Drug Law Reform

Drugs on Dark

by Stan Winford, Associate Director, Research, Innovation and Reform.

Since the mid-80s—on paper at least—Australian drug policy has been based on the principle of ‘harm minimisation’. Harm minimisation is an overarching framework, intended to guide drug policy responses to the harmful use of licit and illicit drugs. Set out in the National Drug Strategy, the framework is underpinned by the ‘three pillars’ of ‘supply reduction’, ‘demand reduction’ and ‘harm reduction’. Supply reduction refers to law enforcement activity aimed at reducing the supply and availability of drugs.  Demand reduction encompasses treatment services and preventative strategies that aim to prevent or delay the uptake of drugs, or stop or reduce drug use once it has commenced. Demand reduction is usually thought of as a continuum that ranges from prevention and education through to treatment interventions for people who use drugs. Harm reduction, the third pillar, accepts that despite the existence of the other two pillars drug use occurs, and aims to reduce its harmful consequences.

Harm minimisation should reflect a balance of all three of these approaches. This all makes sense: drug-related harms occur in a variety of contexts, so responses need to be multi-faceted. The reality, however, is that each of the pillars attract vastly different levels of funding and support. In Australia, approximately 66% of funding is spent on law enforcement activities. Spending on treatment attracts 21%. Only 9% is spent on prevention, with just 2% spent on harm reduction. Harm reduction is the poor cousin, while supply reduction takes the lion’s share, despite little evidence of its success.  In fact, while ‘record seizure’ announcements are made with increasing frequency—with police and customs proudly displaying the ‘massive drug haul’ at photo opportunities engineered to demonstrate their successes and return on investment for government—recent studies indicate that Australia has one of the highest usage rates of illicit drugs in the world, with methamphetamine usage in particular experiencing strong growth, and price and availability suggesting an illicit drug market without significant supply side challenges.

Harm reduction strategies, by contrast, seems to be withering on the vine. Some argue that as long as harm minimisation policy remains lop-sided, harm reduction will be undermined by the focus on enforcement. There are those who also argue that enforcement and supply reduction activity is becoming a source itself of substantial drug-related harm.

There are many examples which can be cited in support of this argument. One such example is the use of drug detection dogs in nightclub precincts or at music venues. Such highly visible policing operations have followed well-publicised incidents of drug-related harm such as multiple overdoses and emergency admissions to hospitals associated with particular events or venues. To what extent is the use of dogs reducing drug-related harm? One might think that they may serve as a deterrent, reducing the overall use of drugs and prompting drug users to decide the risk of apprehension outweighs the benefit of a high. Research involving drug users, however, indicates that they are employing a range of adaptive responses to avoid detection which themselves may be particularly risky and lead to additional adverse health impacts. Drug users have described resorting to ‘gobbling’ or rapid consumption of large quantities of drugs, pre-loading, inherently dangerous methods of drug carriage and concealment practices including bodily secretion.

Another example, critiqued along similar lines is the intermittent use of police operations in drug ‘hot spots’. These operations often follow media coverage of complaints about loss of amenity associated with overt dealing: disturbingly drug-affected people on the streets, discarded needles, and overdoses.  The police responses are intended to disrupt street-based drug-related activity, targeting street-level drug trafficking and use. They often cause a cessation of activity in a location for a period of time. However, the adverse effects for drug users can include impeding access to important health and other social supports, such as needle exchange programs. Intense policing activity in the form of temporary operations can also break links built carefully by street-based outreach support and treatment referral services. These are aimed at transient populations, such as people experiencing homelessness, and are designed to intervene in devastating cycles of disadvantage associated with drug use. Such policing activity may also be counterproductive from a supply reduction perspective. One effect is the displacement of drug trafficking activity to other locations, creating new challenges for monitoring and enforcement of drug related crime. This displacement effect may also undermine planning and resource allocation for harm reduction programs and services and local targeted initiatives.

Another phenomenon which some say can be directly traced as a response to supply reduction strategies is the emergence of new psychoactive substances such as so-called ‘synthetic’ drugs in existing drug markets. ‘Legal highs’ such as the synthetic cannabinoid ‘spice’ began to emerge, and many variations followed after regulators responded. The appearance of other psychoactive substances such as NBOMe as analogues for more well-known illicit drugs such as LSD in response to changes in regulation, price and availability adds to the suggestion that some forms of supply reduction activity may function as a stimulus for the rapid evolution of the drug market. Changing patterns of use are also seen in response to enforcement strategies. In 2016, a NSW Ombudsman report indicated that some drug users were switching consumption from MDMA/ecstasy to GHB—a colourless and odourless drug which is difficult for users to accurately dose, and has been linked to many overdoses—purportedly because they believed it was harder for drug detector dogs to detect. Finally, some argue that increasing potency of some illicit drugs is a response to the need to reduce the risks and cost associated with the movement of larger quantities of drugs between manufacturer and consumer. In short, these unintended consequences of supply reduction strategies are thought by researchers to represent responses of drug users and drug markets to variations in regulation, availability and detectability of alternatives.

Whether these concerns are warranted is difficult to assess, since the debate about the most effective way of responding to drug-related harms tends to be one-sided.  Just as certain supply reduction strategies are pursued uncritically in the face of mounting evidence of failure, claims about their arguably counterproductive consequences for some reduction strategies are rarely examined in the cold light of day. The overwhelming focus on law enforcement inhibits meaningful public conversations about harm reduction. Because politicians and police—and particular elements of the media to which they respond—are so focussed on sending an unequivocal message about the harmfulness of drugs, it seems impossible to publicly admit that people continue to use drugs and that things can be done to reduce harms associated with drug use. This nuance, apparently, is not compatible with the message which must be sent, and the perceived political risk of deviating from it. Any possibility of a response to drug-related harm that acknowledges the fact that people continue to use illicit drugs is ruled out both rhetorically and practically.

This also means that new measures designed to reduce harm can be quickly discounted despite compelling evidence and widespread community support. Medically supervised injecting rooms are a good example of this phenomenon. There are now more than 100 of these facilities in existence around the world, and positive evaluations provide evidence that they reduce overdose-related deaths, connect drug users with support and treatment where needed, and reduce the spread of blood borne viruses such as hepatitis. There is no evidence that they lead to an increase in crime or drug use in and of themselves. In Victoria, a recent coronial inquest into an overdose death in the Richmond area following a spate of similar deaths led to a recommendation that a medically supervised injecting facility be established. A coalition of local supporters including ambulance and firefighters’ unions, local traders and community members and councillors called on the State government to establish such a facility. A private member’s bill has been introduced into the Victorian Parliament. The possibility has nonetheless been ruled out by the Victorian Government. There remains only one such facility in Australia, established in Kings Cross in 2001.

Similarly, governments in Australia could begin testing drugs as part of a drug monitoring system aimed at reducing harm and increasing safety. Despite numerous calls and the success of programs in Europe and the United Kingdom, properly implemented ‘pill testing’, which studies have shown can reduce drug-related harms and change patterns of use in a positive way has failed to attract support from Australian governments. Part of the reason for the reluctance to allow for the possibility of ‘pill testing’, once again, is the problem authorities seem to have with communicating a message that involves harm reduction. How can we support testing drugs to make their use safer, they say, when our message is that people should not use drugs because they are unlawful? Instead, the unsubtle imagery used in public education campaigns is that of grotty clandestine labs and unhygienic chemistry involving solvents and drain cleaner. In fact, police have information about the composition of seized and forensically tested drugs, but it is not made available to the public in ways which could change patterns of consumption, and reduce harm. To try to do so in the absence of official support, communities of drug users have established their own early warning systems, posting images of pills and descriptions of their composition and effect.

This unwillingness to address harm reduction also means that little heed is paid to the voices of people who actually use drugs, and what might change their behaviour. While public policy innovations like ‘nudge theory’ are beginning to influence approaches in other contexts, governments maintain an entirely unsophisticated approach to service and program design when it comes to harm minimisation. For example, one strand of the opposition to ‘pill testing’ proceeds on the premise that drug users are too unsophisticated to distinguish between information warning them about the chemical composition of a drug they plan to consume and will read testing as a green light for drug use. In fact, there is research evidence to demonstrate that this is clearly not the case, and plenty of evidence that could underpin a more effective response if only there were the will to do so.

Meanwhile, a wilful blindness, officially, to the reality that drug use occurs in prison amongst prisoners is partly to blame for the absence of needle and syringe programs in Australian prisons. Prison needle and syringe programs are endorsed by Australian health and medical peak bodies, as well as global bodies like the WHO, UNAIDs and UN office on Drugs and Crime. This state of affairs presents a significant public health risk, since almost all prisoners eventually return to the community. There are some promising signs in some Australian jurisdictions that this may change, with the ACT government in particular expressing support for a trial. On the other hand, other examples suggest that it might not be wise to hold our breath. The extraordinarily drawn-out struggle of Victorian parents using cannabis oil to treat their epileptic children seeking law reform that would permit limited use of cannabis for medical purposes is an episode that shows just how cautious politicians feel that they need to be to avoid exposing themselves to the risk of being associated with policies that could be interpreted—however absurdly—by political opponents as the beginning of the slippery slope that leads to legalisation.

As well as making good policy difficult politics, an overt focus on supply reduction measures creates an environment conducive to discrimination against drug users. Stigmatisation means drug users are less likely to identify themselves as drug users and drives them away from accessing treatment and support. Discrimination against drug users has a long history in Australia. In 2003, for example, attempts to change the Disability Discrimination Act to permit discrimination against drug users were introduced to the Australian Parliament but did not become law after a concerted community campaign. Another example that can still be found in Victorian statute books is the Victims of Crime Assistance Act, which enables a court to take evidence of previous unrelated illicit drug use into account to exclude victims of crime from access to assistance. Only last month, the Commonwealth budget included a proposal to drug test NewStart recipients without a clear policy objective and no evidence base, amid concerns from experts about the harmful consequences of withdrawing financial support from people with substance use disorders. Indeed, some believe that an evidence base or policy objective are unnecessary when illicit drugs are involved.  The mere involvement of illicit drugs is apparently sufficient to justify disproportionate or inconsistent responses. For example, drug driving laws penalise drivers merely for the presence of certain illicit drugs in their bodies, rather than a level demonstrated to result in impairment. Drink driving laws by contrast require a blood alcohol content consistent with impairment before a driver may be sanctioned. In Australia unlike in the United Kingdom or New Zealand, drugs are not classified as more or less serious for the purposes of the criminal law and sentencing.  The curious effect of this, among other things, is that when sentencing a drug trafficker, a Victorian judge is not permitted to distinguish the penalty imposed on the basis that the drug in question was, say, cannabis rather than heroin.

What, then, does all of this tell us? If the eminently sensible principles of ‘harm minimisation’ are to be effective in reducing harms associated with drug use, then a number of changes must occur. First, there must be a more balanced approach to funding and support for the ‘three pillars’ of Australian drug policy.  Secondly, balance must also be returned to the debate about how best to respond to drug-related harm. This balance can only be achieved if strategies linked to each of the pillars are actually assessed on the evidence, and given the opportunity to operate effectively without being undermined by poorly targeted enforcement strategies. It should no longer be enough for politicians to be satisfied with being seen to be ‘tough on drugs’, whether or not this response is actually effective. Thirdly, we need to be grown-up enough to admit that illicit drug use occurs, and recognise that we can reduce associated harms without undermining the enforcement message. People can cope with more than one message, and attempts to reduce drug-related harm are not the same thing as condoning the use of illicit drugs. Finally, if our responses are to be effective, it is critical that the missing voices of those who are closest to the problem—and with the greatest stake in its resolution—are heard. If we are not listening to them, how can we expect them to heed the messages travelling in the other direction? If we do not make these changes, we cannot expect to see changed outcomes, and can rightly be accused of standing by while discrimination, disadvantage, ill-health and entirely preventable deaths continue to occur.

This blog post was inspired by a Wheeler Centre event – Question Time: Drug Laws, on 16 May 2017 at which CIJ’s Stan Winford was a panel member

A podcast of this event can be found here at the Wheeler Centre website.

A Federal Charter of Human Rights: Would it make any difference?

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Left to right Helen Metzger, Veronica Snip, Brigette Rose, Frank Aloe, Luke Fowler.

In 2016 the Centre for Innovative Justice was approached by the Human Rights Commission to conduct a project exploring and evaluating the impact that a federal Charter of Human Rights would have had on the outcomes of significant Australian cases and laws.  Below the five JD students who undertook this huge task reflect on their time working on this fascinating project:

Our task

We considered the potential impacts of a federally legislated Human Rights Charter by assessing how such a Charter would have affected the determination and outcomes of significant Australian cases and laws.

What it involved

Our initial brief was to take the Victorian Charter (Charter Of Human Rights and Responsibilities Act 2006) as the basis for designing a ‘model’ Charter. Ultimately, influenced by other human rights instruments (for example, the ACT Charter and the UK Human Rights Act) we expanded the Charter to include federally relevant provisions, the right to commence legal proceedings against public authorities on the basis of the Charter alone (which differs from the Victorian Charter in which another cause of action is also required to attach the Charter arguments to), and to seek remedies. Encouraged by our mentors, we decided to draft our model Charter, in order to test it fully. You can view our model Charter at Appendix 1 of our report.

Once the Charter was drafted, we applied the tests within it to the decisions and legislation we had been given to consider, by placing ourselves in the shoes of the Parliament, public authorities (who make decisions in accordance with legislation) and the Courts.

For example, when standing in the shoes of Parliament, we had to apply the following test to the legislation under consideration:

  • the nature of the right being limited;
  • the importance and purpose of the limitation to that right;
  • the nature and extent of the limitation;
  • the relationship between the limitation and its purpose; and
  • any less restrictive means reasonably available to achieve the purpose of the limitations.

Our mentors, David Manne and Emily Howie, offered insight about how the laws might be applied by a court, urging us to consider international jurisprudence on the scope of particular rights and human rights principles. So while this exercise was an imaginative one, it was grounded in legal theory and precedent, albeit from outside domestic law.

Benefits of participating

Frank Aloe: I don’t think that I can rate the benefits of this experience highly enough. It provided us the unique opportunity to contribute to a national conversation, and have that contribution be recognised and supported by leaders in the field. All of which seemed well beyond our reach as law students at the beginning of this project.

The project has re-shaped my understanding of my ability to create tangible outcomes through the law. I think that these sorts of projects are genuinely transformative and I recommend anyone with the chance to get involved in a similar opportunity to do so.

Helen Metzger:  In summary, the project was an exercise in: drafting legislation, networking, application of law, human rights, political responsiveness to the law, judicial reasoning, and an extreme process of teamwork. To work with selected students is the best group work one can hope for. Our ability to recognise each other’s strengths and encourage them while working together was great. I came away from the project with absolutely hands-on experience – working with industry professionals, guided by extraordinary mentors, legal skills sharpened and inspired. As with my other placement with the CIJ, the project has changed the direction of my JD and aspirations. I can’t recommend the placements through CIJ highly enough. To be able to properly experience the legal sector before one is graduated is a gift and an opportunity.

Effectively, the Charter asks for transparency, justification, and evidence-based laws. What struck me in the project was how simple that is, and how resistant politics and the public can be to that. For some people, it seems ‘human rights’ are a dirty word – deeply ‘unpopular’ as a concept, despite them being what most of us would expect makes the basis for a valuable and happy life.

Luke Fowler: I was quite surprised at how the introduction of the Charter would not only improve human rights protections for Australians, but also how it would improve transparency and accountability in the law making process. This, in turn would allow the Australian public a clearer understanding of the laws that are being enacted in their name.

This project has shown me that the introduction of a Charter would lead to clearer and less ambiguous laws, which in turn would make it easier for the Courts and public authorities to interpret and administer the law, leading to fewer disputes and fewer lengthy and expensive court cases.

Brigette Rose:   Launching the Charter was fantastic. Professor Gillian Triggs, President of the Human Rights Commission, explained how vital a Charter is to Australia. She had everyone at the launch imagine Australia with explicit human rights protections, rather than an Australia that has to be informed by another country, PNG, that Australia’s asylum seeker detention policies are illegal and breach the right to liberty.

The launch of our federal Charter offered an opportunity to celebrate the wins of the current Victorian Charter, and to emphasise the difference that could be made to everyday Australians if a federal Charter was in place. It was a great day to both congratulate ourselves on the report that we produced, and to strengthen our resolve about why this and other pieces of work like it are so important.

Veronica Snip:  Participating in this project was a really worthwhile experience, way beyond the research and academic skills I gained. This was group work on steroids, and taught me to communicate, debate, assert myself and acquiesce when need be. Not only have we been able to make our mark on the human rights landscape in this country, but we were guided there by inspiring and brilliant leaders in the field. This report was a gargantuan task that we somehow managed to complete, and now makes me sound pretty impressive when I casually slip it into everyday conversation with friends/relatives/strangers. I loved going to the CIJ every week and debating human rights with 4 fellow law nerds and have taken much more out of this than I put in.

The report was launched by Emeritus Professor Gillian Triggs on Friday 12 May.  You can listen to a podcast of the launch here.

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Left to right back:  Anna Howard, Helen Metzger, Brigette Rose, Luke Fowler, Veronica Snip, Frank Aloe, Gillian Triggs, Rob Hulls.  Front:  David Manne, Hugh de Kretser.

 

Family violence: responding to the next generation

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PIPA Forum panel members left to right: Jo Howard, Kildonan, Lily Anderson, Step Up Program USA, The Hon Gavin Jennings, Special Minister of State, Jamie Marloo Thomas, Wayapa Wuurrk Aboriginal Wellness Foundation, Elizabeth Grawe, parent with direct experience of AVITH , Elena Campbell and Rob Hulls.
by Elena Campbell, Associate Director, Research, Advocacy and Policy, CIJ

Amidst the array of family violence reform across Australia, how does an issue like adolescent family violence rate? Is it really something on which we can afford to focus, when we already have so much work on our policy plates?

Far from peripheral, adolescent violence in the home (AVITH) is a very real issue for many working in and around the broader response to family violence. Certainly, throughout the development of the CIJ’s 2015 report, Opportunities for early intervention: bringing perpetrators of family violence into view, the CIJ heard consistently that (a) adolescent violence was a huge concern; (b) there was no considered response to it and (c) there was no opportunity to shape such a response.

Accordingly, the CIJ decided to develop a project which created this opportunity – the chance not only to understand the challenge, but to work towards a considered solution. In collaboration with colleagues across the sector and in other jurisdictions, the CIJ applied for and received funding under the Perpetrator Interventions Stream from ANROWS, Australia’s National Research Organisation for Women’s Safety.

The result is the PIPA Project, or Positive Interventions for Perpetrators of Adolescent violence in the home (AVITH). This two year project involves dual strands – the first conducting research across Victoria, Tasmania and Western Australia which will enable us to understand the prevalence and contributing factors, as well as the kinds of responses that it currently receives in different legislative and regulatory regimes. This includes the Tasmanian regime, which currently only recognizes intimate partner violence. Meanwhile, the second strand focuses on the relevant recommendations of the Victorian Royal Commission into Family Violence – their implementation and relevant barriers; and the opportunities which need to be seized in order to work towards a considered response.

As part of this project, the CIJ recently hosted a public forum at the State Library of Victoria, the details of which can be found in our newsletter, with a link to the audio provided here. Over 100 people turned out on a freezing Melbourne night and heard this expert and diverse panel paint a vivid picture of what Special Minister Gavin Jennings remarked at the time was ‘as complex a challenge as you can imagine’.

This complexity derives in part from the fact that the primary victims of violence in this context are also the primary carers for those using the violence. What’s more, these carers are not only responsible for the welfare of the adolescent using violence, but for the welfare of their other children. In this equation, it is not surprising to hear that parents put their own welfare last – only resorting to calling the police after months or even years of violent behavior – simply because they want the violence to stop.

What happens in this situation, though? What prompts a family to call the police? What happens when they do? Answers to these questions remain regrettably elusive across jurisdictions. Police face tough judgment calls when they respond to an incident in which a parent does not want their child arrested. If the police do remove the child, there are few places to take him/her, and often the police response may involve simply sitting at the police station ringing around relatives just to find somewhere to place the child for the night.

If the child has committed chargeable offences, bail or diversionary options may not be available simply because the family does not feel that it is safe to have the young person home. This means being remanded and exposed to the criminogenic environment of custody. If children attend court as respondents to an intervention order, the programs which are available to help them and their family are confined to specific locations, with Magistrates also unable to mandate attendance for a cohort which is already incredibly difficult to engage.

Back home and feeling isolated and often ashamed, meanwhile, parents can now access more support than in the past, but support for their other children appears sorely lacking, as are opportunities for simple respite – a chance for families to catch their breath before their challenging adolescent returns home.

Without a doubt, implementation of the relevant Royal Commission recommendations will make a difference in Victoria – recommendations which include expansion of behavior change programs, increases in accommodation, support for victims and perpetrators at court, and expansion of diversion amongst others. These will also function as an example for other jurisdictions.

What the PIPA Project aims to do, however, is anticipate how these will work in practice, what the gaps are and how they can be more effectively linked. Using the findings from the first strand, the Project will feed this expanding evidence about prevalence and contributing factors up to senior levels and keep the issue of AVITH firmly on the policy radar.

In doing so the project aims to remind us that, amidst all the current policy frenzy, we have an obligation to respond to the next generation – adolescents who, in many cases may be using violence against their families simple because that is what they have learned; adolescents who are experiencing other challenges and who have not received appropriate support; adolescents who may well hit the service system as more entrenched offenders, unless we learn how to step in earlier and effectively respond.

System which entrenches disadvantage is poorly designed

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If we were asked to design a legal system from scratch, it’s unlikely that we’d craft it to increase reoffending. In the way that our justice system responds to certain members of the community, however, that’s exactly what we’ve done. From cops, through courts to Corrections, our legal processes are shaped in ways that entrench disadvantage and make it almost impossible for particular people to establish a life beyond the cycle of disadvantage and crime.

No group could be more vulnerable to this design flaw than people with Acquired Brain Injury. As Brain Injury Awareness week rightly highlights, ABI is often known as the ‘hidden disability’, acquired at some point in a person’s life after birth – either through traumatic injury, such as a car collision or violent assault – including family violence, or through chronic problems such as substance abuse.

Manifesting in a range of ways, ABI is one of a range of factors which make people more likely to come into contact with the criminal justice system and less able to comply with its directions once they do. In fact, research commissioned by Corrections several years ago revealed that 44% of men and 33% of women in Victoria’s prisons have an ABI – an extraordinary figure which should tell us that something is terribly wrong under the metaphorical bonnet of the justice system.

Few among the general population, after all, have a hope of understanding the complex processes and language of a courtroom. Few would not be intimidated by an interaction with police or frightened when flung into a cell. When the experience is compounded by cognitive impairment, by potential mental illness, or by the prior experience of victimisation to which we know that people with ABI are vulnerable, then this experience becomes even more alienating.

Yet many police do not ask or even understand what an ABI is; most courts lack flexible or appropriate sentencing options; and our prisons systems – confirmed by last year’s Ombudsman’s report as effectively operating in a disability environment – are ill equipped to respond effectively. As a result, people with ABI, like people with other forms of disability, are cycled in and out of the prison system – unlikely to comply with orders, unable to understand the process, released to homelessness and inadequate support which means they turn to offending to get by.

Governments are recognising that this makes no fiscal or social policy sense but they struggle to grapple with how to begin to undo this mess. This is why our Enabling Justice project – a partnership between the Centre for Innovative Justice and Jesuit Social Services – is using the voices of people who have an ABI and who have experienced the criminal justice system, to design better responses. Their stories – and their participation in a Justice Users Group (JUG), which puts their voices front and centre – help to identify tangible ways to make each interaction more constructive and effective.  A podcast with JUG members Kerry and John can be found here.

Many of these suggestions are specific to people with ABI. As Brain Injury Awareness week also highlights, however, only a small proportion of ABI is identified. This means that we have to design the entire system differently – assuming that, if someone has come into contact with the criminal justice system, they are potentially already vulnerable.

Yes, there are a small number of hardened offenders in our prison for whom there seems no other option but incarceration. The majority of those in our prisons, however, are likely to have come from one of only a few Victorian postcodes and a background of intergenerational unemployment. They are unlikely to have completed their education. They are likely to have a substance abuse problem or mental illness. They are likely to be homeless. If they are a woman they are likely to have experienced family violence or childhood sexual assault. They may have a gambling addiction and be coerced into crime to pay off their debts. What’s more, by coming into contact with the criminal justice system, their situation is likely to have been made significantly worse.

Given that we know this, we have to design a system that takes this knowledge into account. Doing so is not about making excuses or letting people off the hook. It is about recognising that the community is losing money from a system which, in far too many cases, cements the commission of further crime, rather than prevents it.

It is also about recognising that people with ABI need justice to function as a positive, rather than a negative, intervention in their lives – treating them with the dignity and offering them the hope that the rest of the community rightly expects.

Rob Hulls                                                                Julie Edwards
Director                                                                  CEO
Centre for Innovative Justice                           Jesuit Social Services