Lock Them Up: Kiwis simply rebel at the idea of being driven blindly by forces they cannot control. Nor will they accept the pain and suffering of their neighbours as statistically inevitable. Shit may happen – but that doesn’t mean the ratbags who make it happen should be allowed to escape the consequences of their actions.
THE TWO BIG QUESTIONS when it comes to crime and punishment,
law and order, are: “Why do people commit crimes?” And: “What should we do with
them when they do?” On how a majority of voters answers those two questions
will depend the overall thrust and purpose of New Zealand’s criminal justice
and correction systems.
The answer given by most New Zealanders to the first
question is simple and direct enough to make sociologists, psychologists and
criminologists wince: “Because they are bad people.” The public’s response to
the second question, as unequivocal as the first, is: “Lock them up.”
The professionals like their compatriots’ answer to the
second question even less than the first.
Their explanations for criminal offending are multifaceted
and complex – as are their recommendations for what do about it.
In practical political terms, however, the complexity of the
problem is the professionals’ worst enemy.
Sociologists, psychologists and criminologists are trained
to view criminal behaviour scientifically, as a series of predictable responses
to a range of exhaustively researched and clearly identifiable stimuli. Look
into the background of just about any criminal, they argue, and you will find
at least one, and in many cases, all of the following causal factors: acute
parental inadequacy; childhood trauma; interrupted schooling; functional
illiteracy; intermittent employment; substance abuse and/or addiction and
mental illness.
Criminal behaviour, driven by these causal factors, they
argue, is almost impossible to prevent. Their reasoning presents the criminal
as a helpless cork tossed about on a wild torrent of malign environmental
forces over which he or she exercises no control whatsoever. By this reading,
criminals are not bad people. They are, rather, people who’ve had bad luck.
That being the case, the mission of the criminal justice and
correction systems should have just two principal objectives. First: to protect
the rest of society from further harm by identifying, apprehending and then
isolating the most serious criminal offenders in specialised institutions.
Second: to initiate rehabilitative measures designed to eliminate the worst
manifestations of each individual offender’s dysfunctional personal history.
The great problem with this approach is that it regards the
victims of crimes committed by serious offenders in much the same way as
military commanders regard the death and injury visited upon non-combatants
during military operations: they are “collateral damage”. Contemporary society,
like contemporary warfare, runs this argument, cannot avoid generating an
irreducible amount of carnage. Inevitably, there will be people who find
themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is sad, but it is also
unavoidable.
All of which may be true, but for most New Zealanders it
simply will not do. The pain and suffering inflicted by serious criminal
offending cannot be shrugged-off with an academically tricked-out version of
“shit happens”.
The essence of the New Zealand character is embodied in the
idea that individual Kiwis make their own luck. Every New Zealander knows
someone who, through sheer grit and determination, has risen above the terrible
circumstances of their upbringing and made something of themselves. Who did it
on their own. And if people are able to do good on their own, then it stands to
reason that they must also be able to do evil on their own. It’s why New Zealanders’
patience with social, psychological and criminological science is so
notoriously thin. Kiwis simply rebel at the idea of being corks. Nor will they
accept the pain and suffering of their neighbours as statistically inevitable.
Shit may happen – but that doesn’t mean the ratbags who make it happen should
be allowed to escape the consequences of their actions.
New Zealand’s new Justice Minister, Andrew Little, persuaded
by the professionals, has set his face against his fellow citizens’ answers to
the questions of crime and punishment, law and order. He has looked at the
burgeoning number of people incarcerated in our jails, and he is saying that it
simply will not do.
He does not want to press ahead with the planned
billion-dollar, 3,000-bed super-prison at Waikeria. He and his party would
rather reduce New Zealand’s prison muster by 30 percent.
The lawyer in him rebels against the idea that our current
bail laws have remanded upwards of 3,000 Kiwis – all of them innocent until proven
guilty – to months after soul-destroying months in custody.
The professionals are cheering him on. They want him to put
in place a criminal justice and correction system guided by the scientific
evidence – not the atavistic urges of the public.
Alas for Mr Little and the professionals, the questions of
crime and punishment, law and order, are only rarely resolved through reasoned
and dispassionate discussion. Like the Almighty, in Book of Genesis, the
electorate demands answers from the Cains who live among them:
“What have you done? Listen; your brother’s blood is crying
out to me from the ground!”
This essay was
originally published in The Press of Tuesday,
27 February 2018.