Tag Archives: prison

Building fairer systems

I’ve mentioned before that I have a Stone Age village in my head, and I use its imaginary shape to play compare-and-contrast games with modern life. In the imaginary village, people live in a community where they are, to at least some degree, known to each other. Reputation is important. When there is conflict, the honour and usual truthfulness of those involved would be easily considered. In my imaginary village, there is a culture of honesty and people would feel ashamed to speak in a misleading way for personal gain. (In my authoring life, I write fantasy some of the time, I have a wild imagination.)

We tend to live in far larger groups than this. Get into disagreement or conflict and the odds are that either those involved, or those arbitrating, have no idea who you are. Your reputation will probably not have reached them. They won’t know if you are habitually honest, or shifty, whether you have a history of excellence, or ineptitude. More often than not, that context is vital. Anyone can accuse anyone else, of anything. Much of the law includes ideas about whether it was deliberate or not. There is a world of legal difference between things done by accident or mistake, and things done deliberately. But without anyone knowing who you are and how you usually behave, how is anyone to judge?

As we live so remotely from each other, we need the law to be distant and impartial. But in that distance, we lose a great deal.

In the Stone Age village in my head, there are of course proto-druids, wise folk who make the hard decisions and who are trusted to find the way through. I wonder sometimes how we, as modern druids, would fare if asked to hold the same kind of responsibility? Would we be able, willing or capable of making life and death decisions for other people? I feel uneasy about that as an idea. I think I could work for reconciliation and peace, but I do not imagine I would be comfortable if I had to judge people. Especially not where that judgement would bring significant consequences.

So many problems in this world are caused by accidents and mistakes rather than malice. So many of these accidents and mistakes are underpinned by lack of understanding. There are, for example, a significant subset of domestic abusers who have no idea they are doing anything wrong. They’ve grown up in a culture of male dominance, they believe women want to be pushed around and told what to do. They know that earning the money means they should rightfully have all the power, and so forth. The last thing such a person needs is punishing. It’s probably not even their fault they think this way. What they need is educating. So too do all the women who think it’s ok for their men to hit them if they are ‘bad’ and that their sons should be raised as indulged and petted princes who will go on to expect the same from their wives in turn.

Punishment seldom fixes anything. The Stone Age village in my head cannot afford to lock people up. Prisoners are expensive, you have to keep an eye on them and feed them, it doesn’t work. There is death, exile or restoration, and these are the only options. It is better for everyone if the person who messed up can be taught to do better. Your village is stronger for this process.

Prison costs a frightening amount of money. It clearly does not work as a deterrent. Nor does it reliably turn offenders into better adjusted people. Often the reverse. Education is a whole other issue. Where interventions like the Freedom Program for domestic abusers are allowed to step in, there are significant success rates. Reliably, they catch the people who got there out of ignorance, mistakes, lack of understanding and all those other things that are not malice but make trouble. In just the same way that driving courses which explain to people the cost of accidents, the probability of causing death by speeding, and all the facts around dangerous driving, often have an impact that mere punishment never could.

It comes down to whether we want to fix things, or whether we want a system that takes an eye for an eye. Education is not punishment. If you do get the wrong person, it’s not a disaster and they too might learn something they can use. We can’t, in the current social structures we have, know each other well enough to really make fair judgements. But if the consequence of gross error, negligence or malice, is training, that might be less of a problem. It would probably cost less, and do more good. After all, if someone hurts you, one of the most helpful things they can express is an intention not to do it again. There’s a justice in preventing repeats, and a hopefulness inherent in trying to do better.


Rioting, prisons and justice

In the aftermath of the UK riots, we’re hearing that about three quarters of the arrested rioters and looters have already been in trouble with the police before. At the moment, the solution of preference is to slap longer sentences on people. But, if these are people who have already been through the prison system, there’s little reason to think another stint inside will change their ways.

A lot comes down to how you understand justice, and what you believe prison is for. If prison exists as punishment only, then it has some function as a deterrent. All the evidence makes clear that deterrents, even extreme ones like the death penalty, flogging, cutting off body parts, do not cause crime to cease. We’ve been locking people up for a long time now, and they still go out and re-offend.

I think to understand why punishment isn’t effective as a deterrent you have to consider why people commit crimes in the first place. On one hand we may have crimes of desperation – theft and violence occurring because people feel (rightly or wrongly) that there are no other alternatives. This feeling of no alternatives will not be challenged by additional risk of punishment. Alternatively, there is an idea I first encountered through Brendan Myers talking about attitudes amongst native Canadians. Crime can be perceived as a breakdown of relationship. Thus the criminal may feel that there are entitled to use and abuse – a might is right attitude for example would lead to this. They may consider themselves superior to others so that they imagine the normal rules are not, or should not be applied to them. They may consider their victims to be inferior, inhuman, irrelevant such that the crime against them does not matter or is justified. This would be true of all hate crime. All of these reasons go with a mindset that will not expect to be caught, and if caught, will not expect to be seriously punished, and if punished, will not necessarily give up the beliefs that underpin the criminal behaviour.

If people commit crime through desperation, social isolation, hopelessness, anger or poverty, punishment won’t fix that. If people do it because they have no respect for anything, locking them up will just reinforce their ideas. And on the other side, putting someone in prison gives nothing back to the victims, there is no redressing of wrongs.

I’m a big believer in getting offenders who have committed smaller offences to do community work that will help them re-engage. This is part of my Druidry, in which justice is a very important idea. Not just any old job that occurs to the powers that be either, but something that will affect them. Cleaning up their own mess, repairing the damage they have caused where possible. I’m also hugely in favour, where appropriate, of sitting offenders down with  their victims and making them face those people as people. That can be tremendously healing for the victim as well.

There are people who are so sick and antisocial in their behaviour that, for everyone else’s safety, they need taking off the streets. Locking them up for a few months or years and then sending them back out won’t fix anything longer term. Prison has to be about re-education. Many prisoners have already fallen through the cracks and have major literacy and maths issues (I know, I have friends who teach in prisons). Many have mental health issues, drug addictions and other problems that need fixing if they are to escape from crime. There is also the issue of violence as learned behaviour. In Strathclyde, I gather, police are tackling violent crime as though it was a contagious disease, taking the stance that people who are normalised to it are more likely to perpetrate it. This makes a lot of sense to me. It means not only tackling gang violence on the streets, but looking at where our young humans learn that bullying pays, violence is fine and he who shouts the loudest and punches the hardest gets to rule the roost. And where do they learn this? At home, all too often.

Domestic abuse is widespread. Children who grow up exposed to not just violence, but disrespect, verbal abuse, emotional, and psychological abuse learn to abuse, and to accept certain kinds of behaviours as normal in their peers and future partners as well. I’m not saying ‘blame the parents’ here either, because abusers do not exist in a vacuum, they exist in the context of cultures and histories, attitudes to women, belief about might and right, and the pernicious belief that if you can claim provocation, violence is ok.

If we want justice, and if we want to tackle criminal behaviour, then locking up offenders is not going to get us either. It is not a solution, just a reaction. It doesn’t prevent crime. If we want to not have rioting and looting, if we want to not have violent gang cultures, then we need to start by looking at the context in which these things happen. I feel very strongly that we need to start paying serious attention to both the direct, and the knock on effects of domestic abuse. Violence begins in the home, all too frequently. If we want to deal with it, we have to figure out how to tackle it there as well.