Prison costs more than unemployment, but freedom is priceless

Prison costs more than unemployment, but freedom is priceless

The same old refrain persists: in Spain, prison is a five-star hotel with a pool, gym, and hot meals. This paradox is easy to state but hard to resolve. If incarceration is such a good deal, why do homeless people still sleep rough, why does nobody fight to get in, and why do defendants not request maximum sentences? The answer lies in a word absent from any budget: freedom.

Cost of maintaining an inmate versus an unemployed person

The economic argument supports the "hotel" theory. One forum user claims the state’s cost per inmate exceeds the average unemployment benefit. In other words, taxpayers pay more to keep someone behind bars than to support them on welfare. This data is used to prove the system is too lenient.

The fine print tells a different story: cost does not measure confinement or loss of liberty. It is not a restaurant menu. The thread describes a subsistence diet: tough meat, bland vegetables, and basic coffee, with three options—standard, Muslim, and vegetarian—that barely change the meal. Some inmates may eat better inside than outside. Still, it is the same routine every day, at the same time, with no choice.

Why a homeless person prefers the street to prison

The real question is not why the rich avoid prison, but why the destitute do not seek it. The most common answer is not material but regulatory. According to one participant, the shelter network provides housing and food without crime, provided rules are accepted: no drinking, strict hours, and respect for others. Many fail to comply.

There are exceptions. Some homeless individuals commit minor crimes to spend winter indoors. These cases are very rare. Most calculate that while the street is cold, they decide when and where to sleep. Inside, they do not. Prison allows no improvisation, drunkenness, or unscheduled naps, nor does it permit leaving when the body needs air.

Freedom, the asset missing from the balance sheet

Cervantes is cited without shame: “freedom is one of the most precious gifts heaven has given men.” Added to this, without attribution, is the saying “even if the cage is gold, it remains a prison.” This argument holds strong. Rigid schedules, individual cells on paper but shared in practice, full-body searches, and prohibitions on travel, choosing companions, or maintaining normal sensual relations.

The pandemic served as a dress rehearsal. Remembering the collective anger during lockdowns helps understand the weight of having someone else organize your life. The difference is that lockdown lasted weeks, while prison can last years: the feeling of confinement, according to testimonies, sets in by the third day, even if the pool is full.

Third degree, open regime, and Article 100.2

The discussion inevitably turned to technical details. The Spanish system has levels: the third degree is an open regime with exits and lax control; Article 100.2 of the prison regulations allows intermediate levels, practically called semi-liberty. The debate over terminology took as much space as the core issue, leaving a clear idea: prison is not a uniform block.

There is also politics. According to a prison official involved in the thread, since 2022 the state transferred penitentiary powers to the Basque Country, and ETA prisoners are in Basque centers, in the third degree or semi-liberty. Those defending the privilege thesis cite this as proof; opponents argue that privilege, if it exists, applies to a few, and the majority of inmates do not experience it.

Mixed prisons and coexistence: the unmeasured cost

The most cited factor is not luxury but neighbors. Prison forces 24/7 coexistence with difficult people, and sharing a cell with a stranger allows no room change due to personal dislike. In mixed centers, men and women share corridors, sports facilities, and social spaces, generating friction, according to the same official.

Spain has two women-only prisons—Ávila and Alcalá de Henares—after Alcalá de Guadaira ceased to be one in late 2023. These are described as quieter centers. This distinction dismantles the uniform hotel idea: comfort depends less on the star rating and more on who is your neighbor.

With these factors, economic logic suggests queues for prison should be kilometers long. They are not. No one queues to sleep in a cell with a hot shower in exchange for losing freedom. There, precisely there, the analysis stalls: there is no line item for freedom in any budget, and without that figure, the five-star hotel thesis does not fit.