What is boredom? What does it mean to have nothing to do? For many of us, the feeling of boredom is associated with being young, newspapers and magazines carry stories about the importance of boredom to stimulate creativity – the rise of the smart phone is, apparently, a threat to us all (although I am sure they said that about television as well…). But what happens when boredom turns into stagnation? When life stretches out behind, and ahead, with few opportunities to progress, gain experiences or make choices? What happens when you have served decades in prison? What do you do when you see the decades that you must serve stretched out in front of you? In this context, boredom and stagnation are no longer temporary, but something that can eat away at your sense of self, and where a desperate attempt to find meaning in your surroundings means you take up any opportunity that comes your way. 

A few years ago, I spent several months teaching philosophy in two prisons in England. All of the men I worked with had committed serious crimes and were serving long, and sometimes very long, sentences. One man had served a total of 39 years in prison before I came to work with him, another had served only 5 years of a life sentence that carried a minimum term of 30 years. As a PhD student, sitting in front of these men, and discussing deep philosophical questions, I came to develop a different understanding of what it means to have time. These were not people who were simply bored, but people who were suspended in time.