Perceptions of self-legitimacy and audience legitimacy among prison officers in Ghana

ABSTRACT

Criminological research on legitimacy has focused almost exclusively on citizens’ normative assessment of legal authorities. However, this line of research neglects power-holders’ own assessment of their legitimacy or self-confidence in their moral validity of their claims to power. This paper examines the conditions on which prison officers as power-holders base their legitimacy claims. Data from semi-structured interviews and observation of prison officers in Ghana shows that prison officers in Ghana exude high power-holder legitimacy underpinned by favourable assessment of their “self-” and “perceived audience” legitimacy in the eyes of prisoners. While officers’ self-legitimacy was underpinned in their legal status (e.g., legality) and the uniforms (e.g., state insignia), perceived legitimacy was anchored in officers’ maintenance of authority via self-discipline, good and close officer–prisoner relationships, respect for prisoners as humans, and professional competence or making a difference in the lives of prisoners.

KEYWORDS:

• Self-legitimacy
• self-confidence
• prison officers
• postcolonial
• Ghana prisons
• cooperation

Introduction

Legitimacy has become a shibboleth in criminal justice, owing to its practical significance in many contexts, especially in citizens’ encounters with the courts, police, and also in prisons. Legitimacy, according to Coicaud (2002, p. 10), “is the recognition of the right to govern.” Beetham (1991, p. 20) further deconstructs legitimacy into three components: legality, justification, and consent. Where power fails to conform to rules or its legal statutes (legality), it is deemed illegitimate. Where actions and rules lack justification in terms of its shared beliefs with the subordinates, there is a legitimacy deficit. Where citizens fail to demonstrate behavioural consent for those in power (e.g., through voting), a delegitimation crisis occurs.

The cost of illegitimacy has been found to be high. For instance in prisons, disturbances, and disorder due to legitimacy deficits have been reported (Sparks, Bottoms, & Hay, 1996; Woolf, 1991). Similarly, in police–citizen encounters, decreased public cooperation, increased hostility, defiance, and resistance has been found among citizens who perceive the police to be acting unfairly (Sherman, 1993; Reisig, Tankebe, & Mesko, 2012; Tyler, 2003). Based on the work of Tyler (1990), legitimacy in criminology has become akin with procedural and distributive fairness of citizens’ assessments of law enforcement agents such as the police, courts, and prison authorities. Tyler’s legitimacy framework demonstrates that people obey the law not because of the fear of punishment but because legal authorities – such as police and courts – treat them with fairness. Procedural justice is constituted by the quality of decision-making – unbiased and consistent decisions, and the quality of interpersonal treatment – treatment of citizens with dignity and respect for their rights and feelings, treating them politely or with courtesy, and showing care and concern for their needs by legal authorities (Blader & Tyler, 2003; Tyler, 2003). A large and growing body of literature supports the procedural justice theory in demonstrating that legal authorities acting with fairness and respect promotes trust in these institutions, enhances legitimacy, and encourages public preparedness and willingness to support such institutions (see Bradford, Huq, Jackson, & Roberts, 2014; Hough, Jackson, Bradford, Myhill, & Quinton, 2010; Jackson, Bradford, Stanko, & Hohl, 2012; Murphy, Tyler, & Curtis, 2009; Sunshine & Tyler, 2003).

Within prisons, legitimacy¹ research has focused almost exclusively on prisoners’ (the ruled) assessments of the legitimacy of the prison authority’s (rulers) right to exercise control over them (Liebling, 2004; Sparks & Bottoms, 1995; Sparks et al., 1996). The operationalisation of legitimacy in penology thus far is most completely encapsulated in Sparks and Bottoms’ (1995, p. 59) model that “stipulates attention to the procedural and relational dimensions of prison regimes; in other words to the recognition of prisoners in terms of their citizenship and ordinary humanity” [Emphasis added]. Along this model, Reisig and Mesko (2009) found that, in their study involving adult prisoners in a Slovenian prison, prisoners who evaluated authorities as procedurally fair were less likely to engage in misconduct and more likely to obey the prison rules. Procedural injustice remained a statistically significant predictor of prisoner misconduct using both self-reported and official data of prisoner misconduct. Liebling (with Arnold 2004) conducted an in-depth study involving interviews, observations, and a survey consisting primarily of prisoners, but also some staff in five prisons in England and Wales. The authors found that what mattered to prisoners in their interpersonal and material life involved both procedural (e.g., fairness, respect, relationship, trust, and support) and outcome issues (e.g., order, safety, well-being, personal development, family contact and perceptions of decency). These factors, they argued, “render a term of imprisonment more or less dehumanizing and or painful” (p. 473). This corpus of legitimacy research has been referred to as audience legitimacy, that is, legitimacy as perceived by those who are subject to power (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012).

Despite the importance of normative judgements (procedural fairness) of citizens (prisoners) in shaping the overall legitimacy of prison authorities and prison regimes (Liebling, 2004; Sparks et al., 1996) and consequently the legitimacy of the criminal justice system as a whole (Franke, Bierie, & Mackenzie, 2010), research in criminology and prisons in particular neglects aspects of legitimacy that stem from the self-belief that power-holders have in their own moral right to exercise power, that is, power-holder legitimacy² (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012). According to Barker (2003, p. 163), power-holder legitimacy is visible in “actions or series of actions – speeches, writing, ritual display-whereby people justify to themselves or others the actions they are taking and the identities they are expressing or claiming.” Barker (2001, p. 68) contends that power-holder legitimacy is important because it enhances “the internal health and survival of the ruling group.” Tankebe (2010, p. 204) posits further that “it helps them [rulers] to cultivate self justification of and self-confidence in the rightness of their authority.” However, Barker’s (2001) theorisation of power-holder legitimacy instead focuses on ruling elites in government circles to the dereliction of other lower-rated power-holders.

According to Bottoms and Tankebe (2012), researchers tend to overlook the special groups of junior power-holders, such as frontline police officers and prison officers, who often come into direct contact with the citizenry and often exercise a great deal of local power everyday. They cite the example of a single high-profile police–citizen encounter gone bad, and that of a prison officer whose mistake leads to an escape. Despite their low-ranking status in their organisational hierarchies, such events can have adverse repercussions for the whole organisation. Thus far, it is important that power-holders (i.e., frontline police and prison officers), whose authority is contested on a daily basis by citizens, cultivate, and confirm self-confidence in their moral right to the colossal powers vested in them by the state in order to discharge their duties effectively. This cultivation of self-confidence by power-holders in their authority occurs “within a framework of both official laws and regulations, and societal normative expectations” (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012, p. 154). Tankebe (2010) reasons that power-holder legitimacy is important because it fosters cohesion in the rank and file of power-holders and assists them to cultivate self-confidence in their moral entitlement to the exclusive application of power over others.

Power-holder legitimacy has so far been largely ignored in the legitimacy discourse, though Boulding (1967, p. 299) argues that the lack of power-holder legitimacy may cause the “disorganization of behaviour and an inability to perform an assigned role.” Power-holder legitimacy has been argued to be a necessary condition for normative compliance with legal authorities by citizens (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012). So far, only a handful of studies have explored self-legitimacy in the field of policing. For example, Tankebe (2007) found that, in Ghana, fair treatment by supervisors shaped police officers’ confidence in self-legitimacy. Drawing on data from Slovenia, Tankebe and Mesko (2015) reported that fair treatment by supervisors, relationships with colleagues, and police sense of their legitimacy among the local community were the three drivers of self-legitimacy. In England, Bradford and Quinton (2014) found that police officers identification with the police organisation and external factors such as public support and cooperation were significant correlates of officers’ self-legitimacy. Bradford and Quinton (2014) further found that officer cynicism, however, negatively related to self-legitimacy. These findings from the policing literature align with the argument that identification and legitimation among power-holders are “inextricably linked” (Barker, 2001, p. 34).

At present, no research exists on how prison officers cultivate legitimacy (a continuous process) or prison officers’ self-belief or confidence in their own legitimacy (the outcome or product of the cultivation process) despite the significant amount of authority that they wield. This paper is an attempt to fill this void by examining how prison officers in Ghana cultivate self-belief or confidence in their legitimacy. Studying legitimacy from a different sociocultural, postcolonial and economic context such as Ghana rather than the usual Anglo-Saxon countries is important because developing “concepts and generalizations at a level between what is true of all societies and what is true of one society at one point in time and space” (Bendix, 1963, p. 532) would be facilitated. Another important factor is that “new ideas or policy innovations uncovered in one society may have applicability in others” (LaFree, 2007, p. 16).

The research context

Ghana was chosen as the site for this study because it provides an interesting context within which to test issues of legitimacy. Ghana, formerly the Gold Coast, is a former British colony that attained independence in 1957. Prisoners were first held in Ghana in the gaols of Cape Coast Castle between 1828 and 1842 (Parliamentary Papers, 1842). Imprisonment stood in sharp contrast to the traditional or native criminal justice system, which emphasised restoration/restitution and deterrence, although not explicitly articulated as such. The colonial prison establishment met only one criterion of Beetham’s (1991) typology – legality. Colonial prisons were legal because their operation were based on British penal law but did not conform to the “accepted norms, values and customs of the indigenous people of colonial Ghana” (Tankebe, 2008, p. 73). Prisons lacked the moral consensus of the people. For example, in a letter containing the return of prisoners in the Gold Coast to the House of Commons, Capt. John Maclean, President of the Committee of Merchants and de facto Governor, referred to the inhabitants of the Gold Coast as being in a “semi-barbarous state” and that should his government withdraw the exercise of its jurisdiction, “extending the blessings of civilization and Christianity” to the interiors of the country and Africa would be lost (Parliamentary Papers, 1842, p. 167). This depicts how self-absorbed the colonial government was in its self-legitimacy. It further shows the divergent values between the colonial government and the natives of the colony, as there was no willing consent of the people with regards to the establishment of prison system and its employees as an institution. This situation was depicted in the customary rites performed by the natives to cleanse released prisoners of the contamination and evils they perceived the prison to inflict on prisoners. Dr. Kwame Nkrumah (Ghana’s first postcolonial leader), who served 14 months in James Fort prison, had this to say on the day he was released on 12 February 1951:

At the Arena, the birthplace of my party, the customary expiation was performed by sacrificing a sheep and by stepping with my bare feet in its blood seven times, which was supposed to cleanse me from the contamination of the prison (Kwame Nkrumah, 1957, p. 112; emphasis added).

Prisons have since evolved from that of mere safe custody of prisoners, to that based on the separate system of solitary confinement, of penal labour, and meagre diet (Gold Coast Prison Ordinance, 1876; Prison Regulation, 1860). It further changed to that of trade training in 1920 but which was never fully implemented (Seidman, 1969). Prison officers during colonisation were very poorly trained. They were responsible for the executions of native prisoners sentenced to death and the supervision of prisoners, while in leg irons on road gangs or sanitary works, and also within the confines of the prison (Gold Coast Blue Book, 1849; 1853; Gold Coast Prison Ordinance 1876; Prison Regulation, 1860). Ghana’s penal system as it was under British colonial rule has remained virtually unchanged in terms of its paramilitary structure of administration, its emphasis on security and discipline in its operations, and the maintenance of a policy of safe custody of prisoners and trade training when practicable (Republic of Ghana, Prison Service Decree, 1972). Prison conditions under colonial rule were poor, including lack of sanitation facilities, lack of bedding, poor food, poor prison structures, and workshop facilities and prison overcrowding (Committee on Prisons, 1951). Despite efforts by successive postcolonial governments to improve the prison situation, many of these conditions still remain (Ghana Prisons Service (GPS), 2010). The prison service suffers a very low public reputation due to occasional prison officer misconducts published in the media, and its interior (poor prison conditions) and previous exterior (lack of justification and moral consent) legitimacy issues.

The Ghana prisons service (GPS) has not been able to keep pace with modern trends in offender management (e.g., offender rehabilitation programs). Seidman’s (1969, p. 431) comment that the Ghana penal system “stands as monument to colonial rule, as a memorial to confused goals, conflicting objectives, policies evolved and abandoned, and sometimes, no policies at all” remains relevant today. For instance, Ghana’s penal system as it was under British colonial rule has remained virtually unchanged in terms of its paramilitary structure of administration coupled with inadequate training and compensation for officers, inadequate infrastructure and widespread infectious diseases, its emphasis on traditional custodial functions (i.e., security and discipline in its operations), and the maintenance of a policy of safe custody of prisoners and trade training when practicable (Adjei et al., 2008; Akoensi, 2014; Ghana Prisons Service, 2010; Mendez, 2014; Prisons Service Decree, 1972 [NCRD 46]). Despite the insistence on vocational training for offenders (officially referred to as “trade training” by the GPS, and also a legacy of colonialism), no empirical study exists to ascertain whether such training reduces recidivism or is beneficial to the prisoners’ wellbeing.

In the light of the above legitimacy issues and the penal landscape, this research is expedient and timely considering that officers appear to preside over a penal system that has not changed progressively in terms of prison conditions and policies from the colonial era to date. Whether the prevailing system will have an impact on officers’ perception of their own legitimacy is yet to be assessed.

Methodology

This study involved in-depth semi-structured interviews with a purposive sample of 78 prison officers in 20 of the 43 prison establishments in Ghana. These prisons were selected based on their location within or in proximity to Ghana’s regional capitals. Prison categories included all types: medium security, central, local and female, and settlement camp prisons, which are open prisons without fortified walls. The interviews were tape-recorded with the express permission of the respondents, and with standard assurances of confidentiality. These were transcribed verbatim. In addition to the interviews, extensive observations of prison officers as they discharged their daily routines were also undertaken. Of the 78 interview participants, 11 were shadowed for this study for periods of between 1 and 3 hours depending on the size of the prison and the role of the officer. Intensive participant observation was undertaken in all 20 prisons except 5 female prisons. Owing to the gender of the researcher, observation in the female prisons was disallowed. Several participant observations were also undertaken involving prisoner–officer interactions, adjudications, morning assemblies, shift briefings, officer durbars, religious services among officers and prisoners; the researcher also spent time and conversed with officers at various duty points including prison gates, sentry points, infirmaries, workshops, canteens, kitchens, etc. In total, 22 prison officers were shadowed during the course of their work. This generated over 500 pages of field notes and constituted over 300 hours of ethnographic fieldwork spanning over 32 weeks for the entire research project, of which this study was a part.

The sample reflects the typical frontline staffing levels of prisons. Female officers constituted about a third of the research participants (33%); the majority had at least secondary school education (90.6%), were based at medium security and central prisons (49%), aged between 45 and 59 years (73%), and had extensive prison experience (between 11 and 30 years of prison experience) (53.9%). These figures correspond with official statistics from the Ghana prison service that shows female officers constitute 30% of the workforce and the average length of experience is 14 years. Table 1 shows the demographic characteristics of participants.

Table 1. Demographic characteristics of participants (N = 78).

Variable	Frequency	%
Length of tenure in service
Up to 5 years	10	12.8
5–10 years	15	19.2
11–20 years	17	21.8
21–30 years	25	32.1
31 years+	11	14.1
Length of time in current prison
Up to 3 years	34	43.6
4–10 years	38	48.7
11 years +	6	7.7
Age
Under 35 years	9	11.5
35–44 years	12	15.3
45–59	57	73
Sex
Male	52	66.7
Female	26	33.3
Educational level
MSLC/JSS	7	9.3
SSSCE/GCE O“/A” level	26	34.6
Post-secondary certificate	24	32
Degree	18	24
Religion
Muslim = 5	5	6.4
Christian = 72	72	92.3
Others (Karma) = 1	1	1.3
Type of prison
Medium security	20	25.6
Central male	18	23.1
Local male	13	16.6
Local female	19	24.3
Prison camp	8	10.2
Rank of officers
Commissioned officers ranks	39	50
Non-commissioned officers ranks	39	50

Abbreviations: MSLC, middle school leaving certificate; JSS, junior secondary school; SSSCE, senior secondary school certificate; GCE O/A Levels, general certificate of education.

The prisons were located in 8 of the 10 administrative regions of Ghana. The interviews lasted between 30 minutes and 1 hour and covered various topics but the main question posed to prison officers was “how confident are you in the authority vested in you as a prison officer that should you give an order to a prisoner, it will be obeyed?” Sometimes the question varied, depending on the level of understanding of the respondent for example, “what is it about your authority that makes you feel confident that prisoners will obey your instructions?”; however, the main theme of the question remained intact. This variation was occasioned particularly because of a significant language barrier with some subordinate officers.

The responses from the above question were subjected to thematic analysis (Braun & Clark, 2006). This method facilitated an objective as well as an inductive approach in the identification of the relevant themes embedded in the materials in a systematic manner. The inductive approach allowed themes that were embedded in the data to emerge naturally rather than to be imposed according to prior assumptions or theories.

Findings and analysis

Themes reflecting the high level of confidence in the authority and power that prison officers were vested with by the state were identified. A pattern of heterogeneous but related power-holder legitimation patterns divided across self- and perceived legitimacy emerged. Perceived legitimacy may be construed as what Bottoms and Tankebe (2012) refer to as audience legitimacy. However, the difference here is that audience legitimacy is not directly measured from prisoners themselves but instead, it is a representation of prisoners’ perceived legitimacy of officers by prison officers.

Self-legitimacy

This section examines from officers’ own perspective, the sources of their self-confidence in the moral validity of their authority.

Prison officer uniform

The prison officer uniform was cited by eight officers as the source of their confidence in the authority vested in them as prison officers. For most of these officers who stressed the uniform, they were somewhat taken aback by the question I posed to them; that is, “how confident are you in the authority vested in you as a prison officer?” They expected that I would know by the mere fact of their status as uniformed state security personnel as symbolised by their smartly dressed khaki uniform, well-polished black boots, and brown beret with a crown embossed on it to match, confidence in their authority was by default and also a source of their legitimacy in the eyes of the prisoners. They therefore expected acquiescence to their orders by prisoners and sometimes by civilians who found themselves in and around the prison premises. Their expressions meant that I should know that their “[u]niforms were the insignia of the servants of the state, [the] source of all power, and above all the coercive power” (Bauman, 1997, p. 17) and were to be feared and obeyed. This was the case among both female and male prison officers occupying both subordinate and superior ranks.

I am very confident. When I am in my uniform, I don’t doubt because I am wearing a crown. I am wearing the whole of Ghana so I don’t have to be doubtful or something. I have to be confident. (Female, Corporal).

Oh the uniform alone. That makes the inmates to fear you. Sometimes the stature of the prisoner; he might be bigger than you but so long as you are in the uniform and you ask him to do this, or don’t go to this place, he obeys it. So that authority is there. He knows if he doesn’t take your order or whatever it is, he has a sanction to face. So definitely, the uniform gives you the authority. (Male, Assistant Superintendent of Prisons)

A female officer working in a male prison believes that her uniform gave her further protection from potential attacks from prisoners aside from her increased confidence in legitimacy:

When I put on the uniform, no matter who the prisoner is, if you instruct him, he will take it. [So how confident are you in that authority?] I am very confident because when I am in the uniform, I instruct and they obey. You see I am a female but work with the male prisoners but I can go in there, talk to the prisoners. You see some of them have been here for a long time but none of them can come near to me. Like if they see a civilian inside and may be they can attack you or something. But as for me nobody can come near me. That is what makes me very confident. [So what does your uniform do to you?] I can say that my uniform protects me. (Female, Corporal)

Thus, by “wearing uniforms, men [prison officers] became power in action” (Bauman, 1997, p. 17), were to be feared by the prisoners and expected their orders and instructions to be obeyed. From the standpoint of prisoners, this raises the question as to whether obedience in this context could be due to what Carrabine (2004, p. 180) refers to as “dull compulsion.” Dull compulsion describes situations in which prisoners “fatalistically accept or pragmatically put up with prison regimes.” This sets it apart from cooperation that is, voluntary, and based on, for example, perceived legitimacy. This is difficult to establish empirically. Nonetheless, the uniform has been cited apart from its role of distinguishing legal authorities from other workers, as a means by which government agents or rulers legitimate themselves in their own eyes (Barker, 2001; Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012). Commanding legitimacy via uniforms must be done in moderation as this can create a distance between officers and prisoners, and further intensify the already tense prison atmosphere. This is, however, not what a morally performing prison requires (see Liebling, 2004). Overinvestment or cultivation of legitimacy in uniforms can make prison officers (and other law enforcement officers) self-absorbed in their authority to the extent that they care less about other important normative prison dimensions such as respect, good interpersonal relationships, self-discipline, and the welfare of prisoners.

Legality/legal validity

Prison officers (10 respondents) who held important posts or an office and were usually high-ranking members of the prison facility (e.g., OIC, 2IC, SO, Chief Officer Administration, yardmaster, etc.) felt that they were confident in their authority. They therefore expected compliance and cooperation not only from prisoners but from other officers under their ranks as well, due to their ability to apply sanctions should their orders be disobeyed.

I am very confident. Everybody here including all the officers know that I am the boss here. So whatever I say, it must be done. There is a clause which says security first. Any instructions I give, you are bound by that section and you have to go by that. If you refuse to do it, I take you by the law and sanction you, charge you, and then forward it to the Director-General for his actions. (Male, Chief Superintendent of Prisons/OIC)

Thus, such self-belief emanated from the legal statutes of the prison service or the rules and regulations of the prisons, which vest them with such extra powers to enlist compliance. The source of their “[self-]legitimacy is the belief in legality, the compliance with enactments which are formally correct and which have been made in the accustomed manner” (Weber, 1978, p. 37) per the standing orders of the GPS and the Prison Service Decree (1972). These statutes which are in line with the constitution of Ghana designated such positions and vested them with additional powers aside from the uniform. In the language of Beetham (1991), such officers have legal validity. By legality, officers meant that their power was rooted in the constitution and laws of the Republic of Ghana and also in the rules and regulations governing the operations of the GPS.

They further held that they would be obeyed no matter the circumstance and type of order they gave:

To an inmate, I think I can rate myself 100 per cent. Because I cannot issue an order to an inmate and he will disobey me. Because when that happens, there are ways that we pass through. I can put the person under some kind of disciplinary charge. I have the authority to forfeit an inmate part of his remission and because of that power [vested] in me no prisoner can misbehave. (Male, Chief Superintendent of Prisons/2IC)

Self-belief in legitimacy among such high-ranking officers in the prison was unusually high compared to those respondents who cited the uniform as the source of legitimacy judging from participants’ tones of voice (i.e., high pitch) on the expression of their confidence in the interview. It is easy to glean that having legal validity further amplified the fear factor of the uniform and created much more confidence in these high-ranking officers. They held the belief that their orders and directives will be obeyed should they give instructions under any circumstance to prisoners and officers under their charge. Their self-belief in legitimacy is thus deeply rooted in their sense of the right to rule. This is not to say that low-ranking officers do not hold the law as important. Low-ranking members bring to the attention of their superiors, violation of the prison rules by prisoners for their final verdict or for adjudication. The outcome of such encounters further affects the self-belief of these low ranking officers in their authority:

I am very confident that when I give instructions to prisoners, they will take it. Putting that aside, sometimes, our big men [senior officers] will undermine your authority. You say this, the prisoner misbehaves and you want to take action. You report the prisoner and no action is taken. He is allowed to go scot-free … But generally our [junior officers] authority is always undermined. (Male, Corporal)

Perceived sources of audience legitimacy

In the previous section, we have looked at how officers reach their own authority, that is, self-legitimacy. This section will look at what officers think is the source of their legitimacy in the eyes of the prisoners.

Officer self-discipline/integrity

Self-discipline or integrity of the prison officer was the most recurrent theme in the data, cited by 20 of the respondents. Officers thought that being disciplined (a great virtue) was most important to command legitimacy in the eyes of both prison officers and prisoners. By being self-disciplined officers meant an adherence to personal and service-wide moral and ethical standards. This is achieved when the power vested in them is not abused or used to achieve personal gain or to indulge in nefarious activities, for example, the trafficking of goods such as marijuana, cigarettes, and alcohol in and out of the prison yard. This relates also to legality (Beetham, 1991). An officer who engaged in such activities undermined his/her legitimacy and was not obeyed or found it very difficult to enlist the willing cooperation of the prisoners. This is because in prison, information spreads quickly among prisoners. This quick channel of communication among prisoners and prison officers alike is termed “bush radio” in Ghana’s prisons parlance. Respondents explained that, once seen as a “trafficking officer” by prisoners, you are “doomed”: you keep praying for a transfer to another prison where you can start afresh. An officer of integrity or self-discipline was able to maintain moral influence over prisoners and officers of lower ranks than his/herself, was admired by officers and prisoners alike, and his/her instructions and orders were swiftly obeyed. Prison officers narrated their self-discipline/integrity experience in relation to their self-legitimacy:

It depends on the way you conduct yourself … you don’t take any money from anybody. I don’t traffic with them. Your word is your word. …You don’t eat their food. You don’t need anything from any prisoner. So anything you tell that prisoner, he will carry it out. As an officer, when you start taking bribes from the prisoners, when you give them instructions, they will not take it. Buying drinks for you [during escorts]. Next time, you give him instruction, he will not take it. (Male, Chief Officer)

It was widely accepted that some officers were not disciplined. Such officers were not trusted by the prisoners, owing to their lack of integrity through their nefarious activities (e.g., engaging in narcotic deals, smuggling cell phones, etc.) and thus found it very difficult to enlist the willing cooperation or compliance of prisoners. Others cited the example of how officers felt tense even before coming to work for fear of exposure by prisoners. This made the prison officer’s work very difficult, strenuous, and stressful. The following account from my field notes during the mid-morning headcount in one of the male prisons reinforce this point:

An officer is being hustled by a prisoner to return his money he just collected from him. The officer replies that he will return it to him at the appropriate time but the inmate refuses. The inmate keeps pressing the officer to return his money but the prison officer would not budge. Later, the inmate attempts to forcibly take the money from the left breast pocket of the prison officer. The prison officer now becomes furious and angry. He shouts at the prisoner to stop but the inmate kept following and hassling him to return his money. The prison officer takes his seat at the inner gate where the tallying of the head count is on-going. There too, the prisoner stood just beside him whining. The furious prison officer then exits the inner perimeter of the prison yard to the gate reception. He returns in a few minutes in possession of a handcuff. He tells the prisoner that if he dare comes close to him in demand of his money again, he will simply handcuff him (while showing him the handcuffs) and he knows what that means. The prisoner then left the scene. (Fieldnotes, 25th November, 2011).

This recounts the repercussions for an officer who has ceded his authority by taking money off a prisoner. This action by the officer was against the prison rules. This is because prisoners are allowed to keep some limited amount of money on them for their own transactions after they have successfully requested this from the prison’s reception, which serves as de facto bank for prisoners. Even after assuring and reassuring the prisoner that his money would be returned, the prisoner refused because he could not trust the prison officer and finally, the prison officer (Assistant Chief Officer) had to resort to the threat of handcuffing (coercive force) and possibly removing him to segregation in order to enlist the cooperation of the prisoner. In this instance, normative authority failed, and coercive force had to take its place. This incident further depicts a dialogue. The officer had invested in his moral authority to take the money, but the complaints from the prisoner suggested that he was not entirely moral or self-disciplined. Instead of responding to the demands for legitimation by the prisoner, the officer responded with force (a typical response from criminal justice institutions when legitimacy is challenged). This may further damage the legitimacy of the officer and the prison in the prisoner’s eyes and other prisoners who would get wind of the news through “bush radio” in the “Twi” language.

Being self-disciplined according to one superintendent meant being “principled – ‘your yes is your yes and your no is your no,’ tolerant and patient with the prisoners.” Self-discipline was therefore an integral part of officers’ perceived legitimacy in the eyes of prisoners as well as competence that enables officers to effectively discharge their duties through prisoners’ voluntary compliance.

The lack of self-discipline is analogous to “corruption” at the organisational level in the procedural justice literature. For example, police, court, and other government agencies’ (e.g., tax organisation) indiscipline (i.e., engagement in corrupt practices and abuse of power) has been found to diminish public cooperation or willingness to obey the directives – the legitimacy – of these institutions (Hough, Jackson, & Bradford, 2014; Reisig & Lloyd, 2008; Tankebe, 2008).

Relationship with prisoners

Officers’ relationships with prisoners were cited as an important means by which the prison’s routine flowed. In all, 12 officers described how good interpersonal relationships with prisoners were important to commanding legitimacy. Relationship in this context refers to the “manner in, and extent to which, staff and prisoners interact during rule-enforcing and non-rule enforcing transactions” in everyday prison life (Liebling, 2004, p. 236). Having good relationships with prisoners was both a “means to an end” and an end itself. For a “means,” good interpersonal relationships with prisoners facilitated the security of the prison, as has been noted in England and Wales: “relations between staff and prisoners are at the heart of the whole prison system and [that] control and security flow from getting that relationship right” (Home Office, 1984, para. 16). Relationships as means also helped officers to understand prisoners better and to notice when prisoners were in distress and needed some sort of help. It was also a means of gathering intelligence on contraband and planned escapes. As an end, prison officers felt that it was proper and right that they establish and maintain good relationships with the prisoners. One respondent had this to say about staff–prisoner relationships that enabled prisoner compliance with orders:

It depends on how you relate to them. They are also human beings. If you don’t relate well with them even though you are wearing the uniform, you will not command that respect from them. (Male, Assistant Superintendent of Prisons)

One superior officer stationed at one of the largest prison facilities in Ghana, where overcrowding and staff shortages are serious problems, emphasised that relationships and respecting the dignity of prisoners served as a “weapon” which aided officers to control prisoners. Apart from gaining the cooperation of prisoners, good interpersonal relationships and respectful treatment, helps to prevent potential attacks on prison officers. He recounts the safety situation in his facility and how respect and relationships were key to the control of prisoners:

Safety here is not 100 per cent. That is why your relations with them [prisoners] should be cordial and you respect them as human beings. What I am telling you is a weapon with which to control them. Without treating them as human beings, they can attack you. (Male, Assistant Superintendent of Prisons)

I had shadowed this officer on numerous occasions and he had first name and nick name relationships with prisoners. He had time to share jokes and exchange banter with them as well. He told me in conversation that if I had visited the prison on a weekend, I would find it very difficult to distinguish between him and the prisoners as he usually comes to the prison in civil clothes to interact with them. It was clear from my conversation with him, however, that he knew his bounds in the relationship he cultivated with the prisoners. He told me about his experience with an inmate he was on good terms with, who had hanged a flag of a political party in Ghana in his cell against prison rules. When the inmate was cautioned and asked by a junior prisoner officer to remove the flag, he refused and further alleged that he was being discriminated against on political grounds. When the case was reported to this senior officer, he reported the case to the 2IC and pressed for 3 weeks segregation as punishment for the offence at an instant adjudication held. The prisoner was found guilty and was sentenced to 2 weeks in segregation. This officers’ relationship with prisoners was good, yet right – friendly but firm with enforcing the rules and regulations (Liebling and Price, 2001). From informal conversations with some prisoners, this officer was highly regarded because of his religious role, and was known to be fair and firm in his dealings with inmates. However, not all of the staff–prisoner relationships I observed were right. Though relationships were friendly and good, some prisoners escaped with some rule infractions (e.g., minor assaults and prolonged association and communication between convict and remand prisoners) as is generally expected of the peacekeeping roles and the low-level discretion that prison officers displayed in the discharge of their daily routines (Liebling, Price and Elliot, 1999).

When staff–prisoner relationships become too close, this is termed over-familiarisation in the parlance of the Ghana Prison Service. Over-familiarisation endangers the security of the prison establishment as this could lead to escapes via prisoner manipulation of staff. Though frowned upon, over-familiarisation of officers with prisoners remains a problem. Thus, having the right relationships as opposed to close relationships with prisoners (see Liebling and Price, 2001) reinforces an officer’s belief in his authority that he will be obeyed when he issues instructions to such prisoners, especially those he/she is on good terms with. From my observations, relationships between prison officers and prisoners were good: they were based on sincerity, respect, and, as usual, humour. Officers had time to share banter with prisoners in the local dialects. This finding on relationships in Ghana’s prisons concurs with studies from England and Wales, where staff–prisoner relationships have been found to be positive in general and for which humour and banter plays a major part (Crawley, 2004; Liebling, Price and Shefer, 2011).

Respect for prisoners

Some prison officers (8 respondents) said that respect for prisoners, especially for their dignity as human beings, was important to securing the compliance of prisoners. The idea of respect in this prison context primarily refers to having regard and recognition without violation for the inherent dignity and value of human beings (Liebling, 2004, p. 212). Respect for prisoners according to these officers enhanced their belief in their self-legitimacy. This makes intuitive sense as even in the general community, “respect begets respect” and “disrespect begets disrespect.” This is the same in Ghana’s prisons as prisons represent a snapshot of the community. Respect for prisoners’ dignity by prison officers was a necessary condition for initiating relationships with prisoners. Disregard and disrespect for prisoners’ dignity deflated officers’ confidence and made the achievement of a “good day” difficult since prisoners were less likely to comply with instructions or orders. This dialogical legitimacy relationship between prison officers as power-holders and prisoners as audience (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012) was depicted in the narratives of the prison officers:

First, I must say that I respect their [prisoners] dignity as human beings and interact well with them. I always relate well with them and they always share their experiences with me. When they are in need of certain things, they are able to approach me as and when they desire and that makes me feel that they have some confidence in me. (Male, Assistant Superintendent of Prisons)

Before you can gather that confidence, you should command respect. If you don’t respect them, they will not respect you. So when you are going to them, you don’t have confidence that when you instruct them, they will listen or obey. So you have to cultivate that habit [respect] in you before you can gather the confidence. Not the mere gathering of confidence that will help you to give them instructions. You have to respect them for them to respect you to enable you to supervise. (Male, Superintendent)

The above account makes it clear that “respect” for prisoners was an integral part of officers’ daily interactions with prisoners, was genuine, and that officers did not pretend to respect the dignity of prisoners as human beings – what some officers referred to as “fun fool respect” – pretending to respect someone. Respect for prisoners was important for these officers because of the perception that some of these prisoners were innocent and should not have been imprisoned in the first place, but for the lack of funds to hire the services of a lawyer and sometimes illiteracy. They deserved respect and not humiliation:

I don’t see them [prisoners] as bad as such. …But some [prisoners] are also here who did not commit the crime but have been found guilty by the law courts because they couldn’t defend themselves. Maybe, they didn’t have a defence counsel or something like that. So it is not every one here who you will say is bad as such. There are very good people among them that some of us officers may have characters that should bring us to prison but because we have not been caught by the law. … I don’t look down upon them but rather encourage and respect them so that they leave here better off than they came. (Female Deputy Director of Prisons/OIC)

This is the situation in most Ghanaian prisons based on my interactions with prison officers. Prison statistics lend support to some of these assertions. For example, of a national average convicted population of 10,107, first offenders constitute 60.3%, and 42.5% are serving sentences for a minor offence – “stealing” (GPS, 2010). Officers do not limit respect to these categories of prisoners but to prisoners in general.

Professional competence/making a difference

Six officers described taking into account the welfare of prisoners as another quality of a prison officer that enhanced their self-belief in legitimacy and aided in prisoners’ cooperation or compliance with orders. This ranged from the provision of material goods for prisoners such as medicines, toiletries, and food, which the prisons service provided to prisoners in very limited quantities, to helping prisoners adjust psychologically via counselling, listening to their complaints, helping them to make formal complaints, or educating and helping prisoners in appealing their sentences. Sometimes, officers’ professional competence took the form of just letting the prisoner know that the officer cares:

I am very confident. It’s because they see me as somebody who pays attention to their welfare. So anytime, any instruction I give them, they take them. I treat them like my brothers. Yes, I treat them like my brothers. (Male, Sergeant)

I am confident because of the good relationship I have with inmates and officers. When the prisoners come to make a complaint to me that they are sick, if there is medicine, though I am not a nurse, the first aid that I can offer, I will give it to the person especially the prisoner. The following day, I will then make a complaint to the authorities. When an inmate sees me and say “Chief, I have not got soap”, so long as I have got money in my pocket, I will send someone to go buy me soap and when the person returns with the soap, I hand it over to the prisoner. The prisoner will then thank me. So the way I live with them and relate to them especially the prisoners whenever they are doing something and I ask them to stop, they quickly reply; “Chief because of you, I have stopped. I won’t repeat that again”. You see what I mean? And they stop. (Female, Chief Officer)

Officers held the belief that their orders would be obeyed owing to their care and compassion towards prisoners. It was also an aspect of the job from which officers derived satisfaction. It was commonplace during observations for officers to refer to specific prisoners as sons or daughters depending on the level of welfare of the prisoner the officer took personally into account. Professional competence thus involves an understanding of prisoners’ feelings of their situation, by taking seriously their issues and dealing effectively with them. Prison officers’ command of legitimacy via cultivation and investment in procedural fairness by being self-disciplined (e.g., “your yes should be your yes” and vice versa), showing respect for the dignity of the prisoners under their charge, having good interpersonal relationships with prisoners, and finally taking into account the welfare of the prisoners, resonate with Liebling’s (2004) “moral performance” thesis. She found that prisoners in England emphasised that staff attitudes such as respect, relationships, care, fairness, etc. were important prison and regime conditions and that the attainment of a good day in prison essentially rests on these attitudes of prison officers. A juxtaposition of the present study’s themes thus far (i.e., relationships, respect, self-discipline, welfare of prisoners) with Liebling (2004) lends credence to the argument by Bottoms and Tankebe (2012) that legitimacy is a dialogue involving the claims by power-holders (prison officers) and responses by audience (prisoners) in the form of deference to authority or acquiescence to orders. Prison officers and the prison service stand to gain, however, by further investments and maintenance of the normative deployment of their authority (via perceived legitimacy) which officers believe encourages voluntary acceptance of orders rather than resorting to coercion or punishment (more likely via self-legitimacy) which can undermine voluntary acceptance of orders from prisoners owing to diminished values and relationships (Tyler, 2009).

It is significant that self- and perceived legitimacy can independently elicit prisoner compliance. However, it is the satisfactory synthesis of self- and perceived legitimacy that is important and ideal, given that one without the other would have negative consequences for the prison regime. While perceived legitimacy alone would give prisoners a voice to register their displeasure against the prison regime but without officers having the self-legitimacy to confidently and appropriately respond to their concerns; self-legitimacy alone, although bounded by shared values, can be inappropriately high. If self-legitimacy is insensitive to moral standards and principles external to it, it can breed narcissism involving “self-absorption and inflated self-image” among power-holders (Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012, p. 154). In more practical terms, self-legitimacy on its own would make imprisonment more painful or in Crewe, Liebling, and Hulley’s (2014, p. 397) terminology, too “heavy” – involving oppression, confrontation, and intimidation of prisoners – as officers may display a bad rather than good form of confidence (Liebling, 2011). Adequate synthesis of self- and perceived legitimacy promotes confidence in legitimacy by helping officers persuade themselves that their power is morally justified and their fate rightly deserved (Wrong, 1995).

Discussion and conclusion

This paper has sought to enhance our understanding of how front-line prison officers in Ghana reach their self-belief or confidence in the moral rightfulness of their authority (power-holder legitimacy). Analysing in-depth interviews and observations of prison officers, this paper provides evidence of the heterogeneous means by which prison officers reach and command legitimacy in the discharge of their duties. Various themes often corroborated by observations appear to contribute to how prison officers reach their self-belief in the moral rightfulness of authority, including symbols (i.e., uniform which further protects some officers), legality which gives such officers sanctioning powers should their instructions be disobeyed, and relational factors, including maintaining self-discipline, respect for the dignity of prisoners as human beings, good interpersonal relationships with prisoners, and officers’ professional competence.

This study is, however, not without limitations and should be interpreted with caution particularly because there was no data from prisoners to triangulate officers’ narratives. Obtaining data from prisoners was not possible because the GPS granted permission for prison officers to be interviewed and not prisoners. Thus, this study cannot attribute completely prisoners’ subordination to officers’ orders to prison officers’ confidence in legitimacy. This is partly because there are certain features of Ghanaian culture that might characterise legitimacy in this prison context. Ghana’s culture since pre-colonisation emphasised hierarchy or deference to authority and therefore there is the expectation that the subordinate (e.g., student or child) in any relationship shows respect by not being openly defiant to the orders or requests of the superior (e.g., teacher or parent). Ghanaian culture further endorses respect for the elderly. With the prison population relatively younger than the prison officers, it is difficult to tell whether obedience to orders and directives by prisoners is a manifestation of the Ghanaian culture of deference to authority figures or reflective of Weber’s (1978) traditional legitimation (i.e., based on accepted cultural and societal practices). This is an important area for future research. There are some problems of exterior legitimacy (the very foundation and operation of the penal system in Ghana) that this study has not set out to address directly, but which are relevant to its future development. Although the methodological approach reveals additional new insight in what we know about self-legitimacy beyond quantitative, survey-based analysis, it has limitations. These include potential bias in officers’ responses due to desirability effect of the interview question and the possibility of officers’ behaviour during observations being influenced by the researcher’s presence.

Despite the limitations set out above, this study is very useful and clearly indicates that prison officers invest a great deal of authority in normative influence mechanisms (i.e., self-discipline, respect, welfare, relationships) compared with coercion via fear and legality. The moral atmosphere of a prison is shaped by these normative dimensions which may be universally shared values between prisoners and prison officers. Notwithstanding the differences in these normative dimensions in the cultivation of power-holder legitimacy, they appear to be interrelated. Being self-disciplined bred respect for officers by prisoners for which prison officers responded positively. This enhanced good relationships, which enabled prisoners to tell officers what their needs were and probably improved the officer’s outlook on care for the prisoner. With good interpersonal relations between officers and prisoners, the prison was orderly and secure due to officers’ firm control of activities via prisoners’ voluntary cooperation. As expected, good relationships made the prison a better working environment. Prison officers were more likely to report having a good day and less job stress because prisoners were happy and no major incidents (e.g., attempted escapes) occurred.

It is a fundamental argument that power-holder legitimacy is meant for the consumption of power-holders themselves and not directed at cultivating external legitimacy. As noted by Barker (2001, p. 125), “rulers do not need subjects, or citizens, to enable them to legitimate themselves or to cultivate their governing identities.” However, data from this sample of prison officers in Ghana clearly indicates that legitimation, apart from helping officers to cultivate self-belief or morally justify the power they possessed, was also aimed at securing compliance from prisoners and seeking recognition among prisoners – external legitimacy. The only exception is the few prison officers who emphasised legality as the source of their self-belief in legitimacy. Their legitimation was directed at prison officers usually of lower-ranks than themselves, and also to prisoners that they expected unconditional obedience to their command. The twofold interview question, aimed at ascertaining self-belief in legitimacy and at the same time, exploring officers’ assessments of prisoners’ submission to their orders might have partly accounted for this phenomenon. However, given the poor conditions in Ghana’s prisons, it will be interesting to ascertain whether prison officers deliberately invest and cultivate self-belief in authority through normative moral influence to compensate for such ill prison conditions (like staff at Albany did in the Sparks et al., 1996 study).

It is worth noting that prisoners’ reactions to prison officers’ legitimation or claims to power via coercion (uniform and legality), respect for prisoners’ dignity, relationship with prisoners, officer self-discipline, and attention to prisoners’ well-being reinforces prison officers confidence in their moral rightfulness of authority. With increased confidence in power-holder legitimacy due to prisoners’ (audience) reactions (both negative and positive), these prison officers were able to issue commands to prisoners and sometimes to other officers (as in the case of legality/ legal validity) by first confirming their own belief that they had the right to do so and they will surely be obeyed by prisoners or officers (see Bottoms & Tankebe, 2012). The responsible exercise of authority by prison officers is therefore essential to convince themselves that they are morally entitled to the power they wield and to secure legitimacy in the eyes of the prisoners. Legitimacy in criminology thus stands to gain much more from a broader or fuller perspective by incorporating power-holder legitimacy into the existing theoretical paradigm.

A number of areas require further empirical scrutiny. First, since individual prison officers in this study endorse different roots of their legitimacy, there was no clash or tensions that might be difficult to resolve in individual prison officers. Future studies will benefit from an exploration of how individual power-holders resolve the tension emanating from legitimising their power from overlapping sources. From a management standpoint, it will be interesting to investigate for instance, if prison managers create a moral climate that encourages self-legitimacy (e.g., legality) and also respect and nurture relationships, that is perceived audience legitimacy in the same prison. Addressing this question is beyond the scope of this study. Future research should investigate whether prison management can simultaneously nurture different roots of legitimacy since there is no single pathway to nurturing legitimacy, and how they can resolve some of these tensions resulting from nurturing conflicting roots of legitimacy in the same prison. Second, it is recommended that a concurrent study examining self- and audience legitimacy in the same prison would help ascertain if prison officers interpret the sources of audience legitimacy rightly or if there will be a gap. This recommendation is inspired by the recent work of Jonathan-Zamir & Hapaz (2014) which revealed that while Israeli National police officers thought that the citizenry endorsed police effectiveness as the foundation of their legitimacy, in reality, citizens were more considerate of procedural fairness in a previous survey (Jonathan-zamir & Weisburd, 2013), thus revealing a gap in officers and citizen perceptions of police legitimacy.

Acknowledgements

The article benefited immensely from invaluable comments from Alison Liebling and Justice Tankebe. The author also wishes to acknowledge comments from the anonymous reviewers.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Thomas D. Akoensi

Thomas D. Akoensi is a lecturer in Criminology and Criminal Justice at the School of Social Policy, Sociology and Social Research at the University of Kent, UK. His research interests are in the areas of prisons, comparative criminology, offender rehabilitation and legitimacy.

Notes

1. Sparks (1994) distinguishes between interior and exterior legitimacy and the complex interplay among them. While interior legitimacy is situated within the material (e.g., overcrowding) and existential (e.g., regime fairness) conditions of prison life, the prevailing prison ideology, structure and economic conditions within which prisons are situated constitutes exterior legitimacy. This paper focuses on interior legitimacy.

2. Scholars have deployed different terminologies to depict the same concept, including internal legitimacy Boulding (1967), “self-legitimation” and “endogenous justification” (Barker, 2001), and “self-legitimacy” (Tankebe, 2010).