What Do Imprisoned Drug Dealers Think About the UK's New Business-Friendly Prison Reforms?

Names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy.

On Monday, UK Prime Minister David Cameron set out reforms to a prison system that he says currently "shames us all" because there's so much violence, drug-taking, and self-harm. He said: "I strongly believe that we must offer chances to change; that for those trying hard to turn themselves around, we should offer hope… In short: We need a prison system that doesn't see prisoners as simply liabilities to be managed, but instead as potential assets to be harnessed."

It sounds hopey-changey, but what will treating people as "assets" really mean? Back in October, MP Michael Gove spelled it out. A specific focus is being placed on education in prisons, which is all about fostering entrepreneurial spirit. Gove told the Telegraph: "We should definitely have more business going into prison. You could have businesses running in prisons." He cites the use of call centers operating out of prisons in the US, and also the admirable work that key-cutting and shoe repair firm Timpson does in the UK to integrate ex-offenders into its staff.

I teach in prison so I have a pretty good idea of the extent of the business acumen among those who are locked up. I teach burglars, ram-raiders, the occasional fraudster—but they all tend to be acting out of desperation, usually linked directly to either drug dependency or impending home eviction. The most obvious entrepreneurs are the drug dealers. Committed subscribers to the free market and capitalist doctrine, these guys are surely who Gove is aiming to empower. But would any of them be willing to swap Maybach money for minimum wage and timed toilet breaks? I asked some what they think of the reforms.

Thirty-three-year-old Ryan is a former professional athlete sentenced to ten years for dealing coke. It's his first conviction, but the scale of his operation and its relatively high-profile nature meant a stiff sentence. He explains to me that he was working on a plan before getting busted that would have seen him open a holistic health and organic supplement store in his local area and then expand into different areas over time. I ask him if he is aware of the possible contradiction of going from supplying his community with coke to wheatgrass and raw cacao powder. He blushes a little, offering "Mate!" as his only response.

Ryan is at the higher end of the scale academically in terms of the prisoners I teach. Although he has pretty limited qualifications, he is bright enough to be gaining merits and distinctions in the FE college business course he is studying. He's also smart enough to realize that I have googled him, and asks what I made of the national press coverage he received. I ask him whether he regrets being so openly flashy with his money. Ryan tells me that if he knew what he knows now about business models and growth, he would have reduced his presence in the market to stay off the police radar. He frames this approach around Patagonia, the outdoor and adventure clothing firm, who last year stated it would seek to shrink the business as part of a long-term stability strategy.

Ryan will be transferred to an open prison soon and will then probably be released in the next 18 months. After his release, he plans to set up his business—a combination of legit money he earned from his career in sports and a small loan from his father-in-law will be enough to cover the first year's setup and operating costs. I ask if he would consider employing an ex-offender. "You mad, bro?" he says as he photocopies carefully selected pages from a Richard Branson biography that's due back at the library tomorrow.

It's a cliché, but most drug dealers are good with mental arithmetic, and 25-year-old Alex is no different. Alex pleaded guilty to a Class A supply at the earliest opportunity, knowing that as this was his second conviction for drugs he'd be in line for something heftier if he went to trial and lost. The judge was impressed with his contrition but warned him that a third conviction in the future would have pretty bleak consequences. His partner has told him that she wants a baby but won't consider it unless he gives up dealing. He has a scar that begins near the top of his forehead and runs deep into his hairline. Alex talks about the trap houses he ran and says it was easy money but ultimately boring and depressing. I ask him to expand and he tells me I don't want to know.

I ask what he wants to do instead of dealing. Would he consider getting a job cutting keys and engraving cat names on small copper discs at Timpson, for example? "If I'm going to be bored and depressed, I might as well be earning five [thousand] a week doing it," he says.

Not everyone is on board with Gove's project. Mark Icke, the vice president of the Prisoner's Governor's Association, has voiced concerns that while education is important, many of the people in the prison system have a variety of serious issues that need sorting before they can contemplate applying for small business loans and setting up a LinkedIn.

From my own teaching experience, it seems like a valid criticism. Arron, 19, is waiting to '"run trial" on a charge of selling heroin, crack, and mephedrone outside a school. He is adamant that he will "bust case," explaining that he has sacked his "faggot solicitor" and hired the solicitor his cellmate has used on over 30 occasions. Arron's work is borderline high school level, and it's a chore to get him to complete the simplest of tasks. He talks ceaselessly in monologues often lasting for up to ten minutes and usually revolving around massage parlors, Huaraches, and his dad—an enigmatic "businessman who lives in America." His lack of empathy is at times astonishing, and there's a dead-eyed malevolence in an unfinished letter he shows me where he tells an ex he'll take her back if she gets a tattoo of his name on her stomach. Weirder still, he tells me he's sent the exact same letter to two other exes. It's often hard to shut him up, and the other prisoners in the class find him annoying and full of shit, but maybe working as a call center operator is just what he needs to increase his sense of empathy. Or perhaps not.

A cynic might say that running businesses in prisons seems like a pretty sweet way to engage in modern-day sub-minimum-wage slave labor. But maybe the scheme deserves the benefit of the doubt. After all, could it actually be the ultimate deterrent to committing crime in the first place? Get caught selling rocks, and it's five years on outbound calls at seven bucks a week.