As human as our victims

As human as our victims

By: Ben Gunn

Lifer Ben Gunn wonders just how much and for how long society wants lifers to be punished

According to some brave anonymous screw in Wakefield, quoted in the papers, Ian Huntley has been complaining that Aramark had screwed-up his canteen order. The same screw found this to be an outrage beyond belief - Huntley should spend all his time writhing in guilt, not counting his chocolates.

This made me wonder about two things. Firstly, why is it that no investigation is ever launched by the Prison Service into the legions of screws who happily leak their venom onto the pages of the tabloids? And doubtless top up their beer fund in the process. It has never happened. Not once. At least I have the stones to put my name to what I have to say, and take any resulting lumps, whereas these guardians of our moral order skulk in the shadows like the spineless, spiteful wretches they are. There's nothing like standing up for what you believe in - and that type of conduct is nothing like standing up for what you believe in.

Secondly, it made me wonder - not for the first time - what it is that our victims want from us? I have to tread carefully here, not least because the last time I raised this issue I was given a friendly spanking by Tim Newell. But I think it is fair to delve into the issue. Nearly every day we are fed a diet of what are, so it is alleged, the views of victims. Psychology loves to do it. So does the Parole Board. The tabloids just can't stop doing it. Even the occasional screw does it. Once, when I was refusing compulsory exercise, a screw wandered into my cell and said, "Your victim can't do exercise." Whilst being true, what the hell did that mean? I asked if I should do two hours instead of one, to make up for it; which I thought was quick thinking but was really bemused indifference. What did he mean, really? That I should be grateful for my life, when I deprived him of his? Well, I don't need to kill someone to be grateful for my life - that comes with birth, part of the deal.

I don't doubt this screw was sincere in some way, he meant something by what he said. He just didn't make it clear. The same applies to our POA hero from Wakefield. Sincere, probably. Incoherent, definitely. Having committed our crimes, whatever they may be, we seem to be absolved forever from being afforded the status of 'human'. Otherwise, what is the problem with us complaining about Aramark? Not liking being robbed seems perfectly natural to me. So is the claim that, having killed, other people are entitled to screw with us? I'd like to suggest that we examine that chain of reasoning, but that doesn't comprise a coherent thought process. No more than my screw and his exercise problem.

And this is a large part of the problem that I have with victim issues - they seem to be incoherent. And incoherence is a lousy basis on which to build public policy. I may be being unfair, of course, because I recognise that the statements of victims and victim groups are mediated through journalists - who are superimposing their own agenda.

One thing has occurred to me lately. I suspect, given victims’ preoccupation with PlayStations and TV's, we are expected to spend all of our time tormented by our consciences. I don't know a single lifer who, in the still dark hours, does not twist and turn under the weight of his crime. You kill someone, it comes back to haunt you.

But this isn't every minute of every day. We also live as normal a life as we are able. We enjoy good TV, a funny joke, a nice brew. Our conscience does not dull our human qualities. Why should it? Because the pain our victims carry doesn't dull their human qualities either. They laugh, cry, go to work, watch TV. They are not in distress every minute of every day - and they are the ones who are said to be suffering.

Emotional pain, grief, just doesn't work like that. It is trite to claim that time heals all wounds, yet time does slowly relegate the pain and allow daily life to come increasingly to the fore. Whilst some victims say that it is they who have been given the life sentence, in the course of normal life this sentence gets easier. Everybody who has lost someone close to them recognises this.

Not that this is inevitably the case. There is an illness, pathological grief, in which the distress does not diminish. One of the parents of a Brady-Hindley murder was famous for this. Forever tormented both by the loss of her son and the baiting of the tabloids. Her grief was palpable; but still unusual. Oddly, as far as I can tell, the same is true for many lifers. The weight of the blood on our hands does not ease with the years. Perhaps the older we get, the more we appreciate the enormity of what we have taken.

But this is not recognised. Prison staff are never interested in exploring the effects of our offence on ourselves. As long as they can tick a box, 'victim empathy', they are happy. Perhaps they ought to wonder why a disproportionate number of prison suicides are lifers. Just a thought. Of course, if we do show distress at what we have done, we are instantly accused of faking it for the Parole Board. And if we top ourselves, like Dr Harold Shipman, then we are accused of ‘jumping ship’ and getting off lightly. That the people who make such inane comments are usually the ones who want to bring back hanging only highlights the bafflement that I face when trying to unravel victim issues.

We are as human as our victims. Daily life does intrude after a while, life returns to some sort of equilibrium. The same can be said of our victims. This shared humanity could provide a basis for a sensible exchange between offenders and victims; if only the debate wasn't framed by the screaming media hyenas.

· Ben Gunn is currently resident in HMP Shepton Mallet