.” You can limit your screen time. Everyone knows the wisdom in these. But Lent is a call to the deeper freedom that these restrictions are for. Every spiritual tradition knows that without restriction, there can be no true freedom. (Every athlete knows this as well. Every musician. Every artist). And while freedom is at the top of our cultural priorities, for many of us it is not external things that limit our true freedom, but things internal to ourselves. Our freedom is not jeopardized by politics to the left or the right, but by the person looking at us in the mirror.  

To have our deepest hungers met, we have to clear away space. It is not a white-knuckling stunt.

Think of a time when you were in touch with your sense of being alive. Think of the feeling you have when watching a sunset. Or receiving the pure affection of a child. Think of that sense of happy satisfaction when you have just completed an unhurried project. Or a leisurely meal with friends. Or getting lost in a piece of music. Remember how experiences like this make you feel, and the feeling of being grounded and close to your true center.  

Now think of a time when you were cut off from your center but felt powerful – when you were able to get in the last word in a fight. Earned the top score. Rationalized why you were right. Were admired. Successful. Think of how different the energy is behind the first feeling and the second. Many traditions would associate the latter with the false self. The addicted self. The sub-self.  

Lent is about discerning each. Lent must be guided by our memory of freedom, as well as an awareness of what is keeping us from it. It is choosing a temporary restriction for the sake of being connected to our center, where God our Source is waiting for us. In the words of a famous addict from the fourth century, Augustine, “I was searching for you outside of me, but you were within me!”  

Another word for restriction is surrender  – letting go, embracing limits. (And as the Twelve Steppers know, whatever you let go of has claw marks on it). To have our deepest hungers met, we have to clear away space. It is not a white-knuckling stunt. Nor is it baptizing our culture’s fetish with weight loss or iron-man self-control. Lent helps us remember what it felt like when we felt absolutely alive, and to take clear steps towards recovering this sense. We might just find God waiting for us at our center when we do.