Week 5: Restorative justice

One of the interesting things about restorative justice is the enormous range it covers. It's been argued that the restorative justice movement had three separate drivers, all of which point in slightly different directions - and none of which is necessarily victim-centred.

One driver is the idea that criminal justice should be more civil. The civil law is what gets invoked when you take someone to court. A civil court case doesn't end with anyone being found guilty and punished; generally, they end with someone being found to be in the wrong, and ordered to pay back what they owe or to pay the other person compensation ("damages"). Criminal law is backward-looking (you did X, therefore we'll punish you); civil law is forward-looking (you did X, so you need to put it right by doing Y and Z). Most importantly, the civil law doesn't inflict pain and hardship on the people it finds to be in the wrong; it treats them as a responsible individual and asks them to put things right. Restorative justice can work the same way, and reduce the number of offenders who are treated harshly - and, perhaps, reduce the number who reoffend.

Another idea, closely related to the first one, is that criminal justice should be more moral. The argument is that the punishments handed down by criminal law don't work because they're harsh - if anything, they work (when they do work) in spite of their harshness. What works - what makes offenders think twice and decide not to reoffend - is a form of punishment which treats offenders as people who have a conscience and would prefer to do the right thing. Some offenders come to the realisation that they've been doing bad things - and decide not to do them any more - in the course of a prison sentence; some don't. What if the moral message could be communicated without the harsh punishment - perhaps, even, instead of the harsh punishment? Restorative justice can do this, too: the victim can really get through to the offender, in a way that judges and social workers often can't. (If you're sceptical about this, have a look at the "Woolf Within" video on Moodle.)

Then there's the idea that criminal justice should be more communitarian: instead of handing over crimes to criminal justice professionals, we should find ways to mobilise the community as a whole to deal with the conflict represented by the crime that's been committed. This argument was put forward most eloquently in Nils Christie's paper "Conflicts as property". If crime represents a breach in a community, perhaps criminal justice only makes matters worse - it introduces another level of separation, between the community and the convicted criminal (who ceases to be a member of the community and starts to look like an "Ideal Offender"). Restorative justice can work to mobilise communities, enabling them to condemn crimes while treating the offender with forgiveness and reintegration.

This summary raises a couple of questions. Firstly, these are three quite different things: can a single process achieve all three of them? If not, is there a single thing identifiable as 'restorative justice', or are there several different things which have that name?

Secondly, what about the victim? None of these theoretical models really focuses on the victim. However, I argued in the lecture that the victim of crime has become more central to restorative justice. The victim plays a key role in all these models - even if their role is to help the offender or the community - and I think the centrality of the victim has become more obvious since people started putting RJ into practice. The way that people think about RJ is starting to shift as well; we'll have more about that in later lectures.


If you weren't involved in the role-playing exercise we did in seminars, please have a look at the "Restorative Conference Facilitator Script" which is linked on Moodle. Here are some excerpts (there are also set questions for the victim and for anyone who has come along to support them).

Ask the offender:

• “What happened?”
• “What were you thinking about at the time?”
• “What have you thought about since the incident?”
• “Who do you think has been affected by your actions?”
• “How have they been affected?”

Ask each parent/caregiver: “This has been difficult for you, hasn’t it? Would you like to tell us about it?”

Have each respond to all of the following questions.

• “What did you think when you heard about the incident?”
• “How do you feel about what happened?”
• “What has been the hardest thing for you?”
• “What do you think are the main issues?”

Ask the offender: “Is there anything you want to say at this time?”

Picture yourself sitting around a table, after a crime has been committed, and answering questions like these - as the victim, as the offender, as an offender's 'supporters' (very often parents). How do you think they would make you feel? Do you think the victim would find the process useful or satisfactory?

One final thought: what would it be like to go into a restorative justice process if you weren't actually guilty but had admitted guilt for tactical reasons, e.g. because you believed you'd be treated more harshly if you went to court? Would your innocence be found out?

Week 4: Compensation for victims

This unit has three main themes running through this unit. The first, encapsulated in the idea of the I***l V****m, has to do with how we think about victims. We've seen how entrenched some assumptions about victims are, and - more importantly - how unhelpful those assumptions can be. The second has to do with the criminal justice system, and how difficult it is to fit victims into it: the victim doesn't belong on either side of the confrontation between the Crown and the offender, and often ends up, literally, serving as a witness to her own victimisation. Following on from this, the third them has to do with restorative justice, and the broader challenge of taking a victim-centred approach to crime. Actual victims - ordinary people who happen to become victims of crime - want, and need, many different things: some victims are vengeful, some are forgiving; some are knocked flat by the after-effects of the crime, some shrug it off; some want to take an active part in the prosecution of the crime, some want to put it all behind them. The only thing all victims have in common is that they want to be taken seriously, listened to (if they want to talk), given support (if they need it) - in short, treated with respect.

Last week's lecture (apologies for the delay in getting this post up) involved all those three themes. As we saw, the Criminal Injuries Compensation Scheme is explicitly designed to exclude anyone who doesn't co-operate with the police and anyone with a 'bad character' - which is to say (among other things) anyone who has served a custodial sentence of any length within the last seven years. (Hard luck if you go to prison for non-payment of debts and get beaten up a year later.) Only the innocent and virtuous need apply, in effect.

The other main form of compensation is the Compensation Order, which can be handed down by courts as part of a criminal sentence. This is a vivid illustration of the inadequacy of the criminal justice system to give victims what they need. Remember the dark figure of crime: not all crimes are reported to the police; not all of those are detected, i.e. have an offender identified; not all of those are prosecuted, and (inevitably) not all prosecutions lead to a guilty verdict. But it's only a guilty verdict that can lead to the imposition of a Compensation Order. Even when the option is available - and courts are encouraged to impose it when it is there - in practice most sentences don't include compensation, often because the offender would be unable to pay. Putting it all together, the criminal justice system can only provide compensation, in the form of a Compensation Order, for a tiny, tiny minority of victims.

Coming on to the question of respect and victim-centrality: when compensation is awarded, how much should it be? This is a difficult one. Somebody who has had a leg broken in three places, suffering permanent impairment as a result, isn't going to want to be fobbed off with a ten pound note. But suppose a more satisfactory order was made - £10,000, say. (The maximum compensation payable for this injury under the Criminal Injuries Compensation Scheme is currently set at £4,600, incidentally.) Would accepting this level of compensation mean that you were saying the leg was worth £10,000 (or £4,600)? It's not a calculation anyone would want to make. I think we have an instinctive sense of when monetary compensation is far too low, without having a clear sense of what the right level would be. The reason is the message that it conveys - the point of a very low amount is that it conveys a lack of respect. Similarly, research has shown - perhaps surprisingly - that victims don't object to compensation payments being spread out over a long period, if there is no other way that the offender can pay. What victims do object to is not knowing how long the period will be or what the payments will be: in short, they object to being kept in the dark, treated with disrespect.

But even if the payments are scaled satisfactorily and made on time, both the main compensation schemes are wildly inadequate. Victims need respect, which may mean looking at alternatives to criminal justice; and they need support, in the form of a universal and unconditional service for victims. Which are the topics of the next two lectures.

Week 3: Victims in the criminal justice system

A big topic this week, and quite a big post.

We're into Part Three of the unit now. Part One was about introducing the idea of the victim and explaining why it's so problematic; this involved looking at the difference between experiencing victimisation and being recognised as a victim, which led on to some discussion of different schools of thought in victimology and a fair old bit about the "*d**l v*ct*m", about which I suspect you are by now sick of hearing.

In Part Two we built on our discussions of radical and feminist victimology by getting into the politics of victimisation and victimhood. We know that not everyone suffers from crime, and not everyone who suffers from a crime will be recognised as a victim; are these random processes, or can we make any predictions as to who is more likely to be a victim of what kind of crime, and who is more likely or less likely to be recognised as a victim? If we can, do our predictions have anything to do with other things we know about society? Looking at questions of gender, ethnicity, class and corporate power, I've been arguing that the answers to those two questions are Yes and Yes: both exposure to the risk of crime and non-recognition as a victim are strongly associated with broader injustices and imbalances of power.

Part Three is about victims in the criminal justice system. There's more descriptive material in this part of the unit - more about how the system actually works - but the angle of the unit is still critical: we're not just asking "how does the system look after victims?" but "does the system look after victims properly?", and even "can the system look after victims properly?".





Let's pause for a song (music optional):

Whose pigs are these?
Whose pigs are these?
They are John Potts',
I can tell them by their spots,
And I found them in the vicarage garden.
- traditional

How did the criminal justice system get started? Once upon a time, there were no courts and no trials; when people had problems with one another, they sorted them out face to face. The vicar would have a word with John Potts, and they'd come to some arrangement: he'd keep his animals in his own garden, or the vicar would let him graze them by the vicarage on Mondays and Wednesdays, or whatever. There would be no laws being broken and no general principles being decided, and nobody would end up with a criminal record.

Then, at some unspecified time, things changed: disputes between people were no longer sorted out by the people themselves, but had to be decided in accordance with the law. Did John Potts have the right to graze his animals by the vicarage? Were they even his in the first place - could he prove it? All of a sudden, any dispute could end up in the courts, where it would be decided according to laws backed by the authority of the government. In the process the role of the victim changed dramatically, from being at the centre of the conflict to merely being a witness to the crime.

So far, so mythical - although it's quite a plausible myth. Coming forward into historical time, we know for a fact that the police took over the responsibility of mounting criminal prosecutions, in Britain, some time in the first half of the nineteenth century, and that as a result a lot more prosecutions took place. We also know that, before the police got involved, prosecutions were very often dropped or settled amicably - which may not produce consistency between different offences, but does give a much bigger role to the victim. The obvious conclusion is that a lot of the new prosecutions which took place after the police took over involved disputes which would not previously have gone to court.

A series of reforms, culminating in the creation of the Crown Prosecution Service in 1982, continued this process of standardisation, formalisation and centralisation, bringing consistency to criminal trials but reducing the role of the victim. However, by 1982 - the high water mark of this process - the contemporary movement for the recognition of victims' rights was already growing. Since that time, there has been a drive to bring victims back into the process, most successfully in the form of victim impact statements (which we discussed in the seminar).

The problem with a lot of the victim-focused reforms we've seen is that governments see victims bureaucratically: a victim of crime, in this way of thinking, is someone who has accessed services designed for victims of crime (services operated by the police, the courts, the probation services...).  Once the machinery of those services has been set in motion, the thinking goes, the victim should have the right to expect a certain level of service from it, e.g. the right to make a statement about the impact of the crime or the right to receive information about an offender's release from prison.

This approach is basically a good thing - it's better than not having the right to make a statement about the impact of the crime, after all. But it has its own problems. The key point is that this approach involves the criminal justice system looking at victims from the perspective of the system - not from victims' own perspective. This means that it's possible to reform the system so that it does more for victims, but only by improving or adding to what it already does. If victims are sidelined by the system, you can't fix that by bolting on a bit of victim-centrality. If victims are to get what they want, a fresh start may be needed - which is where restorative justice shows a lot of potential.