‘Parole is worse than doing time’: Understanding the pains of post-release supervision following a forvaring sentence

Abstract

Norway uses indefinite post-conviction detention, or forvaring, as its most severe penal sanction. This article will be the first to describe how people who have served a forvaring sentence experience conditional release on parole. We develop an analytical framework that builds on the ‘pains of imprisonment’ literature and Sexton's work on penal consciousness. Based on interviews with eight people who have been released from forvaring under the supervision of the Norwegian Correctional Service, we set out three key themes: feeling imprisoned despite being free, fear of re-imprisonment, and frustrations connected to social networks including friends and family. Our analysis shows a significant gap between expectations and experiences of punishment and adds to recent arguments that punishment in Norway has more pervasive aspects than previously thought.

Introduction

In Norway, forvaring – an indefinite prison sentence – is the ultimate punishment. An ordinary, determinate, Norwegian prison sentence cannot exceed 21 years, except for a small number of specific offences where a sentence of up to 30 years ¹ can be imposed (Norwegian Penal Code, 2005). When a determinate prison sentence is considered insufficient to protect society, the court may impose a forvaring sentence, which is open-ended. Forvaring prisoners receive a ‘minimum’ timeframe (before which release on probation is not possible) and a ‘maximum’ timeframe, at which point the prosecuting authority can request extensions of detention for up to five years at a time. The basis in law for continued detention is the assessed risk of committing new serious offences that forvaring aims to prevent, that is, whether the prisoner is still considered to present an ‘imminent risk’ of further criminality (Frøberg, 2016; Storvik, 2021). The idea is that this is necessary to protect society from the most dangerous individuals. According to Statistics Norway, out of an average national prison population of 3072 in 2023, 156 individuals were serving a forvaring sentence (SSB, table 10562). This kind of indefinite sentence is thus reserved for a small number of individuals where public protection is seen as a priority. Despite the relatively small number of individuals serving a forvaring sentence, this form of sanction warrants greater attention than it has been given to date, as it represents the most severe and intrusive punishment in Norway. The number of forvaring prisoners – although still small in absolute terms – has also increased significantly since 2016 (SSB, table 10562).

The forvaring sanction has a dual focus. Like any form of punishment, it is oriented towards specific offences in the past. But it also looks towards the future. Unlike regular imprisonment, those sentenced to forvaring will be imprisoned until “the convicted person is believed to have achieved such a high degree of self-development and responsibility that parole can be considered as being defensible from a security perspective” (Ministry of Justice, 2004: comments to chapter 5) ² . The forvaring sentence, therefore, is an informal life sentence (Van Zyl Smit and Appleton, 2019), given it can be extended by the courts, potentially for the remainder of the individual's life (see also Appleton et al., 2025). This does not, though, mean the forvaring sentence typically results in life imprisonment in practice. The stated goal of any Norwegian prison sentence – including forvaring – is to reintegrate prisoners back into society (Ministry of Justice, 2004; Storvik, 2021). In 2023, 16 people serving forvaring were released on probation (SSB, table 10558). The Correctional Services must not only provide better rehabilitation for this group but also continuously evaluate and document their progress (Ministry of Justice, 2004). The focus on dangerousness and risk assessment, however, plays a significant role. For forvaring prisoners, the release date is unknown, and the future is often uncertain.

What is certain, however, is that when forvaring prisoners are released on probation, they are subject to conditions set by the Correctional Service and/or the court (e.g., sobriety/abstinence from alcohol and drug use, psychiatric treatment, avoiding contact with specific individuals, curfew, and an agreed upon place of residence (see Table 1 in Appleton et al., 2025), as well as close probation service follow-up and supervision (Ministry of Justice, 2005, §45). On average, forvaring parolees spend approximately 2.5 years on conditional release (Johnsen et al., under revision). If any parole conditions are breached, the individual might be recalled to prison, after which they must wait at least a year before applying for parole again (Ministry of Justice, 2001: 102). Returning to prison means they must restart the process, rebuilding trust and showing enough progress for the courts to consider their risk as low enough once more to be (re)released. In addition, they now also need to overcome the stigma of having previously breached parole.

This article is the first to examine the post-release experience of forvaring prisoners. Parolees are, formally speaking, still serving their sentence. In Norway, most regular prisoners released on parole are generally left to their own devices, and post-release supervision is either very lax or non-existent (Mjåland and Ugelvik, forthcoming). This is not true for those serving forvaring. As our title indicates, participants frequently described their time under probation supervision as frustrating and difficult. Some even claimed probation supervision is worse than prison for forvaring prisoners. This seemingly counterintuitive finding highlights the need to study how individuals subjected to Norway's ultimate sanction experience post-release supervision. We will show that former forvaring prisoners often see release on parole more as a continuation of their time in prison than as release from prison into freedom.

Forvaring and Scandinavian exceptionalism

The Norwegian prison system has received international attention and praise for decades. Pratt (2008a, 2008b) famously argued that the Scandinavian or Nordic prison systems are exceptionally open, progressive, humane, and rehabilitation oriented. Other scholars, often based in the Scandinavian countries, have aimed to critique or at least nuance this Nordic Penal Exceptionalism thesis (including, inter alia, Barker, 2012; Barker and Smith, 2021; Smith and Ugelvik, 2017). According to these authors, there are policies and practices in the Nordic penal spheres that hardly deserve the label ‘exceptional’. Smith and Ugelvik (2017) explicitly mention forvaring as a practice that seems to contradict Pratt's thesis.

Despite increased research attention in the years following Pratt's (2008a, 2008b) articles, there is still much we do not know about the Scandinavian or Nordic criminal justice systems. The Norwegian post-release probation supervision system is, to a large degree, one such research lacuna (although see Koffeld-Hamidane et al., 2023; Todd-Kvam, 2022). Another is the personal experiences of individuals serving forvaring, which has received scant research attention so far, given the available research on forvaring is based on analysis of quantitative datasets, public statistics, legal frameworks, or court decisions (e.g., Drake, 2019; Dullum, 2014; Fornes and Gröning, 2021; Holmboe, 2020; Johnsen, 2011, 2013; Johnsen and Storvik, 2006). ³

One important exception is Crewe et al. (2023), who compare the close supervision system in England and Wales with forvaring ⁴ . Their findings show that prisoners in both systems perceived the conditions as both ‘deep’ and ‘tight’; however, in England and Wales, prisoners more often highlighted the ‘depth’, whereas in Norway, the dominant experience seems to be ‘tightness’. In short, the depth of punishment refers to the distance between the prisoner and the freedom of society, while tightness relates to a shift in control logic from more direct and coercive forms of control to more indirect control focusing on responsibilization and user involvement, often leaving expectations unclear (Crewe, 2011a, 2011b, 2015). Crewe, Laursen and Mjåland suggest the primary reason Norwegian participants perceived forvaring as highly oppressive is that prior experiences with ordinary prison sentences shape their expectations. Compared to regular Norwegian prison conditions, forvaring conditions stand out as a painful negative example.

Overall, we consider that our findings indicate that, whilst aspects of Norwegian penality remain comparatively more progressive than many other jurisdictions, penal welfarism has in places receded in favour of approaches reminiscent of the ‘new penology’ (Freeley and Simon, 1992). This adds weight to arguments that, whilst the lens of penal exceptionalism has utility in terms of making relative claims (Crewe et al., 2022), theorizing about Nordic penality needs a different foundation upon which to make its claims in a more nuanced manner, without necessarily aligning with or resiling from exceptionalism (see Todd-Kvam et al., 2025 for more on this).

Theorizing the pains of probation

International scholars have documented the pains of imprisonment ever since Sykes (1958) groundbreaking work The Society of Captives. Several studies have shown that prisoners serving indeterminate sentences experience additional pains connected to the uncertainty of their release date (Crewe, 2011a; Crewe et al., 2020; Marti, 2023). Crewe (2011a) also highlights prisoners’ experiences of psychological assessment and the lack of autonomy as painful. The pains of imprisonment literature has also widened its focus beyond the prison to include non-custodial settings. Nugent and Schinkel (2016) examine the pains of the desistance process. They show how the collateral damage of punishment may continue beyond imprisonment and create long-term suffering, long after the formal end of the penal sanction. Employing Sykes’ framework, Durnescu (2011) explores pains experienced during the probation period, including deprivation of autonomy; deprivation of time; financial costs; stigmatization effects; the shame and trauma of being repeatedly confronted with the offence; and the ever-present threat or reimprisonment.

Following Durnescu, Hayes (2015) describes the pains and gains of post-release supervision. According to Hayes (2015: 390), “[t]oo often is penal supervision underestimated because it seems less painful and less intrusive than imprisonment”. Hayes does describe potentially significant positive or constructive effects of supervision, such as help with the desistance process, enforced order, improvement of living standards and skill sets, and what he calls the ‘at least it's not prison’ effect. However, his study (as well as his review of the literature, see Hayes, 2018) clearly shows that even seemingly less intrusive penal sanctions inevitably result in significant forms of pain. These include, in addition to the pains detailed by Durnescu, loss of stability, family relationships, friendships, employment, and employability; pains inflicted by external agencies, such as the welfare state or by charities; and, finally, what Hayes refers to as ‘process pains’ associated with perceived procedural unfairness and of being a ‘usual suspect’ known to police.

In a recent article, Haggerty and Bucerius (2020: 11) claim the theoretical framing of the pains of imprisonment continues to be so successful because of conceptual vagueness. They ask,

how are we to make normative sense or strategic political use of an analytical category whose boundaries are so pliable as to encompass behaviours running the gamut from drastic physical abuses, to debilitating psychological trauma, all the way to things that are closer to discomfort, inconvenience, or annoyance?

According to Haggerty and Bucerius, the central position of the ‘pains of imprisonment’ theoretical framing in the field of penology has resulted in what amounts to an unhelpful stacking of unranked pains, one on top of the other, in a way that cumulatively lacks nuance and analytical precision.

Responding to this challenge, several scholars have recently tried to develop new ways of thinking about the pains of punishment as potentially productive, not just inherently harmful or destructive. Todd-Kvam (2021) has discussed the boundary between pain and suffering. He invokes Cassell (1983), who found that pain in a medical context can be experienced without suffering if patients understand its source, if it is controllable and if they know it will come to an end. Suffering, meanwhile, for Cassell (1983: 522) is a “state of severe distress associated with events that threaten the intactness or wholeness of the person”, arguing it is linked to feelings of inescapability, hopelessness and helplessness. Some of what we consider pains of punishment might then be more usefully regarded as suffering. Interestingly, some of the conditions for suffering align with both thinking on penal consciousness (e.g., salience links with understanding the source of pain) and with considerations of depth/weight/tightness (e.g., feelings of inescapability and hopelessness). More optimistically, introducing the term ‘Zatopekian pain’ to the literature, Ugelvik et al. (2025) highlight how positive change and growth can be painful in a way that may still be experienced as constructive.

It is vital to acknowledge that each penal subject will experience their punishment differently. Sexton (2015) explains that punishment is not just something imposed on prisoners, but something each penal subject must make sense of in their own way. Her concept of ‘penal consciousness’ highlights how people in prison (and, we will argue, individuals under probation supervision) understand and experience their punishment. The experience of punishment is shaped by the expectations prisoners have before serving their sentence. Sexton (2015) introduced the concept of the ‘punishment gap’, to refer to the distance between the expectations and realities of punishment. This gap shapes the experience of punishment: If the punishment turns out to feel harsher than expected, it may be subjectively perceived as more burdensome and painful. A punishment that is less severe than expected, on the other hand, may feel lighter and easier to bear. If they believe the punishment is unjust or does not fit their crime, prisoners often experience a larger punishment gap, making the punishment feel more salient and oppressive, according to Sexton (2015).

In the same vein, Van Ginneken and Hayes (2017) illustrate how the experience of punishment may vary from person to person. Two people serving the same sentence may experience their punishment differently. This can be explained by the individual's background, personal circumstances, and the conditions surrounding their sentence. They highlight how unintended consequences of punishment, such as the loss of employment or family relationship issues, are also perceived as integrated parts of the punishment. These insights are significant for our study, given that individuals undergoing post-release probation supervision following a forvaring sentence carry with them the experience of being seen as a danger to society, the uncertainties connected to indefinite imprisonment, and perpetual concerns about being recalled to prison.

Our framework for analysis, then, builds on the pains of imprisonment literature in helping us understand how different aspects of punishment can impact negatively, potentially on a spectrum from painfully constructive journeys of growth to painfully destructive experiences of suffering (Nyvoll, under review). Penal consciousness, meanwhile, helps us understand why individuals might experience a similar set of probation conditions on paper very differently. For example, some people serving forvaring may have lower epistemic trust (see, e.g., Thomas and Jenkins, 2019) and more scepticism to authority than others, which could serve to reduce their experienced procedural justice of probation conditions.

Research methods

This article is based on data collected through in-depth qualitative interviews with individuals sentenced to forvaring in Norway. A total of eight men living in and around the city of Oslo were interviewed. The participants can be categorized into three groups that represent different stages of the release and re-entry process at the time of the interviews:

Released forvaring prisoners currently on parole and undergoing probation supervision (2 individuals),

Released former forvaring prisoners who had gone through the parole process successfully and were no longer undergoing probation supervision (3 individuals), and

Forvaring prisoners who had been released on parole in the past but had been recalled to prison for various reasons (3 individuals).

A common factor uniting all participants is that they have, at some point, served a forvaring sentence and experienced parole supervision. The average age of the sample was approximately 55 years, and six out of the eight had been imprisoned for violent offences. The remaining two declined to disclose the reason for their imprisonment. Our sample consists exclusively of men. Including women participants in the study would have been valuable since they likely encounter additional stigma based on their gender (Granja et al., 2015). However, because women serving a forvaring sentence are such a small group – they constituted only 7 out of 154 forvaring prisoners at the beginning of 2023 (SSB, table 10530) – recruiting enough women for a study of this kind is almost impossible.

Recruiting enough male participants was also challenging. The organizations WayBack Oslo and the Red Cross Network after Imprisonment both shared information about the project on our behalf. We also applied to the Correctional Services Eastern Regional office for permission to use the Oslo Probation Service office as an additional recruitment arena. This strategy yielded a sample of eight current and former forvaring prisoners willing to participate. This might seem like a small sample but compared to the small number of available potential informants – nationwide, only an average of 10 forvaring prisoners have been released annually over the last decade (SSB, table 10555) – we contend that it is acceptable.

The semi-structured interviews were conducted by Bjørneboe and Jonassen in tandem. Interview topics included pre-sentence background, life during the sentence, everyday life on parole, and future plans. A co-interviewing approach was used, meaning both interviewers were present during all interviews. This approach has advantages and disadvantages (Velardo and Elliott, 2021). One key advantage was creating a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, which made the interview process less stressful and enhanced a sense of presence and engagement. Another benefit was the opportunity to discuss situations, experiences, and interpretations immediately after with someone with firsthand knowledge, potentially improving the data quality.

A potential limitation is the risk of a power imbalance due to the interviewers outnumbering the participants. However, we observed no indications of such imbalances, which might be attributed to the relationship between the interviewers and participants, as well as our interpersonal skills. The interviews lasted on average approximately 2 hours, and were all, except for one, recorded and transcribed verbatim. Data from the unrecorded interview were based on notes and memory, admittedly leading to the probable loss of some details.

Given the limited research on forvaring and the reintegration process in Norway, we employed thematic analysis – a method for identifying, analysing, and interpreting patterns of meaning (or ‘themes’) within qualitative data (Clarke and Braun, 2016) – as it allows for a flexible and open approach to data analysis. We utilised Nvivo software to code and analyse the data, combining theoretical, inductive, and in vivo codes. Bjørneboe and Jonassen collaborated on most of the initial coding, noting that we frequently shared similar perspectives and interpretations. After the initial coding process, we reread, refined, and systematically organized all statements, resulting in three main themes, each with its own subcodes. The codes were further organized into a conceptual map to provide a clearer overview of the material. This analysis helped us identify the three key aspects of the post-release forvaring experience that will be discussed in detail below.

Findings: the pains of post-release supervision following a forvaring sentence

Before starting data collection, we expected participants to identify various challenges and issues they faced during the probation process. Overall, though, we were expecting them to talk about the release process broadly in positive terms. We were surprised to discover that most participants experienced and described parole as the most challenging part of their sentence. Our analysis identified three key themes: (1) feeling imprisoned despite being free; (2) the fear of re-imprisonment; and (3) frustrations associated with social networks, friends, and family. The three are closely connected and can all, in some way, be traced back to the terms and conditions imposed by the court and the wide punishment gap they experienced between their expectations and the realities of life on parole.

Feeling imprisoned despite being free

Despite being released back into society, most of our participants still experienced their life on parole as something akin to imprisonment. Sverre described parole as a “prison in freedom” while Jan referred to it as a “prison at home”. According to Harald,

To call it parole is almost the wrong term, it's still serving a sentence. Serving time in freedom. ⁵

Formally and legally speaking, parole is precisely that, ‘serving time in freedom’. However, it is clear from the quotes that Sverre, Jan, and Harald all had expected a greater sense of freedom. The main reason that parole is experienced as an extension of prison, not as a move in the direction of freedom, seems to be the extensive terms and conditions imposed by the courts during this period. This is clearly illustrated by Jonas and Glenn:

Ugh! Strict conditions. I couldn't drink [alcohol], I couldn't, what's it called, meet with other convicted criminals. I had to be home by 11 PM every day, I had to consent to saliva tests, … I had to go to work every day by a certain time. I had to inform them every time I planned to travel, move, or change address … Simple things like that, you know. So, I couldn't leave the municipality, I had to stay within its boundaries.

I: How did you experience this?

It was like a prison.

(Jonas)

I: What terms and conditions did you have when you were on parole?

Three pages of conditions, curfew, had to be inside by 10 PM, drugs tests, and they would come to your house, and, yeah, all that. It was absolutely miserable.

(Glenn)

Our participants seemed surprised that this period would involve intrusive control and surveillance. There is a clear gap between participants’ expectations and their narrated realities of the probation experience (Sexton, 2015). Another factor seems to be their tendency to compare their new life post-release to the freedom enjoyed by members of the general population, not their previous living environment in prison (Neumann, 2011). Jonas and Glenn's statements both highlight that, despite being released into society and appearing to be ‘free’ individuals, their lives remain restricted and exposed to considerable control, which seems to give them a prison-like feeling.

This also illustrates the ‘breadth’ of forvaring as it extends its penal control beyond prison walls (Crewe, 2015). Probation conditions prolong an experience of distance between our participants and society, given they remain subject to extensive penal control, sometimes on a daily basis. The greater this perceived distance, the deeper they may feel submerged beneath the surface (Crewe, 2015). Consequently, this can influence the extent to which parolees experience probation as burdensome or restrictive. The feeling of being so close to freedom but still under control can lead to what Shammas (2014) has called ‘pains of freedom’. The following example highlights how some experience this as the most challenging aspect of a forvaring sentence:

I usually tell people who are released on parole, “This will be the worst time. This will be the hardest part for you”. Because you’re so close [to freedom], but at the same time, you’ve got so many restrictions. […] Being on parole is worse than serving time. Yes, absolutely. Because you’re so free, but you’re not free, you know? (Jan)

Objectively speaking, life post-release entails an increase in autonomy, self-determination, and not least freedom of movement, compared to life in prison. However, our participants still narrated a lack of freedom. Prisoners serving time in high-security regimes often talk about the advantages of cultivating a certain mindset where one day is no different from the next and where time flows by itself (Crewe et al., 2020). Paradoxically, it seems the pains experienced by our participants may result more or less directly from increased ‘objective freedom’ because under the new conditions, where choices have to be made and life actively lived, this high-security mindset is no longer possible. Andvig et al. (2021) suggest that the residual lack of freedom in a seemingly free environment is experienced as more intense and demanding than in a closed prison, mainly due to constant contact with society and the general population. This could be summarized as a pain of liminality, where people are partly out from under the shadow of indefinite punishment but not yet free. Participants argued that parole periods involve tighter control than they anticipated, which led to expectations of freedom being frustrated (an experience accentuated by the comparative pains of freedom). This may in turn impact on the experienced salience of parole supervision (as more severe than expected), and, as such, create experiences more akin to suffering.

Several of our participants expressed that it was difficult to live with the terms and conditions imposed during parole. For some, this was a significant source of stress. Harald was one of the participants who found the terms and conditions to be very stressful, and he went on to explain they had “ruined” his overall mental health during the parole period. Furthermore, Jan expressed that all the years of restrictions nearly drove him “completely mad.” Glenn described the conditions as so unbearable that he expressed a preference to return to prison, stating that he would have chosen to serve his sentence in full if that was an option.

I almost went back several times. I didn’t like it at all. […] It's that bad. Yeah, I would’ve done another two years without blinking an eye. […] If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I would’ve gone back and finished the sentence full-time, without any terms and conditions.

There could be several reasons why Glenn felt like this. Several participants noted probation caseworkers could conduct random and unannounced visits to check that parolees maintained their terms and conditions (an indication of a movement towards a risk-based, rather than a welfare-based approach). This type of practice makes the control and surveillance of parolees less predictable. In contrast, it may feel easier to return to prison, where they are fully aware that surveillance and control are constant. In this sense, prison could feel like a more familiar and predictable environment (Harris et al., 2020), speaking, perhaps, to a level of institutionalization that may create problematic expectations for time on parole.

However, although the majority expressed that parole was highly challenging and at times worse than being in prison, there was still one participant who had a different experience of this period:

Well, you don’t just come and go as you want, although you can. There are urine tests, and if there's any issue, it's straight back to prison. But I had already made up my mind to stay sober, you know, so it wasn’t a problem for me. When I was released on parole, I didn’t really feel like there was any difference. Even though I had to check in with parole services from time to time, just a quick ‘hello and how are you,’ I didn’t mind popping in for a chat. So, it didn’t bother me at all. Not really. (Terje)

Although Terje is an exception, he does illustrate that the terms and conditions imposed on former forvaring prisoners do not necessarily have to be experienced as entirely negative. Terje stood out significantly from the rest of the group due to his different attitude on life in general, which may have influenced how he coped with the conditions on him and life during parole in general. Terje's background, personal circumstances and his sentence conditions can explain why he experienced the punishment differently from the rest of the sample (Van Ginneken and Hayes, 2017). This illustrates how different individuals, under similar conditions, can experience the weight of punishment differently (Crewe, 2015; Sexton, 2015). Furthermore, it is important to note that Terje is one of the individuals we interviewed after his probation period had ended, which means he was no longer under penal supervision. The benefit of hindsight may have made it easier for him to recognize the gains of probation in addition to the pains (Farrall et al., 2014: 157), in part because as time passes, the salience of the parole conditions in fully released people's lives decreases.

Fear of re-imprisonment

Parolees risk being sent back to prison if they breach their terms and conditions. While they now, in some ways, may enjoy a greater degree of freedom, they need to maintain discipline and self-control to avoid the risk of re-imprisonment. Our participants’ experiences can be linked to Neumann's (2011) concept of ‘imprisoning the soul’, where prisoners in open prisons feel the need to control themselves and construct their own imaginary prison walls in place of the ones missing from the institution. Again, in other words, parole can be experienced as a continuation of imprisonment, where parolees are required to take more responsibility for their own (self-) control and create their own mental barriers to avoid the risk of re-imprisonment.

The fear of re-imprisonment was a topic many participants highlighted. Parole violations do not automatically lead to reimprisonment, however. There are several possible sanctions, depending on the seriousness of the violation, including a warning, stricter or additional conditions, an extension of the parole period, or, in serious cases, re-imprisonment (Storvik, 2021). Formally speaking, then, there is a continuum of different possible reactions following a breach of conditions. Our participants, however, described a low bar for re-incarceration. According to them, even relatively insignificant transgressions and what they described as ‘petty issues’ would be enough:

It's so easy to pick up a six-pack and stuff when you’re at the store, you know. I don’t dare because that would mean going straight back to prison again. (Leif)

Yeah, it can be small things that get you locked up. You have one beer or smoke a joint, you know, and then you get three more years in prison. Hello? Come on.

[…]

But some people have obligations, right? They’ve got a job they have to go to, and if they don’t show up one day, it's a breach of conditions, and then there's a risk of re-imprisonment. Something as small as that. Quite a rigid, very rigid system […]. (Jan)

Other participants expressed the same feelings as Leif and Jan, and they further stated a desire for a ‘warning system’, ensuring that relatively minor things would not necessarily lead to re-imprisonment. There may be an element of censoriousness (Mathiesen, 1965) at play here, because probation caseworkers have a significant amount of discretion (Todd-Kvam, 2022) and a system of informal and formal warnings (Act relating to the execution of sentences, 2001, §44). It may also be that the heightened stakes when managing forvaring cases means that participants experienced less discretion than others on conditional release. Indeed, it is in comparison with regular prisoners that contrasts come into sharp focus. Most regular prisoners are released from prison without terms or conditions or any kind of follow-up whatsoever. Only a small minority, around 7% according to Mjåland and Ugelvik (forthcoming), get post-release supervision by the probation service. Previous experiences will, therefore, probably have led our participants to expect a high degree of freedom post-release. The requirements and conditions faced by forvaring prisoners is another matter. They are part of a small population regarded as the most dangerous individuals in society. The decision on whether to release considers the impact of parole conditions upon their level of risk – that is, the court must assess if there is an ‘imminent risk’ of further serious offending whilst under the conditions of supervision by probation (Supreme Court, 2014). This explains why strict conditions are imposed upon those released on probation – release would not necessarily be deemed appropriate without them. Forvaring prisoners have then a different starting point for their desistance journeys compared to other prisoners, as their journey towards freedom leaves less room for even minor setbacks. This is exemplified by Jan:

We're only human. Hello. So what they’re really saying when you’re on parole is that you're not allowed to be human. Because if you are, they’ll guarantee you an extra three to five years behind bars again.

Based on the participants’ statements, they seem to constantly feel as though they are ‘walking on eggshells’ (Harris et al., 2020). This makes the parole period particularly challenging, as they live in constant fear of committing a minor ‘human mistake’ that could bring them back to prison. In other words, the participants describe carrying the uncertainty associated with the indeterminate nature of the forvaring sentence with them beyond the prison walls and into society; again, the forvaring sentence has a much ‘broader’ reach than a regular prison sentence, extending its reach way beyond the prison walls. The forvaring system's intrusive approach towards relapses may be perceived as unrealistic and unjust, even illegitimate, by individuals on parole. Appleton et al. (2025: 530) argue that “the development and expansion of the forvaring sanction can be seen as the epicentre of the impact of the punitive turn and the impulse toward societal protection on Norway's correctional system”. The experiences here reflect the human consequences of this perceived need to manage risk in the name of societal protection.

Frustrations connected to social networks, friends, and family

The conditions of parole also created difficulties for the participants in participating in various social activities and thus forming new social networks. For instance, Jonas mentioned that on several occasions he had to decline invitations to go to the movies with friends, as the film would not finish by the time he was required to be back at his home:

There were several people that said to me, ‘Hey, come to the cinema with us!’ We were going to see the new [film]. I had gotten to know this woman from the neighbourhood, a really cool lady. […] She wanted to surprise me. […] ‘I've bought two tickets, and you're going to be one of them,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, sure, that sounds great, I’m up for that.’ So I asked, ‘When does it start?’ and she said, ‘Half past nine.’ Then I saw that it finished at a quarter past eleven, and I was like, ‘Damn, I can't, I can't go.’ She asked, ‘Why not?’ I replied, ‘I have a curfew at eleven.’ She was like, ‘You're joking, right? What's fifteen minutes here or there?’ But I had to say, ‘No, that can result in re-imprisonment.’ (Jonas)

Jonas’ experience shows that the conditions can make it challenging to form new pro-social networks. Additionally, one of his conditions required him to stay away from his old network and other people with criminal convictions. In combination, these two aspects can promote self-isolation. Furthermore, isolation and loneliness can further increase the perceived distance between the individual and society, ultimately affecting the perceived depth of parole (Crewe, 2011a, 2011b, 2015). This highlights a fundamental dilemma of parole, as the terms and conditions imposed on parolees may compromise or challenge their social interactions and social bonds, which are essential for the desistance process.

For Jonas, the conditions of his parole restricted how he could live his life. Again, this highlights the far-reaching nature of a forvaring sentence and how its broad reach moves beyond prison walls. Glenn described how the limitations of the conditions set upon him led him to no longer want to plan new activities:

Yeah, the control system was insane. And those conditions meant you didn't have the same freedom, so it became so restricted in the end, and eventually, well, it just came to nothing. You didn’t want to plan anything.

Glenn appears to be taken aback by how many restrictions and how much planning were needed just to engage in social interactions, far beyond what he had anticipated. His experience with the strict parole system, where he constantly had to ask for permission to do things, reinforced and maintained a sense of limited autonomy, despite being released back into society. This highlights how the weight and burden of these conditions can be so overwhelming that it changes parolees’ motivation to plan or take part in social events. The gap between Glenn's expectations and the reality of life on parole was so significant that he eventually stopped planning activities altogether, making the punishment gap even more prominent (Sexton, 2015).

The challenges and experiences of the participants during parole can also be explained by participants finding themselves in a liminal state (Jewkes, 2005; Nugent and Schinkel, 2016), betwixt and between two identities (Turner, 1969), being neither free nor imprisoned. Our participants described parole conditions as preventing them from moving on with their lives and, we argue, inhibiting the identity change process. The shift from one role to another can be experienced as a turbulent time, as old behaviours no longer align with their new identity (Farrall et al., 2014). These different roles can also come into conflict with one another (Shammas, 2014). For instance, the role of a parolee and its conditions may clash with the role of an employee, as schedules can overlap. This can result in feelings of confusion and uncertainty, as navigating between these different identities can be challenging.

The perception of parole being worse than imprisonment can also be explained by its impact on specific third persons. Some participants narrated the conditions of parole as not only affecting them but also their partners and children and, consequently, their relationships:

Oh yes, you definitely notice it. It's like you’ve signed up to put yourself in prison at home. And it doesn’t just affect you, you know. It affects your partner as well, who feels it too, right? And the kids didn’t really understand much of it at the time. But, you see, it's not just you who suffer from it. (Jan)

Jan's statement clearly highlights how the effects of punishment also impact people beyond himself. It seems that Jan's partner experienced some of the same feelings of ‘being imprisoned despite being free’. Van Ginneken and Hayes (2017) highlight how unintended consequences of punishment, like its impact on the family of the punished, may also be experienced as an integral part of the punishment, adding psychological weight to the experience, potentially for friends and family members as well as for parolees. Jan was not the only one who felt that parole affected others. Harald expressed feeling like a burden to those close to him and even considered whether it might be better for his family if he were no longer alive:

I didn’t feel like I could be present and be a good enough partner. It became a burden for her, and forvaring destroys people. And those conditions, they’re almost worse than being in prison. When I was with her, and she had nearly a 40-degree fever, it goes against the instincts of any decent person to leave someone you care about, or even just know for that matter, when they’re that ill. I looked at the clock, and she knew I had to leave her to make it back in time for curfew. That moment is burned into my memory as I walked down those stairs, sitting on the bus with tears in my eyes. It cut right through me. It's absolutely awful, absolutely awful to have to leave someone like that.

Harald's statements suggest that the conditions of parole are perceived as deeply intrusive, not only for him but also for his partner. The awareness that his punishment could negatively impact loved ones and other supporters was a significant burden for him. Other studies have also found that prisoners serving longer sentences experience pain and fear related to how their punishment may negatively affect family and friends (Crewe et al., 2020). It is widely recognized that punishment can affect individuals beyond the convicted person, and this is often referred to as the ‘secondary effects’ and ‘collateral consequences’ of imprisonment (Condry and Smith, 2018). In this way, the conditions of parole can also limit the life of a third person, even though they are not formally subject to penal control. Making life harder for someone you care about is perhaps the last thing you want in such a vulnerable situation. This aspect of parole can make the period especially difficult for those serving forvaring, as they feel the control extends beyond themselves (Crewe, 2011a).

Concluding discussion

Our analysis shows a significant gap between expectations and experiences of punishment (Sexton, 2015). The terms and conditions of parole were significantly more intrusive than our participants had anticipated. For years, as prisoners, they had endured the unpredictability of the forvaring sentence, not knowing when they would be released or how best to act to make it happen sooner rather than later. What lay beyond their release date was a vague and distant dream shrouded in uncertainty. Now, that dream had become a reality, and the participants experienced post-release life in a way they had not imagined, finding themselves negatively surprised by its similarity to life behind bars. As a result, they experienced release on parole as a continuation of, not a break with, imprisonment. Some participants even expressed that this period could sometimes be worse than life behind bars. Their assumptions about freedom seem to be the greatest disappointment. Their descriptions indicate that they were subjected to far more control and a situation that was both ‘deeper’ and ‘heavier’ than expected (Crewe, 2011a, 2015). Humphrey and Van Brunschot (2015) show that even interventions targeting former prisoners within society — justified by the need for public protection and crime prevention — can be so controlling and intrusive that these restrictions may be experienced as an additional form of punishment by those affected, arguably also increasing the ‘breadth’ of incarceration (Crewe, 2015). This adds to recent arguments that punishment in Norway may have more pervasive aspects than previously thought (e.g., Todd-Kvam, 2023; Ugelvik and Damsa, 2017) and that penal welfarism may be receding somewhat in the face of budget constraints and pushes towards societal protection (Appleton et al., 2025).

The experienced punishment gap can further be explained by the liminal position the participants found themselves in. The participants’ strong statements could result from the fact that most of them were interviewed while they were still under state control. Farrall et al. (2014) contrast how individuals tend to be highly critical whilst under probation supervision, but in follow-up interviews several years later, after they were no longer subject to such control, they viewed the experience more nuanced. Therefore, it is possible that we would have a different outcome if all the interviews were conducted after their indefinite punishment had concluded. Furthermore, as demonstrated above, the role of a parolee may interfere with that of a family member or friend. These conflicting roles can create tension, confusion, and feelings of uncertainty (Shammas, 2014). Ultimately, this may help explain why participants described probation as worse than imprisonment.

According to Mathiesen (1965), the highly critical attitudes expressed by prisoners experiencing indeterminate sentences ⁶ – Mathiesen called it ‘censoriousness’ – can also be seen as a defence against anticipated normative condemnation from the general public. This attitude allows forvaring prisoners to counter the stigma of being labelled as dangerous. In a country where rehabilitation and reintegration are seen as essential goals of imprisonment – indeed, core parts of its justifications – the claim that freedom is not really freedom and that the correctional service is trying hard to reimprison individuals on probation based on minor transgressions may be said to carry a strong censoriousness message. Indeed, the strongest criticisms of the system may be analytically tempered somewhat by this understanding, in that participants may be driven towards critique by an understandable desire to achieve some moral equivalence.

​​Norwegian penal policy is often praised for standing out as exceptional compared to other jurisdictions (Pratt, 2008a; Ugelvik, 2016). Several aspects of the forvaring sentence can be described as closely aligned with the idea of Nordic penal exceptionalism. For example, only a very small number of individuals are sentenced to this form of punishment, and the living conditions and material standards during imprisonment are relatively high. Additionally, several rehabilitation-oriented programs are offered, aimed at preparing forvaring prisoners for life post-release. From this perspective, forvaring could, at first glance, be described as an example of a sanction that aligns with the principles of Nordic exceptionalism. Crewe et al. (2023), however, believe that forvaring prisoners are subjected to a more punitive penal logic and more intrusive forms of control compared to regular prisoners. Ugelvik (2021, 2024) documents how Norwegian prisoners are sometimes shown uncommon levels of trust both during incarceration and post-release, which he claims may be conducive to the desistance process. This is not how forvaring prisoners describe their experience. Indeed, our participants told stories about a probation supervision system that represented a continuation of the low-trust environment of high-security imprisonment, creating the experience of ‘deep’ and ‘heavy’ imprisonment even post-release, testifying to the ‘breadth’ of the forvaring sentence. Compared to the average Norwegian prisoner, forvaring prisoners are subject to control measures and levels reminiscent of countries at the more punitive end of the penal/welfare spectrum (e.g., Annison, 2015; Appleton, 2010; Ashworth and Zedner, 2014). This article, therefore, contributes further nuance to the debates surrounding Nordic exceptionalism.