Tough love: is this a model prison for children?

Regional director Jesus Teruel with two of the centres prisoners. Photograph: Paola de Grenet

From a distance, La Zarza re-educational centre, deep in the heart of the Murcian countryside, looks like any other jail high fences topped with rolled razor wire and a uniformed guard manning the gate. But a close inspection of the fences reveals gaps in the wire big enough for any agile teenager to get through, and inside there is a white horse, grazing in a small paddock. The children the prisoners, because this is a prison are allowed to ride the horse, but only when they have reached a certain stage in their development.

To the left children are playing on a five-a-side football pitch. Of 61 offenders, three are murderers, many have committed armed robbery and virtually all had drug problems when they arrived.

While Spains adult prisons are almost as overcrowded as Britains and similarly rife with discipline problems, youth detention is a different matter. Twenty-three years ago, a not-for-profit organisation, Diagrama, opened its first re-education centre in Spain. Now it runs 38 such centres and is responsible for virtually all of the Spanish youth custody system. Before, Spain locked up children in similar conditions to adults, and when children in custody reached the age of 18, they would automatically be transferred to adult jails. But in 1992, a law was passed requiring the juvenile justice system to operate according to international rules and standards on childrens rights. The understanding was that if children were going to be jailed, they would also have to be nurtured, educated and rehabilitated.

In Britain, meanwhile, detention centres for children go from controversy to controversy. Since 1990, 33 children under 18 in England and Wales have died in custody, 31 of whom killed themselves. In total, 291 inmates under 21 have died in detention in the same period; 264 of them took their own lives.

Diagrama has not had a single suicide in any of its centres since it began operating. The founder and current CEO is Rafael Cuadrado. A psychologist, he worked with children in the Spanish penal system, but became disillusioned with their treatment. Using his own money he bought the land La Zarza stands on and persuaded the authorities to let him run a centre using different methods. His staff say he works 24/7 and is always investigating new ways to improve the system.

The main difference between Spanish and British detention centres is philosophical. In Britain, the children tend to be regarded as inmates. Here, they are always children. In Britain, a good day is one without violence or disturbance. Here, a good day is one when the children have learned well and made progress. Perhaps the biggest practical difference is the level and nature of staffing. In Britain, training assistants are glorified guards (teachers go in to educate the children and are hired by the local authority); in Spain the staff who run the centres are called educators. British training assistants do not need qualifications; in Spain, educators all have degrees.

In Spains stifling afternoon heat, Diagrama regional director Jesus Teruel greets Ainhoa, the mother of one of the children, with kisses on both cheeks. Teruel is a tall, passionate man with the manic energy of a cartoon character. As he answers questions, his eyes and hands dart in different directions. Yes, of course he knows the names of all the children detained in the region, he says. Yes, of course he knows all the parents. If he didnt, he wouldnt be doing his job.

Ainhoa lives an hour away and visits once a week. In the UK, it is common for children to be locked up hundreds of miles from home, but Teruel says its important for children to be detained as close as possible to their family. Ainhoas son, Daniel, is 16 and has been here for four months. His offence is sexual harassment. Ainhoa was terrified when he was sentenced. He was on antidepressants and told her he would rather be dead than in prison. When he arrived, he was put on suicide watch. For several nights, an educator slept in the same room as him, with the door open. Now he is off medication and the suicidal thoughts have gone. Ainhoa says her son is getting discipline but also affection at La Zarza. Affection is a word we hear a lot.

Does she have any complaints about La Zarza? She thinks, then smiles. It takes him a while to answer the phone. Maybe they could get him quicker. She is allowed to call twice a day to speak to her son. In Britain, parents cannot call children in detention. Children are allowed to phone home, but only if they have credit. All their calls are made within sight and sound of other children and staff.

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Tough love: is this a model prison for children?