Both Sides of the Law
Chris is under involuntary commitment and a law student.
Tekst: Fredrik Dolve, Jonathan Holt Thorbjørnsen
The sun sits low over the Nidar river. A man on his usual morning walk is met by an annual sight as predictable as Advent. The examination trek. Nervous students in an endless parade, on the way to take their exams. Trondheim Spektrum is filled to the brim with young hopefuls. They might future engineers, economists or nurses who will wander back out again in four hours if everything goes well.
Reality takes a different form a few hundred meters away. A law student, Chris sits under the watchful eye of a hired examination guard and waits for his examination papers. The questions are received via fax.
"I meet up for the exam as usual, and I pay a semester fee. My answers are sent to the ordinary sensor at the university via e-mail. I get the results in Studentweb as everyone else does."
THE EXCEPTION. There is a distinction between Chris and the everyday student. While the others hold enlivened discussions in seminars and send e-mails to their lecturers the night before the exam, Chris has had to trust his own judgment in his analysis of the course material. In his little reading room in the Trondheim area prison he is essentially alone. He is serving the law’s harshest sentence and must work according to the premises of the Norwegian law of criminal sentencing. He is one a few prisoners completing higher education while serving a prison sentence and as he is sentenced to involuntary commitment, study partners are hard to come by.
"There are a lot of challenges. You’re sitting here by yourself, without access to lectures, internet or phone. There have been other prisoners who studied mathematics and economics, but we are very few."
Out of 3800 total prisoners in Norway, 60 are complete higher education.
“It’s hard to use my visiting hours for instruction. You’re allowed one visit a week, and you have to choose between educational instruction or family. It’s tough then. The security consideration comes first, understandably enough, and after that there are other priorities which require resources. Last in line is the rehabilitation of the convicts,” says Chris.
Besides room and board, the inmates have full responsibility for their own budget. This implies a prioritization of goods paid for with a fairly slender wallet. Tunga, the Trondheim area prison, has an activity requirement. If the inmates study or work, they receive 59 kroner in a daily allowance. These can be used to rent television time or buy tobacco and store items.
RESILIENT. Even before his case went to court, Chris decided to accept what was coming and quickly began the process of arranging his studies. The prison’s bureaucratic framework leads one to expect a certain amount of obstacles, but when Chris needed to obtain money for school books, he received an unexpected answer.
"I made contact with Nav [the Norwegian Labor and Welfare Administration] in Oslo to apply for financial support. I received an answer from the social consultant that the Norwegian state is only obliged to provide convicts with a basic education so they can get a job. It is not obliged to give convicts an education that makes them smarter."
BUREAUCRATIC TRACTION. Linda Høgås sits in a little office at the end of a hallway. She is a case worker in Nav. She formulates her sentences in a politically correct way, is vigilant over her statements, and seems conscious of her role as a part of the system. There are always two things to consider: the money that can be allocated and the requirements it needs to fill.
"You won’t automatically receive support from Nav to obtain higher education if you already have skills that can get you a job later. This is considered an a case by case basis, just as it is for the rest of the population," says Høgås.
In today’s competitive job market, resumes are combed over for potential holes or shortcomings. It’s no small wonder that convicts face bigger challenges than most when looking for a job.
"Sitting in prison is a challenge in and of itself. Having good papers doesn’t help if you’ve been out of work for many years. In certain cases, Nav can contribute with a supplemental salary in a transition period. This can be reassuring for a potential employer," says Høgås.
THE DRUG PROBLEM. Education is an important motivational factor, but it should not overshadow the importance of further psychiatric help and rehabilitation for drug addiction. Many prisoners need the stability and the routine that prison can offer when they are outside of its walls.
EVERYONE IN HIS PLACE. Inmates, like everyone else, are very diverse. The length of remaining sentence, amount of previous education, and drug addiction put restrictions on what types of activities the inmates want, and are able to participate in. Beginning a degree program in prison requires time, paperwork, and initiative. If you serve for a year or two, you barely have time to arrange the formalities before you are released.
"Most prisoners must also complete a high school diploma before they are qualified to apply for a spot in a degree program at a university or college," says Høgås.
Difficulties concentrating in prison and a long stretch of remaining prison time can make studying difficult enough for people who are motivated to begin with. Facing the bureaucracy causes many prisoners to lose the little courage they have. Chris, on the other hand, was only more motivated.
"I thought, 'ok, this is how it is? Then I’ll show you that we can do it too,'" says Chris.
THE ROAD BACK. In 2008, Thomas Gravdahl started Wayback in Trondheim, a support network for former prisoners reconciling with life outside. The nondescript facade on Oslo street says little about what the house has to offer, but the many cars and ash trays on the steps outside are witness to a lot of activity. A well-built and accommodating man, Gravdahl explains how the workers at Wayback have to speak the "boys' language" when they introduce them to bureaucracy’s rules of play.
"The ones who refuse help are often those that, in their own eyes, have a lot of resources. They might talk big and say that they can manage, but they’re the ones who need the help most."
Thomas has had his fair share of run-ins with bureaucracy and knows what he’s talking about. He admits openly and frankly that he has been sentenced himself. As an injured soldier, he was told that both his legs had to be amputated. When the Norwegian Sports Medicine Institute would not treat him, the well-trained soldier saw no other option than searching for medical treatment abroad.
"I started to travel to some different countries. One of which was Mexico, where I found some sports medicine experts. They had an unorthodox way of practicing medicine, in addition to the necessary physical therapy," tells Gravdahl.
Upon his return to Norway, he asked for the same medication and found out that the drugs were on the list of illegal narcotics. When no doctors would give him what he asked for, he found them through the body builder scene. Over time, he escalated his own use and began dealing. In the end he was caught and sentenced to community service. Today Thomas is quick to point out that doping connected to sports is a serious problem for society. At the same time, he does not dare think about how helpless he would be if he had not taken his health into his own hands in his early twenties. He sees the big picture, but is clear about the fact that he did what he thought to be necessary at the time. These experiences have made him well suited to help others with a criminal background. The calm eyes reveal a man who has found peace in helping others – in an honest way.
"Those who have some measure of introspection understand that they need some sort of framework after being released. You get out of prison and a lot of people want to invite you to party. Maybe they have a few grams of amphetamine and say, 'Here you go. Thanks for not snitching.' Suddenly you’ve got back into the old life again."
PROACTIVE SECURITY NET. It is precisely this that Wayback is to trying to prohibit through dialogue with the prisons before prisoners are released. The challenge is having as much as possible ready for the convict when he is released.
So far, between 60 to 80 people have made their return to society via Wayback. Only three people have returned to prison, and these returned due to more minor offenses. However, it is not always easy to make the prisoners conscious of the obstacles they will meet outside the prison walls.
“The first time you hear about it, it’s easy to think that Wayback isn’t something you need. Buy you need help from trained advisors to get what you need. You must cultivate good relations with someone who has faith in you. That’s what’s key. If you’re not in the condition to sell yourself and to cooperate with others, everything’s much more difficult,” says Gravdahl.
"Volunteers and law students have difficulties when they help us with convicts’ paperwork. If it’s challenging for them, how in the world is a convict, with their own difficulties, going to have a chance at understanding it?" Asks Gravdahl.
THE BACKWATERS. The county governor in Hordaland is responsible for allocating funds from the Norwegian Department of Knowledge to the necessary institutions around Norway. Gøril Nøkleby is the senior advisor for the county governor. He is now at a conference in Tromsø to meet representatives from other public institutions. They want to eradicate the obstacles preventing prisoners from completing higher education. They also hope to map out the current situation and present suggestions for how higher education can be more accessible for convicts academically, economically, and administratively. The committee was established last year and will be presenting its results the summer of 2012.
"We see that the level of education among the general population has increased considerably during the last 20 years. The same thing is happening for prisoners, but this development is occurring 15 to 20 years after the general trend. They’re in the backwaters."
Among people from 19 to 24 years of age, 31 percent of Norway’s population is currently completing some form of higher education. 36,800 Norwegian completed a degree in the 2009-2010 school year. Practically speaking a high school education is a minimum requirement. Without further education there is little hope of employment in most job markets.
PREVENTING ACCELERATION. Most of us manage these new educational requirements without too much struggle, but prisoners experience much greater challengers.
"First of all, the Quality Reform of 2003, [by the Norwegian Ministry of Health and Research] requires attendance in order to pass an exam. This is not possible for prisoners who don’t have a right to day release, and even those who are allowed to temporarily leave the prison walls meet bureaucratic challenges," says Nøkleby.
In addition, institutionalized people do not meet the requirements of the Norwegian State Educational Loan Fund, hence Lånekassen, because their food and lodging expenses are already covered.
“They say that everyone has a right to education, and justifies this statement with the Lånekassen’s mandate and declarations of human rights. But the prisoners in Norwegian prisons are discriminated against because they don’t meet the Lånekassen’s requirements for student financing. Nor does there exist any legal right to higher education in Norway,” says Nøkleby.
For many, higher education can be an important weapon in the fight against relapse. Statistics show that prisoners who study as Chris does have a much lower rate of relapse than the average released convict.
"Another problem is that the teachers in the prisons' correctional services are only employed with the goal of offering teaching at the high school level, since this is what the prisons are required to offer. This leads to an academic obstacle. The teachers have to work outside of their area of responsibility and competence in order to assist those prisoners who wish to complete higher education. It’s not always easy."
TIME FOR HELP. Back at the Trondheim area prison, prisoners breath out cold frost as they work hard to supply Trondheim’s inhabitants with winter wood fuel. Inside the little reading room, a smiling Chris tells of how his law studies have given him hope for a better future.
"Education helps you to see things from many perspectives. You address yourself in an organized way to people and to authority and you learn to argue well. I’ve already won several cases in the Central Administration."
There are several people and organizations who are on the lookout for the kind of competence that someone like Chris has to offer, with his first hand experience of the system in prison.
"To gain practical experience later, I’ve applied for a position in the Marita Foundation once I’ve completed my sentence. They work with substance abuse prevention and have told me that they’ll be willing to take me."
The exact date of his release is not yet determined, but Chris is patient for now, patience being something you learn behind these walls.
