When Punishment Isn’t Enough: Reimagining Justice for the Next 250 Years

By Shannon M. Bradshaw, MSSA, LSW, CDCA

I didn’t set out to work in the criminal legal system. Ironically, it was becoming intertwined in it myself, combined with my decision to pursue social work, that ultimately led me here. Since then, I’ve sat across from clients in community mental health, managed behavioral health services inside a correctional facility, and worked in courtrooms where judges hold extraordinary influence over another person’s future. Today, I help coordinate a felony mental health court, where many individuals arrive after traditional approaches have failed. Those experiences have led me to one conclusion: our justice system has become increasingly effective at responding to behavior, but far less effective at creating lasting change.

What I see every day is hurt people hurting people. I don’t say that to minimize the harm people cause or to suggest individuals shouldn’t be held accountable for devastating choices. Accountability matters. Victims matter. Public safety matters. But if we want a justice system capable of serving the next 250 years, we have to ask a difficult question: What happens when punishment alone fails to create change?

For generations, we have largely equated accountability with punishment. We assume that if consequences are severe enough, people will make different choices. Sometimes they do, at least temporarily. But compliance is not transformation. Fear may change behavior for a moment, but it rarely changes the person. If punishment alone produced lasting change, we would not continue watching generations cycle through the same courts, the same hospitals and institutions, and the same systems.

The justice system of the future should never abandon accountability, but it should redefine it.

I’ve also watched another shift occur. We have become more thoughtful about the language we use. We no longer casually define people as “inmates,” “convicts,” or “prisoners.” Yet we often replace those labels with clinical ones. People become “the bipolar client,” “the schizophrenic person,” or “the psychotic guy.” Diagnoses serve an important purpose. They help us communicate, guide treatment, and provide access to care. But somewhere along the way, we sometimes allow diagnoses to become identities.

We tell people these illnesses are lifelong. We ask if they’re taking their medication. We monitor symptoms. Yet we often provide very little hope for what life can become beyond symptom management. We unintentionally communicate that their diagnosis will always define them. Whether someone is labeled a “criminal” or a diagnosis, we risk reducing a human being to one part of their story.

At the same time, our systems often focus on managing symptoms rather than understanding what created them. We ask why someone relapsed instead of asking what pain they were trying to escape. We ask why someone became aggressive instead of exploring the trauma, instability, or fear that may have shaped how they learned to survive. We respond to behaviors while overlooking the experiences that produced them. Understanding those experiences does not excuse criminal behavior, but it does make meaningful change more possible.

Perhaps the greatest contradiction within our justice system is that we expect people to change while placing them in conditions that often make change more difficult. We remove autonomy, increase stress, create instability, and impose rigid expectations that leave little room for ownership. Success becomes measured by compliance with conditions rather than genuine personal growth. We tell people to make better decisions while giving them very few opportunities to practice making meaningful decisions for themselves.

For the next 250 years, we should measure justice … by how effectively we help people become capable of doing right.

One of the most overlooked components in lasting change is agency. Healing cannot simply be something done to a person; it has to be something in which they actively participate. Beyond standardized risk assessments and behavioral health interviews, we rarely ask people what kind of life they want to build. We spend considerable time determining what conditions we believe will reduce risk, but far less time helping individuals discover purpose, connection, and intrinsic motivation. Lasting accountability comes when people begin making different choices, because those choices align with who they want to become, not simply because someone is watching.

The justice system of the future should never abandon accountability, but it should redefine it. Accountability should include responsibility, healing, dignity, and opportunities to rebuild. It should recognize that public safety is strengthened not only when harmful behavior is punished, but when the conditions that contribute to harmful behavior are addressed. Housing, meaningful relationships, mental health care, employment, education, and opportunities for purpose are not acts of leniency. They are investments in safer communities.

For the next 250 years, we should measure justice not only by how effectively we punish wrongdoing, but by how effectively we help people become capable of doing right. A system built solely on punishment may produce compliance, but a system grounded in accountability, agency, and human dignity has the potential to produce transformation. If we truly want safer communities for generations to come, justice cannot simply ask, “What punishment does this person deserve?” It must also ask, “What conditions will help ensure this harm is less likely to happen again?” I believe our future depends on our willingness to answer both.

Shannon Bradshaw, MSSA, LSW, CDCA, currently serves as Mental Health Court Coordinator for the Franklin County Court of Common Pleas – General Division, in Ohio.

Published in partnership with the Justice & The Next 250 campaign