Functions of background music among prisoners and staff in the Chinese prison workplace

Abstract

Music listening is one of the most popular leisure activities in our lives, and it can also be found in prisons across the globe. However, most research on music in prison are concerned with its rehabilitative functions and not as an everyday activity. This study collected qualitative questionnaires and interview data from 14 prisons to illustrate the soundscape of music listening in Chinese prisons. The main access to music listening happens at the workspace and it is only available in the form of background music. This study considers the various functions of background music for both prisoners and officers. Music curation and access are about power and control, and it reveals a mostly hierarchical yet also dynamic pattern in the Chinese staff–prisoner relationship. Listening to music has also been found to be one of the coping mechanisms for officers and prisoners who share similar working conditions where conformity to authority is inevitable for all.

Keywords

Background music Chinese prison cultural penology music prisoner-staff relationship prison staff

Music has become a ‘soundtrack to everyday life, and thus a central part of personal development and identity for many people’ (Hargreaves and North, 1999: 71). Music has also been utilised as data for understanding prison culture, especially inmate subculture (Fisher-Giorlando, 1987). Listening to music is the most popular everyday leisure activity of modern life, and it can be found in prison too (Bonini and Perrotta, 2007; Schäfer et al., 2013). However, in the Chinese prison, personal music listening devices such as radio, cable television, digital music players, and other smart devices are not allowed. No music listening activities are permitted on a personal level, and access to music for Chinese prisoners is strictly restricted to broadcasting in public spaces. Therefore, background music broadcasting and listening in the Chinese prison context is not just a public cultural medium but also takes on a personal layer within the cultural life inside the walls. This study considers the various functions of background music in Chinese prisons, for both prisoners and officers.

Studies of Chinese prisons mostly focus on prisoner adaptation (Liu and Chui, 2014; Liu et al., 2020; Zhao et al., 2020), programme evaluation (An et al., 2019; Qiu et al., 2017; Yang et al., 2018; Zhao et al., 2019), staff attitudes (Jiang et al., 2018; Lambert et al., 2018a, 2018b), and prisoner–staff relationships (Cheng, 2019; Liu and Chui, 2016). There is little research on the cultural life inside Chinese prisons, and the only existing studies about performance-making inside are mostly focused on the political and administrative side of cultural life (Zhang 2021, 2022). Is there any un-institutionalised prison cultural activity? What does cultural life look like in a more collectivist, authoritarian institutional context?

Functions of music listening and its presence in the prison context

When we consider music listening, the enjoyment it brings might be its obvious function, but research has shown that people also listen to music to achieve ‘social functions, emotional functions, cognitive or self-related functions, and physiological or arousal-related functions’ (Schäfer and Sedlmeier, 2009: 249). Merriam (1964) proposed 10 functions of music including aesthetic enjoyment, communication, validating social institutions and religious rituals, and the continuity and stability of culture, among others. People consciously and actively use music as a resource in everyday life (North et al., 2004: 74). Hargreaves and North (1999) emphasised the social function of music, and (Schäfer et al., 2013: 6) further proposed the ‘Big Three’ of music listening: self-identity, interpersonal relationships, and mood. It is apparent that music listening plays many roles and can have multiple functions in people’s everyday personal and social lives in modern times.

In terms of background music (hereafter as BGM), existing research indicates that it is a much more instrumental and passive listening experience, usually used strategically by the authority of a certain public space. BGM has been studied predominately regarding its functional effect on the listeners, such as its impact on consumer behaviour in business settings, but rarely regarding the context or the social interaction and meaning surrounding its broadcasting (Kellaris and Cox, 1989; Milliman, 1986). Other studies have focused on BGM as an intervention, such as contributing to learning effectiveness (Hallam et al., 2002; Savan, 1999) and enhancing work performance (Huang and Shih, 2011; Shih et al., 2009, 2012). Götell et al. (2002)’s study found that caregiver and patient interaction was improved when BGM was played compared to the lack of which, but this approach was only applied to dementia patients.

Most research on music in prison concerns music-related activities as a rehabilitative programme, and not as an everyday activity (Kougiali et al., 2018; O’grady, 2009; O’Grady et al., 2015; Wilson et al., 2009). Only a handful of studies have examined the social aspect of music in a prison’s everyday cultural life, such as radio listening in Italian prisons regarding listening habits and cultural flow in and out of the walls (Bonini and Perrotta, 2007). Tuastad and O’Grady (2013) discussed music as a way of practicing freedom in everyday life by creating an alternative relationship with the reality one faces. Almost all studies have only focused on the experience of the prisoners, overlooking that officers also spend long hours within the walls. The only study on what music means to prisoners as well as officers was Edri and Bensimon (2019)’s study in Israel, in which they examined aspects such as exposure, emotions, and relationships among prisoners, as well as music’s influence on relationships between prisoners and staff. The current study built on previous research and explores music as an everyday cultural activity in prison, and how it is embedded within and interacts with institutional dynamics and social relations in confinement.

Research methods and process

Access for this study was obtained when the author took part in a music project organised by the Judicial Police Academy of X province during 2016–2017, where their music teachers toured different prisons to offer talks and workshops. The process went relatively smoothly due to the internal nature of the collaboration between the police academy and the provincial prisons, the academy’s role in overseeing prison staff training, and to the presence of a music teacher who offered workshops and was also an instructor for staff training. My role within this project was project assistant and researcher.

Qualitative questionnaires were used to understand the nature and experience of BGM in different prisons, of both the officers and the prisoners from 14 prisons within X province. The questionnaire is the most convenient method of data collection in Chinese prison research, due to the difficulties in research access in Chinese criminal justice institutions (Xin, 2017; Xu et al., 2013; Yuan, 2018). The questionnaire for officers comprises three parts: personal information and closed questions and open questions regarding the situation and experience of music playing in their prison (see appendix for the translated questionnaire). A total of 200 questionnaires were prepared and 199 were administered, 181 were valid, including 144 from officers with over 10 years of experience and 37 from officers with less than 10 years of experience.

The questionnaire for prisoners comprises four parts: personal information, closed questions and open questions regarding the situation and experience of music playing in their prison, and personal preferences regarding BGM in prison. A total of 359 copies of questionnaires were administered, 344 copies were received, and 335 were valid.

Semi-structured interviews were also conducted when possible, and they are crucial to complementing the questionnaire data. A total of eight persons were interviewed on this subject, including two male ex-prisoners, four male officers (two senior officers and two managing officers), and two female prisoners. The interviews were conducted by the author and the music teacher respectively. Participant observations that resulted in detailed fieldnotes were also documented by the music teacher during her workshops.

All questionnaires included information regarding this study and the researcher. Oral consent was obtained from all interviewees, and interviews conducted inside were recorded and transcribed within the prison grounds. All details regarding location, organisation and individuals are anonymised.

Music listening in the prison workplace

The contemporary Chinese criminal justice system, known formally as the ‘reform through labour’ system, was established in May 1951 (Williams and Wu, 2004). In this system, labour occupies a central position as the main correctional method, which is used for the transformation of prisoners into law-abiding citizens (Liu and Chui, 2013). Following the introduction of the Prison Law of the People’s Republic of China in 1994 and the relocation of reform through labour, from farms to city suburbs, the term ‘reform through labour system’ slowly gave way to the ‘prison system’. The requirement of economic self-sustenance for each individual prison was also abolished, and the Chinese government began to supply all prisons with sufficient funds. This was accompanied by changes in the forms of labour that the prisoners were required to carry out, with more outdoor and heavy industrial work being replaced by factory production line work inside production workshops (Wang, 2010).

The core characteristic of Chinese prisons, however, namely reforming offenders through labour, remains unchanged in the current Chinese prison system (Williams and Wu, 2004). Serving a sentence in today’s Chinese prison means working at least 5 days per week, with around 8 hours of work each day. Prison work nowadays is mostly industrial production line work, which means prisoners have to spend most of their sentences inside their production workshops. Each prison wing has its own production workshop, meaning that the prisoners live with the same group of cellmates and managing officers on and off work time. The completion of labour assignments is still compulsory for all male and female prisoners, and a small remuneration fee is paid for their work (Hu and Liu, 2020).

According to regulations on personal belongings, mobile phones, digital music players and radios are all items that must be turned over during the admission process. Therefore, prisoners do not have access to music listening on a private basis, which is a privilege many prisons in other countries grant to prisoners (Edri and Bensimon, 2019). According to our interviews, Chinese prison officers started to play BGM inside around the early 2000s. Officer Wu began working as a prison officer in 1995, and he said there was no music broadcasting at that time:

It only started in 2001 or 2002, when we were manufacturing clothing. I remember we were using CD players instead of computers to play music. I used to buy CDs with dozens of songs compacted inside, and then I started buying CD albums with better quality.

We asked prisoners and officers from across 14 prisons questions that helped us understand the general soundscape of BGM in their prisons. When asked about the sites where BGM is played (multiple choice), 85% of the officers responded that it is played in their production workshops, 23% responded in cell blocks, 21.2% responded in outdoor spaces, and 12.8% responded in canteens. When asked how frequently BGM was played (single choice), 53.2% of the officers said that BGM is played daily in their prisons, and 31.4% responded it is played often, with only 9.4% saying it is rarely played.

The same questions were also asked of the prisoner respondents, with simplified answer choices, and we can see similar answers, with the majority of officers and prisoners reporting hearing music mostly within the production workshop space. Forty-nine percent of the prisoner respondents said that BGM is only played in their production workshop, and 15% have also heard it in their cell block. When asked about which days of the week BGM is played, 66% of prisoner respondents said BGM is played during workdays, and 12% said that it is also played on educational days.

The questionnaire data suggest that the primary use of BGM inside the prison is during labour production work, and it is played on a regular basis. This indicates that the use of BGM is primarily functional and situation-specific.

Music listening as productivity management as well as a coping mechanism

In the production workshop, the only channel for music listening is when the supervising officer on duty that day decides to play some music on the computer, which is then broadcast through several speakers distributed across the workshop space. Ninety-one percent of junior officers and 77% of senior officers feel that having BGM in the workplace is beneficial. Most officers think BGM can improve the work environment and motivate prisoners to work. Most prisoners, according to the questionnaires and interviews, also think that it is better than having no music at all, it makes work less dull and it improves their mood, and the songs they like can also be a source for conversations later. A total of 51.1% of officers considered that BGM in the production workshop improves productivity, 47% viewed it as improving the working environment in general, and 80.5% chose stress relief as the main impact.

Officers suggested that the most significant function of music listening is to relieve boredom for the prisoners:

prison labour is always repetitive, most offenders hope to have music played during working hours. That’s because they spend about 11 long hours each day in the workshop (including lunch and breaks). It’s very dull; listening to some music can distract one’s mind a little from feeling so bored. (CO-WU, 20170707)

The shared need for mood adjustment seems to come out of empathy on the part of officers. When asked if they would play music on all their shifts, one replied that it depends: ‘If I feel tired, they must feel it too. So if I get tired I will play some music’ (CO-PSY, 20170916).

Regarding the question ‘what impact does music have on you?’ (multiple choice question), 73% of prisoners chose ‘relieves work stress’, 76.6% chose ‘improves my mood’, and interestingly, 18% chose that it covers up the noise of the machines in the workshop. According to our survey with 335 prisoners, for the question ‘would you feel uncomfortable if they did not play any music?’, 65.8% responded that they would because they enjoy listening to music regularly. For the question ‘does music have a great impact on you?’ 45% answered yes or somewhat great.

Most commonly music is played during lunch hours, more specifically, shortly after lunch and rest time to wake up individuals’ spirits. One officer commented that ‘never mind the prisoners, we also get very sleepy, and we normally take shifts for a rest; otherwise, we won’t make it’ (fieldnotes, 20170704). Prisoners can feel strongly the benefit of music listening, and more specifically, as a prisoner observes,

music was quite important when I was in there, especially when it comes to two points in time during the day when I really want to listen to some music. And I think it would be the same for most people. One was lunchtime, around 12:30–1 p.m. because you get very sleepy at that time. The other is 3:30–5:00 p.m. towards the end of a day’s work. (EP-WL, 20170915)

A few officers who are music enthusiasts themselves would pay extra attention to what music to play during different times of the day:

Since 2006, I try to download some new songs every month when I get the chance. It matters what music you play during different times of the day; it needs to be varied. For example, when we entered the workshop in the morning, I would play some softer tunes, such as ethnic music. They have just started the day and are not completely awake yet. I will play some flute music. Then in the afternoon, after their lunch break, we will play [music] for a longer period of time, and normally something more energetic, such as pop music that everyone recognizes. Then everyone will feel good and hum along, so they won’t get sleepy anymore. Even the officers will be energized. (CO-WU)

BGM provided some much-needed entertainment for the officers, just like for the people they oversaw. Production line work is dull, both for those who are doing the work as well as for those who are supervising. For the officers, working inside an isolated arena also put a lot of pressure on

In recent years, prison management has become more standardized and strict, and we feel our work is getting tiring. Sometimes you have five consecutive shifts: a proper day’s shift is 24 hours, and a half-shift is 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. We often work much more than 40 hours per week; it’s a tough schedule.

There is a shared aspect of prison work between prisoners and officers as they both find it tiring and at times difficult to cope with.

Interpersonal relationships and social order

It has been argued that music listening has the function of ‘establish[ing] and maint[aining] [. . .] interpersonal relationships [. . .]and acceptance into a particular social group’ (Hargreaves and North, 1999: 79). In the prison context, music listening is also intertwined with interpersonal relationships, not as a direct tool for achieving bonding or social belonging, but more as a result of particular kinds of social order and interpersonal relationships among prisoners and officers.

Officers’ discretion regarding the provision of music as a privilege

Different from the preconception of centralised control in the Chinese prison system, each wing has its own independent sound control system. A total of 25.6% of officers said that their music-playing system in the production workshops is controlled centrally by their prison, and 86.3% responded that they control their system themselves in each wing. So if the officers wish, they can play more music and vice versa.

It depends, sometimes BGM is played more often and sometimes less; it’s not a constant benefit they enjoy. It has to do with the overall pressure within the unit. If the production load has been easy to manage and there weren’t any incidents, then you can hear more music, as it’s more relaxed. (CO-YGH)

Songs that are played for the prisoners come from a pool of music files that are downloaded by the officers at home and then stored on USB sticks and brought inside. Then they will be uploaded to the control system in the production workshop to be broadcast. The playlist will get updated from time to time. In each workshop, the decision to play music and select songs lies with the officer on duty in the production workshop that day, rather than with the prisoners themselves. Officers decide when and what to play for themselves and the prisoners.

What’s the frequency of music playing?

Basically half an hour in the morning, and longer in the afternoon because everyone is sleepy. Often we play music for two to three hours.

Everyday?

Not necessarily, it depends on the mood of the officer, about two to three days a week at least. (CO-PSY, 20170916)

So in your unit’s workshop, they used to play music once or twice a week? How many hours each time?

That depends on the mood.

What is the average situation?

There is no average. How can I put it [. . .] If it happens to be that one person’s shift, he sits on the podium and is feeling fine, and willing, then music might get played for a whole day. The thing is, in the middle of it, any officer can come over and turn it off if he feels his mood has gone bad, or something. That’s how it is. (EP-WL, 20170915)

One ex-prisoner reflected on music playing while he was inside and said that the officer’s seniority is also relevant:

Was it the same person who always played music?

Only one in wing five.

Was it CXX?

No, no, a small team leader (lower-ranking officer) like CXX won’t unless someone tells them to, such as being told by the big team leader (higher-ranking officer) on duty.

So in order to decide whether to play music, one needs to be of a certain position. Lower-ranking officers won’t dare to play it?

They won’t. That one officer who always played music was about to retire in a few months’ time. (EP-WL, 20170915)

To broadcast BGM is to do something extra since it is not a regulated activity but a personal choice. It is related to one’s power within the social context. The power to play or not to play music seems to lie solely with the officer on duty, depending on his mood mostly, and may also be related to his seniority among his colleagues as the extent of freedom to exercise control is differentiated.

Prisoner’s negotiation process

Nevertheless, this is not to say that prisoners have no say at all in the matter. ‘Prisoners are very smart. If their production performance hasn’t been sufficient, officers won’t be in a good mood, then they [prisoners] won’t ask about the songs. If production is going well, they will come with their requests quite assertively’ (CO-Cai). BGM played during their labour hours is the only chance for most of the prisoners to listen to music; therefore, some of them will try to request songs that they like. The power to request music and even specific songs are mostly reserved for ‘special post prisoners’.

During the three years when you were in wing X, what time did background music usually get played?

It all depends on the officers, depending on the officer sitting on the podium that day; he will play when he remembers to play. But sometimes several ‘special post prisoners’ will blow some wind: ‘we are tired, we want some music to relax a bit’.

What is the situation with these ‘special post prisoners’?

They are the group leaders among the prisoners, big group leaders, or special post prisoners in the production line, some are senior prisoners.

How many are there in each wing?

About two big group leaders each, and about six or seven special post prisoners with some power. (CO-PSY, 20170916)

The hierarchical power structure inside the prison wings penetrates the line of separation between the officer’s world and the prisoner’s world to include everyone in its web of relations. There is a differentiated ‘elite’ prisoner group comprised of prisoners occupying different managerial positions within the living quarters and the production workshop. They are referred to as ‘service prisoners’ (shiwu fan) and ‘special post prisoners’ (tegang fan), and sometimes they possess even greater power in mobilisation other prisoners than lower-level officers: ‘Service prisoners are appointed by the big group cadres [author: deputy chief of unit]. So, it means you can get to them through these service prisoners’ (EP-HK, interview180502).

Most of us, as soon as we arrive, officers will read your files, and if you’ve got what they want – like, I was picked to be in the cell he managed – they pick you. After they have picked you, if they want to move upwards, and need you for something, they will then ask you to do things for them. (EP-HK, interview180502)

The chain of hierarchical power within the unit starts with officers and trickles down to service prisoners and then into the general population. BGM is not mandatorily regulated by the Education Section, so the service prisoners will look at who is on duty that day and what is their attitude, and make a request accordingly. Service prisoners are key, and they are very good at reading the situation:

one of the prisoners in my unit, DF, is a service prisoner. Normally I won’t go around asking them what they like to listen to, but he will talk to me about it. Sometimes as he hangs out around the officers quite often and he is very chatty. (CO-PSY)

With whom and when to expect music, that is the question. As evident in the above quotes, the process is not always, or is rarely in a single direction: once the prisoner realises the benefit or the instrumental needs that he can gain through such engagement, it becomes bilateral cooperation. Music in the prisoner’s workplace is a reflection of the social order within the prison unit where senior officers have the most discretionary power, followed by other officers, and finally by service prisoners who shoulder more responsibilities but also enjoy more negotiation power. Music, like other limited resources inside, is used to reproduce and sustain social order and interpersonal relationships.

Other than endurance management and social relation maintenance, music in the prison workplace also has a more personal function, which is important in a place where the individuality of neither the prisoners nor the officers is encouraged.

Cultural autonomy

Prisoners in China are not granted the freedom to watch whatever television programmes they like. There is normally a television in their cell, but it is not connected to cable. The prison authority controls when and what is broadcast on television. Other than the daily news on the national channel, an officer may also select a few current television programmes and series for prisoners to watch in the evenings. Television watching is relevant to music listening. In one female prison, officers reflected on interactions with prisoners on music selection, ‘sometimes one episode in a few days, so they want to relieve their itch by listening to the songs that are in the series. Most of the time we will try to satisfy these requests’.. They especially love songs from current popular television series as they get to watch these sometimes but not often.

Sometimes they will write little notes asking for some new songs from the officers. These are mostly younger prisoners. Years ago, when radio was not yet contraband, they would write down songs they listened to on the radio and ask officers to download them. But now radio is not allowed anymore. They don’t have any personal access to the latest music, so it all depends on what the younger officers like to hear and care to bring in. Sometimes they do hear new songs from television programmes we play for them and ask if they can be uploaded to their playlist at the production workshop. (CO-ZHAO)

While it is obvious that prisoners long for such chances to have a little fun, it is perhaps less obvious but equally important, to note that officers are in a similar situation, though one that is less intense. Although they can go home and be in the outside world between their shifts, their career choice means that they have to spend most of their life’s time inside the prison walls without a smartphone as well. While inside, officers have no personal access to music listening either:

Sometimes I will suddenly hear a song I like, but I haven’t heard it many times before. Some other officer had brought it in. I will stand underneath the speaker for a while, get to know a few lines, and remember them. Then when I get back home, I will search for it online. If there is another officer present, I will ask if he has heard the song. (CO-ZHAO, 20170717)

And when curating the playlist, officers will often consider their own preferences as well as the prisoners’:

They like mostly internet-hit songs. I don’t really like it if I’m sitting at the post. I don’t want to listen to it. I prefer English songs or songs from singers I like. They will even ‘compete’ with the prisoners on music preferences, or try to influence their taste. One officer told me that he was a great fan of classical music, and he tried to cultivate prisoners’ taste, but they kept asking for popular music instead. He became very disappointed and didn’t want to play any music for them anymore.

Music has long been used as part of the formulation and expression of self-identity, such as when adolescents join a musical subculture to give a definition to themselves (Hargreaves and North, 1999: 79). Music’s relation with self-identity in prison lies mostly in its capability of temporarily liberating an individual from their assigned institutional identity. Music in prison can also be understood as a type of resource for reclaiming some autonomy over one’s lifestyle choices, which are taken away as part of the deprivation of penal life. On the outside, social media, television programmes, and series have become popularised through the widespread use of smartphones. Therefore, with the stripping away of phone privileges and with little possibility of sustaining an illicit market, Chinese prisoners have few opportunities to fulfil their needs for cultural entertainment.

Other than using music as personal entertainment or a tool for seeking professional development, music listening in the workshops has also been found to be a form of audio ‘escape’ from the obedient subjects that prisoners and also officers have described themselves as being in such a military-like environment. Under the influence of Confucian teachings, artistic means have always been used by the party-state to communicate its ideology and by educators to influence moral teachings (Mittler, 2008). For example, every prison has its own official song.

‘The Song of B Prison’ has a recorded version?

Yeah, and ‘Life will Shine One Day’, and a third one (all official reform-themed songs of B prison). They must learn to sing them when they are in the newly admitted wing. They are forced to learn them. When I was working in that wing, they learned it and sang it every single day.

Did you teach them to sing these?

Not needed, they were taught by special post prisoners. They listen, and sing, and listen and sing.

Do you have to play them in the production workshop?

If there is an art festival, a graduation ceremony, or a competition coming up and they must sing them, then these songs will get played nonstop in the workshops too. (CO PSY, 20170916)

However, when asked about the educational effects of the music they play, officers seem to dismiss the official discourse to which they were expected to adhere to:

Would you choose songs based on their educational meaning? Songs related to rehabilitation?

No, absolutely not. It’s based on the personal preferences of each officer who downloads the songs. Prisoners hate those reform-themed songs. We force them to sing these, like ‘The Song of B Prison’. We will play them when there are tasks and they are required to practice. If not, we won’t. (CO YGH)

For both the prisoners as well as the officers, most aspects of their life inside are highly restricted and disciplined, including their cultural life, and this is deeply unsatisfying for those who are used to a world of abundant choices. Therefore, BGM choices become one of the few less regulated aspects that are left where some individuals seek to find some autonomy and fun.

Discussion and conclusion

This study has found that access to music in the Chinese prison exists mostly through BGM’s public broadcasting in the production workshops. The curation of the playlist and the decision to play music or not are neither controlled by the prison management nor by the choices of the prisoners. Access to music listening is mostly at the discretion of individual officers in each wing, but a selected number of ‘service prisoners’ also have some persuasion power in the matter.

There is no denying that the function of mood management is foremost closely linked to the managerial needs of industrial efficiency. Both officer and prisoner groups consider BGM to function in relieving the stress and dullness of work. However, the findings of this study have also shown that BGM playing and listening demonstrated another side of prisoner–staff relations: that of a state of cohabitation. Both groups of people spend most days of their lives inside in the production workshops without access to a variety of personal resources. Music thus becomes one of the coping mechanisms for officers and prisoners who are in the same working conditions where conformity to an authority is inevitable for both. As Jewkes (2002) reflects, those imprisoned are ‘captive audiences’ who cannot escape their acoustic surroundings. This is also true in terms of the lack of access to listen to music as part of the deprivation of cultural resources.

The staff–prisoner relationship exists ‘at the heart of any prison’ (Crewe, 2011: 455). In English and US prisons these relationships are more confrontational and detached, whereas in Dutch prisons they are more relaxed due to the effect of marketisation and consequently the nature of staff–prisoner relations were transformed (Mjåland and Lundeberg, 2014). Scholars have found that Norwegian prisons show a trend towards ‘penal hybridisation’, where institutional control and rehabilitation are both expanding and are interconnected (Mjåland and Lundeberg, 2014). Hostile relationships between staff and prisoners in the UK have eased in recent years due to the diminished power of staff and the rise of neo-paternalism (Crewe, 2007). BGM playing in the production workshop is also about power and control, and it reveals a mostly hierarchical yet also dynamic pattern in the Chinese staff–prisoner relationship. ‘In the prison-run factory, [. . .] correctional officers tried to gain cooperation, self-surveillance and some degree of consent from the prisoners through their daily interpersonal communications’ (Hu and Liu, 2020: 5). It is not just a combination of harder and softer power, or educative and repressive relations, but also a combination of managing and coexisting relationships.

Music, like other forms of expressive arts, has been heavily utilised for propaganda purposes in modern China (Run, 1991). Cultural activities in general are commonly employed for the purpose of achieving ‘model prisoner/prison’ performance in Chinese prisons, or for the purpose of joining in the Western ‘offender correction’ discourse to be used as rehabilitative intervention. Nevertheless, it also holds the possibility of resistance. As Hemsworth (2016: 91) observed regarding the everyday soundscape of prison life: ‘sonic techniques are used to (temporarily) push back against authoritative boundaries and carve out meaningful, personal and perhaps even dignified spaces as part of place-making initiatives’. As this paper demonstrated, BGM in production workshops is not part of either educative or disciplinary intervention. The findings have shown that it has even became a grassroots cultural medium where frontline corrections officers and prisoners join in resistance against some official cultural indoctrination, at least emotionally.

BGM broadcasting and listening is part of the cultural life in Chinese prisons, which has been governed by a mixture of official and informal control. It can be understood as a manifestation of the power structure of Chinese interpersonal relationships within a hierarchical institution. Future studies might look at a more nuanced understanding of the social and penal order by examining the lived cultural experience of the incarcerated in their everyday life.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Tan Chen for her contribution to data collection, and for teaching the women behind bars to sing.

Funding

The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Xiaoye Zhang

Questionnaire on background music in prison

Thank you for your participation, this questionnaire aims to understand the situation regarding background music playing in our prisons across the province. The findings will be used for research purposes only, please answer the questions based on the situation in your own organization and your personal experience. Thank you very much.

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