Why community service for offenders isn't a soft option

Most readers when asked about justice, will probably mention prison overcrowding and the early release of prisoners – that’s if they have clocked it at all.

I attended a briefing with some smart social and policy research people about what people in Scotland are most concerned about; health, the economy and cost of living were foremost of their concerns.

Justice came far down the list which, considering the amount of true crime that pervades all media platforms, was surprising. Crime is coming down, and in truth unless you are touched in some way by the justice system, it doesn’t really enter your consciousness.

It’s more difficult when talking about community justice. When I speak to the public, they often use the outdated term ‘community service’ usually meaning unpaid work, the most visible part of community sentencing.

Karyn McCluskey believes the pandemic response could be key to Scotland's approach to crime.placeholder image
Karyn McCluskey believes the pandemic response could be key to Scotland's approach to crime.

I suspect people have no idea how much unpaid work is delivered in communities throughout Scotland – over 11.6 million hours of unpaid work since 2011, which would average around 750,000 hours every year.

That’s the equivalent more than 400 people working full time every week of the year, cleaning up parks, painting and much else. It's substantial.

It isn’t perfect. There are challenges – finding enough meaningful projects, managing risk, ensuring compliance. There’s also the public perception hurdle: convincing people it isn’t a soft option. It’s not.

I have heard people in court ask for a short prison sentence, because a community sentence is hard, demanding and focused on change.

Turning up week after week, in all weathers, on dark mornings, under supervision, while juggling life’s other pressures, is tough. And if someone doesn’t comply, there are consequences. It’s no wonder that some think 12 weeks in prison might be an easier option.

But the opportunities – for the individual and Scotland – are huge. Imagine if every unpaid work hour also built employability and interpersonal skills. Imagine if every project strengthened community ties. Imagine if victims had a voice in shaping what repair looks like. We want to move in that direction, but there’s more to do.

I often hear unpaid work isn’t visible enough. People want to see justice being done and I think so too.

It is too hidden in Scotland despite the best efforts of many unpaid work leaders. The public want reassurance that consequences follow wrongdoing and justice should be transparent.

Partners work hard to make unpaid work projects more visible and connected to local priorities. When a vandalised play park is repaired, that’s justice you can see. When a community garden thrives because of unpaid work teams, that’s justice growing in clear sight.

But we need to expand what unpaid work can do, so that the public can see the change that comes from it. I don’t advocate the orange boiler suit of the US system, that’s not what we need – and hi-vis vests are worn by a whole range of local authority and other workers, and unpaid workers often wear them too.

Visibility isn’t just about optics – it’s about meaning. If unpaid work is simply a tick-box exercise, it will fail. It must matter to the community and to the person doing it.

That’s why we involve local groups in identifying projects and link unpaid work to skills training, employability, and even qualifications. Because if someone leaves their sentence better equipped to contribute positively, that’s success.

My team have invested huge amounts of time training unpaid work leaders with the skills to challenge behaviour and nudge people to think about the life changes they need to stay out of the justice system.

Some people receive up to 300 hours of unpaid work: that’s a lot of time working alongside someone, forming a relationship, talking to them about change, plans and actions. It’s a unique opportunity to support someone into a different future.

I would like to think that there is a greater opportunity to enhance unpaid work, to connect it more fully to employment. I’ve seen examples of this with unpaid workers getting the construction skills certificate scheme card, allowing people to get the basic health and safety skills to work on building sites.

Given we are in a housing crisis, that’s a route into work the country needs, growing the economy, as well as giving people the means to support their families.

Even for those not able or ready to enter the workplace, there is a benefit. Good, structured unpaid work helps repay the harm they have caused and gives them purpose.

There is power in seeing the results of your labour and contributing to something bigger than yourself. I know people who have continued to volunteer in projects after their mandatory unpaid work has finished. Serving the community can make people feel more part of it – they have a stake in what it looks and feels like. Social inclusion rather than exclusion.

I leave you with a lovely example from North Lanarkshire. Children now seem to love picking pumpkins at Halloween, (although what happened to turnips?). But it’s a costly exercise and not something that every family can afford.

Last year the unpaid work team in North Lanarkshire worked with a school, they prepared the beds and the children planted the pumpkin seeds.

The unpaid work teams tended the gardens for many months until just before Halloween and the children from the local school got to go and pick their pumpkins for free.

This isn’t just a nice story, it’s what justice can and should look like when it’s rooted in community.

Unpaid work is the smart option and when done well, it doesn’t just pay back – it pays forward.

- Karyn McCluskey is chief executive of Community Justice Scotland

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