Why prison officers at the Maze were jailbirds too Governor
Michael Fassbender as Bobby Sands in Hunger
Coming as it does in the wake of the success of the film Hunger, William McKee's account of life as a prison officer in the Maze is a useful reminder that the prison officers too had a story to tell; that they were as much prisoners of the situation as those they were employed to guard.
If the film rather overstated the consistent brutality of the relationship between prisoners and warders, this account may be thought to have understated it. Here we have a picture, not of a normal prison, it is true, but of an institution run on the lines of a prisoner of war camp, complete with tunnels and escape committees, in which prisoners were segregated in their paramilitary groups, with a command structure and where arrangements were negotiated by management with the various O/Cs.
McKee, by his own account, comes through as a man well capable of working within the system, anxious to maintain human contact with the prisoners and to treat them and their families with respect.
In essence, though, the book represents a lost opportunity. A great deal has been written by and about prisoners; to date there has been little attempt to explore the dilemmas facing the prison officers. The hunger strikes, in which 10 men died, are dealt with in two short paragraphs; the dirty protest in two words. There is no exploration or explanation of why men should have put themselves through such suffering or were prepared to die, of the reactions of prison staff to this, or the extent to which two groups shut up together in mutual antagonism might brutalise each other.
Mr McKee comes through as a thoughtful and intelligent man, capable of maintaining communications in the most difficult situations, and of navigating the Byzantine channels of prison administration, who seemed to be landed with all the dirty jobs that other more canny governors avoided.
The book relates, in stark terms, the enormous pressures on prison officers: long hours in a hostile environment, exposed to attack even when off duty, seeing numbers of their colleagues murdered, often in front of their families, forced to move house, a target for both sides. McKee changed house seven times in 17 years, often at short notice in response to threats of murder, and with a huge disruption to family life. Little wonder that his marriage disintegrated and he suffered serious breakdowns in physical and mental health.
The main thrust of the book relates to the murder of loyalist leader Billy Wright within the Maze by INLA gunmen, with guns smuggled into the prison on a day when Mr McKee was the duty governor in charge. He becomes obsessed with the subject, suspecting an attempt by dark forces within the establishment to make him the scapegoat. Inquiry has followed investigation and inquest and a further enquiry is still ongoing.
McKee clearly implies a belief that there was collusion by security agencies in the killing -- in moving him to a site near those who had sworn to kill him, warnings lost or mislaid, his movements leaked, watch-towers unmanned and convenient holes in fences. Add to that the amnesia of colleagues, the destruction of records and the fabrication of statements, and he does not have to be very paranoid to believe in conspiracy.
McKee has done the state some service, and has been badly treated in return. His book is a useful corrective to the notion that all the victims were on one side.
Maurice Hayes is a former Ombudsman in the North
- Maurice Hayes
