Education is the only choice in a civilised justice system

When a crime is serious and somebody is imprisoned for it, is loss of liberty punishment enough? Or should custody bring further deprivation, in the belief that the barer the cell and the duller the day, the more somebody who has committed a crime will learn not to do so again? Reoffending figures tell us the second view is at best misguided.

At a recent meeting of my European counterparts from 42 nations, I listened with the rest of the silenced audience to a young woman from a Mediterranean country. Now 20, at 17 she served time on remand, with female adult prisoners, including murderers and traffickers. She was found to be innocent and released, and is now on a degree course. Not surprisingly, she could not relate her story of her time inside without weeping. Somebody held her hand throughout her account.

Most striking of all, she said that to help cope she stood on her bed in the cell to hear the birds singing outside and imagined herself being with them; and that losing her liberty had been the punishment, while putting her with serious adult criminals had been cruel, inhuman, terrifying and degrading. It was also unnecessary. I said a silent thanks that we don’t do that to children here, and that we have fewer and fewer young people in custody. Increasingly, we tackle their problems where they arise, in their communities.

Europe’s children’s commissioners issued a joint statement after our meeting. Its broad thrust was that no nation can claim to be civilised unless it educates and rehabilitates its young offenders, doing more than punishing them, so they own their crimes and make recompense to their victims.

A new way of living
My staff and I regularly meet young people who have offended and are detained. Many have serious learning, neurological or personality difficulties, a mixture of barriers to comprehending fully what they have done, why, and what it means for their own and others’ lives. These conditions do not excuse, but have often contributed to, their criminal behaviour. In the best settings, they speak of understanding that they are being asked to pay the price, the reasons why they committed their offences and how we can work to stop them doing it again. They learn about themselves, their victims and a new way of living. They talk about their future, as well as owning their past. Staff working with them know the chances they offer troubled, and yes, troublesome young people, often pay dividends. It’s hard to do this work, but it matters.

Society has a stark choice for children like these. We can do the hard work to turn their lives around by stepping in, challenging them, guiding them, persevering, and holding their hand as my colleague did for the young woman telling her story to a silenced room. Or we can under-treat their conditions, under-occupy their bodies and their minds, then punish them when their untreated confusion leads them to behave even worse, so that for their own and others’ safety, they must be further contained. If we choose the second course, by implication, we choose to accept that here is someone who, if they reach adulthood, might care so little for their own life and its direction that in turn, they can neither care for you, nor yours.

Maggie Atkinson is the children’s commissioner for England