Lord Griffiths of Burry Port (Lab)

My Lords, I rise to speak with some deference after the wealth of contributions that have been made thus far, but I want to begin by congratulating the noble Lord, Lord Foster of Bath—I want to call him my noble friend; we worked on a committee together not so long ago—on this redoubtable, detailed report, which has fed the debate. The biggest commendation we could make for it would be that we do not now file it away so that it can gather dust but that it could continue to be in a dialectic relationship with government, as it has already been, as we find our best way forward to the next steps that we have to take. The noble Baroness, Lady Buscombe, was bold enough to quote from speeches she had made 20 years ago; emboldened by that, I wish to refer to actions of my own that were 30 years ago—I know I do not look old enough to have that age gap, but, take my word for it, it is absolutely true. Why, when I was working 30 years ago as the president of the Methodist Church in Britain, did I choose prisons to be one of my key subjects? Homelessness was the other, but that will wait for another day. There were several reasons. I had been responsible for a Home Office-endorsed hostel for remand prisoners. This was an alternative to prison where about 30 people who would otherwise be in a prison cell had structured time with a criminologist, I remember, from Cambridge University, and various things like that, to help to take the weight off the prison and perhaps help some of the people inside to be seen in a better perspective. In addition, we had halfway houses for young people who had been in trouble with the law. Again, we saw to it that there was discipline—it was warden-controlled—but, at the same time, giving young people the freedom that young people will have whatever you do. I had those responsibilities resting on my shoulders, and one or two other factors too. My schoolmate was Home Secretary at the time—the noble Lord, Lord Howard. I was firmly against his slogan, “Prison works”. He knew that; it was not the only thing we disagreed about, but friendship survived. I hope that the fact that I take a different stance from his yet again today will not threaten our ongoing relationship. He is a fine man, and I am proud to know him personally. In addition to all that, at Wesley’s Chapel, where I was the minister at the time, I interviewed David Ramsbotham, who was also mentioned by the noble Baroness, Lady Buscombe—not, alas, in her place. He just swept me off my feet. I read his first report as Chief Inspector of Prisons—I have it here. He told me that he wrote every word of it himself. For the six years that he held that office, this was his pellucid thinking about the experiences he had had and the conclusions he had been driven to. He was a remarkable man. I remember him sitting over there in the corner—the noble and gallant Lord by then—and continuing to regale us with his wisdom, strength of character and goodness of heart. All that led me to be interested in prisons, and, in the course of my presidential year, I visited Lincoln, Leyhill, Blakenhurst, Walton, Garth, Doncaster, probation officers in Leeds and a detention centre in Rochester, as I tried to understand from alongside those incarcerated how it was affecting them and shaping the direction of their lives. I have never forgotten it. I have been in many prisons since, but that was a concentrated introduction to the whole dimension of British social life. What can I say, other than that, if that speech of David Ramsbotham had been substituted at the last minute by an act of terrorism for the report that we are looking at, it could have done the trick? It is the same stuff, for staff, governors, conditions within prison, pay and pensions. It is all in there, his first report; here we are, 30 years later, debating the selfsame issues. I hope, if I live another 30 years—my wife dares to shrink from the possibility—that I may be back and just see whether we have made any progress then.