Navigating the ‘pains of freedom’ in open prisons

Abstract

Prison life is often described as inherently painful, including within less punitive prison settings. This study explores the ‘pains of freedom’ in a low-security, or ‘open’, prison context, drawing on extensive fieldwork conducted in Leira, a Norwegian open prison. Although Leira is widely regarded as preferable to other penal settings, the data shows that pains persist, even in low-security institutions that are, in many ways, not very prisonlike. This article challenges the presupposition frequently underlying the ‘pains of imprisonment’ literature, that pains necessarily are only harmful or destructive. Processes of positive change and personal growth will often involve a certain measure of pain or discomfort. Contributing to ongoing theoretical development of the concepts ‘pains of imprisonment’ and ‘pains of freedom’, this study explores whether the pains experienced in open prisons such as Leira can, under the right circumstances, be constructive or transformative. The analysis identifies five aspects – transparency, tolerance, trust, empowerment and engagement – that help residents and staff navigate the ‘pains of freedom’.

Residents at Leira, an open prison in Norway, experience greater autonomy than in most Norwegian prisons, but also heightened expectations and responsibilities that accompany it. Kenneth described using his time there as a kind of ‘purification’: ‘We’ve used that word, a few of us who have reflected together. Use the time and sentence for something positive. And I believe that it's actually possible to do that at Leira’. George, in contrast, had more mixed feelings. He noted that time passes more quickly in closed prisons and that while Leira offered greater freedom, it was freedom constrained by social expectations, leaving him less scope to be himself and with less room to ‘mess around and use drugs’. In his view, it's possible to ‘get away’ with much more in closed prisons without anyone being able to punish him for it. Whereas Kenneth actively utilised the possibilities provided by the greater autonomy, George questioned whether those benefits outweighed the increased responsibilities and the struggles that accompanied them.

These contrasting perspectives reflect broader debates within scholarship on open prisons. Such institutions are often seen as less restrictive, oppressive and harmful than closed prisons, offering more autonomy, improved living conditions and better staff–prisoner relationships (Crewe et al., 2023). In fact, in one study, only 18.9% of prisoners in Norwegian open prisons agreed with the statement ‘this prison is doing harm to me’, compared to 42.2% in closed prisons (Mjåland et al., 2023). Some, such as Leira, have even been called ‘exceptional’ based on prisoners’ positive evaluations (Lundeberg et al., 2018), aligning with Pratt’s (2008) claim that Nordic penal systems are more humane compared to Anglo-American prisons. However, as Shammas (2014) argues, the very freedoms that make open prisons appear more humane can also generate new pressures and ‘pains’. He argues that imprisonment with enhanced freedom can be experienced as ambiguous or tainted; the heightened expectations of prisoners’ roles and responsibilities may lead to frustration, and the increased proximity to the outside world can provoke anxiety after years in confinement.

This article builds on this established body of scholarship on prison pains but takes a different approach. While recognising that all imprisonment entails pain, it examines how some pains, in certain unique prisons, can be less harmful and even experienced as meaningful or transformative. Drawing on studies that highlight the potential for hope, growth and self-reinvention in prison settings (Crewe and Ievins, 2020; Kazemian, 2019; Liebling et al., 2019), I argue that certain prison pains may contribute to the reintegration process when supported by proper institutional conditions. Through extensive ethnographic fieldwork and qualitative interviews conducted with staff and residents, I identify five key aspects that help navigate the pains of imprisonment at Leira, increasing the likelihood of valuable and transformative prison experiences: (1) transparency, (2) tolerance, (3) trust, (4) empowerment and (5) engagement.

Pains and possibilities of open prisons

The concept of ‘pains of imprisonment’, developed by Gresham Sykes (1958), was originally connected to five deprivation experiences: The deprivation of (1) liberty, (2) desirable goods and services, (3) heterosexual relationships, (4) autonomy and (5) security. Following Sykes’ analysis, one would expect that when these five deprivations are alleviated or removed, imprisonment would be less painful. However, more recent research has demonstrated that even in low-security or ‘open’ prison conditions, where all five deprivations tend to be less severe, prisoners still find prison life painful. The concept of ‘pains of freedom’ posits that increased freedom generates a different type of pain compared to closed prisons, caused by the uncertainty surrounding the limits of prisoners’ relative freedom and the demanding responsibilities placed on each individual (Shammas, 2014). Consequently, prisoners’ time in an open prison can be ‘experienced as ambiguous, bittersweet or tainted’ (Shammas, 2014: 104). According to Shammas (2014), prisoners often struggle with (1) confusion over their autonomy and status, (2) anxiety and boundlessness in navigating new freedoms, (3) ambiguity in rules and expectations, (4) relative deprivation when comparing open prisons with life outside and (5) the burden of individual responsibility for shaping their own rehabilitation. Neumann (2012: 139) even suggests that the tension between the simultaneous promise of freedom while being held accountable to institutional authorities creates a greater ‘imprisonment of the soul’ and argues that prisoners in open prisons must construct their own security perimeter to meet the demands of self-governance. Several studies similarly highlight challenges and painful experiences resulting from increased freedom in open prisons (Abrahamsen, 2017; De Vos and Gilbert, 2017; Micklethwaite and Earle, 2021; Statham et al., 2021). It seems like the very conditions that make open prisons appear more humane – greater autonomy, freedom and responsibility – also create emotional strains that prisoners must continually navigate.

Crewe (2011) describes the strain between freedom and restrictions as a sense of ‘tightness’, an all-encompassing penal power that smothers such as an invisible harness, exercised through psychological pressure and the burden of self-regulation. Constant expectations of self-regulation can lead to perpetual tension, while the lack of clear boundaries and transparency fosters anxiety and fear around potential missteps. Crewe and Ievins (2021) expanded the concept of ‘tightness’ by exploring whether the ‘grip’ of penal power can occasionally feel supportive rather than painful. They argue that a prison can be both demanding and invasive – ‘tight’ – while simultaneously responsive and offering meaningful assistance, thus providing a constructive framework for change. Building on Scott’s (2011) notion of ‘reinventive institutions’, Crewe and Ievins (2020) explore how some prisons function as spaces for self-reinvention, where prisoners actively engage in their own transformation. This process requires a culture of mutual commitment, in which both staff and prisoners embrace the institution's rehabilitative ethos and encourage change, alongside mutual surveillance and horizontal power among peers to support each other's self-improvement.

The terms ‘tightness’ and ‘pains of freedom’ both draw inspiration from Sykes’ (1958) classic term ‘pains of imprisonment’. Over the past six decades, since Sykes’ groundbreaking work, an extensive body of literature has expanded the concept, documenting a growing number of ‘prison pains’ (see examples in Haggerty and Bucerius, 2020). In their critique of this evolution, Haggerty and Bucerius (2020) argue that it conflates severe pains with less acute ones and that many studies fail to offer actionable solutions for improvement. This critique raises an important question: how can we go beyond adding even more pains to the ever-growing list inspired by Sykes’ pioneering work, and instead focus on supporting personal growth? Rather than treating theoretical perspectives on pains and possibilities of open prisons as competing, this study views them as interconnected. Any penal institution that deprives individuals of their freedom will inevitably cause pain or unease. A key question, however, is whether these pains can, under the right conditions, contribute to personal growth. The literature on the ‘pains of freedom’ (Shammas, 2014) highlights how increased autonomy can cause psychological burdens, complicating the assumed benefits of open prisons. Building on this, and drawing on the supportive aspects of ‘tightness’ (Crewe and Ievins, 2021) and ‘reinventive institutions’ (Crewe and Ievins, 2020), this study explores key aspects at Leira that shape residents’ experiences and may cultivate more constructive and transformative outcomes.

Method

The study draws on extensive empirical data collected at Leira in 2021, comprising fieldnotes from three months of ethnographic fieldwork and qualitative interviews with 25 residents and 15 staff members. ¹ This study forms part of a larger research project exploring health-promoting aspects of prisons, and its exploratory design permitted an in-depth examination of both the possibilities and limitations within a low-security penal context. Fieldwork consisted of 325 hours of participant observation, during which I participated in various everyday activities alongside residents and staff. These included repotting plants, cleaning, watching TV, playing cards, preparing food, hiking, attending meetings, lifting weights and petting dogs. To establish trust and rapport, interviews were conducted after a month of fieldwork. Building trust involves more than simply sharing activities, it also requires positioning myself as approachable and independent from the Correctional Service. This required careful boundary management to maintain a clear researcher role, such as avoiding minor staff tasks despite having key access. Key access, as well as having the freedom to leave at the end of the day, showed an inevitable asymmetry. Such dilemmas are known among prison scholars who experience having to continually negotiate their ‘allegiance’ (Liebling, 2001). In one instance, a resident requested assistance in retrieving items from a locked storage room. Although I did the task with the permission of the staff, I made it clear that this was not a typical responsibility for me as a researcher. The egalitarian culture facilitated research access, and my age, gender and interests further facilitated interactions. As a young woman, I was often mistakenly considered one of the social health students who occasionally interned at Leira, effectively normalising my presence and distancing me from the Correctional Service. My gender facilitated interviews with female residents who would otherwise be more hesitant towards speaking to a male researcher, while my interests in strength training facilitated contact with men with similar interests. ²

The interviews followed a semi-structured format, guided by key themes from an interview guide while allowing participants to speak freely. A purposive sampling strategy was employed to ensure a diverse range of perspectives, considering age, gender, length of sentence and experience with jobs and programmes at Leira. Notably, all approached staff and residents agreed to participate, with the final sample representing 78% of Leira's total resident capacity. All data from the broader project were coded using NVivo, following an inductive, bottom-up approach that allowed themes to emerge from the data. The analysis began with open coding and the development of a comprehensive coding scheme, which was continuously refined through critical reflection and peer discussions to enhance validity. A second phase, tailored to this study, focused on the most relevant codes, covering specific topics such as leisure activities, job training and security routines, alongside more interpretive themes such as autonomy, prisoner hierarchy and staff–prisoner relationships.

Ethical approval was obtained from the Norwegian Centre for Research Data, and steps were taken to minimise potential distress. This included providing sufficient information about the project through posters, group announcements and informal conversations; obtaining written and verbal consent prior to interviews; de-identifying interview transcripts; and ensuring confidentiality in the storage and use of the data. All participating residents were assigned pseudonyms, which are used consistently throughout this article.

Assessing liminal experiences in an open prison environment

Leira, a small prison with 31 places situated in central Norway, was chosen as a case study due to its open status and positive evaluations by prisoners (Liebling et al., 2021; Lundeberg et al., 2018). Residents often used grim metaphors to describe Norwegian closed prisons, whilst employing contrastingly positive and uplifting metaphors for Leira. It was often compared to a ‘school camp’, with the differences from closed prisons depicted as ‘night and day’, as a transition ‘from hell to heaven’ or as entering ‘a whole other world’ (fieldnotes). Avery even suggested that ‘If I had this apartment, kept my job with my dogs, and were a free person here, I wouldn’t have a problem with that’. Leira exemplifies a highly normalised environment (De Vos, 2023) and shares characteristics with other exceptional ‘shallow’ prisons (Pakes, 2023), including extensive freedom of movement, privacy, clear yet unobtrusive boundaries and egalitarian staff–prisoner relationships. This is illustrated in the following fieldnote extract:

In the middle of lunch, a resident addressed everyone in the room with a raised voice, newspaper in hand, ‘Are you ready for the quiz?’. The local paper features a daily quiz focusing on current events. ‘Remember, [the inspector] promised to bake us a cake if we get all the questions right while they’re on holiday’. For the next 15 minutes, the room buzzed as residents and staff collectively discussed which country Kofi Annan is from, the name of the author of Of Mice and Men, and which artist ‘Swifties’ are fans of.

The prison is surrounded by picturesque farmland, despite being located only a short bus ride from a major city. There are no typical prison features such as cameras, bars or a surrounding perimeter fence or wall. Sometimes, one could see unsuspecting outsiders admiring the flower beds until they were politely informed that they had stumbled into a prison area. In my first week, I found it challenging to distinguish staff from residents, as no uniforms separated them, and everyone was treated similarly. Most residents work either in the garden centre or the dog day care centre, allowing daily contact with the local community through interaction with customers buying flowers or collecting their dogs. In their spare time, residents can use the fully equipped gym, play games, watch television, play billiards, football, volleyball or use the equipped music room. They can also visit the local supermarket or public library once a week under staff supervision or enjoy pre-set walking or biking routes outside the prison area unaccompanied at designated times. These examples illustrate that Leira is more boundless than more typical prisons resembling total institutions (Goffman, 1961) where the confined are strictly separated from society. Instead, Leira exemplifies a porous penal environment, with blurred distinction between inside and outside (Baer and Ravneberg, 2008).

The absence of total institution characteristics reflects close adherence to the principle of normality (De Vos, 2023). It does not merely resemble working in a garden centre, it is an actual garden centre with regular customers where residents walk amongst non-imprisoned citizens. However, one aspect that contrasts with the principle of normality was the mandatory requirement for residents to use the pre-set walking route twice weekly. Intended as a tool to increase physical activity, this rule was perceived by many as paternalistic, intrusive or infantilising, highlighting the tension between transformative intentions and the experience of discomfort or coercion. While some appreciated the encouragement to be active, many frequently voiced complaints. ³ This example risked positioning Leira as a ‘socialization machine (Shammas, 2014: 107), steering people towards desired behaviour.

Since its establishment in 1986, Leira has utilised ‘consequence pedagogy’, a method developed by Danish philosopher Jens Bay. This framework is grounded in the belief that individuals have free will and their actions are not predetermined by social or genetic factors. A key aspect involves motivating individuals to take responsibility for their lives and actively participate in their community by understanding their roles and obligations to others. It promotes personal development through interaction, communication and awareness about the consequences of one's actions (Bay, 1982). Staff receive training in this method through a university course, and the method is incorporated into all activities at Leira, providing substantial autonomy while holding individuals accountable for their actions.

New residents are introduced to this responsibility from the outset. Applicants must accept responsibility for their conviction to be admitted to Leira. As noted by a staff member: ‘If someone doesn’t acknowledge having done anything wrong, it reduces the potential for change’. Leira becomes an example of an ethical world where people's offences are both ‘there’ as they are pressured to acknowledge them before admission and ‘not there’ since their offences are rarely addressed further during their sentence (Laursen and Mjåland, 2025), except for some residents’ participation in offence-related courses with trained staff. Requiring people to acknowledge their offence places pressure to conform to Leira's moral framework, favouring those perceived as motivated and aligned with institutional expectations of remorse. This further aligns with the concept of ‘tightness’ where compliance is achieved through internalised regulation instead of coercion (Crewe, 2011).

While Leira does not formally exclude prisoners based on background or offence, its population is highly selective (Lundeberg et al., 2018), and its open structure may limit access for those deemed as escape risks. During fieldwork, foreign nationals were notably underrepresented in comparison to their 27.2 percent share of the overall prison population (KDI, 2025). Although no specific study in Norway has directly examined the role of nationality in open-prison access, courts are found to frequently justify remand detention for non-Norwegians on the basis of flight risk (Arntzen, 2013). Similar risk assessments likely influence transfers to lower-security facilities, particularly considering the growing distinction between non-national and national prisoners in Norway (Pakes and Holt, 2017).

Despite the extensive autonomy at Leira, residents remain deprived of their liberty, separated from their loved ones and encounter several ‘pains of freedom’ during their imprisonment. Many find the transition from closed to open prison overwhelming, with the newfound freedom and trust proving challenging for those used to constant supervision and minimal responsibilities. Shammas (2014) termed this ‘anxiety and boundlessness’, resulting from the loss of stability and disruption of self-identity associated with closed settings. Certain security routines remain consistent with those found in other prisons, such as headcounts, drug testing and room checks. Residents knew that transgressions such as violence, drug use, possession of prohibited items or leaving the premises without permission could result in transfer back to a closed prison. Staff estimated that only about three such transfers occur annually, yet the threat of being sent back remains a daily concern for some residents. Life at Leira also demands far greater responsibility and effort than in closed prisons, exemplifying what Shammas (2014: 113) terms a ‘double-edged sword that provides both pleasure and pain’. For example, resident Alex was dissatisfied with the physically demanding workload and the ‘insanity’ of ‘people on disability benefits who haven't worked for 15 years are expected to work at the garden centre from 07:45 to 15:00’. Yet, Alex went on, ‘Everything else is good except that’.

Despite these pains and stresses, most residents described life at Leira positively overall. They generally viewed their experiences favourably, even in the face of existing security routines, mandatory activities, high demands and the risk of retransfer to a closed prison. While life at Leira is not without pain, these pains differ from the more directly harmful forms described in studies of closed prisons. Instead, they represent a more ambiguous type of pain, which, under certain conditions, may be navigated or channelled into constructive processes of rehabilitation. The question is how Leira operates to limit and navigate these pains. The remainder of the analysis outlines five aspects that help residents and staff navigate the ‘pains of freedom’, reducing their harmful effects and, in some cases, transforming them into constructive experiences.

Transparency

One of the key aspects at Leira is that responses to violations of rules or norms should be understood and practised as consequences rather than punishments, aligning with the consequence pedagogy model. Unlike punishment, which often carries an element of retribution and may not directly relate to the behaviour, a consequence must be ethically justifiable, applicable, proportional, delivered promptly and perceived as a logical outcome of the behaviour. This approach requires transparency and clear communication about norms, rules and the consequences of non-adherence. New residents are therefore informed about expectations and consequences during admission interviews, introductory meetings, through information brochures and by signing a contract acknowledging the rules. Patrick described his first experience in a closed prison as confusing and stressful, learning about prison life mostly from other prisoners. In contrast, when arriving at Leira, they ‘sat and talked for over an hour about what was going to happen going forward and where I would be working. It was a lot of information, but it was really good, for sure’. Clear communication and transparency help make prison life more predictable and ensure that consequences are perceived as fair.

At Leira, the most serious consequence is re-transfer to a closed prison. Studies on open prisons capture the constant risk of being retransferred looming over prisoners (Micklethwaite and Earle, 2021). During my fieldwork, fear of retransfer was present but to varying degrees. Serious violations, such as escape attempts, assault or possession and use of drugs, can lead to immediate retransfer to higher security. Residents with stable routines and no inclination towards rule-breaking rarely discussed it. Others admitted to thinking about the risk of retransfer ‘all the time’, and their anxiety stemmed from difficulties adjusting to routines or because their personal wishes conflicted with Leira's expectations, rather than fear of misunderstanding the rules and consequences.

Staff at Leira who have faced criticism in the past for using retransfer as a threat, have since modified their approach:

We got some feedback in the beginning that we were doing ‘baseball bat-pedagogy’. ‘If you’re not following these rules you’re going back to high-security.’ That's threatening with transfer to high-security, right? We shouldn’t do that. (Interview with staff member)

The previously used ‘baseball bat pedagogy’, while transparent by clearly communicating the consequence of rule-breaking, focused on threats and thereby undermined the principles of trust and understanding the logic of the rules. In most cases, staff do attempt to inform and warn residents before their behaviour warrants such strict consequences as retransfer.

We don’t want to send people back, but at one point, we have to start asking, ‘Do you want to keep your place here? Because as things are today, you’re going against everything you agreed to when you came here, and you’re having a negative effect on the environment. Maybe you should give the spot to someone who will benefit from it’. And usually, at that point, they realise, ‘Oh, shit.’ They don’t want to give up their place.

(Interview with staff member)

In alignment with consequence pedagogy, retransfers are considered a consequence of not taking advantage of what Leira offers. Lesser infractions result in less severe sanctions, such as being called in for a ‘conversation’, which a staff member described as follows:

You’re basically confronted with what we have observed. Then you get a chance to provide your input. After that, we agree on a way forward, quite simply. So, it's pretty harmless. Most people comply and make a change. Those who choose to ignore it could, in the worst-case scenario, be sent back. But that's very rare.

Decisions in prisons are guided by both formal rules and personal judgements, and the open prison's less rigid setting makes the use of discretion more common. Liebling (2000) argues that prison officers rely on discretion to create order but emphasise the importance of exerting that power with judgment, meaning predictably but flexibly. It is a challenge to balance flexible and individualised treatment with consistent and fair rule application. Some staff members are perceived as stricter, whereas others are considered ‘favourites’ for their more lenient approach. This created inconsistencies in rule enforcement and mixed experiences among residents: while some dislike the ambiguous relationships and unclear boundaries, others saw the advantages of navigating between staff for various requests. In their effort to treat each resident as a unique individual, staff at Leira risks inconsistent application of rules. This inconsistency in discretionary power can undermine transparency and may cause uncertainty and anxiety (Crewe, 2011), while systems constantly seeking to prevent errors and ‘imperfect’ results might also harden the environment as security goals are prioritised over humane approaches (Reiter et al., 2017). This underscores that cultivating a transparent institutional environment necessitates a continual balancing act, emphasising the importance of clear communication in minimising misunderstandings to the greatest extent possible.

A more transparent system can effectively reduce uncertainty and fear of crossing invisible lines, thereby alleviating the smothering sense of ‘tightness’. Statham et al. (2021) noted in their study of an open prison in England that when ‘goalposts’ were unclear and constantly moving, progress seemed futile. At Leira, by contrast, consequences are intentionally designed to be foreseeable, clear and logical. Rather than imposing an ‘invisible harness’ (Crewe, 2011: 522) Leira strives to offer a fully accessible ‘instruction manual’ to guide residents through their imprisonment and rehabilitation process. In this manner, transparency helps mitigate the pain of ambiguity and uncertainty about boundaries and rules.

Tolerance

Seeing as admission to Leira is not restricted based on the category of conviction, the resident population include a variety of sentencing backgrounds, encompassing everything from drug-related crimes to sexual offences. Despite discomfort among residents regarding this diversity – echoing Syke's well-known quote, ‘The worst thing about prison is you have to live with other prisoners’ (1958: 77) – conflicts and violent incidents at Leira are rare, and the residential environment is perceived as egalitarian. Leo noted, ‘it's really incredible, actually, that [the social environment] works as well as it does’. Mjåland and Laursen (2021) refer to the lack of prisoner hierarchy in Norwegian open prisons as ‘horizontal harmony’, arguing that it stems from Norwegian societal norms and prisoners’ pragmatic choices. While societal norms are challenging to replicate elsewhere, Leira's strict social requirements clearly shaped how residents conducted themselves. Staff foster harmony by requiring residents to accept the presence of everyone. Leaving behind the hierarchical social structure of closed prisons and tolerating one another is emphasised during admission meetings and reinforced as needed. Threats, violence and negative influences on the social environment are violations that may lead to reprimands, warnings or retransfer to closed prisons.

Residents with extensive experience from closed prisons – where ‘sex offenders’ are viewed as ‘fundamentally and essentially different from the proper, normal prisoners’ (Ugelvik, 2014: 214), and where prisoners may idealise, and sometimes even perpetrate, violence against them – may struggle to adhere to Leira's expectation of tolerance. Martin remarked: ‘I don’t talk to pedophiles, I don’t think other people should talk to them either. But it's different here, and you can’t say anything about it because then you get sent back to high security’. Some residents still find subtle ways to express disapproval, such as making belittling comments out of staff's earshot, or, as Jacob does, to ‘just ignore them; can’t do more here’. Despite instances of bullying and social exclusion, I still observed several interactions where residents with stigmatised sentences were spoken to amicably by those making similar claims as Martin and Jacob. Although residents occasionally express dissatisfaction, the social atmosphere at Leira often seems to challenge classic prison culture, fostering an atmosphere of mutual, albeit sometimes begrudging, tolerance.

Leira's tolerant environment allowed residents not only to notice but also to confront misconduct. For example, when a newcomer was seen ogling women, other residents verbally reprimanded him, a response that contrasts with most prisons, where individuals with stigmatised sentences might meet social exclusion or hostility. According to residents, there had been significant improvements in this individual's behaviour afterwards. I also observed dynamics indicating mutual surveillance and social control during the ‘resident meetings’, where residents voice suggestions and complaints to peer representatives, who would then forward them to the prison management. During my fieldwork, these meetings were well-attended, with residents expressing concerns about messiness in the shared kitchen or rude conduct in the TV room. Staff encouraged such peer intervention, and one staff member reflected on their approach after a meeting with some residents regarding their misconduct:

Consequence pedagogy is really based on the feedback others give you. What went a bit wrong at this meeting was that we told them that several people in the community were reacting to their behaviour. The fact that we were representing the community is wrong.

Consequence pedagogy relies on social learning within the social community, and at Leira this involves encouraging residents to speak up and actively address issues. The prison's tolerant and egalitarian prisoner culture facilitates easier and more frequent interventions, not only from staff but also among residents. The social climate fostered positive relationships, peer support and interventions, which enhanced residents’ sense of safety and well-being. Leira's emphasis on tolerance alleviates a dimension of ‘tightness’ termed lateral tightness (Ievins, 2020). In many prisons, peer surveillance increases exclusion and stigmatisation, particularly towards those with stigmatised offences. At Leira, residents are encouraged to confront misconduct, thus supporting an environment that fosters inclusion rather than exclusion. It also illustrated the kind of mutual surveillance that characterises a ‘reinventive institution’ (Crewe and Ievins, 2020).

Trust

High security institutions focus on minimising risk, whereas Leira accepts a certain level of risk in order to foster the right conditions for change. Accepting some risk allows staff to extend more trust, yet trust is hard to find in a setting typically characterised by distrust and control. And as Ugelvik (2022: 13) notes, ‘when trust is in short supply, as in most prisons, being on the receiving end means that much more’. Staff at Leira generally assume trust rather than testing it, with some exceptions, such as waiting a few weeks before granting leave to new residents. Otherwise, trust is close to being the default mode from the time of admission. Trym observed: ‘Here at Leira, everything is based on trust. The other prisons I’ve been in have no trust-based system. It's control, control, control’.

Staff also prioritise viewing residents first and foremost as people, not merely as prisoners, thus respecting their innate worth. Martin described the relationship with staff as one of ‘mutual respect’, stating: ‘They’re nice to me, I’m nice to them, and they feel more like social therapists rather than prison officers. They don’t have that prison mentality, they’re here to help us’. A staff member echoed these egalitarian values; ‘it's about finding the balance between being a prison officer and being a human being, right?’. This mutual trust enhances respect, becoming a form of social capital that improves staff–resident relationships. Avery highlighted how trust impacted them:

I work in the dog day care centre. It's based on trust, which I have to show, and which they also show me. That makes me want to prove that I’m worthy of having the job, that I deserve it.

The focus on trust was also evident when talking with staff at the garden centre: ‘We always have this control function in the back of our minds, but as long as they prove themselves trustworthy, we try to work together as colleagues’.

This emphasis contributes to an egalitarian atmosphere at Leira. When I asked James if there were any differences between talking with staff and with residents, he replied: ‘No… The staff can help you more, in a way, but in terms of talking, it's pretty much the same’. Within this egalitarian environment, several residents trust staff sufficiently to be emotionally open, such as when George openly discussed the challenges faced in his sex life during home leaves. His previous sexual experiences were associated with drug use, and he confided to a staff member about possibly resorting to drugs again if he ‘didn’t get it up’ during his next leave (fieldnotes). Leira thus provided a safe and trusting space where even discussion of sensitive topics and risk of relapse is permitted without fear of disproportional or unfounded consequences. Prisoners in Norwegian high-security drug rehabilitation units have reported hesitancy in sharing concerns about potential relapse (Lunde, 2025), echoing the impression a staff member at Leira had received from residents:

They’ve experienced [in other prisons] that if they admit to having cravings, they lose their leave. But that's not how we operate. We work with them, saying, ‘what can we do in terms of planning to help you handle the leave, when you’re experiencing cravings?’

Additionally, Leira takes a nuanced approach to mental health challenges. When a resident suffered a mental breakdown and violent outburst after prolonged bullying, he was placed temporarily in a mental health facility instead of being retransferred to a closed prison for using violence. In contrast, a study on open prisons in England and Wales found that reporting mental health issues caused legitimate fear of being ‘shipped out’ (Danks and Bradley, 2018).

Overall, Leira offers a more trusting regime with fewer of the everyday custodial frustrations generally associated with high-security prisons. This involves demonstrating trust from the outset, with limits imposed only when prisoners exhibit clear signs of untrustworthiness, rather than establishing distrust as the norm. Leira's emphasis on trust mitigates the pain of anxiety and fear of arbitrary sanctions, as a egalitarian and high-trust social environment helps create a safe and supportive environment, allowing room for asking for help and learning from one's mistakes.

Empowerment

At Leira, trust itself functioned as a form of empowerment, as it signalled confidence in individuals’ abilities. At the individual level, empowerment involves having the capacity and ability to take charge of one's own life (Tones, 1991), and empowerment research focuses on identifying capabilities rather than risk factors (Perkins and Zimmerman, 1995). Similarly, Leira prioritises skill development and enhancing positive capabilities over primarily evaluating risks. This is consistent with the consequence pedagogy method, which grants residents autonomy to make decisions, provided they are well-informed about their responsibilities and potential consequences.

Micklethwaite and Earle (2021) emphasised that progress can emerge precisely through the struggles of adjusting to the absence of control after prolonged close supervision in closed prisons. In contrast, a study of HMP Warren Hill notes the lack of resources to help prisoners resettle as a significant flaw, causing anxiety due to the unknown challenges awaiting them outside (Liebling et al., 2019). By comparison, staff aim to make Leira ‘an excellent training ground to learn various skills’ where ‘residents can practice in a safe, protected, and calm setting’ (interview with staff). This is achieved by teaching personal, social and practical skills and fostering a normal work routine and a safe social atmosphere, as exemplified by Lasse:

The world outside continues, while Leira is safe and good. So, I can spend my time reflecting on how I was, why I was like that and what I need to do to avoid becoming like that again. Those weren’t thoughts that even occurred to me when I was at [previous prison].

Support at Leira is tailored to residents’ individual needs. Older residents were given training in computer literacy, and up to four residents were offered ‘training apartments’ to learn to live more independently as part of their preparation for release. Residents at Leira typically receive more leave than they would in closed prisons, often for the purpose of reintegration activities. Additionally, staff focus on practical re-entry preparations, assisting residents in securing housing, employment and a social network after their release.

James described this autonomy as having ‘a type of freedom under reins, in a sense. It's more up to each person, more up to yourself’. Empowerment and self-development require intrinsic motivation, and prison staff can assist by motivating and encouraging processes of change, rather than controlling or gripping too constrictively (Crewe and Ievins, 2021). Jens noted increased motivation when receiving praise for his work and his progress in his weight loss journey, adding that ‘it's the simple things that might make you get up the next day and say, “Today I'll give a little extra”’. Supportive feedback is common practice at Leira, particularly at the garden centre:

On one occasion, a staff member began telling a resident about a type of flower we were moving – a twinspur. Shortly after, a customer approached us to ask about the flower's name. The resident confidently repeated this newfound information as if he had known it for years. Hearing this, the staff member praised him loudly and patted him on the shoulder (fieldnotes).

It is crucial at Leira that residents have a sense of ownership over their environment and are active participants in their own rehabilitation process. This was particularly evident in meetings I attended about new residents’ progress plans, where I observed staff using empowering phrases like: ‘You know this better than me’ or ‘You’re deciding this, of course’. While increased responsibility can create role confusion and a sense of boundlessness within open prisons (Shammas, 2014), most residents at Leira see these experiences as stepping stones towards successful independence because they receive sufficient information and support.

Engagement

Like all prisons, Leira faces the challenge of navigating an ‘omnipresent potential crisis’ (Ugelvik, 2014: 59). Unlike closed prisons, Leira addresses this challenge and ensures safety without relying on static measures such as fences, bars or cameras. Instead, staff prioritise dynamic security, maintaining order through engagement with residents, positive relationships and an active presence:

We have to be in the environment, mingle with everyone. Join them on walks. Visit their workplaces. Be a part of everything. That's the safest way to keep an eye on things. (Interview with staff)

Since Leira appears to enjoy a positive staff–prisoner relationship most of the time, security does not seem to be as pressing an issue as it is in most prisons. One staff member remarked that security ‘is as far back in my mind as possible, considering that I work in a prison’. Staff identified worst-case scenarios as events such as fires, intruders seeking revenge or attempts to smuggle narcotics, whereas concerns about escapes or acts of violence appeared to be minimal.

Staff also claimed that drug use at Leira was minimal, attributing part of this to residents’ strict internal discipline. As a staff member observed:

If drugs enter the facility, it quickly becomes noticeable within the group. Residents start behaving differently, perhaps retreating to their rooms more often. You get subtle hints from residents, like, ‘Something's going on here, hello, pay some attention’.

Residents confirmed this phenomenon of subtly addressing unwanted issues when they emerged. Patrick shared his potential reaction if narcotics entered Leira:

There's something about speaking up, which we, on the inside, call snitching. You're not very well-liked if you do things like that – it affects you personally. For my part, I might want to say that something is happening here; maybe staff should keep an eye out, without mentioning any names or specifics.

Patrick confirmed the staff's claim that some residents do report unwanted activities when they occur, even though the concept of ‘snitching’ is strongly discouraged in Norwegian prisons (Kilmer et al., 2023). This behaviour of discreetly informing staff can be partly attributed to residents’ ‘self-regulated justice’ (Steiro et al., 2013) or ‘lateral tightness’ (Ievins, 2020) but it also stems from staff engagement at Leira, which fosters an environment where repercussions are less feared and promotes a positive staff–prisoner relationship.

A basic requirement for achieving engagement and dynamic security is to have sufficient staff numbers and to prioritise active presence in common areas. Although minimally staffed, Leira's small size and the central location of the staff office ensure that staff remain accessible. The office is unlocked most of the time and rarely empty, with residents frequently stopping by with requests or for a casual chat. It was so common to stop by that it became a source of annoyance for residents who preferred talking with staff without other residents present:

I find it completely ridiculous that [residents] are using the staff office as a lounge. […] I mean, I can’t wait for two hours for staff to become available because they’re talking about basketball games or whatever. – Will

This highlights the highly unique staff–prisoner dynamics at Leira. Leira would likely be situated in the ‘light-present’ quadrant of the matrix developed by Crewe et al. (2014), which they argue is the most legitimate way for prison staff to apply power. The engagement displayed at Leira thus helps mitigate one of the common pains of contemporary imprisonment, the experience of ‘tightness’ resulting from intrusive and constant surveillance, and instead makes residents feel supported and validated as individuals through dialogue and dynamic security. Residents generally perceive staff as being responsive and assistive, rather than invasive and paternalistic, which helps foster a supportive ‘tightness’ at Leira that can contribute to positive change.

Concluding discussion – harmful or helpful pain?

As Sykes (1958) argues, any condition of confinement can be inherently painful. Even ‘exceptional’ open prisons can feel suffocating and infantilising (Shammas, 2014) such as the example of mandatory walking routes in Leira. Or as Crewe (2011: 520) describes, when appropriate behaviour is narrowly defined, ‘prisoners feel encircled by “eggshells”, and deemed responsible for any breakages’. Conversely, the supportive tightness experienced from various ‘pains of freedom’ can serve as a tool to help prisoners adjust to increased autonomy and foster stability (Crewe and Ievins, 2021). De Vos (2023: 237) argues that self-discipline, alongside dynamic security, connects to the normalisation process and notes that ‘[…] the ‘tighter’, that is, the more demanding and intrusive the regime, the less painful and harmful effects were mentioned by prisoners’. Leira may be characterised as having a ‘tight’ regime where its residents are subject to constant observation and evaluation, but it is nonetheless not regarded as harmful, because it is combined with recognition and support (Crewe and Ievins, 2021).

This study distinguishes between harmful pains and experiences which are painful or merely uncomfortable. Harmful pains are those with lasting effects that hinder rehabilitation and worsen well-being, and which ‘creates human beings that are less equipped to deal with post-release realities’ (Irwin and Owen, 2005: 115). Conversely, painful or uncomfortable experiences, while not to be trivialised, can either be mitigated with proper governance and prisoner treatment or can potentially contribute to personal growth. Some unavoidable pains include the confusing paradox of engaging in ‘normal’ activities within a ‘normal’ environment while being deprived of freedom; the dual role of friendly officers who also oversee invasive routines, and the ongoing threat of being returned to higher security. However, some pains of freedom can – under certain circumstances – have constructive and transformative effects, contributing to the road to desistance.

Following release, many face a range of obstacles or ‘pains of reentry’ (Durnescu, 2019), including unemployment, lack of housing, stigma and negative emotional responses. Leira seeks to prepare residents for these challenges by offering support with accommodation, employment and the rebuilding of social networks. The remaining pains of re-entry, especially the negative emotional responses, resemble the pains of freedom experienced in open prisons. By encountering these challenges in a controlled and supportive environment, residents may be better prepared for release, suggesting that the ‘pains of freedom’ might help reduce the ‘shock of release’ (Durnescu, 2019). An open and liminal place like Leira may create initial pressure and fatigue due to increased demands of self-regulation, but can ultimately empower and prepare residents for release. De Vos (2023: 322) argued that Leira successfully focused on the intended pains of liberty deprivation, by being ‘confronted with freedom’, while limiting the unintended harmful effects. Similarly, Akerman and Smith (2023) found that open prisons, while presenting challenges through increased responsibilities in a less structured environment, were beneficial prior to release.

This study contributes to the ongoing debate about what defines a health-promoting or reinventive prison. Five aspects – transparency, tolerance, trust, empowerment and engagement – have been associated with feeling supported and help navigate the pains of freedom. These aspects are informed by both theoretical insights and empirical observations of security routines, relational dynamics, rehabilitation practices and conflict management at Leira prison. While these aspects do not claim to create a ‘perfect’ or a ‘painless’ prison, acknowledging that discomfort and pain are inevitably tied to the loss of freedom and transition from closed prisons, their implementation may facilitate a positive and transformative process. Ultimately, distinguishing between harmful pains and those that are painful yet not harmful – and understanding the potentially beneficial role of the latter – may be crucial for transforming prisons into environments that promote rehabilitation and health. However, it is important to recognise that Leira is not representative of imprisonment more broadly. Even with the Norwegian system, Leira stands out in its degree of openness and prioritisation of trust, tolerance and empowerment. In this sense, it may be seen as an ‘exceptional’ site within an already comparatively humane prison system.