Beyond the prison walls: Some thoughts on prisoner ‘resettlement’ in England and Wales

Introduction

Resettlement has assumed a higher profile in contemporary penal policy in England and Wales (Her Majesty’s Inspectorates of Prisons and Probation [HMIPP], 2001; Home Office, 1998, 2004a, 2004b; House of Commons, 2004; Maguire and Raynor, 2006; Ministry of Justice, 2010a; Social Exclusion Unit [SEU], 2002). As part of their overall resettlement strategy, HM Prison Service has identified seven pathways or factors to address reoffending (now increased to nine, following the Corston Report (Corston, 2007)). Additionally, pathfinder resettlement projects were created to implement and evaluate ‘through the prison gate’ initiatives for offenders ¹ serving terms of less than 12 months (HMIPP, 2001; Lewis et al., 2007). ‘Resettlement’ has superseded throughcare and aftercare and, together with the associated concepts of re-entry and reintegration (Maruna and LeBel, 2002; Maruna et al., 2004), has emerged as a major theme in the discourse on the community transitions of post-release offenders. However, what ‘resettlement’ means is unclear (Hedderman, 2007; Raynor, 2007). To the Prison Service (Ministry of Justice, 2011b: 1), resettlement refers to the ‘assistance and support’, pre- and post-release, from statutory and non-statutory agencies to enable ex-prisoners and their families to ‘prepare for life after prison … return to normal life … and cope … without re-offending’ – to access accommodation, welfare benefits, education and training, gain employment and address personal problems. ² For McNeill (2004), there is the broader issue of social reintegration and acceptance. But what does ‘reintegration’ signify, and resettlement too, when many offenders have never felt either ‘integrated’ or ‘settled’ (Ramsbotham, 2003)? Imprisonment in such cases can be both an extension and confirmation of long-experienced marginalized status (SEU, 2002).

According to Maruna et al. (2004), there is no coherent theory of resettlement. Instead, we find a collection of associated ideas and concepts involving policy-makers, practitioners and academics within a wide-ranging resettlement discourse. One striking feature of resettlement as policy is that it has remained relatively untouched by desistance theory (Maguire and Raynor, 2006). Trying to understand why offenders cease to offend (Farrall and Calverley, 2006), as distinct from longer established aetiological theorization, has assumed growing importance within academic criminology yet has barely resonated in government resettlement policy and service delivery, nor in criminal justice/legislative developments in the management of post-release supervision.

The central focus of this article is to examine resettlement as a problematized theoretical and empirical construct for offender transitions from prison to the community. As already indicated, the selected penal domain is England and Wales; however ‘resettlement’ transcends national boundaries and much of the discussion here has wider relevance (see, for example, Padfield et al., 2011, for a comparative study of release systems in contemporary Europe). At a general level, resettlement denotes a return to wider society but what that may signify in terms of individual circumstance is neither self-evident nor sufficiently reflective of the complex interaction of factors and variables that make up post-prison experiences. To understand resettlement more fully, the concept needs to be disaggregated into salient theoretical elements and their empirical contexts identified and explored. There are four core strands in the following discussion. First, it is argued that ‘resettlement’ is invested with certain normative and prescriptive characteristics derived from generalist views of society, that differentiation is not sufficiently acknowledged and that many presuppositions exist about the social, cultural and economic environments in which offenders find themselves following release. Second, an introductory three-phase theoretical schema of resettlement, as re-entry, is proposed. Third, the relationship between resettlement, re-entry and desistance is examined. Finally, because of the uncertainties about resettlement, both conceptually and empirically, it is argued that many of the expectations of ex-prisoner re-entry may be flawed, and unrealistic, as they rest on a number of assumptions that are epistemologically and ontologically questionable.

Background

It has long been axiomatic that there are many obstacles to social reintegration after imprisonment (Corston, 2007; Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Prisons, 2005; HMIPP, 2001; SEU, 2002), some of which are found to be surmountable, others less so, and for some offenders, for all kinds of reasons, completely intractable. These difficulties are both separate and interconnected. The prospect of employment, already diminished by the stigma of imprisonment, is reduced further for the majority of post-release offenders by illiteracy, innumeracy and poor social skills (SEU, 2002). The offender is thus disadvantaged not only by unfavourable social and societal conditions, but the capacity to address and overcome them may be jeopardized by an intrinsic lack of those interpersonal and educational skills which are necessary in a competitive market economy: human capital (SEU, 2002; Stewart, 2008). Further, if this were not enough, the endemic personal circumstances of chronic poor physical health, substance use (UK Drug Policy Commission, 2008), high incidences of mental disorder, in many cases very severe (Stewart, 2008), aggravate the marginalization process. To what extent the offender is able to make use of the facilities and opportunities for resettlement therefore becomes a crucial question. If being in prison is enforced exile from society, then returning to the community often constitutes involuntary exile within it. Many ex-prisoners find themselves in but not of society and ‘suffer from a presumption of moral contamination’ (Johnson, 2002: 319).

Initially concerned with the welfare needs of prisoners (Jarvis, 1972), the resettlement ethos has since undergone profound change (Maguire and Raynor, 2006). The Statement of National Objectives and Priorities for the Probation Service (Home Office, 1984) set out a policy of lower priority for social work with post-release offenders and the introduction of national standards by the Home Office in 1989, at first for community service but extended in 1992, reduced professional discretion in dealing with offender non-compliance and strengthened the surveillance and control requirements (made more rigorous in 2000 and further again in 2005 and 2007). In contrast to the earlier welfarist tradition (Garland, 1985), it is public protection and risk management which now configures ‘end-to-end’, pre- and post-release, offender management: National Offender Management Model (NOMS, 2005). The Halliday Report highlighted deficiencies in resettlement services for offenders serving short prison sentences, a group with ‘multiple problems and high risks of re-offending’ (Home Office, 2001: 3.1, 22). The SEU (2002) reiterated concerns over prisoners’ needs, post-release, and drew attention to the failure of many agencies to respond appropriately. In 2004, the Government’s strategy to meet resettlement needs was defined in the Reducing Re-offending National Action Plan (Home Office, 2004b) (see also Nacro, 2000). Through the Prison Gate (HMIPP, 2001) stressed the importance of effective working relationships between the Prison and Probation Services, which, following the Carter Report (Home Office, 2003), were merged to become the National Offender Management Service in 2004. However, concerns have arisen over organizational practice and poor communication between the two agencies, particularly with risk assessment and post-release supervision (Bridges, 2006a, 2006b).

Prison numbers have risen exponentially in recent years. In 1998, for England and Wales, the figure for both males and females was 65,298, which by 5 March 2004 had increased to 74,960. On 22 July 2011, this was 84,934, with female prisoners at just under 5 per cent of the total (a percentage that has remained relatively stable in recent years) (calculated from the Prison Service website: Ministry of Justice, 2011a). Although the present UK Coalition government has stated an intention to reduce the prison population, their recent backtracking on prospective sentencing reform (BBC News, 2011), influenced not insignificantly by media reaction and considerations of electoral popularity, casts considerable doubt on governmental commitment to that aim. Pre-Coalition population projections for 2009–2015 indicate a continuing long-term upward trend (Ministry of Justice, 2009a), due in no small measure to changes in legislation: for example, the indeterminate sentence for public protection (Criminal Justice Act (CJA) 2003). The vast majority of prisoners, including lifers, will leave prison at some point (Appleton, 2010; Padfield, 2002, 2011), the exception being whole-term lifers (24 males and fewer than five females, Hansard, 2009) whose release is most unlikely. With high reconviction rates for ex-prisoners, particularly those with previous custodial terms (Ministry of Justice, 2010a, 2010b), this might suggest that ‘resettlement’ is: (a) a ‘flawed’ process – namely that there is something wrong with systems of pre- and post-release provision; and (b) a ‘failed’ product – that non-offending behaviour following imprisonment occurs only on a small scale.

What Is Resettlement?

The definition of resettlement from the Association of Chief Officers of Probation (ACOP), and adopted in Through the Prison Gate (HMIPP, 2001), is constructed in narrow instrumental terms without any delineation or examination of the normative structures – values, principles, attitudes, beliefs – on which the means to be employed and/or the ends to be attained are based. Resettlement is thought of as a ‘systematic and evidence-based process … so that communities are better protected from harm and reoffending is significantly reduced. It encompasses the totality of work with prisoners, their families and significant others in partnership with statutory and voluntary organisations’ (cited in HMIPP, 2001: 12, 1.7).

With Ramsbotham (2003), too, the primary focus is on interventionist/correctionalist methodology and any normative explication is absent. Although he questions a fundamental assumption about ‘resettlement’, the emphasis lies with enhancing the individual’s capacity to ‘settle’ – with an underdeveloped exploration in his broader argument of structural conditions and/or life-course opportunities:

The word ‘resettlement’ is not a wholly accurate description in every case because many prisoners have never had a ‘settled’ existence even before imprisonment. If ‘settlement’ is to have any hope of success, the ways of living law-abiding and useful lives must be inculcated into prisoners … This requires the Prison Service not only to determine how each prisoner can be motivated and equipped to enable them to do this, but also to design every activity around the resettlement, or settlement, process. (2003: 146)

A number of questions arise. What kinds of community are offenders going to? How will they be received by their family, friends, locality, or in those communities where they are unknown? What might their life opportunities be? In short, what might resettlement mean, not as a generality, but in the unique circumstances of the individual subject? A common presumption found in policy formulation is that resettlement, self-evidently, is a pro-social process (see Maruna, 2001: 7; also Appleton, 2010, on desistance and ‘pro-social identity’). Assumptions are made about communities, despite a long tradition in sociological literature on the theoretical and empirical uncertainties as to what community means. ‘Community’ is rarely a homogenous, integrated entity. Instead, it signifies heterogeneity (geographic, cultural, demographic, interest alignment) expressed through diverse value and normative frameworks both within communities and between them. For many released offenders, their social environments do not reflect the values, background, life experiences or contain the economic means to promote a sense of ‘going straight’, despite any intention pre-release to do so (Burnett and Maruna, 2004). Resettlement might mean resettling into one’s former criminogenic social network, or a community fractured by social and economic disadvantages with high criminality correlations (Allen, 2009). ‘Resettlement’, without conceptual and theoretical exposition, is an incomplete construct and, in the absence of defining normative referents and specified empirical contexts, heuristically inadequate. It is like a road map with most of the required detail to give it substantive meaning missing. Resettlement has tended to be invested with an implicit ‘mainstream society’ normative base, reminiscent of the Durkheimian ‘collective conscience’ (Durkheim, 1895/1964) and the later consensus theories of US structural-functionalism (Merton, 1957). Late modernity mediates value and cultural difference yet its very antithesis, an implied (or ‘soft’) mono-culturalism, is discernible. Without a fuller recognition of diversity, resettlement as a criminological concept remains theoretically and sociologically underdeveloped. Resettlement is not a uniform process or a universally agreed end-state but encompasses complex individuated transitions within social structures of differentiated, and unequal, life opportunity.

Resettlement and Re-entry

‘Re-entry’ has become the ‘new buzzword in correctional reform’ in the United States (Maruna and LeBel, 2002: 158), whereas in the UK it is ‘resettlement’ that ‘is the buzzword of choice’ (Ward and Maruna, 2007: 4). Re-entry has a conceptually more open and less policy-directed connotation than resettlement and is the preferred term in the following schema: ‘“re-entry” lacks the element of support or nurturance implicit in root words like “care”, “aid” and even “settle”. Indeed, ‘re-entry’ is an intentionally vague, largely descriptive term that can imply different things to different listeners’ (Maruna and LeBel, 2002: 160).

Re-engagement with civil society is a process of differentiated and nuanced levels of re-entry or transition. In this article, three principal phases or stages along a continuum of re-entry are identified and explored, though these are not exhaustive and further critical analysis is warranted. For reasons of space, ‘re-entry’, as theoretically constructed and applied in these phases, is distinguished, first, from ‘re-entry’ that includes pre-release work with offenders (Maruna et al., 2004) and ‘resettlement’ as found in HMIPP (2001). Second, it corresponds more closely with Maruna and LeBel’s (2002) less interventionist view (earlier). Third, it transcends the instrumentalism of what the State and civic society do and focuses more on wider interactions between the offender and their social worlds.

With regard to all three phases, the dynamics of agency/structure define: (a) the nature of the societal reaction to release, or rather diverse reactions as there are likely to be a plurality of temporal, spatial and micro/macro cultural contexts; and (b) the psychological/cognitive processes of the offender, including responses and related adaptive behaviour to that reaction or set of reactions. This is broadly influenced by Giddens’ (1984) ‘structuration’ thesis, whereby neither agency (individual or collective) nor structure are independent of one another but are configured within a ‘duality of structure’: ‘the structural properties of social systems do not exist outside of action but are … implicated in its production and reproduction’ (1984: 297). There are complex processes of change – simultaneously and over time – which bring about reconstitutions or transformations (intended and unintended) of individuated, social and cultural practices (see Vaughan, 2001, for a critique of structuration theory in criminology).

The phases of re-entry are presented in broad skeletal terms and do not include such contextual specifics as offence(s), criminal history, length of sentence and type (determinate or indeterminate), whether the offender will receive statutory supervision, or what programmes may have been completed in prison or undertaken after release. These would need to be factored in and examined – theoretically and empirically – according to particular circumstance(s). Re-entry experiences will vary according to the individual and their situation. Some ex-prisoners may be released to approved premises, for example a hostel where there is surveillance as well as expected support. A further consideration might be how re-entry may be affected by perceptions of and behaviour towards particular minority ethnic groups within prevailing host cultures. Gender is another issue. Many women are held in prisons far away from home (‘diaspora’ effect), with multiple adverse consequences for sustaining community ties and family integrity and for accessing local support services on release (Corston, 2007; Wedderburn et al., 2000).

The three phases or stages, as summarized below, are indicative in broad theoretical terms: ³

With all three stages of re-entry, the host community may not necessarily be pro-social and predominantly law-abiding (Raynor, 2007; Raynor and Robinson, 2009). Maguire and Nolan (2007) found in their study that some pre-release offenders were anxious about reoffending if they returned to their home areas. Presumptions of pro-sociality (see earlier comment on resettlement and assumptions of hegemonic mono-culturalism) can be construed as conceptually flawed and theoretically restrictive (constraints of space do not allow for expanded discussion here). All social networks, as social capital, have attributes of sociability and collective cohesion, irrespective of whether they manifest law-abiding or law-offending values and behaviour. Social capital of a defined contra-social kind (Halpern, 1999; Woolcock, 2001) is not necessarily anomic or constantly and invariably polarized from ‘mainstream’ society. It may, however, be sufficiently contrasting in key aspects, such as in attitudes disposing to and behaviour involving criminality, to be significantly distinguishable from pro-social expressions. Further, just as certain forms of social capital are criminogenic, or not normatively averse to criminal behaviour, so this applies to human capital too. Human capital, by its very nature, embraces diverse skills, abilities and knowledge that individuals variously possess, develop and use.

Resettlement, Re-entry and Desistance

In recent years, criminology has become increasingly interested in crime cessation (Burnett and Maruna, 2004; Farrall, 2004; Farrall and Calverley, 2006). However, what precisely is desistance is neither self-evident nor straightforward (Maruna et al., 2004). For Farrall and Calverley (2006: 1), it ‘is something of an enigma in modern criminology’. To desist means ‘to cease or to stop’ and at first glance the concept of desistance would suggest a ‘continued state of non-offending’ (Maruna et al., 2004: 18). Laub and Sampson (2001) distinguish between the ending of offending behaviour (termination) and the process whereby that end-state comes about (desistance). Desistance is rarely a single or one-off event and neither is there usually a linear incremental trajectory (Farrall and Calverley, 2006). Uneven development or ‘zig-zagging’ (Maguire and Raynor, 2006) is more likely. This conceptualization

better captures the true nature of desisting from offending – in which ‘lulls’ in offending, temporary resumption of offending and the like are common – and provides a schema in which reductions in offence severity or the frequency with which offences were admitted to could be interpreted as indications of the emergence of desistance. (Farrall and Calverley, 2006: 1, emphases in original)

A number of key factors have been associated with processes of desistance: maturation (growing out of crime); social bonds (family ties, employment, community involvement, etc.); and the formation of personal narratives that restructure cognitive processes, identity and self-image (Maruna, 2001). Farrall (2002) has drawn a distinction between ‘objective’ changes in an offender’s life and the ‘subjective’ meanings given to those changes. These cognitive (subjective) constructions may exemplify ‘secondary desistance’: namely, a restructuring of self-identity whereby the individual comes increasingly to see themselves as moving from offender to non-offender status. Secondary desistance may derive from ‘primary desistance’ (a period of uninterrupted non-offending) (Maruna et al., 2004) but primary desistance is not necessarily a precondition. Using Lemert’s (1951) conceptual distinction between primary and secondary deviation, it can be argued that elements of a transforming self-identity may precede the primary desistance phase (see McIvor et al., 2004, on maturation). Furthermore, desistance may occur without prior reorganization of self-identity, as trigger, in that material attraction or other reasons for offending decline in influence or cease to exist altogether. This seems to be borne out by Burnett (2000: 14) who discovered that ‘convert’ desisters were

the most resolute and certain among the desisters. They had found new interests that were all-preoccupying and overturned their value system: a partner, a child, a good job, a new vocation. These were attainments that they were not prepared to jeopardise or which over-rode any interest in or need for … crime.

Transitions to re-entry as social integration with a ‘law-abiding’ (Petersilia, 2004), ‘pro-social’ trajectory (Appleton, 2010) would emanate from desistance processes typified by Bazemore and Stinchcombe’s (2004) ‘civic engagement model of re-entry’; and against a backdrop of social/public scrutiny and critical judgement (see earlier discussion on agentic intentionality and societal reaction). Relevant here is Maruna and LeBel’s (2002) distinction between strengths-based narratives and narratives based on either needs or risk. Strengths-based approaches are not concerned with personal deficits (needs or risk) but whether positive contributions can be made. The offender is regarded more as a potential ‘helper’ rather than in need of ‘help’. This transformation of status re-balances the one-dimensionality of an ‘opportunity deficit model’ (Raynor, 2004). The offender is seen less as a victim of circumstance, due to lack of access to resources, and more as an individual with decision-making powers, motivation and heightened self-responsibility (see Raynor’s ‘offender responsibility’ or ‘offender choice’ models, and Raynor, 2007). Such ‘capability building’ is an important element of the strengths-based logic of the ‘good lives model of rehabilitation’ (Ward and Maruna, 2007: 172). Although Ward and Maruna (2007: 174) do not use the terminology of human and social capital, their discussion of the ‘internal and external conditions necessary to attain valued outcomes … in the reintegration process’ underscores their essential meaning: ‘Internal conditions refer to psychological characteristics such as skills, beliefs and attitudes, while external conditions refer to social resources, opportunities and supports’.

Offender ‘strengths’ can be translated into valued inputs into the community to elicit ‘earned redemption’ (Bazemore, 1999) and ‘moral inclusion’ (Maruna, 2004). In England and Wales there is a long history of prisoners becoming involved in community-focused work, either on projects inside prison or outside on daily release. Organizations such as the Inside Out Trust have been involved for some years in harnessing the labour of serving prisoners for the benefit of the community (International Centre for Prison Studies, 2002). Rarely do the general public know of this and, when made aware, often display considerable surprise. In research for the Restorative Prison Project, Moore et al. (2003) discovered that over three-quarters of respondents in a community survey had no knowledge of prisoners having been involved in a local park refurbishment scheme. All of those interviewed thought the work ‘put something back’ and some believed it would help prisoners develop a sense of personal responsibility and citizenship (see Bazemore and Stinchcombe, 2004). Predictably, a major determinant of perception was seriousness of offence and criminal record. To a small number of respondents, the ‘redemptive’ work made little difference to their largely condemnatory attitude towards offenders in general.

Extending the Debate: Theory, Policy and Practice

A number of key concepts have been identified and, to a limited degree, explored. The problematized nature of resettlement has been commented upon and a typology or schema of re-entry proposed. Additionally, there has been an initial examination of resettlement and desistance. The relationships between them now require further explication in terms of theoretical connectivity, policy formulation and practice intervention.

First, resettlement is a generic term. The normative constituency of ‘resettlement’ is not self-evident, but multi-layered, nuanced and multi-contextual. Despite this, prescriptive assumptions tend to be ascribed to resettlement to suggest that what it signifies is without question: quite simply, ‘going straight’. Such a position reduces a penological conundrum to an empirical oversimplification. It begs many questions and conflates a supposed generalized end-state with the many and varied processes of adjustment and adaptation. Just as Ramsbotham (2003) questioned resettlement or settlement, so are many other criminological ‘re-’ words interpretatively problematic: reintegration or integration? Rehabilitation or habilitation? (see HMIPP, 2001: 3). If rehabilitation is ‘to restore an offender to his or her previous competency’ (Scott, 2008: 15), then ‘habilitation’ (to equip initially) might be more apt in many circumstances.

Second, if the principal aim of resettlement is to be the realization of non-offending, pro-social behaviour (Appleton, 2010; House of Commons, 2004; Ministry of Justice, 2010a), then desistance theory introduces a major qualifier. Desistance may be characterized by oscillation between progress and relapse, the range and intensity of each being contingent upon prevailing individual and structural circumstance. Offending may not necessarily come to an end but rather decline in both frequency and seriousness. Would the latter be thought of as resettlement ‘in progress’, or abject failure? Certainly, there are implications for post-release offenders on statutory supervision for whom no allowance may be made for a ‘zig-zagging’ path towards non-offending. Somewhat ironically, the strict enforcement of licence conditions, as mandated by National Standards, can constitute a critical obstacle to reintegration, the very aim the ‘ethos of resettlement’ cherishes so dearly (Hedderman and Hough, 2004; Maguire and Raynor, 2006; on the increased use of prison recalls see Padfield, 2011; Padfield and Maruna, 2006).

Third, the definitions of resettlement by Her Majesty’s Inspectorates of Prisons and Probation (2001) and Ramsbotham (2003) echo statist resettlement logic (Ministry of Justice, 2011a) but ‘resettlement’, as has been argued, is a complex process and involves more than ‘what the State does’. (Or what the State often fails to do, pre- and post-release: see Crook, 2008, on the high-security estate; and HMIPP, 2001, on sentences of less than 12 months.) Of interest, is Ramsbotham’s argument that the ‘settlement’ process needs to be undertaken from prison reception onwards, an observation that reflects the old throughcare principle (largely discarded in the 1980s) but which has re-materialized, albeit with different priorities in contemporary penal policy on offender management and the ‘seamless sentence’ (Home Office, 2001; NOMS, 2005).

This ‘interventionist’ role of the State raises further and wider questions. For Rotman (1990: 183), an offender has a ‘right to an opportunity to return to society with a better chance of being a useful citizen and staying out of prison’. His ‘rights’ model of rehabilitation chimes with Cullen and Gilbert’s (1982) ‘state-obligated rehabilitation’: that the State has an obligation (or ‘moral duty’, Lewis, 2005: 123) to provide rehabilitative programmes. However, in the case of offenders serving short sentences in England and Wales (mainly in local prisons where overcrowding is at its most acute), having access to a rehabilitative programme for resettlement as part of a sentence plan, if indeed such a plan has been completed, can be a remote prospect. In June 2007, a high court judge in England ruled that a prisoner serving a sentence for public protection (IPP) should be released as continued detention would be unlawful on the grounds that no facilities (accredited programmes) had been made available to determine whether a danger to the public still existed (Travis, 2007). ⁴

Fourth, the Prison Service’s daily release on temporary licence (ROTL), which in part prepares offenders for living in the community while still serving the custodial element of the sentence, is designed to facilitate post-release reintegration. Utilized at prisons with open conditions and following risk assessment, offenders are encouraged and assisted to secure outside paid employment (sometimes continued after release), having first completed voluntary work for the local community (Sapsford et al., 2005). Home detention curfew (HDC) and the longer established system of parole (now revised by the sentencing structure of the CJA 2003) can also aid the re-engagement process (on HDC, see HMIPP, 2001: 95, 7.3; but 105, 7.34 for a critical view), though early release practices may be driven by other factors, too. For example, the ‘end of custody licence’ (ECL), introduced in 2007 but withdrawn in March 2010 (Hansard, 2010), was intended to reduce population pressure in the prison estate.

Fifth, agency-driven resettlement, particularly in the statutory sector, has become increasingly concerned with psychology-based interventions: for example, sex offender treatment (SOTP), enhanced thinking skills (ETS) and anger management programmes (CALM) (Ministry of Justice, 2011c; see also Hollin, 2008). Drawing upon cognitive theory, the aim is to restructure the thought processes of offenders towards more pro-social attitudes and behaviour. Such an approach, though criticized (Kendall, 2002; Mair, 2004), would complement addressing welfare needs (see ‘FOR – A Change’ programme: Lewis et al., 2007; Maguire and Raynor, 2006). However, an excessive focus on deficits in thinking skills and motivation runs the (almost platitudinous) risk of concentrating too much upon the offender as an individual and not enough on wider social and economic questions. A cynic might argue that it is far more ideologically attractive, and action manageable, for government (Ministry of Justice) to adopt an individualized intervention strategy than it is to manipulate the broad spectrum of impinging structural variables, over many of which it has little, if any, control or influence. Cognitive behaviourism is the ideational bedrock of ‘What Works’. The deterministic rehabilitative theorization of the 1950s and 1960s has been replaced by responsibilization ⁵ (the offender as rational, moral agent): ‘rehabilitation with attitude’. Contemporary rehabilitative thinking (certainly at governmental level in the UK) emphasizes decision making and acknowledging the consequences of one’s behaviour, not just for oneself but others, through enhanced cognitive development, self-awareness and self-responsibility (see ‘offender responsibility’ model of Raynor, 2004, 2007). This construct of rehabilitation is theoretically and ontologically distanced from the exculpatory leanings of ‘old rehabilitationism’ and, historically, is much closer to the 19th-century precept of personal reform through reflective, contemplative endeavour (Hudson, 2003). The ‘new penality’ (Garland, 2001) reformulation of rehabilitation (and resettlement) epitomizes a form of coerced responsibilization, with external surveillance if necessary to produce compliance. Such a paradigmatic shift to a ‘postmodern penal world’ (Pratt, 2000: 127) may not, however, be as profound as Feeley and Simon (1992) have advanced. To what degree the ‘new penology’ of offender (waste) management has supplanted the welfarist ideology of ‘old penology’ rehabilitation (Garland, 1985) is an interesting question. ⁶ Appleton (2010), for example, in her study of probation service supervision of released life sentence prisoners in England and Wales, found that officers (as ‘offender managers’) still applied elements of traditionalist/social work/casework rehabilitation practice within the overarching and organizationally prescriptive risk management culture.

Sixth, if one the main objectives of ‘resettlement’, if not the foremost, is crime reduction (Her Majesty’s Prison Service, 2001; Padfield, 2011), then the generation of ‘pro-social’ human and social capital would appear to be sine qua non for resettlement intervention and governance. Given the current managerialist climate of ‘value for money’ (Lewis, 2005) and centralized budgetary control, a critical question is whether the penal system, including for-profit and third-sector agencies, is sufficiently resourced and organized to ‘deliver’ to such a rationale – while also acknowledging the limited efficacy of law enforcement agencies within the wider social policy context of crime regulation and control. The current decision not to introduce Custody Plus (CJA 2003), which would have expanded the supervisory and resettlement role of the Probation Service for sentences of less than 12 months, may not only be a missed opportunity but signal future lack of intent in much broader policy terms. Significant budgetary reductions for the Probation Service to 2012 (NAPO News, 2008/2009, 2009), the Prison Service and those already applied and signposted within other spheres of state expenditure are ominous. Recent announcements from the Ministry of Justice about a new ‘rehabilitation revolution’, which re-emphasizes contestability (Home Office, 2003) and an increasing role for the private sector through payment by results (Ministry of Justice, 2010a), are difficult to assess at present yet have to be understood against a national and international background of economic uncertainty and financial constraint (especially in the state sector).

Conclusion

The core purpose of this article has been to explore divergent meanings and empirical contexts of resettlement and to outline three phases of re-entry. Additionally, there has been a brief examination of desistance. For reasons of space, there has been no opportunity to explore ethnicity or gender, nor the contingent factors of age (for example, the re-entry problems of young offenders or those of an increasingly ageing prisoner population), length of sentence, criminal history or previous custodial experience. Class and social structure have been alluded to, but the analysis barely begun. These are for further examination.

The principal argument has been to ask what ‘resettlement’ is and question some of the assumptions – normative, cultural, social, behavioural – that underpin it or are associated. Policy discourse is inclined to centre on provision, or lack of it, from statutory, for-profit or third-sector agencies without any developed examination of the rationale of intervention, the exact aims and objectives or the diverse circumstances of offenders (community contexts, networks of support, agentic capacity) to deal with post-carceral transitions. Resettlement is not simply progression to law-abiding conduct; ‘resettling’ signifies multi-layered and nuanced social and psychological processes that lead to highly differentiated outcomes, some of which can incorporate characteristics of the ‘criminogenic’ (Raynor and Robinson, 2009).

Resettlement, theoretically and empirically, is not synonymous with rehabilitation but such conflation is found in much academic and policy discourse. Despite the wealth of literature on the subject, ‘resettlement’ continues to evade precise conceptualization and heuristic assessment of what it is, how it is to be achieved and whether or not it has been. All may be ‘suitably’ defined (by the offender and appropriate parties), with the designated aim(s) attained in terms of an individual subject and their particular circumstances, but to assume, and expect, that the focus and content of such specific micro analysis can be extrapolated with equal relevance and applicability to a macro world of extensive diversity and contrast seems logically, theoretically and empirically untenable. Resettlement tends to convey a generic notion of social integration, but its ‘on the ground’ complexity – phenomenological, social, societal, structural – renders it irreducible to any objectified ‘unitary’ form. Just as the capacity of the criminal justice system to regulate and reduce crime can be exaggerated, so might ‘society’ expect too much of ‘resettlement’ as an outcome.

Finally, to concentrate on transitions from prison to the community, though of considerable importance, may serve to divert attention and scrutiny from the wider critique of contemporary penality and the preoccupations – of government, media coverage, political debate, public comment – with imprisonment as a penal sanction. Many of the issues, problems and concerns over how to ensure that ‘resettlement works’, through policy intervention and socially inclusive measures, would not arise if judicial disposals other than imprisonment were more extensively considered and applied. ⁷