The Post

Hopeful signs of curing our punitive instincts

- Donna Miles Iranian-Kiwi writer based in Christchur­ch

It came as no surprise to me that National Party leader Christophe­r Luxon chose Hamilton West to announce his policy statement involving military-style boot camps for young offenders. Hamilton West is where a by-election has been called after the resignatio­n of former Labour MP Gaurav Sharma. It is also where the scourge of ramraids looms large in the mind of voters.

A number of reports have already dismissed Luxon’s boot camp policy as ineffectiv­e. These reports are supported by research evidence that shows the best way of reducing youth crime is to address its causes. Young people respond to socialisat­ion, inclusion and connection, not punishment, researcher­s say. They ‘‘learn to obtain respect for others by respecting themselves. As a community, we are all invested in growing healthy, respectful and supported young people’’.

But why would Luxon announce an obviously doomed policy? Populist politician­s, in general, allow electoral advantages of a policy to take precedence over its effectiven­ess. They tap into punitive justice because it reaps two important benefits: it appeals to our instinct for punishing those who harm us, and emphasises the punisher’s power, making them appear tough on crime.

Penal populism, where political parties compete to appear tough on crime, is nothing new. Neither is the centring of punishment as a cornerston­e of policies that go beyond criminal justice. Australia’s deadly and torturous offshore asylum policies are well documented; so is the UK’s cruel intention to punish asylum seekers by shipping them to Rwanda.

There is a deep history to the continuing pursuit of punitive strategies. Some researcher­s have linked it to colonialis­m and the exclusiona­ry instinct inherent in liberalism. It is certainly true that British colonial justice was dramatic. After the due process of the law, the participan­ts in the 1857-58 Indian rebellion were killed by being tied to the muzzle of a cannon before it was discharged.

And it was the liberal philosophe­r John Stuart Mill who, in trying to explain away the increasing domination and suppressio­n in the colonies, said: ‘‘Despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvemen­t, and the means justified by actually effecting that end.’’ Needless to say, every despotic and authoritar­ian government, from former Philippine­s president Rodrigo Duterte, known as ‘‘the punisher’’, to Iran’s current autocratic regime feels it is dealing with barbarians and that its tyranny is a justifiabl­e means to an end.

Recently, I attended a public debate in London about the effectiven­ess of sanctions against Russia. The arguments against sanctions were compelling. Author and columnist Sir Simon Jenkins said a major study had found that, although sanctions hurt and damage the targeted country, they almost never achieve their political goal. This is certainly true in the case of Iran, where sanctions have had the opposite intended result by strengthen­ing the country’s hardliners without hampering its nuclear programme.

IPunitive justice . . . appeals to our instinct for punishing those who harm us, and emphasises the punisher’s power . . .

n Russia, severe sanctions are more than just ineffectiv­e, they are counter-productive. Soaring energy prices and rampant inflation in the West create the real danger of weakening public support for the war and increasing Russia’s adaptabili­ty and self-sufficienc­y.

But none of the above evidence caused politician­s in the West to reconsider their approach, because they felt there was a strong public appetite for punishment and they had to respond to it. The same punitive sentiment led the Cardiff Philharmon­ic to remove Tchaikovsk­y from its programme, deeming it ‘‘inappropri­ate’’.

But this does not mean that our instincts and beliefs are not prone to change. In 2018, Ireland voted, by a landslide, to repeal its near-total ban on abortion. The vote was an extraordin­ary victory for women’s rights, given the country’s religious conservati­sm. The Irish prime minister at the time, Leo Varadkar, described it as the culminatio­n of a quiet revolution that had been taking place for the past 10 to 20 years.

When it comes to youth crime, there is some evidence that suggests the same quiet revolution is happening in New Zealand and will hopefully result in greater demand for moving away from punitive policies.

In the meanwhile, it is up to our media to continue to hold populist politician­s to account by scrutinisi­ng their policies, especially when these policies are designed to target the most vulnerable and marginalis­ed groups without delivering an effective outcome and, in many cases, even causing greater harm.

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