 This event this evening is part of a cycle of events on generating respect for the law. It's actually the 12 events of the cycle. We've had a series of events in Geneva and in different locations on different humanitarian problems. We had the issue of torture. We had an event on the issue of sexual violence. We had a series of events always exploring humanitarian problems and how to address them, how to make the law respected. So we're very happy to have you this evening. We're also recording this event. And it's also the opportunity this evening to launch the second part of an exhibition we have on the same topic, generating respect for the law. So we explored the past efforts by the ICRC to generate respect for the law. We started in the 19th century and with this new exhibition we are now exploring the period between 1950 until the end of the Cold War in 1989. So we invite you also to explore our exhibition, which is just brand new. We've set it up this afternoon. So thanks for coming to discuss this important subject. As a matter of fact, we see an increase used by states of restrictive detention regimes, in particular of solitary confinement. So this evening our speakers will examine how state authorities around the world have increasingly turned to restrictive detention regimes such as solitary confinement to manage high security detainees. The panel discussion will focus mostly on the humanitarian consequences of this form of detention and look at the measures that should be put in place in order to mitigate the negative impacts and also in light of the prohibition of ill treatment. So that's what we are going to discuss. Our panelists will discuss this issue from different perspectives, from the perspective of the penitentiary authorities, the detainee, but also academic research in the field of criminology. We decided to start this exhibition with a documentary which is called Our Voices Are Rarely Heard by the filmmaker Kali Bondad and reporter Gabrielle Cannon. So the film offers a snapshot at how inmates survive solitary confinement. So we'll find more information on this film on the web page of tonight's event. After the discussion, we also invite you to join us at the cocktail reception above at the ICC restaurant. There you will find a table where our colleagues Andreas and Melanie will help those who are interested to virtually experience solitary confinement. So in order to do so, we invite you to download the application which has been made by the newspaper The Guardian and you will find the link here at the back of your page. So if you are interested, they will help you have this 3D virtual experience after our event. Thank you very much. And now I give the floor to our host this evening, Catherine Dement, who will moderate the discussion. Thank you. I am really pleased to open this very challenging discussion on a topic that is really not an easy one, how to preserve humanity in high-security settings. You have seen a form of high-security setting, it's just one among many others. So we don't want to focus on one in particular, but it's really to give an atmosphere of what you can feel, what you can resent when being alone in a very, very restrictive setting. As you may know, the International Committee of the Red Cross is visiting thousands of detainees in the world in more than 95 countries. And in the course of our detention visit, we regularly meet with detainees who are held in very close confinement. And this special confinement can take different forms, have different names, but really a common feature of all of them is that the contacts that there's a person can have with other human beings are highly restricted and tightly controlled, and sometimes they have no contact at all with other human beings. It may be because they are considered dangerous. It may be to facilitate interrogation for punishment as a consequence of their sentence or sometimes it is even for their own safety. But whatever the reason, such an isolation can entail enormous suffering and have very severe humanitarian consequences. We all know that human beings are social animals. We need company. We need to communicate with other people. We need the possibility to have meaningful relations. We need to feel that even if we are detained, we still belong to human society. So it is clearly not enough to only satisfy our physiological functions. We also need to be able to use our senses. To be intellectually and effectively stimulated. We all need also to believe that we have a future and we need hope. Detainees held in solitary confinement are deprived of most of that, sometimes for very long periods. It may amount to ill treatment and even in some cases to torture. And this is why we have decided to hold this conference on this topic to March, June 26, the International Day for Victims of Torture. Because indeed, torture is not only inflicted in this world by cruel perpetrators working for barbaric authorities. It does not only consist of blows and mutilation, brutally inflicted on the body. There is also a sanitized form of torture hurting and driving people mad to simply absence. Psychiatric confinement has this effect, especially when it is prolonged. And the problem, the increasing problem is that it is happening, that sort of setting somehow. In more and more countries, in a more and more routine way, as more and more prisons administration integrate feature, such as those we have seen in the film or on the photo, within the prison design, management and systems. And these begs very important questions. Is this treatment part of the solution to manage difficult or high-risk detainees? Or is it part of the problem by aggravating antisocial behavior that may have existed at the start and further destroying feelings of humanity and humanity? What are the limits beyond which segregation becomes ill-treatment and should just be prohibited? Are there less damaging alternatives? And how can they be delivered and promoted? It is what we would like to discuss today with our three panelists. And I would like first to warmly thank them for having accepted our invitation tonight, Sharon Shaleff and Terry Wade coming from the UK, Tom Enger coming from Norway. We are very impatient to hear you, as each of you will bring a different perspective to the debate. I will start by giving the floor to Sharon Shaleff, who is an internationally recognized expert on solitary confinement. She has researched for more than 20 years the use and effects of solitary confinement and relentlessly advocated for human rights and professional standards on the issue. And Sharon, I have also, I take that opportunity to tell you that Sharon publications are a reference for ICRC teams. And that it is always a pleasure to listen to you, please. Thank you very much, Catherine. Thank you all for coming. The testimonies we just heard from people who were held in solitary confinement are a very powerful reminder of how profound its effects can be. And these effects are not always obvious to quote a former ICRC colleague, Renan Reis, the worst scars are in the mind. And all too often, we don't hear these personal stories. Solitary confinement units are at the deep and far end of prison systems, furthest removed, not just from wider society but also from the prison society. And largely hidden from scrutiny. Over the years, I visited many solitary confinement units in a good number of jurisdictions, most recently in the context of a major study of prison segregation or solitary confinement in England and Wales, which I undertook with the prison reform trust and NGO based in the UK. I also visited Pelican Bay Shoe, which featured in the clip we show. I found solitary confinement units typically, housed a combination of people with multiple issues and needs. Some of whom were at risk to themselves, some who were at risk to others, and some people who fell into both categories. This makes solitary units hugely complex places, where some of the prison's most challenging individuals are confined alongside some of its most vulnerable people within a small enclosed space. In the course of the next 14 minutes or so, when I'm asked to speak for 15 minutes, I try and do as I'm asked. I'll try and unpick some of that complexity and give you a flavour of how, when and why solitary confinement is used and how it measures up to international human rights standards. In particular, the recently revised Mandela rules. But first, a definition of what constitutes solitary confinement or segregation, isolation, 23.7 regime, there are many names for this practice. The recent revision of the UN standard minimum rules for the treatment of prisoners, now known as the Mandela rules, provides us for the first time ever in international human rights law, a definition of solitary confinement. Rule 44 of the Mandela rules defines solitary as the confinement of prisoners for 22 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact. Now, I've got some issues with this definition, and perhaps this is something we can discuss later. But in essence, as the Mandela rules make very clear, solitary confinement is what the term implies. One person confined to a cell where they will eat, sleep and spend the majority of each and every day alone. But if the fundamentals are straightforward, the reality is much more complex. Solitary confinement is used in a number of very different ways for very different reasons. And the conditions in which people are held, both the material circumstances and the quality of the regime and human contact vary hugely. Let me try and unpick this a little. So the testimonies we heard earlier on were all from prisoners held in a super maximum security or supermax prison in the US. Now, the US supermax prison represents, at least in Western democracies, the most extreme manifestation of the use of solitary confinement for the long-term management, and by long term, I mean years and decades, of prisoners who are deemed to be dangerous or disruptive. These are purposely built isolation prisons, which means they were designed by architects to fulfill this particular purpose of long-term isolation, allegedly to house the most dangerous violent prisoners in the system, but the sheer number of people housed in long-term isolation in US supermaxes, approximately 25,000 in last count, gives light to the notion that these are all super predators as some would have us believe. In England and Wales, by contrast, currently we have 52 prisoners who are classified as the most high-risk in the system, and of these 52, only six to eight individuals are held in long-term solitary confinement, though I have to say in very different conditions to those in a supermax. Now, if some prisoners are isolated because prison authorities deemed that they are too dangerous or high-risk to mix with others, some are isolated because these are deemed too dangerous for them to be in the general population. Prisoners who are isolated for their own protection might typically include serial sex offenders, former police or prison officers, or very high-profile prisoners. And then you have what is perhaps the most common and arguably the most regulated form of solitary confinement, namely its use as short but sharp punishment for prisoners who break prison rules. But even across Europe alone, the length of time that people can be isolated for this purpose really does vary a lot. Less universal, but not uncommon, is the use of longer terms of solitary confinement with pre-trial detainees. This is, of course, particularly problematic because it inflicts pain on people who must be assumed innocent, unless and until proven guilty. And it potentially also affects detainees' ability to defend themselves in court. Solitary confinement can also and is also used as a coercive interrogation technique, the rationale being to disorientate detainees and starve them from human contact. And in other detention settings, including police stations, military prisons, and mental health institutions, I recently discovered that it is also used in schools with pupils, some as young as nine. In prisons, one would often find prisoners belonging to certain groups or categories in solitary confinement. In practice, if not explicitly, because they embody some deep contemporary societal fear, most obviously nowadays, with regards to fundamentalist Islamic terrorism and fears of radicalization of other prisoners. So I hope this gives you a bit of context of how and when solitary is used. But how does that measure up against what international law says? It is clear that solitary confinement is of such severe nature that its use may constitute under certain conditions and for certain individuals a form of torture, which is absolutely prohibited. But what about more routine uses? Paragraph 45 of the Mandela Rules states that, solitary confinement shall be used only in exceptional cases as a last resort for a shorter time as possible and subject to independent review and only pursuant to the authorization by a competent authority. So Rule 45 necessarily affords some operational discretion to prison authorities to define what, for example, are exceptional circumstances or as short a time as possible. But it also articulates some fundamentally important principle about the use of solitary confinement. The Mandela Rules accept, and I don't disagree, that the use of solitary confinement may have a legitimate place in the menu of options available to the management of prisoners. There may be circumstances where short time solitary is an appropriate measure which facilitates a period of cooling off or reflection. One of the interesting findings of our England and Wales study was that the proportion of prisoners in solitary confinement were interviewed who had engineered the way, meaning they intentionally made the way into solitary confinement, 49% of those were interviewed. Often they saw that as a way to gain something, for example, a transfer to another prison. But some also saw a short period in solitary confinement as a way to get some respite from the pressure cooker of the wings and enjoy some peace and quiet. But duration is a crucial factor here. As one English prisoner told us, it's all right for about a week, it's peaceful. But after that, it just starts messing with your head. That is recognizing the Mandela Rules which prohibit prolonged solitary confinement defined as one lasting longer than 15 days. Note that the chap in the film was talking about decades in isolation. Now there may also be a very small number of prisoners, maybe a handful in any one jurisdiction who to genuinely need to be held in longer term solitary confinement for their own or for others' protection. But in such cases, strict safeguards must be in place and the ultimate aim must always be to reintegrate them to the general prison population. But I want to leave you in no doubt that I consider, and that's what underlies the text of the Mandela Rules, that solitary confinement is a very undesirable prison practice which can amount to torture. It is entirely inimical to the preservation of humanity in high security settings which is the subject of this event. Solitary confinement assaults human dignity and it makes it hard to maintain. It is deeply damaging to prisoners' mental and physical well-being. Some people may emerge from long periods of solitary confinement remarkably unscathed, but even for them, many or for many, fully re-adjusting to normal life following release is difficult, sometimes impossible. And where people with existing mental health conditions are placed in solitary confinement, the results are often predictably catastrophic. It is to quote a seminal US court judgment, the equivalent of placing an asthmatic in a place with no air to breathe. Paragraph two of rule 45 of the Mandela Rules is categorical and I quote, the imposition of solitary confinement should be prohibited in the case of prisoners with mental and physical disabilities, as it should. So the Mandela Rules recognize that it matters who is being held in solitary confinement and the length of time for which are being held. Also fundamental to the preservation of humanity are the conditions in which individuals are held. Partially, this is about material conditions. Does the cell have a window? Does it have natural light? Does it have a basin and a toilet? But in my view, even more important is the quality of human interaction between the prisoner and prison staff. The physical conditions in a US supermax are in some sense not too bad. Cells have internal sanitations, prisoners are adequately fed, but the contact between prison guards and prisoners is minimal and purely instrumental. It is solely confined to, for example, passing meals through a hatch in the cell door. After experiencing a US supermax, there is always a danger that one views practices in other jurisdictions into favorable light. But the single most striking finding of a recent UK solitary study was the quality of relationships between prisoners and prison officers there. These are places where there is interaction that goes beyond the strictly functional and necessary. Prison officers talking to prisoners as fellow human beings, having a chat, a banter. For me, that more than anything else is a key to preserving the humanity of prisoners in solitary confinement. But far too often, solitary grotesquely strips individuals of their humanity, and that's particularly the case with the most vulnerable people. Out of sight, isolated individuals are sometimes subjected to grave mistreatment that are many, many horror or just sad stories. For example, the story of the life and death of Khalif Browder, who was arrested when he was 16 years old on charges of stealing a backpack. An allegation, by the way, which he strongly denied. He couldn't pay his police bill, so he was detained for three years awaiting trial, two of which he spent in solitary confinement at the notorious Rikers Island in New York where he was beaten up, bullied, and attempted suicide several times. He was eventually released without charge, but later committed suicide at home, age 22. Or that of Ashley Peacock, a 37-year-old New Zealander with intellectual disability and mental health issues, who has been locked up for the last five years in a de-escalation wing of a mental health institution in solitary-like regime, which allows him out only for 90 minutes a day to stabilize his mental illness. Or Ashley Smith, a young Canadian woman who had been segregated in 17 different prisons by the time she died after tying a piece of cloth around her neck while staff stood outside her cell and debated what to do. But I think maybe a more important message is that solitary confinement in itself and without any further mistreatment can seriously harm health and well-being. So what's to be done? Will we be optimistic or pessimistic about the future? In my view, we should be cautiously optimistic, but diligent. The Mandela rules on solitary confinement aren't perfect, but they are an important international statement of intent. In the US, the solitary confinement seems to finally be in retreat. I'm careful in saying that because things can change very quickly. Barack Obama and other leading politicians have spoken out strongly against the mass use of solitary confinement, and the courts are showing a greater readiness to at least critically examine the practice. But we must not be complacent. In some jurisdictions, for example, in neighboring France and Belgium, there seems to be a move towards expanding the use of solitary, in particular with suspected and convicted terrorists. And whilst Article III of the European Convention on Human Rights and its absolute prohibition on torture provides an important backstop against the worst uses of solitary, why the societal fears about terrorism and radicalization in prison present a risk to its extended use. We should resist that pressure. Solitary confinement is one supermax prison, I told me, strips you of everything and leaves you with nothing. It is no way to preserve the humanity of individuals as we must strive to do in our prisons. Thank you. So it was really interesting to situate somehow the problem, the general problem, and the regulations, the standards that are developing now and that can be used to address the problem. I would like now to give the floor to Therry Waite. Therry, you are not easy to introduce because you are such a rich personality and impressive one. So I will not use some words, but just one aspect of Therry's personality is that while negotiating the release of hostages during the war in Lebanon in the 80s, you were yourself taken hostage and held for almost five years in solitary confinement in very tough conditions. So we thought it would be interesting to see, to have from you the testimony about what it is like to be held like that. How is it possible to describe that ordeal and then how to find the inner strength to resist to it, to survive it and to continue to life when it stopped? Thank you. Thank you very much, Cathy. I suppose a question facing many people tonight was what do you prefer, football or solitary confinement? You've chosen solitary confinement. I hope you enjoy it. What I would like to do tonight briefly is talk about two things. First of all, the experience, the conditions under which I was kept. And secondly, how I responded to that and was able to survive a situation which might be described as an extreme situation in the Middle East. For many years, I have worked in conflict situations around the world. And for many years, I have been engaged in the negotiation for the release of people who have been illegally detained and held as hostage. And part of my style of negotiating has been to have a face-to-face meeting with the hostage takers. Now, if you do that, you know before you take that step that it's an extremely risky business because hostage takers, of course, are highly volatile and they can at the drop of a hat take you or kill you. And that is a risk that one has to be prepared to take. If you're not prepared to take that risk, of course, with making what safeguard you can, then you shouldn't do that work. On the other side, of course, if things go wrong as they could do and did do in my case, then you take responsibility for that. In Lebanon, things did go wrong. It's a long story and there isn't time to tell it tonight. Suffice to say that the trust that I have built up with the hostage takers was breached because of various political activities surrounding me. With which I was not associated. But nevertheless, when trust was broken, I found myself in a very vulnerable position. One of the ways in which I was taken, I was told that I could see hostages who were sick and one of whom was about to die. I wondered myself if that was a genuine invitation. And I consulted and, of course, got three different sets of advice. Some said, don't touch it with a barge pole. Others said, you'll be all right because you've got immunity. You've been given immunity as a representative and three, we're not sure. I myself was pretty uncertain, very uncertain. I think when you do something for other people, I don't think there's anyone or very few people who are full of altruism. I think you're always doing something for yourself as well. I don't think there's necessarily anything wrong in that. But when, in that case, I felt if there had been told the truth and one of those hostages dies and I haven't had the courage of my conviction to visit him, that I'm going to have to live with my conscience. And that was what swayed me. So I went back and was captured. First of all, I was in an underground cell. I'd been taken blindfolded at night and told I was going to visit. I'd been through this type of procedure many times previously, so it wasn't new. One is blindfolded, taken to a safe house, given a complete change of clothing, examined to see if you're carrying any locator device, planted in or on the body, and then you wait for three or four days. And after three or four days, you're blindfolded, taken at night, and you hope you're going to get to your target. Many times in the past, I had been, this time, I found myself in an underground cell. The first reaction was one of anger. I was angry. I was angry with myself for taking such an extreme step and I was angry with my captors for breaking trust. And one has to do something about anger. Now, my way of dealing with anger in that situation was to do what I think a number of prisoners do when they're first incarcerated. I refused all food. I think the reason for that was, looking back on it, that I had been confined bodily, but I hadn't been imprisoned totally. There was still, I still had a measure of freedom, freedom to choose and to show that I still had a will of my own. And so I refused food. I refused food for a week. At the end of the first week, they said, if you don't eat now, we shall make you eat. And my anger at that point took considerably dissipated. I think anger is a normal human emotion. It can be used creatively or negatively, but it's rather like a cancer that enters the soul. If you dwell on it, if you allow it to fester, it can do you more harm than it does against those whom it's held. And so my anger gradually dissipated. I said three things to myself when I was captured. I said, no self-pity. Don't feel sorry for yourself. Many people in worse situations. No over-sentimentality. Don't look back and say, ah, if only I'd been a better husband, a better father. You can't go back and live life again. You live with yourself as you are from that point. And no over-sentimentality, no self-pity. I've forgotten the third one, but there were three points. I'll come back to you in a minute. I have to say, I can't say I kept those points absolutely. But I did my best. And when I felt self-pity coming on, I just reminded myself of what I'd said in those days. There was a bit of strength. The conditions were bizarre, really. One had to keep absolutely silent in this prison beneath ground. Sometimes I was moved to be in other locations often a bombed-out building. And if it was a building above ground, metal shutters were put in front of the window so there was no natural light. I was chained by the hands and feet to the wall for 23 hours and 50 minutes a day. I had one visit to the bathroom a day, during which time, and that was just for a few moments, I had to wash my clothes, shower myself if there was water, often there wasn't. And then in a few minutes, and then get back into the cell for another 23 hours and 50 minutes. There were no books or papers for almost four years. No television, no radio, no communication with anybody, apart from a very cursory word with the guards. And so it was rather extreme situation. I never saw the sky or the sun or daylight for years. Sometimes I was in the complete dark for days and that was the most disorientating period. When I would wake up in the night, think it was morning and not be sure what time of day it was. It was very, very disorientating. Mercifully, there were not too many periods when I was for a long period of time in the complete dark. I had a candle and sometimes there was electric light, but that was variable. What I found was it was necessary to develop a structure for the day. And I couldn't do that in the dark because I didn't know where I was. I could do it later when I was moved to a building that was near to a mosque. And that gave me the opportunity to build a structure because the call from the minaret in the morning, midday and evening gave me the pattern so that I could build a structure around that for myself. I was in the first year subject to interrogation and a mild torture by being beaten on the soles of the feet with cable. After that, I couldn't walk for a week. And that was the time when they were asking me questions, thinking that I was in fact an agent of government and trying to extract from me information which I didn't have. I can't say and I won't say that all my life I've told the truth, I haven't. But on this occasion, I could tell the absolute truth. And it was then I realized, of course, what a strong ally truth is, if you have it on your side. Very strong. I had a mock execution when I was told I had five hours to live. And it was at that point that I remembered the writings of Carl Jung, which I'd read many years previously, a native of this country, when he said, when you're in a situation of extremity, allow your body to come to your aid and it will. And I experienced that a number of times, but on this occasion when I was told I had five hours to live, I lay down and I slept. It was as though my body was coming to my aid and I was able to sleep. The execution, obviously, clearly didn't take place. The cold metal was put against my forehead and after that it was left. I was told that was the end, I was going home. They believed me. But in fact, I wasn't going home. I had to stay for another four years. In that situation, one sees one's skin go white because there's no natural light. I lost muscle tone because very little exercise one could do by being on the chain all the time. My beard, which would black grew long and white and I thought to myself that I'm getting old before my time. And as I saw my physical body begin to disintegrate, I wondered if I would fall apart mentally and spiritually. And I determined I had to do something about that. How to survive in this rather extreme situation. First thing, to live one day at a time, not to think too far ahead, but to say now is your life and even in this bleak and austere surrounding there's something to be taken from it. And the way I looked at it was this, that all my life I had traveled widely and made many journeys. Now I said you have been given an opportunity to take an inner journey. And so take that inner journey almost like a form of self-analysis. When one does that, of course, one discovers quite reasonably that one's a complex mixture of light and dark. And one has to beware of the fact of becoming so depressed by the dark when you discover it within that you don't fall into deep depression. And somehow recognize that you're simply finding, discovering what is common to all human beings. And the goal is not to be depressed by that but somehow to turn that inside into something creative. I began to, I recognize also that it was necessary to keep myself mentally alive. And I began to write in my head. I wrote my first book without pencil and paper which I only had on two occasions for the whole five years. And so the writing started in my head which was put down on paper when I came out of captivity. Not the exact paragraph and sentence but the general way and the reflections that would eventually be incorporated into the volume. And by writing, by keeping myself mentally alive was a way in which I could help survive. Also, some people have said what role did faith play in this? Well, I'm not an overly religious person although I've worked as a layman for the Archbishop of Canterbury. I couldn't call myself religious as such but I have belief. And I could say in the face of my captors, you have the power to break my body and you've tried. The power to bend my mind and you've tried but my soul is not yours to possess. And by soul, I simply meant the whole person that I am. I can't define soul. But I meant it in that context there was a part of me you will not take because it lies in the hand of God. And that very, very admittedly simple affirmation was enough to enable me to maintain hope. And I think if in situations of extremity one can find hope somewhere which as we've heard in many of our penal institutions has been taken completely away from people foolishly. If one can find hope then that is part of the way of surviving and going on through the experience. Well, thanks a lot for this very powerful and moving testimony and I have also to say all, I would like to tell you all my admiration for your resilience, for your strength, for the fact that you remain what you are despite all that experience even may be stronger because of it is not often that it is possible for people to survive in that way. And also somehow you are a lesson for all of us humanitarian workers to keep that motivation and to continue even in situations that are often difficult. Thank you very much. And if there are some questions or even after we can of course we could listen to you for the horse. But I would like not to come back to more to state organized solitary confinement that is a part of a prison sentence of part of detention regimes. And now give the floor to Tom. Tom you are director and head of regulations and security in the Norwegian Correctional Services which is the prison service of a democratic country faced with the daily challenge of managing high-risk detainees. And one of them Brevik is quite famous everywhere in the world while keeping in very high regard Norway's human rights obligations and values. So this is a very difficult balance to be made between good prison order, security and there's a principles to keep humanity even for the worst of the worst. And we would like to hear you about how is it possible in practice in the real world to manage that balance and to organize it. But thank you very much. It's a very difficult question. I'd like to say first that in Norway we have a saying that to ski jump after Virkula is very difficult. And I feel that, thank you Terry. Jumping after you is very difficult. I'd like to go through the Norwegian Execution Act first as a backboard of our regime. And according to the Norwegian Execution Act, paragraph 17, as far as it's practically possible, prisoners shall be allowed company during work, training, programs or other measures and in leisure periods. The correctional service may decide on complete or partial exclusion from company. So we have the same rules, the set of regulations as Sharon described. As a main rule though, the law prescribes that both persons in remand and persons who are serving in conviction are to have company with each other. In Norway we might exclude persons from company or put them in solitary confinement. We use it as a restriction during remand to prevent an example interference with ongoing investigation. Sharon's had this example. We also use it as a disciplinary measure, unfortunately. We are working on change of law so we not use that as a disciplinary measure anymore. But if we use it, we can use it up to 14 days. We also use it as a preventive measure and if building or staff conditions necessitated or if the incarcerated person so requires it. As a preventive measure, we use it to prevent the prisoner from continuing to influence the prison environment in a particularly negative manner in spite of a written warning. We also use it to prevent prisoners from injuring themselves or acting violently or threatening towards others. We also use it to prevent considerable material damage, to prevent criminal act and maintain peace, order and security. Exactly as Sharon has described it. It is a local level that can decide that one person may be excluded from company with others for a period up to 14 days. If further exclusion is regarded as necessary, the higher administrative level, the so-called regional level, may prolong this exclusion period for a new period of up to 14 days. And they can continue to prolong it up till a year unless the situation is as a prisoner requested himself or herself. If a prisoner have been excluded for company for more than 42 days, the measure shall be reported into the superior administrative level, that means the direct threat. These rules do not apply for juveniles, there are certain rules for them. So what are our challenges using solitary confinement as a preventive measure? First of all, it is visible or of course invisible damages used by isolation. Isolation doesn't always have a visible face. We know that solitary confinement makes the risk of suicide a bodily harm higher, especially in remand. We also know that this situation of course gives limited potential for rehabilitation because it's such an artificial situation. Our two main challenges is when the causes that initiated these preventive measures persists over time. We do not long know when the danger or the cause will disappear. Typically when the prisoner is representing a permanent danger for other inmates and staff. And for us it's important to take care of the other inmates of course as well and ask yourself to what extent should other inmates be forced to have contact with a person that represent a potential danger to them. When in solitary confinement I think it's very important that we have mitigating measures that we can put in effect but it might not be sufficient according to the Mandela rules but we have to do it anyway. One of the first things that we find important is that we have to emphasize that a solitary confinement doesn't have to be whole. It could be a standard cell consistent of a normal bed, a desk, equal to an otherwise ordinary cell. This is very important. And of course a cell can have security facilities if security reasons necessitate this. If it's adequately safe, we must also constantly evaluate if the prisoner may take part in some collectivities with other prisoners. There might be some activities that is suitable even though it's not always secure to take part of them. We have to establish a routine where staff in solitary confinement unit invites the persons to join activities with them and or establish a specific resource team that stimulates the prisoner to take part in activities, sports, hobbies, conversation, discussions, reading, and more. If it's adequately safe, we also should establish a system for visits from resource persons with no direct connections with the prisoner. We should also constantly evaluate whether or not we could establish a possibility to work or study inside a cell or in a special unit for people that are in solitary confinement. And always emphasize the importance for extended contact with prison staff and other professionals within the prison. We have established high security units in Norway to widen the area in which the solitary confinement is put to place. Widen it from a cell to a separate unit. We also establish a separate work, education, or leisure facilities within this unit. If a prisoner is not to have any contact with any other inmates, we establish a resource team that stimulates the prisoner to take part in activities, as I mentioned earlier. This is, of course, an economics question. The team that I'm referring to is responsible for four inmates and it costs about 1 million euros a year to maintain. And not all politicians are willing to pay that amount of money for four prisoners. If adequately safe, we should also place all prisoners in the same category in one unit. If adequately safe, we should also establish a routine allowing these prisoners to have company with each other. But I'm not really sure if mitigating measures really will... It will help, but I'm not sure if it will be in accordance with the Mandela rules as they are today. There are not many alternatives. There are not many alternatives for people that represent a threat to two other inmates or staff or themselves, but medical treatment. And I'm not really sure if that's a good reason or a good measure for those people. Thanks a lot, Tom, for this very detailed presentation of what are the regulations somehow and the instructions given to the staff in Norway. And we realize also that it can be costly, not necessarily easy to uphold high standards, but still the problem remains. What is it really the right way to do and clearly the avenue of alternative needs to be explored even in Norway? I would like now... I don't say that it's easy and that we can do that easily. But anyway, it is really the sort of discussion that is really important to have, to really be able to effectively transform the new Mandela rules or other regulations related to treatment of detainees into practice. So thank you for coming. Thanks a lot.