We don’t have a crime problem; we have a broken social contract
By Tahlia Isaac
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As a First Nations woman who has previously spent three years in and out of custody, I know the impacts of our justice system all too well. Now, as I work with other women in prison and post-release, I am thinking more and more about our social contract and what happens when one side fails to uphold its obligations.
Social Contract theory is simple; in exchange for safety and good order, we as citizens give up our right to enact personal justice and trust the state with the administration of fair and reasonable due process for all. The state provides the foundations for stability, safety, and economic opportunity. Citizens uphold their end by following laws and acting with regard for others. While it’s often credited to European thinkers, this idea has been in practice for First Nations people long before colonisation. Living by a system of responsibility, consequence and restoration - often guided by Elders - Lore was and still is relational and collective.
So when people don’t uphold their end of the social contract, what happens to them?
While justice falls to the responsibility of each state and territory, collectively as a nation, the picture is much the same - punishment and retribution over accountability, rehabilitation and ultimately community safety.
So many of the leading experts in criminology, justice and social policy will - and do - tell you that incarceration as we see it used today, as a measure of community safety, is flawed. While we feel safe in the moment, and we all have the right to safety, in the end; we all suffer. Not just on the safety front but the economic and human toll is crippling our communities.
Incarceration leaves women more likely to be unhoused, separates children from their primary caregiver, deepens the trauma that most women have survived before incarceration, and increases barriers to economic participation.All of this drives the cycle of reincarceration.
As the largest growing prison population in our country, you would think women are becoming more violent and losing regard for our social contract. But this is far from the truth.
As a nation in 2023 we spent $2.4 billion incarcerating people for non-violent victimless offences. Women are incarcerated for driving offences. Domestic violence laws still result in First Nations women being misidentified and locked up for being survivors of violence (something liberal feminists forget to problematise when they’re advocating for women’s safety).
The biggest driver of incarceration for women is poverty - and this must not be dismissed. It reflects both an overreach of the state’s powers and a fundamental breach of the social contract. The state cannot demand obedience while failing to provide the basic conditions that allow people to meet their obligations: access to housing, health care, education, safety, and connection.
Personal responsibility matters. But so does ensuring that people have the resources and opportunities required to meet those responsibilities. A fair contract requires both.
Our collective outrage should be directed at the governments who have broken their promise to keep communities safe in meaningful, lasting ways. It’s easy to get lost in the pain and the anger from being hurt by someone else, I know this all too well. As a survivor of violence, I too wanted to see the person responsible for it suffer. But ultimately, their punishment didn’t make me safer. It didn’t heal the part of me that they broke. It didn’t repair me in a way that I thought it would. It didn’t even ensure that they didn’t do it again.
Some argue that rehabilitation is “soft on crime.” But smart justice holds complexity: we can hold people accountable and ensure they leave the system better equipped to live without harming others. That’s how we build true safety.
Because, we don’t have a crime problem. We have a broken social contract.
About the author
Tahlia Isaac
Founder, change-maker and storyteller.
Tahlia is a Koori woman, mother of 2 young boys, and the founder and CEO of Project:herSELF. The organisation is focused on building up women who have had their lives impacted through incarceration and changing the narrative about women who go to prison.
Tahlia has intersectional lived experiences resulting in involvement with the criminal legal system. She has a post graduate degree in criminology and criminal justice and an undergraduate degree in business. She is a champion for social inclusion and holds the view that women are the thread that holds our community together; we should remember that without women, families and communities fall apart.
You can find Project:herSELF on Instagram and support Tahlia’s work by making a donation via the website: projectherself.org.au.
So perceptive and powerful - thank you Tahlia
Loved this piece.