Printing machines clatter and spit out official papers in the depths of Diez prison in south-western Germany.
Inmates here are rushing to produce documents for the early parliamentary elections on February 23.
“Not the ballot papers, because we don’t have the necessary machines,” says Volker Fleck, the head of the detention facility in the state of Rhineland-Palatinate.
Many of the items needed, such as envelopes and infosheets, have been printed here as the authorities scrambled to arrange new elections. The early polls were hastily called after the previous coalition under Chancellor Olaf Scholz collapsed in November.
Diez prison has around 500 inmates, a large number of whom are serving long-term sentences. Some 65 prisoners work in the printing press turning out several million papers and some 70,000 sealing stamps, says Fleck, motioning to stacks of brown boxes ready for dispatch.
Work started here on December 9, says Fleck.
It “fills us with pride that we are able to participate and see the preparation of the general election as one facet of a living democracy,” he adds.
It’s noisy in the production hall, which is dimly lit from a few ceiling windows and reeks of disinfectant due to the alcohol used in the printing process.
Among the bustle, a 62-year-old man deftly operates one of the more advanced machines to produce papers for a council election – the print shop fulfils many other printing and bookbinding orders too.
“I’ve been at the printing press since the end of 2014,” says the inmate, who declines to give his name or the reason for his confinement.
Although most categories of prisoners in Germany are allowed to vote – outside in open prisons, or by postal vote – he has minimal interest in the upcoming polls.
“As far as the election is concerned, I’m actually quite removed from it,” the man says as he checks and straightens each pile of papers before sliding it away to make room for the next batch.
But how did it even come about that the 2025 election documents were to be printed in a prison of all places?
This was the result of a special request from Rhineland-Palatinate’s electoral officer, says Fleck, showing his pride at the ability of the prison printing house to respond to last-minute orders.
Over and above that, he explains, there’s the bigger picture when it comes to preparing inmates for life after parole.
“Of course, working in a [commercial] company also means practicing daily structure,” says Fleck. “This means that the focus is not only on the work itself – this is also part of what we do under the rehabilitation programme.”
The prisoners work from 6.45 am to 4 pm on weekdays. Anyone who wants to work in the print shop must submit an application as for any other job, says shop manager Markus Weyers. “Then we look to see if they are reliable and suitable.”
The prison runs three more vocational programmes: A metalwork shop with places for 38 inmates, a carpentry shop with 12 places and a similarly sized gardening programme.
The 62-year-old master printer doesn’t talk about the future, but says his engagement over the past decade has definitely kept him going.
“If I wasn’t working, I’d be in my cell and would start feeling the walls closing in. I always have something to do here.”
