Sophie Holland
How would you spend your time if you were locked in a cell for twenty-two hours a day? Beat the walls? Learn to juggle? Yoga? Learn a language, go mad, write a memoir, cry? I have been writing to activist prisoners, most of whom are astonishingly sane and stoic. I would like to share a small sample of their moving and galvanising replies.
I came to know some of them having taken action with Just Stop Oil in 2022 and 2023. I’ve had three arrests, two trials, and now have a criminal record for breaching Section 12 of the Public Order Act. This, after my son Sam scaled a gantry above the M25 in November 2022 and is still awaiting trial (twice deferred). His peers from the same action, already convicted for Causing Public Nuisance (section 78 of the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act 2022), have received prison sentences of between 20 and 24 months. As a mother, I have mixed feelings. Mainly overwhelming pride, because what could be more important than fighting for humanity? But anxiety lurks alongside it: incarceration is no picnic. I have lost sleep watching so many fearless, shining young people have their liberty taken away. And their conviction is solid. They won’t stop. I should say they’re a cheerful, pragmatic bunch – not a gloomy martyr among them. ‘Our future’s fucked, the Global South is being screwed over – we’re being screwed over – and we refuse to be complicit’ seems to be the party line. It’s hard to argue with.
‘You need to give a message of hope,’ I’ve been told, again and again, by friends and colleagues, supportive of the JSO message but not the method. Yeah, that one, from the business-as-usual-ers. More than once I replied (bellowed, puce-faced), ‘They are the hope!’ Those gantry climbers; all the slow marchers; the tiny, mighty band of Insulate Britain motorway blockers. RESISTANCE IS HOPE!
Of the 40 current political prisoners, many are on remand, awaiting trial. Surprisingly (I thought), remanded prisoners suffer far worse treatment than those imprisoned after sentencing at trial. On remand, they’re not yet officially ‘in the system’ and therefore have less privileges. Some Palestine Action prisoners, facing terrorism charges, have had it very tough – kept in solitary confinement, refused visits, phone calls and letters.
My friend Adam has been held on remand, along with 4 others, since his Heathrow Airport action last July (arrested before entering a runway). From Wormwood Scrubs he writes: It’s a lot better than Wandsworth, though admittedly it’s a low bar. From HMP The Mount, G writes: Mondays now mean a trip to the chapel for a Buddhist service, which consists of 3 prisoners and a chaplain, who tends to go on long monologues that are more ramble than wise words. One of the other prisoners told him we should spend more time discussing the five noble truths. He gave us each three little sticks of incense to use in our cells, which you have to use a modified vape pen to light. It’s a funny place in here.
Lack of control is a major test. Most share cells, some with ‘roommates’ who have the TV on all night. Email correspondence reflects an emotional tempest: being bored, cold, grateful, low, lonely, optimistic, pessimistic, livid, sad, loved, hungry.
JSO published some recent figures worth celebrating, extrapolated from North Sea Oil Authority’s own 2023 figures on oil in unlicensed contingent fields and unlicensed prospective fields. ‘4.4 billion barrels of oil that now won’t be licensed for drilling. That won’t be extracted and burnt, but will stay safely buried under the North Sea.’ Estimating a ‘ten per cent effect’ from JSO campaigns, this translates to: ‘1,339,422 barrels of oil stopped per arrest. For our friends both in prison or recently released, it’s even starker at 24 million barrels per imprisonment.’ Bravo! Passed straight on to those in the cells.
I started with chatty emails: one part news, two parts irreverence. Then some short poems and extracts. Turns out, Orbital, the beautiful Booker prize-winner that should be compulsory reading, has done the rounds of some prisons, to wide appreciation. From HMP Styal D writes: Have you managed to see any of this weekend’s Meteor Shower? I am sadly not able to see stars – they are very weak here due to a floodlight close to my window though I have seen a few fantastic moons. The most memorable was the orange moons when we first arrived, stained by the smoke from Canadian wildfires.
Next, I started sending prompts and exercises. L writes: I’ve not done much writing since I’ve been here but I’m trying to make a habit of it, so thanks for the suggestions.
Adam asked for a creative writing textbook (books usually get through if they’re sent from a reputable source eg Waterstones, and some independent bookshops). Adam’s a virgin writer and he’s clearly got the bug. So far, he’s sent me three short stories; two in the post, one penned on a ‘reply sheet’ (limited space – good for editorial discipline). Biographical, fantastical, furious. He gets better and better. Cressie sent wonderful poems (see below). I had a burst of creativity one evening, out of the blue. It really surprised me – I haven’t written poetry for years!
I picture Adam and Cressie and others scribbling away in their cells. Being transported, excited, escaping, world-building: something unfolding before their eyes. Because writing is a hopeful act. The replies I have received are full of wisdom, gratitude, curiosity. Honest too, about how hard it is, but never plaintive or self-pitying. These activists are made of steel and sunshine! They’re uplifted by the solidarity of being together (the lucky ones): Although my updates are often positive, the things we’re grateful for, enjoying, appreciating, all sit on a basic state of being that is challenging on a daily basis – prison is hard. We are having to find inner strength to do this for sure. Which is why the four of us being together makes such a difference.
Another thing that unanimously relieves the hardship and boredom is having a ‘job’. In the gardens, or bike workshop, or helping other prisoners with literacy. Adam was greatly relieved to get his role which brings a double win: giving him a purpose and getting him out of his cell. He summed it up in a haiku: Teaching men to read/ Discovering shapes of sound/ We grow and blossom.
Several prisoners with limited access to email sent a ‘round robin’ Christmas message via their prison buddy. One such included this: It is a rare and beautiful thing to never feel alone in prison. The emails and letters that I have received are a constant reminder that I am loved and supported. The continued actions, meetings, movement, community and resilience building that goes on is a constant reminder that I am here as part of a fight that is so much bigger than me.
Many messages contain reflection on what comes next: There’s a laminated motivational phrase on all our doors. Mine says ”The secret of change is to focus all your efforts not on fighting the old but on building the new.” Makes me think, as I often do in here, how important it is for us to get stuck into building the better future as well as challenging the system and spreading the word.
And several have been keen to correct assumptions. In a ‘letter to all’ Cressie writes: I wanted to say something about the idea of life “pausing” whilst someone is in prison. Quite a few people writing to me have suggested that this may be what I am experiencing, but in fact it is the opposite. I don’t see this time as an interruption of my life at all – it is my life, and I feel I am living it in here just as much if not more than on the outside. I am learning a lot from women I meet and I am learning a lot about myself. And I feel like prisons have more to say about society than would ever be said in open society itself. If that’s not living life, what is?
Here is an extract from one of her poems.
WAYS OF BEING
She who hibernates for the winter
Wakes up strengthened.
But she who hibernates for the war
Has forgotten her responsibility to others.
As long as she hides from pain
She will never know joy.
And those who weep for the pain of the world
Will find their hearts expanded.
Their messages, letters, poems and stories from the Inside have made me laugh and weep and reflect. On what writing is for. And on what it is to be human, right now, in this mad and precious world.
Sophie Holland is a fiction writer, speech and language therapist, climate activist and convicted criminal. Her short stories are published in two anthologies, her plays have been performed in Bristol, Bath and Neath. Her first novel Peachy Wonderful will be published in April by Archetype Books.
Call to action: Write to a prisoner.
- Find details under ‘political prisoners’ with email addresses. You write via the person’s ‘prison buddy’. All emails will be passed on. Postcards are often appreciated where stated (they’ll get a black and white photocopy).
- Writers/teachers: send me your favourite writing exercises and I will pass them on.
- Follow Youth Demand. Young People Are Resisting – Youth Demand Donate to Youth Demand. Or donate to Just Stop Oil. [From JSO website: ‘Gold Standard, the carbon offset marketplace, offers £12 per 1 tonne of carbon sequestered. A £12 donation to Just Stop Oil keeps 4,536 tonnes in the ground. We are wildly more effective.’]
- Read Louise Lancaster’s ‘prison diary’ published in Guardian 25th Jan.