On the Same Page

An Unfettered Right

Being able to criss-cross the globe on the strength of the Internet has made it possible to engage with creative ideas, conversations, and experiences which otherwise would be beyond our reach—and at times, even beyond our imagination.  On The Same Page will bring to the reader of Torchlight, a combination of textual-audio-visual curated content, about and around libraries and bookish love. 

Every day, over the last couple of months, I have been dipping into a love-letter. A Velocity of Being edited by Maria Popova and Claudia Bedrick is a captivating compilation of 121 letters to inspire “young readers” but as any reader knows, age has nothing to do with being in love with books. The letters are warm, witty, wondrous, and will stoke the embers of reading for those who are struggling to keep it burning. Of the 70 odd letters that I have read so far, one stands out for taking reading into the realm of rights. Holocaust survivor Helen Fagin, 100, recounts what her covert, dusk-to-dawn reading of Gone with the Wind—and then telling it to the 22 young students in her clandestinely run school in a Polish ghetto, had meant to her and them. When years later she met one of the four students who survived the Holocaust, the lady introduced Fagin to her husband as, “the source of my hopes and dreams in times of total deprivation and dehumanization.” Fagin’s account is a reminder of the essentiality of books and the right to read, particularly for those who spend some part of their lives incarcerated, deprived of some of their constitutional rights, and freedoms curtailed.

As early as 1790, the United States of America led the way for setting up prison libraries and within the next 100 years, Canada, the Scandinavian countries, Germany, France, England and Wales were providing some form of library services to prison inmates. However, the stimulus for giving prisoners access to books was far from recognising their right to read. What drove the initiative was the intent to rehabilitate prisoners by “reforming” their souls. A religious diet consisting of the Bible and some prayer books only, was seen as adequate sustenance for inmates. Libraries were seen as an incentive for inmates to change their behaviour and a way to “manage” their idleness.

The growth of public libraries coupled with internationally adopted declarations about prisoners’ right to read such as the United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (1955) have influenced the evolution of prison libraries. “When the prison gates slam behind an inmate, he does not lose his human quality; his mind does not become closed to ideas; his intellect does not cease to feed on a free and open interchange of opinions; his yearning for self-respect does not end; nor is his quest for self-realization concluded.  If anything, the needs for identity and self-respect are more compelling in the dehumanizing prison environment,” wrote US Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall in 1974. Since mid-20^th century, libraries were required to stock books that met educational, recreational, cultural, and other information needs of prisoners—significantly, access to legal material to demand fair and just treatment due to them, understand their own case better, or even earn a law degree while in prison. Prison libraries began to offer educational programmes; studies have shown that participating in them has reduced the rate of recidivism. Stepping out of prison with a sense of self-worth and a set of skills, diminishes the chances for re-offending and being re-incarcerated. Prison librarians play a critical role in interpreting prisoners’right to read and taking actions that can enhance or undermine the right. Where there is a right, there is a threat of it being thwarted. Banning books, a contentious issue for all libraries, becomes more acute in a space that is inherently controlling, oftentimes punitive (despite claims to be rehabilitative), and where librarians hold a “reductive” view of prisoners.

Despite prison libraries being mandated by more countries, they are plagued by budget cuts, shortage of staff, and a weak will to make them successful, vibrant places of learning and empowerment. Partnering with local public libraries to avail interlibrary loans and seeking support from individuals and nonprofits for donations or supply of books have been ways to ensure continued access to books. In India’s largest prison complex, Tihar, which houses more than 10,000 prisoners, each of its eight prisons has a library. Its collection of about a 100,000 books are mainly books donated by individuals and NGOs. In United Kingdom, Prison Reading Groups runs book clubs and organises family reading projects in 40-50 prisons.

When the general populace gets involved in supporting prisoners’ right to read, it reflects what University of Michigan Professor, Megan Sweeney, believes: “Thinking about prisoners as fellow readers is a good way to be reminded of our shared humanity.”

Cover image: Greg Klee/Boston Globe Staff Photo Illustration