There is something humbling about attending an Alcoholics Anonymous meet, particularly where they invite those not dealing with alcoholism to bear witness to the participants’ journey and the 12 steps. “I’m (insert name) and I’m an alcoholic” is how they start their stories, recalling the first taste of alcohol, the depths of despair, then recovery and abstinence.

A friend who credits AA with his life said: “It’s the biggest, free, public health service in the country.” And indeed the world because it’s online now; you need never be without a meeting or support. They’re also there to help those attending the specialist Glasgow Alcohol Court, which seeks to reduce the rates of reoffending by supporting individuals with underlying alcohol issues.

However, this is a tale of two halves. A few weeks back, I completed a recovery walk with men in HMP Barlinnie. We walked around the perimeter walls, pausing to reflect on those whose lives had been lost to substance use and trauma. It was moving and sobering in equal measure. I walked with two men from the ‘top end’ – where those serving life are placed near the last years of their sentence.

One told me he was 18 years past the punishment part of his sentence. For those readers who don’t speak ‘justice’, when people are sentenced to life, they are given a ‘punishment element’ which can be 12, 14, 20 years, after which they can apply for parole through a ’progression pathway’. It’s rigorous, and necessarily so. A life sentence may mean life if those sentenced cannot meet the tests for progression.

The men who I spoke to could not progress because of substance-use issues and could not give a ‘clean’ urine sample. Despite efforts to change and get into recovery, they struggled. Many reading this column will think “life should mean life”. But we must rehabilitate and create the conditions for that to occur. Yet these men are often completely surrounded by others who are hopeless and dependent on drugs to make the time pass, and numb the experience. Trying to get free of drugs in that environment is almost impossible.

My experience from the AA meet relied on people meeting others on the same path for support. Removing themselves from the circumstances where alcohol was a part of their lives was key to their recovery. The men I met exist in some Dante-inspired circle of hell, where temptation is everywhere. That any recover at all is down to the miracle of healthcare and the third sector in prisons.

We approach drug and alcohol use as a health problem, but for those serving a sentence where substance use may have been a contributing factor in their offence, it also becomes a criminal justice problem. It’s an important part of addressing their risk to support people into a life without drugs and alcohol.

Morally and ethically, we must create the conditions for people to recover, particularly where harm has been caused as a result of substance use. For those of us who’ve overcome our own problems around smoking, eating, gambling or a myriad of other issues, could we have changed if surrounded by others with the same problem 24/7? I submit that the answer would be no.

Karyn McCluskey is chief executive of Community Justice Scotland

Trying to get free of drugs in prison is an almost impossible task – Karyn McCluskey