what really surprised them was the fact that the Romans did not, by and large,
use detention as a punishment. Roman prisons were for holding people before trial or before execution. In fact, much the same
was true in Europe until the eighteenth century, when punishment-by-detention became the norm.
I resisted the temptation to say to them what I really thought – that in two thousand years’ time our contemporary obsession
with incarceration will seem as weird to future historians as the gladiatorial games now seem to us. Sure, they will observe,
some criminals presented a real danger to the rest of the population. But what on earth drove a sophisticated society to bang
up even those who presented no physical danger at all, in an over-crowded community of other criminals – out of which some
75% emerged (surprise, surprise) to commit another crime within two years? How could they not have seen that it was a mechanism
for the repetition (not prevention) of crime, and an extremely costly one at that? It takes considerably more than the average
annual wage to keep a prisoner inside for a year.
This isn’t primarily the fault of those who work in prisons. The people I have met staffing education departments are doing
a heroic job in trying to give some of their charges a leg up, and out of crime. But they are terribly under-resourced, and
the frequent moving of prisoners from one gaol to another makes any continuity of instruction really hard. In general, the
prison service seems to be doing its best, as you sense if you look at the literature they issue for prisoners and others
– even if the rhetoric occasionally misfires. (I thought that the phrase ‘in-cell television is being gradually introduced
as an earnable privilege, but it may not be available in your prison’ sounded uncomfortably like one of those airline notices
‘we apologise if your first choice of meal is not available ...’)
Things will only change when the public and the tabloid press have been convinced that incarceration is not the answer. And
that will take a Home Secretary with more muscle and vision than any we have had for decades.
What did the Romans wear under their togas?
27 October 2006
If you teach at Oxford or Cambridge, you get used to the regular bursts of outrage about ‘the Oxbridge interview’. I posted
a few months back about the myth that we are all a load of upper-class twits who use the interview to pick students just like
ourselves. Wrong on both counts.
Just recently a different variant was doing the rounds: the one about all those weird, donnish and – this is the subtext –
UNFAIR questions we ask at the interviews. Just to make sure the poor squirming candidate never feels at ease. A whole list
of them were reeled off in the press and even on the Today programme. ‘What percentage of the world’s water is contained in a cow?’ (Veterinary Medicine, Cambridge). ‘Are you cool?
(Philosophy, Politics and Economics, Oxford). ‘Why can’t you light a candle in a spaceship? (Physics, Oxford). The Evening Standard even dredged up some celebs to have a go at answering them – not very well.
What did not get headlined was the fact that the survey that had brought all these questions to light had been commissioned,
and then hyped, by a company which specialises in helping potential students prepare for their Oxbridge interview – for a
fee. There’s nothing like a bit of media panic to send frightened kids (and their over-anxious parents) rushing off with their
cheque books to get some ‘specialist’ advice.
My thoughts on this will, I hope, be reassuring. More than that, they are free.
The first thing that any student going to an interview needs to remember is that we are wanting to let people in, not keep
them out. Of course, it may not feel like that to the kid on the receiving end. And, of course, we have many more applicants
than there are places. Not
use detention as a punishment. Roman prisons were for holding people before trial or before execution. In fact, much the same
was true in Europe until the eighteenth century, when punishment-by-detention became the norm.
I resisted the temptation to say to them what I really thought – that in two thousand years’ time our contemporary obsession
with incarceration will seem as weird to future historians as the gladiatorial games now seem to us. Sure, they will observe,
some criminals presented a real danger to the rest of the population. But what on earth drove a sophisticated society to bang
up even those who presented no physical danger at all, in an over-crowded community of other criminals – out of which some
75% emerged (surprise, surprise) to commit another crime within two years? How could they not have seen that it was a mechanism
for the repetition (not prevention) of crime, and an extremely costly one at that? It takes considerably more than the average
annual wage to keep a prisoner inside for a year.
This isn’t primarily the fault of those who work in prisons. The people I have met staffing education departments are doing
a heroic job in trying to give some of their charges a leg up, and out of crime. But they are terribly under-resourced, and
the frequent moving of prisoners from one gaol to another makes any continuity of instruction really hard. In general, the
prison service seems to be doing its best, as you sense if you look at the literature they issue for prisoners and others
– even if the rhetoric occasionally misfires. (I thought that the phrase ‘in-cell television is being gradually introduced
as an earnable privilege, but it may not be available in your prison’ sounded uncomfortably like one of those airline notices
‘we apologise if your first choice of meal is not available ...’)
Things will only change when the public and the tabloid press have been convinced that incarceration is not the answer. And
that will take a Home Secretary with more muscle and vision than any we have had for decades.
What did the Romans wear under their togas?
27 October 2006
If you teach at Oxford or Cambridge, you get used to the regular bursts of outrage about ‘the Oxbridge interview’. I posted
a few months back about the myth that we are all a load of upper-class twits who use the interview to pick students just like
ourselves. Wrong on both counts.
Just recently a different variant was doing the rounds: the one about all those weird, donnish and – this is the subtext –
UNFAIR questions we ask at the interviews. Just to make sure the poor squirming candidate never feels at ease. A whole list
of them were reeled off in the press and even on the Today programme. ‘What percentage of the world’s water is contained in a cow?’ (Veterinary Medicine, Cambridge). ‘Are you cool?
(Philosophy, Politics and Economics, Oxford). ‘Why can’t you light a candle in a spaceship? (Physics, Oxford). The Evening Standard even dredged up some celebs to have a go at answering them – not very well.
What did not get headlined was the fact that the survey that had brought all these questions to light had been commissioned,
and then hyped, by a company which specialises in helping potential students prepare for their Oxbridge interview – for a
fee. There’s nothing like a bit of media panic to send frightened kids (and their over-anxious parents) rushing off with their
cheque books to get some ‘specialist’ advice.
My thoughts on this will, I hope, be reassuring. More than that, they are free.
The first thing that any student going to an interview needs to remember is that we are wanting to let people in, not keep
them out. Of course, it may not feel like that to the kid on the receiving end. And, of course, we have many more applicants
than there are places. Not
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