The riots are a fading memory of a summer that never really got going, but the courts are still sitting late into the night to deal with the several thousand extra cases the troubles created. A leading article in The Independent today observes that the argument between leading figures in the Prison Governors' Association and the Magistrates' Association demonstrates that there is no agreement on the best way of dealing with the whole question. It also points out that “almost 70 per cent of those brought to courts since the riots have been given jail sentences or remanded in custody; the figure for 2010 was 10 per cent”. And sentences appear to be universally higher than would be expected: one of the cases was of a man give a 20 month custodial sentence for stealing a T-shirt when a crowd ransacked a designer clothes shop.
This accord with the strong language coming out of government officials whenever the matter is spoken of in public: offenders are warned justice will catch them and that justice will be swift, severe and effective. But is that what is going to happen? Aside from questions of proportionality (is a 20 month sentence for a first offence – stealing a T-shirt, admittedly in a riot, but still only a T-shirt – excessive and out of proportion to the crime? What are they going to give those who made off with a TV, 5 phones and 20 pairs of trainers?) and usefulness (whether locking everyone up is helpful, especially when prisons are overcrowded), has anyone noticed that Britain has been here before and that it didn't work then, either?
Go back 200 years to the early 1700s and there are some uncomfortable similarities, the biggest of which was that, in the face of recognisable social collapse courts were tougher than ever on crime. There were more hanging offences than at any other time in British history (and, of course, there are none today) with authorities clamouring for more power to stamp on criminals, but without any indication that such a policy worked. Part of that was down to the problems people faced: if you could be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread, but faced death by starvation because you didn't have access to basic necessities, then there wasn't much choice. But most of the problems were caused by a general loss of morality. Hogarth's series of famous cartoons such as “The Rake's Progress” and “Marriage a la Mode” were comments on the empty standards of his day, with the rake being destroyed by gin and wild living, and the marriage in question falling foul of immorality. Social historians portray England at in the first quarter of the 1700s as dissolute, morally bankrupt and without much hope. Even the church had given up, with its bishops despairing that anything could ever be done to save the nation. In fact, it is doubtful that many of the bishops believed the Christian message, as many had reduced it to cold, lifeless formality that had no power, so it not surprising that harsher sentences brought no change in the nation's well-being.
So what happened? The Evangelical and Methodist revivals, that's what. George Whitefield, John and Charles Wesley, and a whole host of others burst onto the scene in 1739 and 1740, and led nationwide revival of Christian faith that touched the whole of United Kingdom, but also spread across to North America, too. Preaching an uncompromising message these men were instruments to bring the nation back to a genuine, living faith in Jesus Christ, a faith which then changed the lives of those who believed and transformed the communities in which they lived. And this transformation was then passed down the generations: virtually all of the charitable, social, or beneficial societies (including trades unions) formed from this period through to the end of the Victorian era had their origins in Christians wanting to act for the good of their neighbours. If you can get a copy of “England: Before and After Wesley” by J Wesley Bready at a second-hand bookshop, you will see this described in Britain's history in convincing detail.
The gospel, when truly believed, is a force for real change. It reaches the heart, which legislation or threats of tough justice have never ultimately been able to touch. It is the gospel of Jesus that we need to turn our country back from the brink. Which begs the question: do people around see that power at work in you?
This accord with the strong language coming out of government officials whenever the matter is spoken of in public: offenders are warned justice will catch them and that justice will be swift, severe and effective. But is that what is going to happen? Aside from questions of proportionality (is a 20 month sentence for a first offence – stealing a T-shirt, admittedly in a riot, but still only a T-shirt – excessive and out of proportion to the crime? What are they going to give those who made off with a TV, 5 phones and 20 pairs of trainers?) and usefulness (whether locking everyone up is helpful, especially when prisons are overcrowded), has anyone noticed that Britain has been here before and that it didn't work then, either?
Go back 200 years to the early 1700s and there are some uncomfortable similarities, the biggest of which was that, in the face of recognisable social collapse courts were tougher than ever on crime. There were more hanging offences than at any other time in British history (and, of course, there are none today) with authorities clamouring for more power to stamp on criminals, but without any indication that such a policy worked. Part of that was down to the problems people faced: if you could be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread, but faced death by starvation because you didn't have access to basic necessities, then there wasn't much choice. But most of the problems were caused by a general loss of morality. Hogarth's series of famous cartoons such as “The Rake's Progress” and “Marriage a la Mode” were comments on the empty standards of his day, with the rake being destroyed by gin and wild living, and the marriage in question falling foul of immorality. Social historians portray England at in the first quarter of the 1700s as dissolute, morally bankrupt and without much hope. Even the church had given up, with its bishops despairing that anything could ever be done to save the nation. In fact, it is doubtful that many of the bishops believed the Christian message, as many had reduced it to cold, lifeless formality that had no power, so it not surprising that harsher sentences brought no change in the nation's well-being.
So what happened? The Evangelical and Methodist revivals, that's what. George Whitefield, John and Charles Wesley, and a whole host of others burst onto the scene in 1739 and 1740, and led nationwide revival of Christian faith that touched the whole of United Kingdom, but also spread across to North America, too. Preaching an uncompromising message these men were instruments to bring the nation back to a genuine, living faith in Jesus Christ, a faith which then changed the lives of those who believed and transformed the communities in which they lived. And this transformation was then passed down the generations: virtually all of the charitable, social, or beneficial societies (including trades unions) formed from this period through to the end of the Victorian era had their origins in Christians wanting to act for the good of their neighbours. If you can get a copy of “England: Before and After Wesley” by J Wesley Bready at a second-hand bookshop, you will see this described in Britain's history in convincing detail.
The gospel, when truly believed, is a force for real change. It reaches the heart, which legislation or threats of tough justice have never ultimately been able to touch. It is the gospel of Jesus that we need to turn our country back from the brink. Which begs the question: do people around see that power at work in you?
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