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David Kirk Beedon
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Pastoral Care for
the Incarcerated
Hope Deferred,
Humanity Diminished?
David Kirk Beedon
Pastoral Care for the Incarcerated
David Kirk Beedon
Pastoral Care for the

Incarcerated
Hope Deferred, Humanity Diminished?
David Kirk Beedon
JBVISTA
Newcastle under Lyme, UK
ISBN 978-3-031-13271-1 ISBN 978-3-031-13272-8 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-13272-8
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
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This book is dedicated primarily to the memory of the indeterminately
sentenced man found dead in his cell at the prison where this pastoral
enquiry was undertaken. His tragic death and the relational texture of the
last conversation the author had with him inspired this hope- and
humanity-seeking enquiry.
Acknowledgements
At the heart of this book is a course of study in the field of practical theol-
ogy I undertook by way of professional development as a prison chaplain.
Early in my studies Dr Harry Annison’s personal encouragement, as a
criminologist specialising in matters to do with the sentence of
Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP), strengthened my resolve to
undertake this interdisciplinary endeavour. Similarly, Dr Sarah Lewis’ sup-
port and work on rehabilitative growth was invaluable.
The supervision I enjoyed during my studies was excellent. I am grate-
ful to Professor Stephen Pattison and Dr Amy Daughton for their percep-
tive oversight and to Reverend Chrissie Wood for her vital pastoral
supervision and psychological insights. My companions in the community
of practice constituted by the Doctorate in Practical Theology programme
at the University of Birmingham (UK) made the learning journey less
challenging and their input frequently enriched the quality of this enquiry.
Practical theologian Reverend Canon Dr Nigel Rooms provided a thor-
ough critique of an earlier version of this work, so any surviving shortcom-
ings remain the author’s responsibility alone.
I am grateful for the assistance offered by many of my former colleagues
in Her Majesty’s Prison and Probation Service, especially those in the
Chaplaincy Department where I served who ‘held the fort’ many times
while I conducted interviews and group work. I also thank the governors
who provided both their permission for this enquiry to be undertaken in
their establishment and also personal encouragement. This does not imply
any official endorsement of views and opinions contained in this book
which are wholly my own.
vii
viii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am grateful for the pastoral forbearance of Reverend Debra Dyson

who was a regular recipient and reader of my reflective and reflexive jour-
naling output. She has been a wise conversation partner and companion in
my reflections.
Mrs Anne Brooks transcribed the interviews. Those transcripts are the
core material for this pastoral enquiry, representing as they do the narra-
tives shared by the seventeen indeterminately sentenced men and six
members of staff who participated in this endeavour. She did marvellously
to cope with ‘prison-speak’, a variety of accents and the sometimes-difficult
recording acoustics provided by penal spaces. Her willingness to psycho-
emotionally enter the world of interviewees was typical of her character.
Much of the material in this book was proofread for conventions of
grammar, spelling and language by Mr Leslie Robertson. In addition to
this practical task, he also provided invaluable feedback on my thesis from
a ‘coalface’ perspective as an Offender Manager (prison-based Parole
Officer) who has much experience working with numerous men serving
an IPP sentence.
None of this work could have been completed without the willingness
of the seventeen indeterminately sentenced men and six prison staff who
shared candidly with me some of their personal and professional stories.
Regarding the incarcerated interviewees, I continue to find the way they
entrusted their stories to me as a pastoral enquirer deeply humbling. The
telling of those stories is the heart of this work’s inspiration.
Last but absolutely not least is my wife, Julie. It was in a bedtime con-
versation some years ago that she suggested I choose the ‘IPP issue’ as an
area to study. Subsequently, she has been unflagging in her practical and
financial support. Especially in the personally most challenging elements
of my journey of enquiry, her presence, love and care for me have embod-
ied beautifully the profound humane regard described and promoted in
this book.
Contents
1 Introduction: Where and How to Start 1
Part I Defining the Issue 19
2 Modern Mass Incarceration: Can it Be Humanised? 21
3 A
Case in Point: A Socio-Historical Critique of
Indeterminate Sentences 45
Part II Describing the Context 71
4 Entering Lived Experience: From Theory to Reality 73
5 Tales From the Shadow of Despair103
Part III Reflecting on Practice 139
6 Seeking Humanity and Hope141
7 A Pastoral Response169
ix
x Contents
Part IV Acting Compassionately 197
8 Custodial Compassion: A Pastoral Paradox199
9 Loose
Ends, Disappearances and Leavings: A Reflective
Pastoral Epilogue237
Appendix: Remaining Found Poems249
Index267
List of Figures
Fig. 1.1 The pastoral cycle (Adapted—author’s design) 6

Fig. 1.2 Life as a Film movie style poster—ID17 14
Fig. A.1 Life as a Film movie style poster—ID02 251
xi
CHAPTER 1
Introduction: Where and How to Start
Come now into the cell with me and stay here and feel if you can and if
you will that time, whatever time it was, for however long, for time
means nothing in this cell.
—Keenan (1992, 63)
Beginnings
I am going to take the reader on a journey of enquiry. For some of you the
landscape we will explore will be familiar: the lived experience of incarcer-
ated space. For others, the terrain may be unfamiliar and, at times, disturb-
ing. The words this chapter opens with have haunted me from my very
first reading of Brian Keenan’s account of his captivity as a hostage in
Beirut. They evoke a negation of temporality—the making of time mean-
ingless. I frequently encountered this sense of time in pastoral encounters
I experienced after I changed ministerial roles in 2012. After over two
decades in English parishes, I entered Her Majesty’s Prison Service in
England and Wales as an Anglican chaplain. I always read the passage from
An Evil Cradling as offering an invitation to enter the world of those held
captive. Entering the lived experience of those who sought pastoral care is
something I understood to be my role as a chaplain. It is something I
likewise invite you, the reader, to do: ‘Come with me’.
As a novice chaplain, the invitation spoke to my undeveloped under-
standing of penal pastoral care. It evoked a desire to enter empathically the
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2022
D. K. Beedon, Pastoral Care for the Incarcerated,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-13272-8_1
2 D. K. BEEDON
lived experience of those in my care and custody so as to better serve

them. A year after entering the Prison Service I entered a part-time univer-
sity study programme in practical theology to deepen my understanding
of the challenging ministerial context which I had entered. At heart, I
wished to make my professional practice more pastorally intentional. This
book is the fruit of the context-based and practice-focused study pro-
gramme that I undertook for six and a half years, including two years of
on-the-ground research fieldwork which included interviews and
group work.
Two years into my studies, the death in custody of a man I was involved
with pastorally became the tragic motivation for the focus of the enquiry
this book describes. The man was found hung in his cell one morning at
first unlock. He was serving an indeterminate sentence of Imprisonment
for Public Protection (IPP). The indeterminacy of the sentence meant that
he knew neither when or if ever he would be released. The last time we
spoke he stated his belief that he would only be released “in a body bag”.
He had lost hope. I will return to this story in Chap. 5.
The quote from An Evil Cradling resonated for me with the hope
diminishing indeterminacy which is a central theme of my pastoral enquiry
and that has led to the self-inflicted death of a number of people serving
an IPP sentence in England and Wales. The passage’s invitation evokes
Keenan’s intention to draw the reader into his incarcerated state. He
wishes the reader to study it from the inside out. An Evil Cradling’s nar-
rative approach inspired the ethnographic methodology I have followed in
this enquiry. Employing this approach, I have sought to access the lived
experience of the seventeen men on an IPP sentence who volunteered to
be interviewed (see Chap. 4). A core aim of my pastoral exploration as
here recorded is to invite the reader to follow me into carceral space and
enter the lived experience of those weighed down by indeterminacy.
Contextual Factors
In prisons in England and Wales establishments are categorised according
to the security factors associated with the people they hold. People in cus-
tody are categorised on risk factors of (1) harm to the public should they
escape; (2) threat of escape; and (3) danger of undermining control or
stability of a prison. Categories range from A (High Security) through to
D (Open, pre-release conditions). My enquiry was undertaken within a
Category C (medium security) large male prison in England. It offered
1 INTRODUCTION: WHERE AND HOW TO START 3
education, training and resettlement opportunities to over a thousand

residents although, according to an official inspection in 2018, about one
in five men remained locked in their cells during the working day (unref-
erenced for anonymity).
Although the IPP sentence was abolished in 2012, as of September
2019 (when my enquiry was wrapping up) approximately 2400 people
remained in custody serving the sentence in England and Wales. The vast
majority of them were significantly over their ‘minimum tariff’, the least
time in custody they had to serve (see Chap. 3 for the background to the
IPP sentence). My enquiry’s interviews were conducted between February
2017 and April 2018, one of the most challenging times for prisons across
England and Wales. Loss of a third of uniformed staff as a result of auster-
ity cuts (following the global economic downturn post-2007), alongside
the increased smuggling and use of new and highly potent psychoactive
substances, greatly destabilised prison safety and security. This heightened
my concerns around work amongst a vulnerable group and concentrated
my attention on what could safely and feasibly be achieved within the
short-term, context-based and practice-focused enquiry I envisaged. This
raised questions about how I was to approach and undertake this enquiry.
Whilst my enquiry was undertaken in an English prison I have, where
possible, provided comparative information, especially in Part I (‘Defining
the Issue’), from the US. This is particularly regarding socio-historical fac-
tors that have shaped and continue to impact on places of mass incarcera-
tion. There are similarities and dissimilarities between penal systems on
either side of the Atlantic which I invite readers to discover for themselves.
My pastoral enquiry did not seek to compare and contrast the two sys-
tems. One similarity is the mixed economy of ‘public’ and ‘private’ prisons
in both UK and US penal systems. A dissimilarity is that whilst in England
and Wales there is a unified body that oversees all the 117 prisons there
(Her Majesty’s Prison and Probation Service, part of the Ministry of
Justice) a number of bodies have oversight in the US. Federal prisons
(122) are supervised by the Federal Bureau of Prisons, state prisons (1833)
by each particular state’s Department of Corrections and local jails (3134)
by local law enforcement. This complexity, I have discovered, has made
access to comparative data sometimes impossible. But I have tried where
possible to give comparisons.
Turning now to the theological approach I took I must confess that the
last time I undertook academically rigorous study was in the early 1990s
(Beedon 1992). At that time, I used a highly theoretical and philosophical
4 D. K. BEEDON
approach to my theological subject (ecclesiology) which I studied in a par-

ish setting. Once I had re-located to a penal context and wished to under-
take an enquiry into the practice of pastoral care, this approach seemed
ill-suited to my endeavour. The theological sub-discipline of practical the-
ology offered a heuristic approach to pastoral enquiry that struck me as
highly appropriate.
Practical Theology and the Pastoral Cycle

The enquiry described in this book was undertaken as both a pastoral
endeavour (as a practitioner) and an academic contribution (as a student
in the field of practical theology). Practical theology is “critical reflection
that places experiences, lived assumptions and actions in dialogue with
religious belief, tradition and practice for the sake of transformation”
(Goto 2016, xix). The variety of topics discussed in disciplinary compen-
dia reveals a focus on context-based and practice-focused studies
(Woodward et al. 2000; Miller-McLemore 2012; Cahalan and Mikoski
2014; Miller-McLemore and Mercer 2016). Human flourishing, as a pri-
mary purpose of pastoral care, is also central to practical theology
(Cameron 2012). Its humane and practical foci suggested it would be an
apt approach for my enquiry into a pastoral response to the human dimin-
ishment associated with the IPP sentence.
My initial interest was in the generic area of ‘the humanising of incar-
ceration’ (Beedon 2016a, 2017). A key method of enquiry for many stu-
dents and researchers in practical theology is the pastoral cycle. Adapting
and employing this method helped me become more focused as I sought
to identify a specific topic that was potentially transformative of penal
practice and would contribute to the relevant body/bodies of knowledge
associated with my context. The pastoral cycle provided a clear hermeneu-
tical process that I could follow amidst the demands and distractions of
part-time work-based study alongside full-time employment in a challeng-
ing environment.
Due to practical theology’s interest in ‘practice’ in its various forms
(e.g. ministerial, ecclesial, pastoral, social and political), many practitioners
have embraced the pastoral cycle’s action-learning approach to research
(Ballard and Pritchard 2006, 81ff.; Cameron 2012). The cycle is derived
from late twentieth-century action-learning methods (Kolb 1984; Schön
1983). In theological circles, it has also found expression in the dialectical
method for conscientization and praxis via Liberation Theology’s
hermeneutical circle of ideological critique and theological reflection

(Segundo 1976, 7ff.; Freire 1985; Pattison 1997, 61; Thompson, Pattison,
and Thompson 2008, 50–71; Cameron 2012, 3–9; Bennett 2013, 102).
Conscientization is the process of acquiring a critical consciousness con-
cerning political processes and the (mis)use of power in social systems that
lead to human diminishment.
In practical theology, conscientization is related to the notion of prob-
lematisation whereby nothing is ‘taken as read’ by an enquirer and an
awareness of the systemic and ideological forces at play in a context is
acquired. The pastoral cycle’s politically informed and practice-based
approach offered transformative potential. It helped me surface some of
the deep and dark socio-historical underpinnings of systems of modern
mass incarceration which provides the context within which indeterminate
sentences have been formulated and enforced with detrimental effect (see
Part I). At a personal and vocational level, it has left me disturbed by the
State-sanctioned injustices I discovered in my enquiry.
Although other terms may be used (e.g. Browning 1991; Osmer 2008),
the pastoral cycle basically consists of context, theory, reflection and back to
context via practice. Each of the four elements of the cycle are phases with
a particular interrogative focus but they are best not approached as inde-
pendent stages to the exclusion of the other three foci. Aspects of the
other elements are always present in each phase of the cycle but one is
cognitively privileged momentarily in the dynamic. The adapted cycle I
have designed and used in my enquiry consists of the Define, Describe,
Reflect and Act phases (see Fig. 1.1). This will provide the framework for
the four parts that constitute this book.
The pastoral cycle is not without its critics (Lartey 2000; Ward 2017)
but was a valuable tool that offered me a heuristic process for undertaking
this enquiry. It was especially helpful in cognitively unpicking an appropri-
ate pastoral issue from the overwhelming experiential ravel that I was con-
fronted with at the time of entering prison ministry (Ballard and Pritchard
2006, 87). The Definition and Description stages also helped me develop
a political attentiveness around the IPP issue that kept me honest about
what my enquiry could achieve and helped me avoid generating false hope
amongst the men that participated in my enquiry.
Beyond its usefulness in the initial exploratory stages of research, the
cycle also provided me with means by which to maintain focus and com-
mitment over the long haul of fieldwork, interview analysis and beyond.
6 D. K. BEEDON
Fig. 1.1 The pastoral

cycle (Adapted—
author’s design)
Whilst the pastoral cycle is a reflective cycle, it is not circular, but inten-
tionally iterative, deepening the practitioner’s understanding and inform-
ing their praxis with each cycle. In the Define phase of the cycle, I used my
journaling to reflect upon a number of issues that were worthy of my
pastoral attention. The tragic death in custody I have referred to at the
beginning of this chapter brought a brutal clarity concerning a press-
ing need.
Situations such as this have great psycho-emotional weight to them.
There is a deeper psychological affect in the sense of a change in mood and
perception (Feldman Barrett and Bliss-Moreau 2009). The affect of the
death in custody I encountered pastorally was defining for my reflections
and I knew this was an avenue of enquiry whose worth could carry me
through the inevitable moments of deep fatigue and self-doubt I would
face on the long road of description, reflection and action. I was also aware
there could be dangers to undertaking such a study motivated by a tragedy
that had personally affected me. I found further encouragement soon after
this epiphany from the political theologian Anna Rowlands. In an address
she gave at the 2016 British and Irish Association of Practical Theologians’
Annual Conference she suggested theological enquirers who wish to
transform the world need a passion for their area of interest so as to be
thoroughly dedicated to the important work of responsible enquiry in the
field of practical theology.
I was confident I had such a passion and a heuristic overarching

approach to keep me focused. But I also needed to find methods to help
me describe the detrimental factors impacting on those serving an IPP
sentence, reflect upon the pastoral consequences of these contextual fac-
tors and formulate how to act in a more pastorally responsible way.
Methods in Practical Theology

The pastoral cycle provided me with procedural clarity in the challenges of
a context-based and practice-focused enquiry conducted within my work-
place. But it did not provide specific methods for defining, describing,
reflecting or acting. Underlying the matter of choosing methods to employ
were more fundamental questions. As practical theologian Zoë Bennett
et al observe, the choice of methods of enquiry is “…not simply a matter
of choosing the best tools for the job…beliefs about existence (ontology)
predicate which ways of knowing are judged valid (epistemology)” and
these factors inform the methodology (approach and design) that will
construct the picture of the world we paint (2018, 26).
Elaine Graham, Heather Walton and Frances Ward in their Theological
Reflection: Methods (hereafter TR:M) suggest a sevenfold typology of
methods in theological reflection that can be found in approaches to prac-
tical theology (2005). Two (Corporate Theological Reflection and Local
Theologies) are not represented in my pastoral enquiry as they are
approaches specific to communities of faith and the interviewees I worked
with were not a homogenous faith group. The other five types are present
in a variety of forms and consist of: (1) The Living Human Document; (2)
Constructive Narrative Theology; (3) Canonical Narrative Theology; (4)
Correlation; and (5) Praxis. Using Graham, Walton and Ward’s frame-
work I will map across the categories that elements of my pastoral enquiry
fall into so as to give the reader an introductory sense of the theological
ground this book will be covering and how it will be explored.
The Living Human Document

TR:M refers to this as “theology by heart”. Human being-in-relationship
stands at the centre of this theological approach to reflection. Charles
Gerkin, an early proponent of practical theology, first coined the phrase
“the living human document” (1984). This was part of a turn to the
8 D. K. BEEDON
human subject in theology, in contrast to the abstract and systematic forms

the field had often previously taken (see Chap. 7). At the heart of my pas-
toral enquiry is the flesh and blood lived reality of the seventeen interview-
ees serving an indeterminate sentence and also autoethnographic
reflections of my own pastoral presence in this enquiry (Chaps. 4 and 5).
Employing a Life-History Interviewing approach kept me close to the ‘liv-
ing human documents’ who are the subjects of this enquiry. It is the theo-
logical reading of these lives with practical intent that helps me formulate
a pastoral response to their plight (Chaps. 7 and 8).
Constructive Narrative Theology

TR:M describes this as “speaking in parables”. This approach to theologi-
cal reflection recognises the interplay between scriptural parabolic narra-
tives and life-histories. In Chap. 6, where I theologically explore ‘humanity’
and ‘hope’, Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son features. As a story that
juxtaposes wilfulness and loss with forgiveness and mercy, it is a parable
that speaks powerfully into the lives of many incarcerated souls, some of
whom readily embrace it as a narrative faith guide (Beedon 2016b). In the
chapel of the prison where I ministered a large print of Rembrandt’s
famous representation of the story dominated visually. The parable also
provided me with a robust model of humane regard that underpins the
paradoxical ‘custodial compassion’ that I offer as a pastoral response to
modern mass incarceration generally and indeterminate sentencing par-
ticularly (Chap. 8).
Canonical Narrative Theology

For the authors of TR:M this consists of “telling God’s stories”. They
warn of the dangers of this approach that arise from sometimes being
unhealthily motivated by a conservative Christian reaction to what some
perceive to be a postmodern malaise. Accordingly, they argue, there can
be an authoritarian tone assumed by some canonical narrative theologians.
This tone is in the wrong dialogical register to engage adequately with
many societies and communities that are seeking less traditional sources
for authentic living. Where the ‘telling’ is in an authoritative tone it is less
likely to be heard. They suggest it is in the living out and the becoming of
the story of God that the content and the import of that narrative is best
communicated.
In Chap. 7, I have chosen ‘the Good Shepherd’ as a narrative theme

around which to formulate a broad and inclusive definition of pastoral
care. The narrative motif of ‘shepherd’ spans both the Old and New
Testaments. The imagery it contains simply and beautifully communicates
the nature of God’s love. Whilst we might be rightfully suspicious of meta-
narratives, the overarching narrative arc of scripture as read through
Christian eyes is of God’s profound loving intent towards humankind and
the world divinely created as their home. This profound loving intent,
encapsulated in the metaphor of the ‘the Good Shepherd’, is most power-
fully embodied in the incarnation of that love in Jesus Christ. The practice
of that loving intent is central to the model of pastoral care I offer in
this book.
Correlation
In TR:M, this involves “speaking of God in public”. The correlational
method is central to this pastoral enquiry which draws context-relevant
secular thought into critical conversation with my faith-shaped anthropol-
ogy as it applies to the IPP predicament and wider issues of modern mass
incarceration. The theoria (theoretical or contemplative knowledge) at
play here is not concerned with grand theological narratives abstracted
from lived experience and speaking in terms incomprehensible to most
penal practitioners. What I am undertaking puts my understanding of
God-in-relation-to-humankind in the service of those trapped in humanity-
diminishing deferred hope. It is a theology primarily concerned with phro-
nesis (practical wisdom) of a pastoral form and a praxis (see Chap. 4) that
embodies humanising transformation (Part IV). This is because “talk
about God cannot take place independent of a commitment to a struggle
for human emancipation” (2005, 170, for a discussion of ‘theoria’ in rela-
tion to ‘phronesis’ see Bass et al. 2016).
The critical correlation method sits in an epistemological tension.
Somewhat caricaturing, the dangers inherent to this tension are that the
liberal side of the equation baptises culture and secular wisdom too uncrit-
ically. Alternatively, the conservative side, utilising an individualistic
anthropology, apolitically accepts dehumanising practices whilst focusing
on personal salvation. Throughout Parts 1 and 2 I rely heavily on secular
thought as I engage in sociological, penological and criminological
10 D. K. BEEDON
matters. But this is done in the service of formulating a pastoral response

that is grounded in the reality of modern mass incarceration and not some
abstracted and idealised theological reflection. Critically correlated secular
thought adds granularity to a subject such as State-sanctioned incarcera-
tion that theology alone could only approach superficially or reflect upon
in an abstract fashion. Critical appropriation of non-theological thinking
can allow for a “thick description” of the context the pastoral enquirer is
seeking to theologically reflect upon (for more on “thick description” see
Geertz 1993).
Praxis
According to TR:M, praxis is “theology-in-action”. The theology under-
pinning this pastoral enquiry is not concerned with observing an abstracted
orthodoxy for “the truth is truth only when it serves as the basis for truly
human attitudes” (Segundo 1976, 32). The practical theology operative
here is a faith-informed mode of discourse that seeks “to witness to the
truth in a world of fragments” through orthopraxis (Forrester 2005, 11).
Whilst the ecclesia and its practices tend to be the prime domain of enquiry
for practical theology, the context of my enquiry is found at the border-
lands of civil society amongst a vulnerable group of men with a high risk
of self-harm or suicide. My concern is a pastoral one, so I employ theology
in the service of the humanising of incarceration in the contextual particu-
larity of a hope-diminishing form of sentencing.
I am not arguing against more theoretical forms of theology as I am
aware, in drawing out notions of imago Dei and ‘community-in-being’
(Chap. 2) from heritages of theological insight, I am appropriately reliant
upon such theoria. But, as a pastoral endeavour, my operative theology is
a diaconal one employed in the service of those whose humanity is being
diminished. It is addressed to a realm of discourse that may lack theologi-
cal literacy but can be receptive to rehabilitative practices.
Anonymisation
A final point I wish to make is concerning anonymisation. Most pastoral
care is confidential in nature due to the personal and private information
often being shared by the person seeking support. It should be no surprise
therefore to the reader that an enquiry into pastoral care for a group of
people, consisting of some who have pre-existing vulnerabilities, should

need to be highly confidential concerning what is published. From the
outset I made it clear that whatever the men shared in interview or group
work would be treated as confidential and this was reiterated at every stage
of my enquiry. The only explicit qualification I made to this was if they
shared something with me that made me believe there was a risk of harm
to themselves or others (staff or residents).
As indeterminately sentenced people in custody have a heightened risk
of self-harm or suicide this was a pastoral responsibility that I could not
abdicate for the sake of confidentiality. There was only one occasion in all
my fieldwork that I had need to approach the prison’s Safer Custody Team
to visit an interviewee to check in on his mental state as he appeared
extremely flat in mood during interview. Although I had a professional
safer custody role it was important that I did not blur the role boundaries
of pastor and pastoral enquirer at that point. A member of the Safer
Custody Team visited the person and came away assured that it was just a
passing ‘low’—which it was thankfully.
In both interviews and group work, I was amazed and humbled by how
candid those participating would be with me. One-to-one they shared
some of the darkest and regret-filled moments of their lives, their heart-
aches and those moments when they had been brought to the lowest
depths of despair by their sentence. I promised to share those stories and
they wanted them told. But then arises the issue of confidentiality. I have
been careful in the writing of this book to redact information that might
identify individuals or locations. The issue that I have wrestled with long
and hard is how I anonymise the information so no detail can be attrib-
uted to a particular person.
Throughout my fieldwork when I was conducting group work and
interviews, I was having to bring information in and out of the prison
where I worked. This was because my studies were part-time and much
processing of the information took place at home in an evening or over the
weekend. Academic and prison regulations required that this information
was anonymised and treated as strictly confidential. I chose to use identi-
fiers such as ID30 (IPP interviewee) and IDS02 (staff interviewee) along-
side any demographic information and for interview and group transcripts.
The key list matching names and identifiers was never with any other
material and was held in a password-protected computer file.
When I came to writing up the findings of my pastoral enquiry, I found
myself in a quandary. A fundamental premise of the model of pastoral care
12 D. K. BEEDON
I propose is that of humane relationship-based regard. I was conscious

that continuing to refer to the interviewees by the identifiers I had used in
fieldwork could seem to depersonalise and thereby dehumanise them. It
could seem as if I was treating them as subjects of study rather than human
beings whose lived experiences were bravely shared with me. I know in
other similar research names are changed, but I found the thought of this
psycho-emotionally difficult for me personally. That is because the stories
that were entrusted to me I carry with me still, years after the interviews
were completed. The identifiers (e.g. ID02) have deep associations with
individual lives for me. I therefore believe that to take the option, as other
similar research has, to change the names to false ones, in my case still
depersonalises and feels even more like a betrayal of that individual’s per-
sonhood. So I will continue with the identifiers to differentiate the
information.
One final note on this: I was also tempted to provide some detail
regarding matters such as sentence length given (minimum tariff) and
how far over tariff for each of the Found Poems that ‘bookend’ each chap-
ter. These poems are a textual representation of an interviewed life using
phrases and sentences used by those men serving an IPP sentence who
participated in this enquiry (see Chap. 4 for more on this poetic form of
representation). I have decided against providing information that was not
shared in interview as there are dangers it could undermine the anonymi-
sation of the material. I fear that the more personal and penal information
I provide the greater the chance of undermining anonymity. There are a
few occasions where I provide more background information to individual
accounts but only where it serves the purposes of my humanising intent.
Summary
Practical theology provided the means by which I could undertake this
pastoral enquiry. It encouraged me to pay attention to the lived experi-
ences and life histories of those I pastorally wished to serve. It got me to
take seriously the scriptural narrative sources that spoke into those lives. A
theologically practical approach forced me to re-examine what my under-
standing of God-in-Christ could equip me to be compassionately present
in carceral space. It provided a means by which I could engage in a critical
dialogue with appropriate areas of secular wisdom to more accurately
determine the landscape of modern mass incarceration, as well as the
specific texture of indeterminately sentenced lives. Finally, this approach

kept me true to my practical focus of humanising incarceration in the par-
ticularity of generating and maintaining hope with those dwelling in the
shadow of despair.
At this point, I am aware of the danger of claiming too much for my
small-scale enquiry that features only seventeen incarcerated interviewees
(and six staff). Generalisation is always an issue for ethnographic enquiry.
In the life-themes I identify in Chap. 5, it should not be inferred that these
biographical and behavioural elements are true for all the interviewees and
can be applied to all indeterminately sentenced people. That would be an
untrue and ludicrous claim. Personal information was shared by a number
of interviewees concerning chaotic and/or violent childhoods which are
reflected in their self-descriptions captured in a number of the Found
Poems. But this is not the case for all interviewees and a number spoke
warmly of their upbringing and families. All interviewees received a copy
of their interview transcript so they could be reminded of what they dis-
closed to me on the understanding their interview material could be
removed from this enquiry. No one opted to do so. I also shared my find-
ings with a leading UK criminologist and a couple of people who had been
Probation Officers (with many combined years of experience working
with people on IPP sentences) who concurred with my findings. Whilst
not true for every IPP person everywhere, the life-themes I have identified
are significant and present enough in the narratives shared with me to war-
rant pastoral attention.
The following eight chapters will take us on a journey of enquiry in
response to the ‘Come with me’ invitation I offered at the opening of this
chapter. In Part I, I will define the issue I seek to address pastorally. Part II
will describe the specific context within which that issue sits. Part III will
be a reflection on pastoral practice in carceral spaces and Part IV will offer
principles and practices that I have formulated out of my enquiry to guide
penal pastoral action.
14 D. K. BEEDON
Fig. 1.2 Life as a Film movie style poster—ID17
Found Poem: The Illusion of Time (ID17)

to shoot somebody
was a normal thing
trapped in an environment
like I come from
all negative around
extreme violence
being given towards [my] mum
didn’t have a father
didn’t have nobody

to tell me not to do this or…that
don’t have time to yourself
to take a step back
caught up
in the illusion of time
just going and going and going
everything is too fast
gun fire; me holding a gun
judge hitting the hammer down
horrible sentence
nightmare
had an impact on us
I was scared
I’ve felt suicidal
my grand.mother’s in bits
I started understanding
why I’m here
product of the environment
how strange it was
got this overwhelming feeling
I’ve never felt before
an acknowledgement
I’m loved outside
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PART I
Defining the Issue

CHAPTER 2
Modern Mass Incarceration: Can it

Be Humanised?
We carry within us the power to bless and to redeem…We were the

people who designed and created these places of punishment. We can
reimagine them into becoming places of promise and possibility.
—Sehested (2019, 167)
Introduction
The Pastoral Cycle, as described in the previous chapter, begins with the
defining of an issue that is to be theologically reflected upon with the
intention of informing pastoral practice. As a prison chaplain, the most
pressing issue I experienced, almost from my first day ministering behind
bars, was the scale of the dehumanisation—both deliberate and acciden-
tal—that was present in the penal system. In a sermon in 1991 American
social activist and Baptist Minister Howard Moody accurately described
mass incarceration as institutionalising hopelessness and prisons being
“charnel-houses of human degradation, guaranteed to turn out bitter and
resentful citizens” (quoted in Sehested 2019, 126f.). This is not to say all
carceral space is devoid of humanising acts of kindness and compassion.
However, whether it be the built prison environment or the daily dimin-
ishment of human agency, there is a brutality to prison life that is pro-
foundly unconducive to human flourishing.
Human flourishing is one of the foci of the theological sub-discipline
known as practical theology. This theological approach problematises the
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 21

Switzerland AG 2022
D. K. Beedon, Pastoral Care for the Incarcerated,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-13272-8_2
22 D. K. BEEDON
political systems and social structures that encourage or inhibit the occur-
rence of human flourishing (Pattison 1997; Couture 2012). In my explo-
ration of penal pastoral practice, I approached the subject using practical
theology’s problematising lens. This way of reading a pastoral context
takes nothing for granted when it comes to socially constructed systems
such as modern mass incarceration. In practical theology, there has been a
turn away from the individualistic pastoral model constructed by a “thera-
peutic captivity” which understood care predominantly in personal and
psycho-emotional terms (Pattison 1997, 209ff.). Whilst the individual
remains central, contemporary approaches in practical theology under-
stand people in more innovative and complex ways (Miller-McLemore
2012, 96). This includes taking pastoral account of their location in socio-
economic systems shaped by history.
The rationale for this chapter is to socio-historically locate the context
within which prison-based pastoral care is offered. It is true to say that
most inhabitants of modern prisons would not be aware of the penological
inheritance their lives are held captive within. Nor would they necessarily
be interested in a history lesson about prisons. However, for penal pastoral
practitioners, an appreciation of the historically shaped systemic forces that
frequently diminish those in their care can inform liberative practices. As
liberation theologian Gustavo Gutiérrez has noted, humanising theologi-
cal regard pays attention to questions and facts derived from the world and
its history (1973, 12).
The systems of incarceration that largely hinder human flourishing are
the continued outworking of an often-dark social history which needs to
be critically reflected upon. During my ministry behind bars, I increasingly
became aware of the importance of being cognisant of the historical back-
ground that has shaped and continues to constrain much penal practice.
In England and Wales there is a physical reminder of this history. Over
one-quarter of all people in custody are held in prisons (32 of them) built
in the Victorian era (1837–1901). Whilst facilities have been updated the
architecture and aesthetic of these places remain unchanged and shaped by
penal thinking from over a century ago.
During my time as a chaplain I was constantly asking myself: “Is it pos-
sible to humanise mass imprisonment so prisons become places where
human flourishing is increasingly possible?” I remain largely sceptical that
prisons can become such places without a radical rethink about their pur-
pose and design. I warm to criminologist Alison Liebling’s view that
“sometimes, or under certain conditions” human flourishing is possible
2 MODERN MASS INCARCERATION: CAN IT BE HUMANISED? 23
behind bars, but “it is not common” (Liebling 2012, 1, original empha-
sis). Much of the humanisation that chaplaincy departments offer within
prisons is in daily face-to-face pastoral encounters with residents and staff.
This is invaluable work. However, what I discovered through the Gallup
CliftonStrengths™ personality type assessment is that, temperamentally, I
am a systems thinker (Clifton and Rath 2007). This inclined me to want
to offer more in the field of pastoral care than just daily first aid. I won-
dered where I could apply my thinking to impact the practices and policies
of the wider system within which I worked. This refining and defining of
an issue upon which to reflect required that I spent some time deepening
my understanding of the system I was located within—including its his-
tory. As a practical theologian this was part of the locating of myself and
my pastoral practice in the socio-historically constructed system of mass
incarceration.
Before becoming a prison chaplain, during my time in parochial minis-
try I served in socio-economically diverse parishes, from ‘wealthy’ through
to ‘deprived’ areas. I learned that key to offering effective pastoral care in
any setting is being well-informed about the context ministry is taking
place within. Social history can be helpful in deepening an appreciation of
what a place and its people have been through over time and how these
factors shape, often deform, people’s lives. One parish I served in had
enjoyed prosperity and full employment following the British nineteenth-
century industrial revolution but in the 1980s slumped into post-industrial
decline with concomitant socio-economic trauma. The social psyche of
the place was deeply affected by this event and its aftershock. A pastoral
sensitivity to this socio-historically shaped context required an awareness
of these factors.
Many years ago, as an undergraduate in theology, I was introduced to
Karl Marx’s notion of ‘reification’ through my study of writers in libera-
tion theology. Reification is the social phenomenon whereby groups for-
get that much of the social world around them was itself socially
constructed. Res is Latin for ‘thing’, so reification means ‘thing-making’.
Human beings make a social system into a ‘thing’ and then accept it as a
given, forgetting it was made by them in the first place. By implication, if
socially constructed, any social system can be deconstructed and reimag-
ined in a different way. For example, western economists often talk about
‘capitalism’ as if it is the only way national finance and global trade can and
should be organised. They thereby imply that as a system of economics it
24 D. K. BEEDON
simply is the way things are even though some of the system’s out-workings
are unjust. Capitalism has been reified.
Similarly, mass incarceration has been reified. It is often presented in
political discourse as something to be accepted as a given. But is it? As
Nancy Hastings Sehested’s words at the head of this chapter suggest, we
have socially constructed these carceral systems so we can also reimagine
them. What is stopping us other than a lack of courage and imagination?
We will need to inform our imagination if we are to avoid daydreaming
about a superficial response to crime and design a more humane penal
system than that provided by mass incarceration. Such discerning imagina-
tion is also the basis of good pastoral practice. Transformative action is
rooted in the reality of what is and the hope of what could be. This chap-
ter, on the emergence of modern mass incarceration as a response to
crime, is a pastoral contextualisation. In effect, it is a socio-historically
informed pastoral orientation to the penal parish.
The Purpose of Incarceration: A Swinging Pendulum

What is the point of locking people up? This is such a basic question for a
civilised society to ask but one, I fear, is rarely asked in everyday conversa-
tion. It is almost as if there is a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ unspoken social
contract around modern mass incarceration. As long as we feel our streets
are safe, surely prison must be working, right? As Winston Churchill once
pointed out to the British parliament: “The mood and temper of the pub-
lic in regard to the treatment of crime and criminals is one of the most
unfailing tests of the civilisation of any country” (1910). If, as a society, we
are careless about what happens behind the thousands of miles of high
walls and razor wire that hold captive millions of our citizens, what might
that say about us collectively? Why are they there and what are we doing
with and to them?
According to Encyclopedia Britannica, imprisonment for a criminal
offence aims to serve four social purposes (Bernard 2021):
1. Retribution: Wrongdoing should be punished according to the

nature and scale of the crime. There is a denunciatory element to
this as the punishment serves to declare social opprobrium.
2. Incapacitation: Wrongdoers should surrender their liberty for the
sake of public safety. This is especially true in the case of serious
violent or sexual offenders.
3. Deterrence: Sentences should have enough punitive weight to deter

re-offending or other would-be offenders.
4. Rehabilitation: Prisons should provide the context within which
offenders are given adequate opportunities to reform.
Models of imprisonment have varied down the centuries and have dis-
played different degrees of balance between the four penal elements
(Wilson 2014). What has been counted as a crime and warranted impris-
onment has varied to some extent as crime is a social construct. This is
suggested by the fact that many crimes are not considered such by all
societies, nor for all time (e.g. the changing laws regarding homosexual
acts in the UK and the legislation regarding slave ownership and segrega-
tion in the US). Criminal justice—how crime is punished—is also socially
determined (Zalman 1977; Garland and Sparks 2000; Garside 2008;
McNeill 2014). Acknowledgement of the social and historical factors
influencing criminological and penological theories invites a de-reifying
approach to the subject that is often lacking in political policy and public
discourse (Henry 2009). The same could be said of much pastoral practice
in prisons.
As socially negotiated constructs, modern forms of incarceration are
not incontestable givens to be accepted uncritically. There is a “historical
specificity of imprisonment” (Hudson 1987, 36). Therefore prisons, as a
form of punishment, should be open to critique and problematisation.
This is a role that the church and theology have played, since the inception
of the modern prison, by bringing a Christian humanitarian perspective to
bear upon the privations and distress frequently endured within carceral
space and the penal policy that shapes it. Christians from various traditions
were early key reformers of prison life, for example, John Howard
(Calvinist, England), Elizabeth Fry (Quaker, England), Louis Dwight
(Congregationalist, US) and Dorothea Dix (Methodist, US). As theolo-
gian Chris Wood has observed, there is a radical critique of the notion of
punishment at the heart of the Christian tradition (1991, 72).
So how did we get to this point, where millions of lives are blighted by
incarceration? A situation where large sections of advanced western societ-
ies seem to be on a lifelong conveyor belt to prison and trapped in a
revolving door of reoffending on release?
26 D. K. BEEDON
Incarceration: Modern and Mass

The forms of state-sanctioned incarceration currently found in the US and
Great Britain are both modern and mass. They are modern in the sense
that prisons—architecturally and institutionally—are products of
Enlightenment thinking. Cesare Beccaria’s eighteenth-century pamphlet
On Crimes and Punishment was the first penological text and greatly
informed political thinking around punitive responses to crime on both
sides of the Atlantic (1785). Yet crime did not emerge as a phenomenon
in the eighteenth century. As the scriptures of ancient religious traditions
bear witness, throughout human history, the transgression of laws and
customs seems just as much part of human nature as is conformity to
agreed or enforced social practices. What the Enlightenment brought was
the application of reason to what had previously been the rather capricious
punishment of wrongdoing. As Foucault has narrated, pre-modern forms
of punishment were, to contemporary mores, barbaric and summary,
involving public and extreme forms of corporal and capital punish-
ment (1977).
With the Enlightenment came the Industrial Revolution and the mass
movement of labour from rural into urban areas. The first half of the nine-
teenth century saw the population of London double and that of New York
increase almost ten-fold. With this concentration of exploited humanity
came a perceived increase in criminal behaviour, which required a solution
to criminality on a larger scale than had previously been the case. In Great
Britain, other than crimes warranting capital punishment, transportation
had been a major penological means of dealing with serious crime since
the seventeenth century. Shipment of those convicted of crimes to North
America was suspended during the American Revolutionary War and sub-
sequently ceased following the loss of those territories. A penal colony was
established by the British in New South Wales (Australia) in the late eigh-
teenth century, but crime rates continued to rise and transportation was
increasingly judged to be ineffective and inhumane. The last prison ship
arrived in Western Australia in 1868.
One of the earliest architectural examples of a prison designed for large-
scale modern incarceration was the panopticon (“all seeing”) (Wilson
2014, 30ff.). The design was conceived by the British utilitarian philoso-
pher Jeremy Bentham as a means by which the maximum number of
inmates could be supervised by the minimum number of staff. Whilst
inmates would be aware surveillance was constantly taking place, it would
be done covertly, thereby leaving them unsure of who would be being

watched at any given moment. Although never built in its pure form dur-
ing Bentham’s lifetime the panopticon influenced prison design in the first
half of the nineteenth century, beginning with what became known as
Millbank Prison in London (opened 1821). As late as 1925, Stateville
Correctional Centre in Illinois was opened featuring a panopticon-style
roundhouse (F-House). Although no longer in use, F-House remains
standing as a historic monument. Albeit in a less high-tech form, this “all
seeing” design prefigures the intersection of covert surveillance and mass
incarceration that will become a central institutional feature of present-day
prison design and operation (Stoddart 2020).
A House of Penance: The Penitentiary

The notion of an “all seeing” presence embodied in the design of the pan-
opticon has echoes of the religious belief concerning God’s omniscience—
the divine ability to see and know all things. The surveilling guard,
described by Bentham as ‘the inspector’, is hidden as much as possible so
his vantage point at any time is unknown—who or what he is observing
cannot be ascertained by inmates. As philosopher and psychoanalyst Miran
Božovič has noted, the inspector is regarded as having divine attributes,
“being omnipresent, he is also all seeing, omniscient and omnipotent”
(1995, 91). The religious overtones contained within the role of ‘the
inspector’ is no accident. In 1779 the Penitentiary Act was passed in
England which harnessed the Quaker and monastic practice of silent soli-
tude as a basis for reflection leading to repentance (Potter 1999, 100–101).
The design of penal space that emerged from Enlightenment thinking was
penitential in form. ‘Cells’ were an idea imported from monastic life, a
space within which a monk or nun would ponder their life in relation to
God’s gaze and judgement. Prisons were to be houses of
penance—penitentiaries.
Initially, silence and solitude were key features of early-modern prisons.
In the late eighteenth-century New York, Virginia and Kentucky authori-
ties built their first penitentiaries following the separate (or solitary) con-
finement model. This was known as the Pennsylvanian system whereby the
incarcerated remained in solitary confinement to ponder their misdeeds
whilst isolated from the harmful influence of other wrongdoers (Musick
and Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 9). The separate system became popular
across Europe but began to be increasingly criticised in the US for its high
28 D. K. BEEDON
staff costs and the detrimental effects on the mental health of those in
custody. Although envisaged with humane intent, based on a belief in a
reforming holy encounter with God, in practice it often “inspired madness
more than rectitude” (Dubler 2013, 269).
Whilst initially following the Pennsylvanian model, during the 1820s
Auburn Prison in New York State implemented a modified regime. This
continued to maintain strict silence, reinforced by ‘lockstep’ when groups
of prisoners were marched around the establishment. But it was a ‘congre-
gate’ system in putting incarcerated men to work in workshops under the
auspicious of their labour being character-building. Outside of the means
of production men remained in solitary conditions. Although overcrowd-
ing eventually led to the abandonment of prison-wide solitary conditions
(other than as special punishment), the Auburn system remains the stan-
dard penological paradigm for American incarceration up to the present
day. According to Leonard Roberts’ history of rehabilitation, it signalled
the triumph of a ‘Puritan attitude to criminal behaviour’ constructed on a
theological anthropology, whereby human deviancy was to be corrected
by discipline. The Quaker (Pennsylvanian) model of providing a penal
environment within which the grace of God—“the Inner Light”—could
transform lives was largely abandoned (1985, 108).
Auburn was the first penal institution to profit from prison labour. This
marks the beginning of a major trend in mass incarceration in the US: the
industrialisation of carceral space.
The Industrialisation of Carceral Space

In the US, slavery and involuntary servitude were abolished by the
Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution (1865). An exception was
made when servitude was used as “punishment for crime whereof the
party shall have been duly convicted”. In state and federal prisons all incar-
cerated people are required to work unless deemed medically unfit.
According to the Washington Post around 63,000 incarcerated people
work in US prison industries, which is almost 50% of the prison popula-
tion (Dreier 2020). Prison industries programmes operate across over
forty states (Musick and Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 79). According to fig-
ures released in 2019, almost 12,500 people in custody in England and
Wales work in prison-based industries—15% of the prison population.
This incarcerated workforce laboured for 17 million hours in 2017–2018
(Prison Reform Trust 2019, 14). The industrialisation of incarceration,
whereby the prison population is engaged as a pool of labour for the pro-
duction of goods or services, is not as advanced in the UK as found
in the US.
Goods and services provided by prison industries are often for the
internal market of incarceration—e.g. manufacturing of beds and lockers;
prison clothing; and printing and binding services. Others are provided to
the external markets, such as fast-food chains’ corporate uniforms; designer
lingerie; military equipment; and call-centre staffing. On both sides of the
Atlantic remuneration for incarcerated labour is deliberately low. Some
funding for victim compensation is generated through prison industries.
Advocates of prison-based industries point to the rehabilitative benefits of
meaningful work and the acquiring of employment skills. Proponents of
prison-industries also argue that the revenue generated by prison labour
can be re-invested to offset the cost of incarceration to the taxpayer. Critics
raise concerns over fair economic competition in the free market when
prison labour is so cheap. Others point to the unhealthy interrelationship
that exists between government and prison industry companies, raising an
ethical concern about profiteering from the misery of mass incarceration.
Some describe this relationship as a ‘prison-industrial complex’ that has
resulted in the increase of incarceration rates thereby, accidentally or delib-
erately, swelling the incarcerated cheap labour market (Schlosser 1998).
In the late twentieth century, privatisation was introduced into mass
incarceration on both sides of the Atlantic. Privatisation in a penal context
can involve one or a combination of three elements:
1. The management of prison establishments

2. The building and leasing out of prisons
3. The for-profit provision of services (e.g. healthcare or facilities
maintenance)
The privatisation of some prison provision has added to the discomfort

of those uneasy about profit-making from mass incarceration (Prison
Reform Trust 2005). Although at the time of writing (2020) President
Biden had put the renewal of contracts with private prisons on hold, over
8% of the US prison population were housed in for-profit places of incar-
ceration (approximately 116,000 people). Only 14 out of 117 prisons
across England and Wales are privatised but they house 15% of the prison
population, almost twice the proportion in private correctional facilities
in the US.
30 D. K. BEEDON
The making of money from the punishment of crime is nothing new. As

the nineteenth-century novels of Charles Dickens bear witness, debtors’
prisons such as at Newgate in London were privately administered and
administrators and gaolers alike profited from various economic practices
which often left residents in worse debt and with lessening prospects of
release (Wilson 2014, 24ff.). Seventeenth-century English colonists to the
New World profited from the transportation and sale of convicted people
into servitude (Musick and Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 19). The concern is
that whilst profiteering in the past might have been a by-product of incar-
ceration, sometimes by illegitimate means, nowadays it has become woven
into the fabric of mass incarceration.
Incarceration is increasingly becoming an industry whose business plan
is the same as anywhere else: minimise costs and maximise profits. Unlike
many other industries the labour force does not have the choice to seek
alternative employment or higher wages. This is the neo-liberal capitalist
dream. Adding and related to this concern is the ever-burgeoning captive
labour pool that has swollen places of incarceration to overcrowding on
both sides of the Atlantic.
Prison Growth: The Race to Incarcerate

In a briefing to the House of Commons of the UK Parliament in 2018, it
was noted that the prison population quadrupled between 1900 and
2018 in England and Wales (Sturge 2018, 3). A defensive response might
be to point out that the general population has also grown in over a cen-
tury so, of course, the number of convicted citizens will have risen. There
is some truth in this, but it is not the whole truth. Incarceration rates are
often quoted in terms of ‘per 100,000’ of the general population. At the
start of the twentieth century, 86 people per 100,000 of the population in
England and Wales were being imprisoned. By the start of this century,
that figure had risen to 172. The prison population even declined in the
early part of the last century but saw a significant upturn post-World War
II, which then accelerated dramatically from the 1990s. Mainland UK has
the highest incarceration rates of its closest European neighbours.
The incarceration rates in the US have followed a similar trajectory. It
has recently been noted that the 2019 figures were the lowest since 1995,
but this still represents a shocking 810 per 100,000 incarceration rates
(Gramlich 2021). The twentieth century witnessed what some have
described as a “prison-building binge” across the US (Musick and
Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 22ff.). This was in response to what prison

reformer Marc Mauer calls “the race to incarcerate” (2006). This was fos-
tered by an ideological competition, shared by both political left and right,
to be tough on crime. In 2006 half the operational US prisons had been
built in only the previous twenty years so as to accommodate this bur-
geoning pool of suspended lives (Mauer 2006, 10).
There are those who argue that the incapacitation and deterrent effects
of imprisonment reduce crime. However, a literature review in 2014 sug-
gested that there was only a small reduction in crime brought about by
increased rates of incarceration (Travis et al. 2014, 155). The review also
pointed out that there was evidence that as the rate increases its deterrent
effect decreases significantly. In the UK, the National Audit Office simi-
larly failed to find a demonstrable link between the size of the prison pop-
ulation and crime rates (National Audit Office 2012). This is a contested
area where ideological positions will, to some degree, determine evidence
offered against or for increased mass incarceration as a solution to crime.
Given there is not a substantial enough political consensus on this matter,
I believe we should have, as democratic societies, acted with greater cau-
tion rather than having responded to crime in a disproportionate, damag-
ing and expensive way.
This book is dedicated to the humanising of incarceration and I believe
there are serious moral questions that are raised by practices of mass
imprisonment. Alongside these concerns are also issues to do with the
pragmatics of costs to the public purse from large-scale imprisonment. A
place in one of Her Majesty’s prisons costs approximately £45,000 [cur-
rently $62,000] per year (Her Majesty’s Prison and Probation Service
2020a). According to the US Justice Department, the per capita cost in
federal prisons is almost $38,000 [currently £27,500] (Prisons Bureau
2019). Whether this is a like-for-like comparison is unclear, but the bud-
getary scale of national expenditure on incarceration is enormous on both
sides of the Atlantic. With current prison populations of around 2,000,000
(US) and 83,000 (England and Wales) the drain on the public purse—
drawing funding away from healthcare, social welfare and education—
borders on immoral. This all bears witness to an entrenched ideological
mindset that privileges “social defence” over “social investment” (Mauer
2006, 54).
Given that recidivism rates remain high in both the UK and the US,
those convicted of and imprisoned for crimes are not consistently deterred
by increased chances of incarceration. In England and Wales, almost half
32 D. K. BEEDON
of the adults released from custody (48%) are reconvicted of another

offence within a year (Prison Reform Trust 2021, 3). According to the
Harvard Political Review, two out of three people released from custody
in the US will reoffend within three years (Benecchi 2021). Not only has
the prison population expanded dramatically within the last half-century,
recently the average length of sentence has also increased. Not only are
more people going to prison, but they also do so for longer periods. This
has created penal systems that have increasingly shifted in their ‘core busi-
ness’ from rehabilitation, then to correction and finally, due to sheer num-
bers, human warehousing (Dubler 2013, 311).
Over thirty years ago, David Waddington, the then Conservative Home
Secretary in the UK, described prisons as “an expensive way of making bad
people worse” (cited in Grimwood and Berman 2012, 2). These ware-
houses of human misery are expensive. Their residents often re-enter their
communities angrier, more violent, traumatised and drug-dependent from
incarceration. This would be concerning enough but the fact that this life-
diminishing experience is disproportionately doled out to black men
should be downright disturbing.
Race
More than a decade ago, the civil rights lawyer Michelle Alexander pro-
vocatively described the US process of mass incarceration as “The New
Jim Crow” (2020 (2010)). Referring to a late nineteenth-century system
of laws that disenfranchised and segregated black Americans, Alexander
argues that the current criminal justice system in the US has the same
oppressive net effect. The shocking statistics certainly support her conten-
tion. In states with the greatest ethnic disparities “African American men
are sent to prison at a rate 27 to 57 times greater than that for European
American men” (Musick and Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 32).
Whilst those who self-identify as black make up only 14% of the popula-
tion of the US, nearly half of those in prison are African American (Mauer
2006, 131). In 2010 one in three black men had a felony record (Alexander
2020 (2010), xxi). A conviction seriously reduces chances of employment,
often compounding pre-existing socio-economic pressures and impacting
a person’s wider family and community. The death penalty is dispropor-
tionately meted out to African Americans. Texas is a hard-line state when
it comes to capital punishment and has executed 573 people since 1982.
The state has never executed a European American for the death of an
African American but, according to the Texas Defender Service, when an

African American kills a European American the death penalty is invariably
on the table (Musick and Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 119). Similar trends
are found in lots of other states.
In the UK many prison-based reports refer to BAME (Black, Asian or
Minority Ethnic) in statistical analysis. In 2020 people from BAME back-
grounds made up 27% of the prison population in England and Wales
(Her Majesty’s Prison and Probation Service 2020b). BAME people rep-
resent around 14% of the general population. According to the Lammy
Review, whilst 3% of the general population are black, they constitute 12%
of adults in prison and 20% of children in custody (Lammy 2017, 3). A
report analysing the proportion of custodial sentences handed out between
2008 and 2011 found that, for the same offences, a BAME person “were
sentenced to custody at a higher rate than White offenders” (Hopkins
2016, 1). Practical theologian Carver Anderson’s study into black young
men in Birmingham (England) noted how, across the country, they are
over-represented in the criminal justice system and stigmatised in many
media representations of crime (2015).
On both sides of the Atlantic, people of colour are much more likely to
be arrested, convicted and imprisoned than their white counterparts. In
the US much of this has been attributed to the so-called War on Drugs
that was launched in the early 1970s. This was a government-driven ‘get
tough’ clampdown on a perceived drugs epidemic (Mauer 2006, 151ff.).
It resulted in a disproportionate number of African American men being
incarcerated on long-term sentences (Musick and Gunsaulus-Musick
2017, 32). Much of this disparity arose due to sentencing laws around
cocaine. Prior to the introduction of the Fair Sentencing Act in 2010
those caught in possession of as little as five grams of crack cocaine attracted
a mandatory five-year federal prison sentence, whereas it would take a 100
times larger amount of the powdered form to warrant the same penalty.
Crack cocaine was cheaper than powder and so was used in predominantly
poor and black communities whereas the latter was more associated with
‘white yuppies’.
The crack/powdered cocaine issue highlights the intersectionality of
race and class in much of the systems of mass incarceration. Mauer observes
that “when we speak about race and the criminal justice system, we are
often in fact also talking about class” (2006, 177). ‘Class’, as a dimension
of incarceration, is an area I have some personal reflections about.
34 D. K. BEEDON
Class
In the eighteen months prior to beginning to write this book, the UK suf-
fered a number of national and local lockdowns due to the Covid-19 pan-
demic. Like many people, I used some of the enforced inactivity to stream
television series that I had been interested in but had never found the time
to watch when first broadcast. One series I picked up was Six Feet Under,
originally broadcast between 2001 and 2005 on the US HBO channel. Its
main characters ran a family funeral home in Los Angeles. Working my
way through the sixty-three episodes was an activity parallel to some back-
ground reading for this chapter. I was struck by how all three grown chil-
dren of the fictional Fisher family frequently and casually indulged in
taking illicit drugs. This was portrayed as somewhat urbane and recre-
ational in nature. A far cry from some sensationalist depictions of drugs-
related violence and crime that can otherwise be found on television. But
then, the Fishers were white and middle class. The lurid television depic-
tions are usually of poor and predominantly black communities.
In a global study of incarceration, Vivien Stern observed that large
numbers of incarcerated souls “are the neglected children of urban waste-
lands” (1998, 171). The connection between crime and social disadvan-
tage is not straightforward (Newburn 2016, 322). I certainly would not
posit some strong socially deterministic theory about the relationship
whereby having a certain upbringing almost guaranteed state incarcera-
tion. I grew up on some of the housing estates that the families of those I
served as a prison chaplain lived upon. In my formative years, I was what
right-wing newspapers at the time referred derogatively to as ‘a latch-key
kid’ from a ‘broken home’ whom, they suggested, would end up a delin-
quent and eventually acquire a criminal record. Although I was no saint, I
never did become a delinquent or a criminal.
The connection between crime and socio-economic location is a com-
plex one that’s hard to define accurately. There is, though, a long-standing
semantic association between poverty and criminality. As criminologist
Robert Reiner has pointed out, etymologically ‘villain’ and ‘rogue’ came
into the English language from French and Latin respectively but origi-
nally meant merely ‘peasant’ and ‘beggar’ (2017, 116). Socio-economic
and moral connotations became unhealthily entwined, as embodied in the
interrelationship between the workhouse and prison in nineteenth-century
England.
Early in the present century in the UK, a number of factors, varying

from seven to ten depending upon the study referenced, were identified as
contributing to desistance—the ability to avoid re-offending upon release
from custody. As a prison chaplain I was introduced to them as the Seven
Resettlement Pathways (see Social Exclusion Unit 2002, Home Affairs
Committee 2010, for further background). All of them can be related to
socio-economic factors:
• Accommodation
• Education, employment and training
• Health (physical and mental)
• Drugs and alcohol
• Finance, debt and benefit
• Children and families
• Attitudes, thinking and behaviour
The less socio-economically advantaged a person is, the more likely

these factors are present in a negative way in a person’s life. If these are
factors that, if positively addressed, reduce the likelihood of re-offending,
it follows that, if negatively present in adolescence and adulthood there is
an increased likelihood of incarceration. Criminologist and former prison
governor Jamie Bennett has noted that many residents in HM prisons are
seeking to realise the same dreams of material success and status that many
share but, coming “as they do from circumstances of poverty and depriva-
tion”, conventional means of achieving those goals are not open to them
and crime provides a more accessible avenue (2012, 11).
Sociologist Loïc Wacquant noted in a 2009 study that two-thirds of
county jail detainees in the US lived in households with income that was
less than half that of the official poverty line (2009, 70ff.). Despite this,
less than a quarter received government assistance. Whilst 77% of
Americans at that time grew up in a two-parent home, only 40% of detain-
ees did so. Almost a third claimed to have an alcoholic parent or guardian
and one in twelve stated home life featured drug addiction. A quarter
grew up in public housing where the intersection of race and class is at its
most vicious and violent.
Being socio-economically disadvantaged does not directly lead to crim-
inal behaviour. Many of the men from such backgrounds I ministered
36 D. K. BEEDON
amongst described themselves as the ‘black sheep’ of their otherwise law-

abiding families. Many had siblings whom they described as having ‘done
well for themselves’ from the same unpromising starting point in life.
However, the socio-economic factors explored here do provide indicators
that, statistically, are known to increase the chances of arrest and
incarceration.
My time as a prison chaplain was spent in male establishments. Males
make up 94% of incarcerated people in England and Wales, and 90% in the
US. Whilst crime is often caricatured as ‘a young man’s game’, incarcera-
tion for women can be particularly challenging.
Gender
On 27 September 2019, staff at HM Prison Bronzefield (Ashford,
England) were alerted by residents at morning unlock to what appeared to
be blood in a woman’s cell. On investigation, a newborn baby (Baby A)
was found dead in the cell with its mother [child’s gender anonymised].
An independent report into Baby A’s death described the mother as “a
vulnerable young woman with a complex history who found it difficult to
trust people in authority” and could be “a challenging person to manage”
(Prisons and Probation Ombudsman 2021, 2). The young mother had
expressed suicidal ideation but, against established practice and policy, was
not put on suicide and self-harm monitoring.
The independent Ombudsman who investigates such deaths recorded
numerous shocking failures concerning the care of this woman which ulti-
mately led to a child’s death in custody. Lack of a trauma-informed
approach at Bronzefield was a key factor that resulted in a tragic outcome.
Whilst, thankfully, such extreme examples of custodial neglect are rare,
the story of Baby A’s mother is not atypical for the female prison estate.
Her childhood had been traumatic and Children’s Services had been
involved in her life from birth. This resulted in an inability to form rela-
tionships of trust with authorities and she developed habits of alcohol and
substance misuse. Patterns of offending behaviour accompanied these
developments.
As with the male prison population, the number of females in custody
has increased dramatically in England and Wales, doubling between 1995
and 2010 (this and following information from Prison Reform Trust
2017). Women are nearly twice as likely as men are to be sent to prison for
first offences, despite them frequently being the primary carer for chil-
dren. Most offences are for shoplifting and only 16% of female convictions
involve violence (24% for men). Over half of women in custody (com-
pared to 27% of men) reported being victims of emotional, physical or
sexual abuse as children and 57% disclosed being subjected to domestic
violence. Related to such trauma, 59% reported having a problem with
alcohol.
Whilst in 1980 around 26,000 females were incarcerated in the US, by
2019 the number had risen to 222,455, an eight-fold increase (twice that
of men) (this and the following information from The Sentencing Project
2020). Around 60% of imprisoned women are mothers of children under
age eighteen. In state prisons, women are more likely than men to be serv-
ing time for drug or property offences. According to the American
Psychological Association, the US’ race to incarcerate concerning women
has failed to take notice of the significant levels of cumulative trauma
amongst incarcerated females, compounded by gross economic disparities
they had suffered (Cowan 2019).
Summary Conclusion
In this chapter, I have explored the socio-historical evolution of modern
mass incarceration as found in England and Wales and the US. These sys-
tems did not fall from the heavens as pre-formed solutions to crime. They
were designed by human beings to incapacitate other human beings. As
such, they were shaped by socially constructed views of what it means to
be human (anthropology) and how deviancy should be punished (crimi-
nology/penology). Whilst forms of imprisonment have evolved to some
degree over the last 200 years, their institutional DNA remains pretty
much unchanged. If anything, as we have seen, the premise has grown
stronger that the best way to deal with those convicted of criminal offences
is to imprison them, in greater numbers and for longer.
What is clear from the foregoing discussion is that those who populate
the prisons our taxes pay for have often done heinous deeds (not always,
though) and are also people carrying vulnerabilities from being victims
themselves before they victimised others. Additionally, they are often
caught in the intersectionality of race, class and gender. Poverty and colour
are significant factors that, on both sides of the Atlantic, determine life
outcomes regarding incarceration.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
stentata scema l’allettamento. Anche molti traduttori, per
l’importanza che in Italia si attribuisce allo stile, acquistaron nome a
paro cogli originali; eppure non un solo ve n’ha forse che abbia tolto
la speranza di fare meglio.
Ippolito Pindemonti veronese (1753-1828), anima pura e
inattivamente gemebonda in estri «melanconici e cari», declama ora
contro il viaggiare, or contro la caccia, or contro i rivoluzionarj; esalta
la campagna, gli amici, le pie ricordanze de’ morti; a Foscolo fece
rimprovero di non saper «trarre poetiche faville» da oggetti men
lontani che Troja; lottò con Omero nel tradurre la difficile Odissea; e
palpitò di libertà nella tragedia dell’Arminio, nobile carattere d’un
difensore della patria indipendenza. Cesare Arici (1782-1836),
secretario all’ateneo di Brescia, ottenne fama estesa per molte
liriche mediocri, per una povera epopea sulla caduta di
Gerusalemme, per migliori didascaliche sulla pastorizia e sulla
coltivazione degli ulivi. E la didascalica, che un pensiero prosastico
orna poeticamente, apriva bell’arringo alle immagini, la ginnastica
più consueta di quella poesia; la quale fermava l’attenzione sulla
frase, e colla forbitezza delle parole, col cumulo delle metafore, col
vezzo della perifrasi, la sottigliezza de’ concetti, la peregrinità delle
figure, la lambiccatura de’ sentimenti, il rimbombo de’ suoni palliava
la vulgarità del fondo. Vi ottennero lode molti, nessuno raggiunse
l’efficace parsimonia di Mascheroni e di Foscolo, alla descrizione
della natura mescolando sempre i pensieri dell’uomo.
Mentre nei più l’allettativo delle fantasie sceveravasi dalla
convinzione delle anime, altri aveano esteso lo sguardo e veduto un
intero mondo di là dal serraglio accademico, e leggiadrie e sublimità
di poesia, ed elevatezza di sentimenti, e profondità di ragione,
convincendosi che la ricerca del bello non vuol essere limitata ad un
tempo, ad un paese, ad una forma. La Spagna si presentava
coll’immensa ricchezza drammatica, e colla cristiana e incondita
originalità de’ comici e de’ romanzieri: l’Inghilterra col sentimento
profondo e la penetrazione della natura umana nel gigantesco
Shakspeare e ne’ moralisti: la Germania con una folla di cantori
ironici o passionati, religiosi o scettici, tutti vibranti all’unissono delle
idee umane, alla cui testa Schiller, Göthe, Tieck, Schlegel,
emancipavano l’arte affinchè rappresentasse l’uomo, i tempi, la
natura, cercavano il ritorno estetico verso l’antica bellezza, meglio
valutata e sotto forme nuove e potenti, non isgomentandosi della
trivialità purchè naturale; dappertutto poi una poesia popolare, qual
frutto spontaneo di ciascun paese, di ciascuna età, che ha la verità
non della storia, ma della passione, che evoca le potenze della vita,
dolore, piacere, onore, virtù, voluttà; e in tutta la società moderna un
movimento lirico coll’ardore della libertà, col disgusto del presente,
coll’inquietudine intima e la speranza tormentosa, col tumulto delle
idee nuove e il presentimento delle loro metamorfosi.
Con ciò alla critica negativa, che stitica i difetti dei grandi, o le
bellezze ne misura a tipi prestabiliti, sottentrava l’iniziatrice,
laboriosamente profonda nell’esercizio del pensiero, paziente nella
pratica, colla potenza idealista che discerne il fondo della forma, che
coglie l’unità dello spirito sotto la varietà della lettera, che indovina
bellezze originali, che getta la congettura sul mare del possibile, e da
quel che fecero i genj più diversi impara ove potrebbe arrivare un
genio nuovo, mediante l’intima cognizione d’ogni bello; che infine
colle dottrine eccita sentimenti ed azioni.
La civiltà nostra non deriva soltanto dalla greca e romana, ma anche
dalla germanica; gloriose e più dirette antecedenze abbiamo nell’età
romantica, cioè nel medioevo, e il viver nostro è conformato al
sentimento e alle dottrine cristiane. Perchè dunque rifarci sempre ad
Ilio e a Tebe, e tessellare frasi di classici, e invocare un Olimpo di cui
deridiamo le divinità, aborriamo i costumi?
Più che i Tedeschi, maestri di tali novità, qui si divulgavano i libri
francesi della baronessa di Staël, che obbligata da Napoleone ad
esulare da Parigi, avea concepito ammirazione per gli autori
tedeschi; e dai loro critici, principalmente dallo Schlegel, aveva
dedotto il sottilizzare la critica non tanto ad appuntare gli errori, come
a presentire le bellezze, non tanto a censurare un autore di ciò che
fece, come a scorgere cosa e come avrebbe dovuto fare; e
considerando l’arte per la più alta manifestazione dello spirito, non
fermarsi alle diverse forme delle varie letterature, ma penetrare la
ragione della vita e della durata [228]. La Corinna di lei, il Genio del
cristianesimo di Châteaubriand, l’entusiasmo de’ tanti che visitavano
la riaperta Italia (p. 308), venivano a modificare i criterj poetici
antichi: Stendhal, la Morgan ed altri ripudiavano il senso comune per
affettare spirito e novità: lord Byron, elegante inglese, che volontario
esule e volontaria vittima, atti e sentimenti epicurei traeva in pompa
per l’Europa, e principalmente in Italia, e dopo cominciato coll’elegia,
finì con satira amarissima, faceva stupire di tanta realtà unita a tanta
fantasia ne’ suoi poemi, dove, anatomizzando ironicamente la
società, dipingendo le attrattive del vizio e l’eroismo degli scellerati,
sostituendo l’eccezione alla regola, esistenze tempestose, situazioni
violente, paesi diversi dai poetici, uomini audacemente ribellati al
dovere, staccavasi ricisamente dall’arcadico concetto che s’avea
della poesia, per cogliere la natura sul vero, insegnando a non
permettere nessuno degli spedienti dell’arte, ad erudirsi ed ispirarsi
in quanto fu fatto, per far poi diversamente.
Ed esso e i suddetti e i loro imitatori erano epicurei; eppure
quell’ampia concezione dell’arte, il rispetto del passato, il sentimento
dell’infinito che imparavansi alle loro scuole, disponevano i cuori alla
fede. E già tra noi menti più serie aveano tolto a considerare i misteri
della vita, e capito ch’essa non trae spiegazione se non da un
primitivo mistero e da un postumo snodamento; e rinnegarono i
miserabili trionfi dell’empietà, che dichiarate ipotesi l’ordine
provvidenziale e l’immoralità, vi avea sostituito altre ipotesi, la fatalità
e il nulla, e non lasciava all’uomo se non l’orgoglio d’un bugiardo
sapere, le irrequietudini d’un’ambizione impotente. Che se la vita è
un’espiazione e un preparamento, non le converranno la bacchica
esultanza d’Anacreonte e la sibaritica spensieratezza di Flacco, ma
una melanconia rassegnata, un ravvisare dappertutto l’ordinamento
provvidenziale, un valutare le azioni dal loro fine o particolare o
complessivo.
L’ampliarsi della democrazia facea fissare gli occhi sul popolo;
esaminarne senza superbia i costumi; senza disprezzo gli errori;
ascoltarne le leggende e le canzoni; nè tutto riferire ad un tempo, ad
un luogo, ma le consuetudini e le opinioni considerare siccome
un’efflorescenza di date circostanze, gli errori siccome viste false o
imperfette della verità, sicchè al fondo la umana specie progredisce
sempre verso un perfezionamento, che non si raggiungerà mai in
questa bassa gleba.
Da tutto ciò nuovi criterj del bello: sgradite non meno le contorsioni
dell’Alfieri, che la rosea prodigalità del Monti, e quello sfumare ogni
tinta risentita, soffogare le fantasie sotto al convenzionale, la
franchezza sotto pallide circonlocuzioni e lambiccature
cortigianesche ed accademiche; rivendicavasi la semplicità adottata
dai primi nostri scrittori; affrontavasi la parola propria, la maniera più
schietta, raccolta di mezzo ai parlanti; voleasi interrogare i sentimenti
e il linguaggio del popolo; scegliere sì la natura ma non cangiarla,
portandole quell’amore rispettoso che nasce da profonda intelligenza
delle cose; proporsi conformità fra le opere e la vita; tornar la poesia
quale era in Dante, fantasia subordinata alla ragione geometrica.
Che se la letteratura degli accademici erasi guardata come incentivo
o sfogo di passione, un modo d’accattar piaceri e denaro con opere
concepite a freddo, computate con pedantesche convenienze, e
quindi astiosa, superba, gaudente; ora studiavasi surrogarne una
d’ispirazione e meditazione, che prendesse per iscopo il buono, per
soggetto il vero, per mezzo il bello. La storia non sarebbe più
raccozzo di aneddoti, o galleria dove campeggiano solo gli eroi, i re,
i fortunati, negligendo o celiando sull’umanità preda de’ forti o
balocco degli scaltri; ma dovea contemplarsi come attuazione
contingente di provvidenziali concetti, guardando il genere umano
come un uomo solo che errando procede, e gli atti e i concetti dei
personaggi conguagliando col loro tempo e colle idee correnti.
Romanzi e novelle, anzichè frastornare con avvenimenti implicati,
descrizioni sceniche, sfarzo della vita esteriore, esaminassero
l’uomo interno e l’andare delle passioni in ciò che hanno di comune
in tutti i tempi e luoghi, e di speciale a persone, a paesi, a età.
L’eloquenza valersi della spettacolosa efficacia del momento per
condurre a conoscere il vero, volere il giusto, accettare il sagrifizio.
Divenuto riflessione attiva dell’uomo sopra se stesso, il dramma
cambiavasi essenzialmente, e doveva empirsi d’azione, ritemprarsi a
passioni meno strofinate, usar fatti, costumi, caratteri, linguaggio
consoni colla storia; a tal uopo svincolarsi dalle unità precettorie,
sconosciute ai Greci, consacrate dai Francesi per amor d’ordine,
dall’Alfieri per amor del difficile. Ciò che più cale, il teatro non doveva
traviare i giudizj e ubriacare le passioni, ma consolidare il buon
senso e dirigere gli affetti, rappresentare la società e l’individuo quali
sono, misti di bene e male, e divenire istruttiva intuizione di quella
vita che non riceve spiegazione se non dalla morte.
Il pedante faccia in letteratura come il fazioso in politica, che giudica
dietro a parole, non soffre opinioni contrarie, sentenzia non dando i
motivi, arbitrario e intollerante: per noi le regole saranno una storia di
ciò che fecero i migliori, non un ceppo per chi s’arrischia al nuovo;
vera poesia non sarà se non quella che abbia alito e ispirazione
propria, e l’ideale suo non tolga a prestanza, ma lo deduca da
costumi, cognizioni, istituzioni, convenienze nazionali: s’immedesimi
con tutti gli affetti, con tutte le solenni contingenze della vita; metta
sott’occhio l’esistenza reale, ed ecciti l’esistenza più sublime del
sentimento: sia mezzo di fede, di consolazione, di benevolenza.
Insomma verità del fondo, infinita varietà delle forme, bontà di scopo
pretendeansi dal genere che fu detto romantico in opposizione a
quello che s’intitolava classico; e che è caratterizzato interiormente
da senso più profondo del presente in relazione al passato e col
presentimento dell’avvenire; esteriormente da maggior lirica in ogni
concepimento.
Io dico quel che pensavano i migliori: ma da una parte v’aveva i
trascendenti e i vulgari, zavorra di qualunque innovamento, che
voleano mostrarsi liberi col saltabellare da pazzi: dall’altra libri,
articoli, improperj erano lanciati da quei tanti che esultano per ogni
occasione di sfogare le passioni malevole all’ombra di un partito: la
polemica, secondo è consueta, approfondiva l’abisso complesso
delle cose, rinfacciavansi ai Romantici i fantasmi, le stregherie,
l’anteporre alle decorose bellezze di Virgilio le rabbuffate di
Shakspeare; e i nomi di classico e romantico fecero dimenticare
quelli di buono e cattivo, come più tardi i nomi accidentali di
repubblica e costituzione eclissarono il fondamentale d’Italia libera.
Osteggiava la novità La Biblioteca Italiana giornale milanese, che,
prodigo d’encomj alle mediocrità striscianti, non lasciava impunito
verun lampo d’ingegno, ardimento di scrittura, integrità di carattere,
elevazione di sentimento, originalità di concetto, speranza di
giovane. Ai pochi rassegnanti a vendere la penna, il Gironi, direttore,
diceva: — Eccovi questo libro da incensare, e questo da
scompisciare»; ed essi vi metteano l’impegno della viltà; oltre quelli
che per proprio zelo s’incaricavano di denunziare opinioni e pensieri
che poi sarebbero essi chiamati a processare. Vi fu chi disse: —
Mostrerò il Biava come un Ilota ubriaco, finchè gli sia tolta la
cattedra»; vi fu chi disse a proposito dell’Ugoni: — Aprirò quei sacchi
per far vedere che contengono carbone»; vi fu chi, per impedire che
l’imperatore gli mandasse un anello destinatogli, tolse a provare che
la storia di Milano di Carlo Rosmini «era pericolosa alla religione, alla
politica, al principato». Da quest’afa di sentina tolsero esempj e
scusa que’ diffamatori, la cui bassezza si ajuta di perfidia, e che
sono operosissimi dove la libertà della parola e la franchezza de’
pensanti non la condannino al giusto vilipendio.
A tali vergogne animosi giovani opposero il Conciliatore, con cui
Pellico, De Breme, Berchet, Borsieri, Ermes Visconti, Giambattista
De Cristoforis cercavano introdurre anche qui la critica iniziatrice,
che ispirandosi al sentimento e alla verità, le teoriche di gusto
traduce in consigli di dignità e coraggio. Queste novità portavano
franchezza d’esame, onde non è meraviglia se la rivoluzione
letteraria parve rivoluzione politica, e il ribellarsi alle regole fu
denunziato per ribellione alla legge; il giornale fu proibito, e i redattori
o in carcere o in esiglio, ma la controversia continuò con armi buone
o con cattive. Milano pareva il vivajo de’ novatori, mentre nel resto
d’Italia i Classicisti, intitolavano romantico tutto ciò che fosse brutto,
disordinato, pazzo, e asserendo che i novatori proscrivessero lo
studio e l’imitazione degli ottimi. Il Pagani Cesa [229] definiva i
Romantici persone intese a sovversioni e letterarie e politiche; folla
d’avventurieri fortunati, di briganti politici, di gente d’arme, di
giovinastri, non pratici che del disordine in cui sono nati. L’Anelli da
Desenzano (-1820), in certe Cronache di Pindo grossolanamente
lepide, denticchiava quella scuola, senza giungere al vivo. Gugliuffi
(-1834) diceva ch’essi emicant fortasse aliquando, sed more nocturni
fulguris; egli che sosteneva le scienze farebbero grandi progressi
qualora adoperassero la lingua latina [230].
Più s’accannì Mario Pieri corcirese, che vagò assai per Italia, bene
accolto dappertutto e come forestiero e come letterato; in gioventù
godette la domestichezza del Cesarotti e del Pindemonti, e per loro
mezzo conobbe nel Veneto il Lorenzi, il Mazza, il Barbieri, poeta
allora e futuro oratore, l’abate Tália autore di una estetica, il padre
Ilario Casarotti arguto autore di poesie bibliche e di molti opuscoli
polemici, Francesco Negri traduttore di Alcifrone, l’abate Zamboni e
Benedetto del Bene educatissimi ingegni, il Morelli, il Filiasi, lo
Zendrini, il Cesari, e quelle coltissime adunatrici della migliore
società che furono Isabella Albrizzi e Giustina Michiel in Venezia,
Silvia Curioni Verza ed Elisabetta Mosconi in Verona, e così il fiore
delle persone di Vicenza, Belluno, Padova e Treviso dove fu
professore. Altri a Milano incontrava alla conversazione del ministro
Paradisi, altri ne’ ripetuti viaggi, poi nella lunga dimora a Firenze,
dove, oltre i suoi connazionali Mustoxidi e Foscolo, usò
famigliaramente col Capponi, col Niccolini, col Pananti,
coll’eruditissimo Zanoni, col Becchi succedutogli segretario della
Crusca, col Rosini filologo di amenissima conversazione, quanto era
nojosa quella del Micali, col Del Furia bibliotecario, rinomato per
l’abbaruffata sua contro l’argutissimo Gian Paolo Courier [231],
coll’incisore Morghen, col pittore Benvenuti, col matematico Ferroni,
col numismatico Sestini, col dottor Cioni, col Benci, col Puccini
direttore della galleria, e colle amabilmente dotte Teresa Fabbroni,
Rosellini, Lenzoni. Qual piacere non darebbe a’ curiosi, quale
istruzione agli studiosi il vedersi ricondotti a conversare con questi,
che solo in parte vivranno ne’ libri! E il Pieri, oltre prose e versi, dettò
la propria vita senza elevazione nè larghi aspetti, bensì osservazione
triviale, lineamenti vacillanti, passioni piccole, idolatria di se stesso.
Questi e tutta la consorteria del Monti poneano in canzone i
Romantici, quasi gente che insorgesse pel solo piacere d’insorgere;
e sarebbero tutt’altro che condannabili se avessero avuto la mira
d’opporsi al forestierume, e non dimenticato che, isolandoci, noi
resteremmo sempre nel falso e nel meschino. Intanto l’averlo
avvertito bastava per rendere ridicolo e vergognoso quell’inneggiare
Venere ed Imeneo [232], e imprecare Atropo e il Fato, applaudire ai
Giovi e alle Cintie, pregare salute da Igia, senno da Minerva,
giustizia da Temi: il verso di mera sensualità, gli eterni ricalchi
d’Orazio o del Petrarca, insomma le forme convenzionali perivano,
più l’idea non volendo incarnarsi in esse, nè il sentimento contenersi
entro ai vincoli antichi, o la lingua limitarsi alle parole autenticate:
l’ambiziosa fraseologia abbandonavasi ai vecchi incorreggibili o ai
novizj rassegnati a non maturare più: e se il Monti chiedea, com’è
mai possibile senza mitologia lodare un principe, celebrare un
imeneo? gli si rispondeva: — È egli necessario belare le nozze e i
natalizj de’ re e dei mecenati?»
Vero è che anche nella scuola romantica affluirono astrazioni
sentimentali e mistiche, la moralità si angustiò in picciolezze di
sacristia, all’eleganza sparuta surrogaronsi fantasie dissennate;
avemmo novelle con spettri, e leggende con magie [233] e gnomi e
silfidi e ondine, ingredienti non meno convenzionali che le ninfe e le
stelle e le cetre e le tede e l’altre fracide espressioni di concetti
indeterminati; riponendo l’innovazione nella forma delle idee anzichè
nelle idee, nella verità storica anzichè nella verità morale, si credette
fare libero il dramma collo scapestrarlo; si pindareggiarono i
medesimi affetti sebbene con parole nuove. Ma nelle campali
battaglie non si contano le migliaja di gregarj, e chi decide sono i
capitani: e di eccellenti ne ebbe la scuola nuova.
Tommaso Grossi (1791-1853), anima affettuosa, mente ordinata,
vivrà come il primo o de’ primi che le idee romantiche qui applicasse
non colla polemica ma colle due novelle della Fuggitiva in vernacolo,
e dell’Ildegonda in ottave italiane di ariostesco impasto, con
semplicità colta e affettuose particolarità. Un’altra novella tesseva
intorno alla prima crociata, quando il disprezzo che i suoi amici gli
istillarono pel Tasso lo indusse a trattare come quadro di genere un
soggetto che Torquato avea trattato alla grande. Sgraziato
pensamento, che affogò nelle generalità il bell’insieme della sua
favola domestica, convertì il flauto e la mandóla in tromba di
battaglia, e l’ispirazione affettuosa in istudj d’erudizione, dove riuscì
non meno infedele che il Tasso, benchè in maniera differente.
Gl’invidiosi, che avrebbero perseguitato il Tasso, del Tasso si valsero
per opprimere il Grossi come sacrilego, istituirono assurdi confronti,
e ne derivò una capiglia villanissima, la quale in fondo riduceasi a
dispetto ch’egli avesse trovato tremila soscrittori, cioè un guadagno
insolito ai nostri letterati. Non si taccia che altrettanti difensori ebbe;
ma egli stomacato lasciò la carriera letteraria per mettersi notaro.
Cessata allora la paura di vederlo fare qualche altra cosa grande,
cessò la malevolenza; lo ascrissero fra i grandi poeti; accettarono
con indulgente simpatia altre produzioni sue di studio non di lena,
ma rialzate da qualche pagina tutta affetto; e i censori poterono
consolarsi che non diede a metà i frutti, aspettabili dal suo limpido e
coltissimo ingegno.
Altrettanta pacatezza d’armonia e maggiore intelligenza critica ebbe
Giovanni Torti 1773-1851, che togliendo ad esame i Sepolcri di
Foscolo e la debole risposta del Pindemonti, si pose a fianco loro;
poi versificò la nuova poetica mostrando come, da qualunque siasi
tempo si desuma un tema, vogliasi dargli la verità di colorito e di
affetto. Avea cominciato del medesimo passo Giovanni Berchet; poi
invelenito dall’esiglio, contro i tiranni avventò romanze, che per
forme e per modi erano nuove all’Italia, e tutti i giovani le appresero,
e molto valsero sui sentimenti non solo, ma e sui fatti successivi.
In mezzo a questi e ad alcuni minori lombardi giganteggiava
Alessandro Manzoni. I primi suoi componimenti furono di dipinture,
d’affezioni e d’ire profane, sopra un sentiero dove il Monti avea
raggiunta tal perfezione, che, chi si accontentasse alla poesia di
impasto classico, al verso armonioso, alle grazie mitologiche non
potea che rassegnarsi a rimanergli inferiore. Il genio, che ha bisogno
di vie intentate, domandava, — Non c’è un’altra poesia oltre quella
delle forme? non c’è diamanti, oltre quelli già faccettati da’ gioiellieri
precedenti? non ha l’arte un uffizio più sublime che quello di
dilettare?»
Tali pensieri furono eccitati o svolti nel Manzoni da amici di Francia,
ai quali l’opposizione al Governo napoleonico serviva di libertà;
quando poi, dalle coloro idee volteriane ricoveratosi con piena
sincerità alle credenze e alle pratiche cattoliche, sentì il dovere di
coordinare ogni atto della vita e del pensiero all’acquisto della verità,
all’attuazione del bene, al consolidamento della religione, potè dare
saggi d’una poesia sobria, che subordina la frase al concetto, che gli
abbellimenti deduce soltanto dall’essenza del soggetto, che
sovrattutto si nutre di pensieri elevati e santi, e si crede un
magistero, un apostolato. La semplice originalità degli Inni, quella
sublimità di concetti espressa colla parola più ingenua, li fece
passare inosservatissimi: il Carmagnola e l’Adelchi soffersero i
vilipendi de’ giornali e l’indifferenza del pubblico, che solo al
comparire del Cinque maggio, ode inferiore alle altre, parve
accorgersi di possedere un sommo.
Lontano dalla felicissima agevolezza del Monti, egli stenta ciascuna
strofa, incontentabilissimo; ma l’uno ha la fluidità de’ Cinquecentisti,
l’altro la concisione tanto necessaria nella lirica, e quel contesto virile
che non s’occupa de’ fioretti; l’uno dipinge più che non pensi, l’altro
pensa più che non dipinga; nell’uno predominando il dono della
fantasia, nell’altro la facoltà del riflettere, che è la coscienza
dell’ispirazione; onde quello guarda le idee sotto un aspetto solo,
questo vuol presentarle nella loro interezza di vero e di falso, l’uno
lascia meravigliati, l’altro soddisfatti, e più soddisfatti i forti, che
vedendo quelle maniere sì vive e profonde, avvertono meno al ben
detto, che al ben pensato. Monti, il più insigne fra gl’improvvisatori,
cerca il bello dovunque creda trovarlo, da Omero come da Ossian,
ma senza connessione col buono e col vero; le ipotiposi, le apostrofi,
le circonlocuzioni, le intervenzioni d’ombre o di numi ripete continuo,
perchè non costa fatica l’aleggiare colla fantasia mettendo da banda
il giudizio; la sonorità del verso e l’onda della frase surroga al
sentimento e al concetto, le reminiscenze classiche all’emozione
personale; crede che la poesia non abbia mestieri d’essere giusta,
purchè ardente e passionata, donde l’enfasi e l’alta persuasione di
sè, e la continua esagerazione, e il secondare l’impressione
istantanea, e perciò frequente mutarsi. Manzoni vuol richiamare ogni
asserto al cimento del giudizio, escludendo il declamatorio,
deponendo nel lettore il germe di idee che sviluppano l’intelligenza e
la volontà: onde l’uno è puramente poeta, e in ciò stanno la sua
vocazione, la sua gloria, la sua scusa; l’altro è considerato piuttosto
come argomentatore da quelli, che non avvertono quanto movimento
lirico esondi nella Pentecoste o nella Morte d’Ermengarda, e come la
squisita verità gli detti di quegli accenti che risvegliano un’eco in tutti
i cuori. Adunque del Monti è carattere il trascendere, sia che lodi, sia
che imprechi; del Manzoni la mansuetudine, fin quando intima allo
straniero di «strappare le tende da una terra che patria non gli è», e
che Iddio non gli disse: «Va, raccogli ove arato non hai; spiega
l’ugne, l’Italia ti do». Il Monti si erige signore dell’opinione, consigliero
di re e di nazioni; l’altro dubita sempre di se stesso: quello non ha
proposito più elevato che d’insegnare e praticare l’arte, laonde i
fortunati che se ne divisero il mantello, fecero di belle cose; i seguaci
di Manzoni cercarono piuttosto le buone: quelli l’ideale, questi il
reale. Ambidue tentarono il teatro; e Monti cogli artifizj antichi
riscosse applausi; all’altro venne meno l’abilità, che è tanto diversa
dal raziocinio. Anche Manzoni sostenne polemiche; ma invece della
critica provocatrice, più simile a schermaglia di partito che a
discussione di sistema, offerse esempio di quella che, calma nella
certezza dell’esito, richiede cuor retto, criterio sicuro e buona
coscienza. Nè egli lottò per propria difesa o per un angusto
patriotismo, ma tutte le volte ebbe l’arte di elevare il punto di vista, e
trasformare sin la disputa letteraria in lezione morale.
La servilità alla legge rigorosa quanto capricciosa delle unità di
tempo e luogo, i soliloquj, i confidenti, i lunghi racconti, la dignità
inalterabile che ripudia le famigliarità così allettanti nel dramma
greco, le espressioni altrettanto forbite nel principe come nel servo,
erano difetti della tragedia alla francese; che se i grandi li
redimevano con bellezze insigni, è natura de’ pedissequi l’esagerare
i difetti; donde una nojosa eleganza, perifrasi per aborrimento al
nome proprio, esilità di idee mal rimpolpata con fronzoli retorici, e
frasi raggiranti entro un circolo di sensazioni fittizie e prevedute, in
dialoghi tanto poetici, da non ritrarre la natura, tanto vaghi da non
rappresentare un tempo e un luogo determinato; fatte insomma
unicamente in riguardo de’ lettori o degli spettatori. A ciò richiedevasi
studio anzi che genio, chi non vi si rassegnò risalse ai Greci,
inimitabili per la naturalezza come inimitabile per la fatica era l’Alfieri:
ma in generale la tragedia perseverò ad essere un’alternativa di
parole non di azione, declamatoria non veritiera.
Ugo Foscolo accostò più di tutti il grande Astigiano per dignità e
altezza di sentenze; ma la realtà della storia nè della passione non
raggiunse mai, benchè nella Riciarda esprimesse il concetto italico e
il gemito sulle nostre divisioni. L’Arminio d’Ippolito Pindemonti
elevasi per sentimento e stile: eppure le incolte tragedie di Giovanni
suo fratello sovrastano per abilità scenica; per la quale ebbe
applausi anche il duca di Ventignano. Belle speranze destò Silvio
Pellico colla Francesca da Rimini, per quanto debole. G. B. Niccolini
di Firenze, erede dell’ira ghibellina di Dante, entrò sull’orme dei
Greci fino a ritentare i loro soggetti; dappoi ne assunse di moderni,
quali la Rosmunda, l’Antonio Foscarini [234], il Giovanni da Procida, o
allusivi a moderni, come il Nabucco e l’Arnaldo. Era un frutto della
inclinazione morale introdottasi nella letteratura; e ne ottenne
ovazioni da quella pubblica opinione, che egli mostrò sempre
disprezzare; ma quando la vide ubriacarsi nel 48, quell’austero
giudice apparve abbagliato dai vorticosi movimenti.
Per riuscire nella tragedia storica non basta la sceneggiatura e il
vestire secondo le nazioni e le età fantocci di nome eroico, non
basta conoscere qualche accidente, ma vuolsi abbracciare intera
l’età ove si collocano gli attori; nè ciò si ottiene che con
pazientissimo studio. Così fece Manzoni. I moralisti rigorosi
riprovarono sempre il teatro, giacchè lo spettacolo delle passioni
lottanti o lo svolgimento di una, incitano quelle dello spettatore; se
non ne ispirano di criminose, vi predispongono; se non danno amore
ed odio, vi aprono il cuore. Ma poichè il teatro sempre più invade la
società, alcuni studiarono se fosse possibile ridurlo tale che non
ecciti gli scrupoli d’un padre, d’un marito; che accheti e diriga,
anzichè sopreccitare e spingere le passioni. Tale scopo si prefisse
Manzoni come nel romanzo così nei drammi; presentando nel
Carmagnola l’uomo perseguitato ma non da feroci invidie, sdegnato
ma non con violenza, e consolando colle domestiche affezioni l’ora
fatale; nell’Adelchi lo spettacolo d’un popolo dominatore vinto da un
altro che alla sua volta si fa dominatore d’un vulgo innominato;
prepotenze contro prepotenze, fra cui trovano luogo l’affanno di
patimenti personali e la generosa proclamazione della giustizia, e
dove la lotta umana finisce nella conciliazione religiosa, quando
nell’anima sottentra il sentimento d’una felicità superna e inalterabile,
rassicurata che sia contro la distruzione della sua terrestre
individualità. Il secolo, avvezzo agli stimolanti e bisognoso di
cacciare la noja, domanda emozioni, e trova più poetica la procella
che non i murazzi da cui è frenata: ed è questa la sola parte dove il
nostro o non fu inteso o non seguìto.
Genere coevo delle lingue nuove, il romanzo aveva anche fra noi
trasformato le imprese di Carlo Magno e de’ suoi paladini o della
Tavola rotonda, e di Amadigi e di Guerrino Meschino e de’ Reali di
Francia, ben tosto dimentico per la carnevalesca esultanza dei
poemi romanzeschi: altri nel Seicento, sempre ad imitazione di
Francia, confezionarono romanzi scipiti: nel secolo passato furono
tradotti i tanti francesi e imitati con isguajato abbandono, e nè
tampoco scintillarono di quella luce momentanea che sembra
privilegio d’un genere, il cui principale intento è piacere, e perciò
accarezzare passioni e abitudini che passano presto, e con esse il
libro. Ma il Don Chisciotte, il Robinson, il Gil Blas, la Pamela, il Tom
Jones, il Paolo e Virginia, la Nuova Eloisa attestano che possono
farsi opere durevoli ed efficaci sulla società anche in questo genere,
atto a tutte le passioni del cuore, ai capricci dello spirito, alle
ispirazioni serie e beffarde.
Tale fu ripigliato il romanzo nell’età nostra; e del Werter di Göthe,
che ebbe la trista gloria di spingere molti al suicidio, l’imitazione fatta
da Foscolo acquistò voga quasi opera originale, e piacque il
sentimento di nazione e di libertà ch’egli intarsiò al concetto
tedesco [235]. Sulle traccie del Barthélemy, Luigi Lamberti descrisse i
viaggi d’Elena, Ambrogio e Levati i viaggi del Petrarca, aridi e
pesanti. Altri sentirono l’effetto della Corinna, del Pienato, dell’Atala;
ma viepiù i romanzi poetici di Byron avvezzarono agli affetti
smisurati, alle situazioni eccezionali, ai caratteri sforzati, alle evidenti
descrizioni, in opposizione colle stereotipie e colle languidezze degli
antichi. A quelli e ad altri inglesi e al D’Arlincourt francese s’ispirò
Davide Bertolotti, i cui romanzetti erano, verso il 1820, la più ambita
fra le letture leggiere. Intanto d’Inghilterra ci arrivavano i romanzi di
Walter Scott, dove si descrive una data età o un fatto o un carattere
storico, appagando così due passioni del nostro tempo, l’indagine
erudita e l’attività romanzesca. Non analizza egli il cuore, non si
eleva ardito sull’immaginativa, ma nell’inesauribile sua fecondità
dipinge sensibilmente, dialoga con estrema verità, interessa
artifiziosamente, e schivando le caricature troppo consuete in questo
genere, procede naturale, limpidissimo, ma alla ventura, verso uno
scioglimento che non premeditò.
Di là il Manzoni derivò evidentemente il suo romanzo, ma
applicandovi quell’arte cristiana, che medita sull’uomo interno e
segue gli andirivieni d’una passione dal nascere suo fino quando
trionfa o soccombe. Walter Scott fece cinquanta romanzi, egli uno;
l’Inglese tutto colori esterni, il nostro vita intima; quello per dipingere
e divertire, questo per far pensare e sentire. Già nelle tragedie
Manzoni avea mostrato come della storia non facesse un’occasione
o un’allusione, pigliandone a prestanza un nome o un fatto per
gittarlo in un componimento di fantasia. Ora quella indagine
scrupolosa che ridesta i tempi e i loro sentimenti spinse egli fino alle
minime particolarità, esattissimo anche quando non è vero. La
potenza sua satirica, che gli dettò il primo componimento, e che poi
fu virtuosamente temperata dalla mansuetudine, trapela grandissima
dal romanzo; e singolarmente nella dipintura de’ caratteri, ciascuno
de’ quali vive innanzi a noi come un’antica conoscenza, e diviene un
tipo; perocchè, quivi come nelle poesie, ci offre sempre un’immagine
netta e reale che più non si dimentica. Prima che l’ammirazione
diventasse culto, noi divisammo lungamente dei meriti dei Promessi
Sposi [236], e di quel fare così dabbene fino nell’ironia, così civile
nella satira, così semplice nella sublimità, per cui divenne il libro
della nazione.
Da Dante in giù la lingua nostra, se molto cambiò quanto a
immaginazione e gusto, rimase identica quanto al fondo; sicchè,
eccettuato il gergo pedantesco d’alcuni Quattrocentisti, i libri
s’intendono correntemente, a differenza del tedesco prima di
Lessing, e del francese di cui nel 1650 Pellisson diceva: Nos auteurs
les plus élégans et les plus polis deviennent barbares en peu
d’années. Eppure si continuò a disputare qual nome attribuirle, quali
regole seguire nella scelta e disposizione delle parole, a quale
canone appigliarsi ne’ dubbj. Alla lingua parlata? all’uso degli
scrittori? e de’ soli scrittori del Trecento, o anche de’ Cinquecentisti,
o fin de’ moderni? La scelta competerà a ciascuno, o bisognerà
attenersi a quella fatta dal dizionario? O dovrà la lingua essere
progressiva, ed arricchirsi di quanto le offrono l’immaginazione di
ciascun scrittore, i dialetti di ciascun paese e l’importazione
forestiera? Quest’ultima opinione era prevalsa nel secolo passato,
scrivendosi come si parlava, senza riflettere che in Italia soli i
Toscani e alquanti Romani parlano una lingua scrivibile, e che la
mancanza di un centro politico o scientifico toglie di riportarci
effettivamente all’uso di questo: laonde ciascuno si sarebbe valso o
delle voci somministrategli dal proprio dialetto ridotte a desinenza
toscana, o dalle scritture, le quali, destituite di norme fisse, e
dipendendo dall’abilità o dal capriccio individuale, mancavano
d’uniformità e durevolezza.
Per vero, qualora si tratti d’esprimere generalità di falli o di
sentimenti, la lingua letteraria può bastare, giacchè tutti i paesi
convengono in un gran numero, anzi nel massimo numero delle
parole. Ma occorrano materie famigliari o tecniche, e quella
precisione di termini che è imposta dal bisogno d’idee precise;
vogliasi non solo ripetere sentimenti e idee comuni, ma darvi
carattere e individualità, come è proprio degli intelletti originali; allora
rampollano le difficoltà e il bisogno di regole indefettibili. La vanitosa
rozzezza in cui era caduta la lingua nel Seicento, fu corretta nel
secolo seguente, ma per cadere in una leziosa ricerca di ornati
posticci, di vocaboli mozzi e peregrini emistichj, eleganzuccie,
attortigliate rinzeppature e ridondanze, bagliore di frasi, cadenze
sonore, periodo oratorio uniforme e nojoso; ammanierandosi
insomma da accademia e da collegio, come avveniva della poesia, e
pretendendo al vacillante pensiero dare per rinfianco vanità di forme.
Alcuni professavansi devoti alla lingua pura, ma per tale
considerando la sola scritta dai classici; e in tale senso lavorarono il
Corticelli, il Vannetti, il Bandiera. Quale scandalo non eccitò a Milano
un Branda col preconizzare il dialetto toscano! Di rimpallo la lingua
dei libri era proclamata dai liberali, sprezzatovi delle stitichezze
grammaticali e del vanume retorico: ma poichè i libri che correano
erano francesi di idee e di forme, queste irrompevano a pieno
sbocco, e deturparono anche i migliori, come il Verri, il Beccaria, il
Filangeri, il Denina. L’imbarbarimento della lingua non venne dunque
dalla conquista francese, bensì da accidia innazionale; volle anzi
ridurla a teoriche l’abate Cesarotti (t. xii, p. 250), pretendendo
l’italiano abbia ringalluzzarsi continuamente colle ricchezze
forestiere; alla quale dottrina consentaneo, s’imbratta di francesismi
anche dove affatto inutili. Lo combattè il Napione [237]: ma allora
l’invasione francese infistoliva questi morbi; e i giornali e gli atti e i
trattati collo stomachevole francesume esprimono l’invalsa gracilità
del pensiero.
Di sotto a questa rimbalzava il sentimento nazionale; e dacchè fu
stabilita la repubblica italiana, con Governo e magistrati nostrali, per
protesta contro il predominio francese, e perchè, avendo cose da
dire, bisognava pensare al come dirle, si favorì lo studio della lingua.
Fu allora ordinata un’edizione dei classici italiani, concepita
largamente, meschinamente eseguita; con irrazionale e imitatrice
scelta degli autori e dei testi, e inezia di prefazioni e note. Pure
l’impresa buttò in giro molti autori, peregrini dalle biblioteche; e se
non altro, all’uscire di ciascun volume, ne’ circoli e sulle gazzette
biascicavansi i nomi dimenticati del Firenzuola, del Cennino, del
Serdonati, del Varchi.
Allora fu proposto dall’Accademia italiana di «determinare lo stato
presente della lingua italiana e specialmente toscana, indicare le
cause che portare la possono a decadenza, e i mezzi per impedirla».
Toccò il premio al padre Antonio Cesari veronese (1828), che vi
combattè ad oltranza il Cesarotti, sebbene con fragili armi. Il Cesari,
innamorato de’ Trecentisti nostri, molti ne ristampò con migliorate
lezioni, e sempre intese a correggere la gonfiezza, l’affettazione, il
barbarismo, l’improprietà: ma come avviene nelle riazioni, de’
classici ne portò il culto all’idolatria, considerando oro schietto tutto
quello che apparteneva al Trecento, imitabile anche il Cinquecento
in quanto a quello si attenne; e, quasi si trattasse di testi rivelati, non
si credette in diritto di cernire fra le scritture, nè dubitò che una parte
fosse antiquata; l’aveano detto essi, dunque era buono; quanto alla
possibilità di secondare con voci e frasi loro il progresso delle
scienze moderne, egli accettava la sfida di tradurre l’Enciclopedia in
italiano pretto.
Con tali persuasioni tolse a ristampare il Vocabolario della Crusca,
aggiungendo un’infinità di termini e frasi ripescate ne’ classici. Il gran
numero di quelli che poi seguitarono quello spigolamento convince
che non richiede se non pazienza; ma il Cesari e i suoi collaboratori
vi buttarono col vaglio rancidumi, storpiamenti, errori che gli
accademici della Crusca aveano saviamente tralasciati, e non
all’intento che il Vocabolario giovasse agli scriventi attuali, ma per
impinguarlo, o al più perchè spiegasse gli autori antichi.
L’opera si prestava facilmente al riso, come chi si veste colle giubbe
dei nonni; e il Monti nel Poligrafo spassò il glorioso italo regno alle
spalle del buon prete. Eppure il Cesari in fatto di lingua potea
menare a scuola il Monti; e assai scritture lasciò di cara limpidezza,
avvicinantisi alla semplicità de’ Trecentisti, sebbene nessuna vada
netta da arcaismi e dal vezzo retorico d’incastrare una frase per
mostrare che la si sapeva [238]. Come i campi di biada dalle
gramigne, così vuolsi tenere mondata la lingua, mediante
l’intervenzione emendatrice dello scrittore; e all’arcaismo come
correttivo dell’imbarbarimento moderno ricorsero alcuni: ma questo
purismo astratto dava in fallo esagerando; e gli sbagli proprj del
Cesari o de’ suoi, dal bel mondo che ama generalizzare furono
imputati alla Crusca.
Nell’universale sovvertimento anche quest’accademia era stata
scossa e riformata [239], ed assegnato da Napoleone un annuo
premio di lire diecimila all’opera che essa dichiarerebbe più
italianamente scritta. Carlo Botta, che come piemontese mancava
dell’uso pratico, avea descritto la fondazione dell’indipendenza
americana con voci antiquate, alcune delle quali frantese egli stesso,
altre fu duopo dichiarare al fine del volume. Se prima condizione
d’un libro è l’essere intelligibile, non potea la Crusca approvare
questo musaico: ma ecco il bel mondo farle colpa di quello che era
giusta illazione dei dogmi sul progresso della lingua, da lei professati
non solo coll’aggregarsi i migliori scrittori della nazione, ma
coll’attribuire autorità di testo a sempre nuovi, ogni qualvolta
ristampò il Vocabolario.
Chi diviserà le vicende letterarie di quel tempo, avrà ad estendersi
sulle contese nate in proposito. Perocchè il premio fu diviso tra il
Micali per l’Italia avanti i Romani, il Niccolini per la Polissena, il
Rosini per le Nozze di Giove e Latona. I letterati del regno d’Italia
alzarono le grida contro il municipalismo di premiare soli toscani,
tacendo che nessun’opera lombarda si era presentata al concorso; e
cominciarono di qui le ire, che, quietato il turbine di guerra, vennero
a sfogarsi nella Proposta di aggiunte e correzioni al Vocabolario
della Crusca, intrapresa a Milano dal Monti. In questo convenivano
tutti gli elementi di felice riuscita; era cresciuto in paese ove il buon
italiano corre per le vie; avea fatto tesoro delle migliori maniere de’
classici; deliziavasi di Virgilio; cuculiando il Cesari come arcaico,
pareva dar ragione a chi la lingua scritta vuole avvicinare alla
parlata; laonde, affidatosi allo scrivere naturale, spiegò nella prosa
quella ricchezza ed eleganza che nella poesia, con capresterie tutte
vive rese ameno un trattato pedantesco, e Italia potè rallegrarsi
d’avere un altro insigne prosatore, merito assai più raro che quello di
buon poeta. Ma egli confondeva un’accademia, spesso fallibile, con
la lingua stessa; gli scrittori coi parlanti; affollava arguzie in luogo
d’argomenti; e soffiando nelle invidie municipali, resuscitava antiche
e irresolubili quistioni. Gli errori che apponeva alla Crusca, erano in
gran parte stati avvertiti dall’Ottonielli, dal Tassoni, da altri anche
membri dell’Accademia; molti risultavano da miglior lezione de’
classici e dal buon senso; non pochi riduceansi a quelle fisicherie,
che trova in qualunque libro chi si proponga unicamente di
censurarlo. Quanto alla teoria, se una può dedursene dal balzellante
raziocinio e dalle incoerenti applicazioni, esso preconizzava la lingua
cortigiana, scelta, letteraria, o comunque la denominino; che
insomma non conosce nè tempo nè luogo determinato, ma è il
meglio di quello che scrissero i buoni autori in tutta Italia.
La Proposta divenne arringo di elucubrazioni su tal proposito, molti
aspirando alla gloria d’associare il loro nome a quello del poeta più
lodato in Italia, molti a combatterlo. Giulio Perticari, genero di lui, con
una gravezza che parve maestà, e un accozzamento d’autorità che
simulava erudizione, rinfiancò le teorie del Napione, ripetè il
paradosso del Renouard che il nostro derivi dall’idioma della
Linguadoca ed entrambi da un idioma comune uscito dal
corrompersi del latino; per disgradare la Toscana sostenne che
l’italiano siasi parlato in Sicilia prima che colà, e all’uopo ne’ cumulati
esempj alterava il provenzale e l’antico siculo, per mostrarli conformi
al buon toscano; e ne conchiuse che nel Trecento scriveasi bene
dappertutto, e perciò il buon vulgare s’ha a dedurre dagli scrittori
d’ogni paese.
Ma questi scrittori si valsero forse dei dialetti natìi? o non cercarono
imitare il toscano? ed egli stesso non li considera migliori quanto più
s’avvicinano ai Toscani che scriveano come parlavano?
Quei che leggono solo per disannojarsi, e danno ragione all’ultimo
che parla o parla meglio, decretarono alla Proposta gli onori del
trionfo; trionfo che si riduceva a dichiarare spesso fallace, spesso
ignorante la Crusca. Ma alle teorie, ed ancor più alle applicazioni di
quella si opposero Niccolini, Rosini, Capponi, Biamonti, Urbano
Lampredi, Michele Colombo, il Montani, il Tommaseo; e ne originò
una guerra, dibattuta con vivacità, con passione, con pazienza, con
ingiurie, insomma con tutto fuorchè con quella filosofia che eleva le
quistioni ad un’altezza, nella cui prospettiva si smarriscono le
particolarità.
Quando il problema fu bene avviluppato, si disse risolto: ma non che
terminare, si era invelenita la quistione della lingua; e l’esempio del
Monti valse di scusa ad acrimonie inurbane e a quelle personalità da
piazza, che fanno ridere la plebaglia e velarsi il buon senso. Sul
modello del Monti ripigliò Giovanni Gherardini milanese il più vasto e
paziente esame che mai si facesse della Crusca; poi con aggiunte,
voluminose quanto il Vocabolario stesso, convinse che questo pozzo
dei testi è inesauribile. Il quale Vocabolario, quando appunto era
bersaglio a tante beffe, più volte si ristampò con variamenti,
correzioni, aggiunte; accompagnato da altri speciali d’alcun’arte, o
domestici, o di sinonimi; dove rimarranno memorabili, dopo i tentativi
del Grassi e del Romani, il Dizionario dei sinonimi del Tommaseo,
perchè contiene molto di più che mera grammatica, e il Prontuario
del Carena, perchè francamente si rivolse alla lingua parlata a
Firenze. Il Nannucci e il Galvani si affissero alle derivazioni
provenzali.
Altri intanto stillava alcune parti della grammatica; e il Puoti, il
Parenti, il Fornaciari, il Bolza, il Betti, il Mastrofini, l’epigrafista Muzzi,
lo Zaccari, l’Ambrosoli, il Franscini, il Bellisomi davano teoriche o
schieravano esempj: ma fa meraviglia l’incertezza delle loro regole,
le quali del resto non varrebbero che per una sintassi pallida e
astratta: nessuno ancora ci esibì una grammatica compiuta, nè
tampoco generalmente accettata sia per concetto filosofico, sia per
pratica applicazione. Alcuni rivolsero alle etimologie un’erudizione
più estesa, non più concludente, talchè vengono considerate nulla
meglio che esercizio e trastullo [240]. Intanto si rimane ancora indecisi
quali siano coloro che scrivono bene. L’Accademia della Crusca
sceglie i suoi membri in un modo che sembra fatto espresso per
isgarrare ogni criterio; scrittori stenti, retorici, arcaici collegando ad
altri limpidi, vivaci, toscani; badando all’impiego, alla dignità,
all’opinione; onorando della sua fraternità quegli appunto che
l’osteggiano. D’altra parte i premj suoi toccarono ad opere o di
nessun merito letterario come il Micali, o per simpatie come il Botta.

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Pastoral Care for the Incarcerated:

Hope Deferred, Humanity Diminished?

Pastoral Care for the

ISBN 978-3-031-13271-1 ISBN 978-3-031-13272-8 (eBook)

I am grateful for the pastoral forbearance of Reverend Debra Dyson

1 Introduction: Where and How to Start 1

Part I Defining the Issue 19

2 Modern Mass Incarceration: Can it Be Humanised? 21

Part II Describing the Context 71

4 Entering Lived Experience: From Theory to Reality 73

5 Tales From the Shadow of Despair103

Part III Reflecting on Practice 139

6 Seeking Humanity and Hope141

7 A Pastoral Response169

Part IV Acting Compassionately 197

8 Custodial Compassion: A Pastoral Paradox199

Appendix: Remaining Found Poems249

Fig. 1.1 The pastoral cycle (Adapted—author’s design) 6

Introduction: Where and How to Start

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

lived experience of those in my care and custody so as to better serve

education, training and resettlement opportunities to over a thousand

approach to my theological subject (ecclesiology) which I studied in a par-

Practical Theology and the Pastoral Cycle

hermeneutical circle of ideological critique and theological reflection

Fig. 1.1 The pastoral

I was confident I had such a passion and a heuristic overarching

Methods in Practical Theology

The Living Human Document

human subject in theology, in contrast to the abstract and systematic forms

Constructive Narrative Theology

Canonical Narrative Theology

In Chap. 7, I have chosen ‘the Good Shepherd’ as a narrative theme

matters. But this is done in the service of formulating a pastoral response

people, consisting of some who have pre-existing vulnerabilities, should

I propose is that of humane relationship-based regard. I was conscious

specific texture of indeterminately sentenced lives. Finally, this approach

Fig. 1.2 Life as a Film movie style poster—ID17

Found Poem: The Illusion of Time (ID17)

didn’t have nobody

———. 2017. Humanising Incarceration: A Prison Chaplain’s Response to ‘a

Thompson, Judith, Stephen Pattison, and Ross Thompson. 2008. The

Defining the Issue

Modern Mass Incarceration: Can it

We carry within us the power to bless and to redeem…We were the

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 21

The Purpose of Incarceration: A Swinging Pendulum

1. Retribution: Wrongdoing should be punished according to the

3. Deterrence: Sentences should have enough punitive weight to deter

Incarceration: Modern and Mass

be done covertly, thereby leaving them unsure of who would be being

A House of Penance: The Penitentiary

The Industrialisation of Carceral Space

1. The management of prison establishments

The privatisation of some prison provision has added to the discomfort

The making of money from the punishment of crime is nothing new. As

Prison Growth: The Race to Incarcerate

Gunsaulus-Musick 2017, 22ff.). This was in response to what prison

of the adults released from custody (48%) are reconvicted of another

African American but, according to the Texas Defender Service, when an

Early in the present century in the UK, a number of factors, varying

The less socio-economically advantaged a person is, the more likely

amongst described themselves as the ‘black sheep’ of their otherwise law-­

1 Introduction: Where and How to Start 1

Part I Defining the Issue 19

2 Modern Mass Incarceration: Can it Be Humanised? 21

Part II Describing the Context 71

4 Entering Lived Experience: From Theory to Reality 73

5 Tales From the Shadow of Despair103

Part III Reflecting on Practice 139

6 Seeking Humanity and Hope141

7 A Pastoral Response169

Part IV Acting Compassionately 197

8 Custodial Compassion: A Pastoral Paradox199

Appendix: Remaining Found Poems249

Fig. 1.1 The pastoral cycle (Adapted—author’s design) 6

amongst described themselves as the ‘black sheep’ of their otherwise law-