Roland: “Great. This again.”

Roland was imprisoned for a total of 28 years. Is the lockdown a second imprisonment?

// A series of testimonials: In between walls (1/6)

Do the walls feel the same? They have spent months, years, even decades, in prison. Lack of space, restricted movement, idleness, inspections: these familiar rudiments have re-emerged during the lockdown. For some, it has felt like a return to prison with its routine and operations. They insist they were trained for this. But the lockdown was not prison, and they explain the difference. Prison Insider has brought out six narratives of former prisoners. Six perspectives on the lockdown and imprisonment.

68-year-old Roland spent 28 cumulative years in prison.

The moment they announced the lockdown, fear gripped me. I didn’t want to be killed by the coronavirus.

I KNOW this might sound crazy, but in my head, the lockdown felt longer than my time in prison. In prison, you know why you’re there, that you have to live between four walls for a fixed period of time. But now, no one knows anything about this disease. Everything is so uncertain.

You go to prison for flouting the law; you get convicted, you get sentenced, you know what the future holds. But during the lockdown, I’ve been clinging to contradictory information other people give me. No two scientists think alike. It’s all a muddle.

When the lockdown was announced, I said to myself, “Great. Here we go again.” I immediately slipped into my old lifestyle. I remained home in my 15x15 studio, all alone. Stayed in bed, watched TV, solved crosswords.

A clock began to tick inside me, but not to the beat of freedom. It followed the cadence of prison. Work, activities—depending on where I was—the visiting room, the passages. That’s the rhythm of prison: doors opening and doors closing. The moment they announced the lockdown, fear gripped me. I didn’t want to be killed by the coronavirus. But prison had imbibed me with discipline. I can certainly stand being locked in better than my wife.

In prison, you’re all alone, but not really.

Loneliness and lack of privacy

In prison, I was ultimately in the third age category, and rather lonely. Rather than staying in my corner all day, I interacted with people. Sometimes my door was kept open, but I didn’t fancy a walk. I freely chose to spend my time in my cell.

When I see people talking through glass partitions in retirement homesi, I am reminded of those no-touch visits.

In short, some of what you are experiencing in the outside world was what we were permanently experiencing in prison. Relationships from afar, prohibitions on everything. Inside, no matter how much of a social life you have, there are always limitations.

That’s the paradox. In prison, you’re all alone, but not really. When in company, we don’t discuss our personal affairs; when we return to our cells in the evening and the doors close, we mull over them. I spent more than ten years in solitary confinement at a time when Lyon’s prisons were overcrowded. Some cells held four or five people. Therefore, I preferred solitude over being piled up on a mattress on the ground.

Modernity and social distancing

When we speak of modernity in our new prisons, we’re actually talking about social distancing. The more gadgets there are, the less human contact there is. Everything goes on behind those electronic gates. In Roanne, I remember seeing two prison officers every day: one in the morning, and one in the evening, to open and shut the doors. The rest of them monitored us from a distance, with the cameras.

When I was in prison in the 70s, interaction wasn’t the same. When you had something to ask, you asked a human being.

Now we have to weigh our words, write letters, and wait for someone to make a decision. You end up receiving a response through multiple letters—all so complicated. I agree we have a bit of comfort, but the rest is just hot air. When I was released, I intended to head for the countryside, amidst the greenery, with my fishing rod. Breathe some air. That’s what I’ll do as soon as I’m done with my judicial control.

Interview by Margot Hemmerich.
Translated by Susanna Correya.