Human Right for Prisoners

Recently, a notorious murderer was strongly attacked by a fellow inmate in a prison in the UK – it seems that it is among the general prison population abhorrence to child killers. Needless to say, the reaction of the public is less sympathetic, and many probably think that the “victim” in this case what he deserves and gets more. But it raises the question: do nothing the prison service more in order to protect prisoners from each other?

One of the stated objectives of the prison is to protect citizens from dangerous criminals. But with a high concentration of such persons within the confines of a prison, the most at risk of further crimes other prisoners. We must not forget that despite keeping their misdeeds, prisoners of their fundamental human rights and the rights of common citizenship, with some notable exceptions (such as voting rights). Such a fundamental right is that the physical integrity of the places the responsibility for the protection of prisoners than any other at the foot of the prison service to be attacked. No doubt there are different processes and procedures already in place to support this, but seem inadequate in my view.

You probably have marked me as a bleeding heart liberal now, but let me assure my full support for the criminal justice system. Remember that in a democracy various government agencies (in theory) to act in accordance with the will of the people. So it is up to us as citizens and voters to ensure that our government is doing its work properly, since we have a collective responsibility for everything he does.

For those who view block that we should just criminals like animals committed in a cage to destroy each other, ask the following steps: imagine that a confluence of circumstances that is done in such a situation, a dear friend or family member. Would it not then an application for protection for the individual?

Lessons learned from a notorious Robben Iceland prisoner.

Nelson Mandela (# 466 / 64), was the 466th Inmate in the prison on Robben Iceland in South Africa in 1964. A political prisoner, the struggle for freedom from the oppression of apartheid. He spent the next 24 years in a prison cell on the island of about 7 x 7 x 10 meters.

Although he was imprisoned in a 7 x 7 x 10 cells, its history, a man whose mind is not limited to the four walls of the cell. Instead, he was free, invincible. Invictus!

But the story of Nelson Mandela, or Madiba as he is affectionately called, was already said, many times. He is certainly not an unknown prisoner! Rather, he is the best known, seals Iceland captured by this story.

This is my story, the prisoner unknown, hidden in the shadows at the edge of life. It is the story of a man who has served a sentence longer restricted as Madiba, in a cell much smaller, to be exact, more than 36 years in a cell measuring only 6 x 4 x 3

But unlike Mandela, whose imprisonment had a noble goal, I was nothing. Not a great ideal to get me through the dark days and nights in solitary confinement, windy island to maintain. Not to share the company of fellow prisoners my studies. No, I was, for the most part, a lonely existence and inglorious isolation.

Invictus was not to lift my spirit and my soul rejoice, nobody could. There was no light. Only the night.

Thirty-six years crammed into an area of 6 x 4 x 3 is a nightmare! It’s a nightmare! A nightmare of quiet desperation. The nightmare of the unknown prisoner. Only in the world. No trial to be “out” plead my cause, but many desperate for continuing my detention. A dark and lonely night, 36 years. A long period of time.

But I am not alone, there are millions like me, all the prisoners unknown. Men and women, young and old. Imprisoned without trial or even properly planned expenditure. Just life sentence, which is all the time in which we live.

But where is this company that miserable unjust sentences a child to a life of emotional distress? Where are these miserable prisons? How can such a thing. Well, they do. I’m here to tell you.

And let me add that my cell was torn down, and I’m free! Free to tell my story to the world. Free! What an amazing word. Fortunately, with thanks, I did not die a miserable death in my 6 x 4 x 3 prison cell. I ran away! I am free.

And you could end or beginning, but unfortunately a part of me is still not free, not free. You see, I can not be free until I there are others who have experienced the same fate. Millions of people live their lives more sustainable, torture every day in this terrible 6 x 4 x 3 prison cells, some even smaller if this might be possible!

And I know of many who have lived all my life miserable trapped in these spaces. And many if not most, are deceased, alone and afraid.

It is more surprising still when one considers that these prisons are in our midst, such as Dachau, Auschwitz and many other concentration camps. Right on our doorstep.

Robben Iceland was only seven miles from the beaches, I played as a child. The island was only part of a beautiful scene, perfect image of Table Mountain, which you see in postcards. For me it was a paradise for trips booked on Sunday, but without my knowledge, for Madiba and his comrades was a daily hell. Incredible. Right in our midst! see In Plain Sight for all, and yet not be seen yet.

Even more amazing, considering that this cell of mine that I have been more than 36 years and alone measured not in feet but inches. Customs, I say! Hell.

My prison cell, my mind. The prison guard me. The bars and gates, my fears and insecurities.

The key to the prison doors were right within my reach. The first was simply the realization that, as Madiba, I was free, but do not know. After unlocking the first door, the second key to the courage, the courage, the first step toward freedom, was to take. The third, the belief that I simply do the next and then another after that. The fourth button is hope, hope, once started, I could do it. And the last key is released, a determination to be free, if the journey had begun. A scary trip to be sure. It was always comes out of prison!

And then, again in search of inspiration for Madiba, I had to find within myself the ability to forgive my oppressors, that supervisor was only one guard at my door, without a moment of relief, long for 36 years. Ever alert, a tyrant, intolerant, vindictive.

But without forgiveness, I almost thirty years in this terrible 6 x 4 x 3 block. And so I think as Madiba has done before me, that forgiveness and reconciliation the only way is freedom. A long walk, perhaps, but the only way to freedom. The only way.

Free at last! Free at last!

Finally unbeaten. Invictus!

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)

(Invictus, the poem that inspired Nelson Mandela during his imprisonment on Robben Iceland.)