Short Sentence Addiction

Ruari-Santiago McBride*

A few months back I attended a district court hearing in a Midlands courthouse. I was there in my role as an advocacy worker. Séan, a man in his thirties, who I have been working with for a couple of years asked me to attend with him. He was facing theft charges for stealing fifty euros worth of energy drinks from a supermarket. He had pleaded guilty, paid back the money, and offered to do community service. The initial judge recommended he go to prison for four months. This was his sentencing hearing. Following which, he would either go home or to prison.

I had assisted Séan in the weeks leading up to the hearing. I liaised with the social worker assigned to his family to ensure they provided a robust letter outlining the family’s situation, which was complex and challenging on multiple levels. I too wrote a letter of support, highlighting the health needs of family members and the role Séan played as the primary driver in the household, responsible for bringing people to medical appointments and all other basic errands. His partner and children would suffer unduly because of his imprisonment, I argued. I printed the letters and made sure Séan had them on the day of court. It was hoped that these letters would persuade the sentencing judge to show leniency and opt for a non-custodial sentence.

Séan was nervous. He could end up in prison. His family would endure greater hardship in his absence. All for a ‘victimless crime’ (the shop owner had been reimbursed in full for stock taken). Séan did not want to go to court alone, so he asked if I would attend.

Punishment

We sat in the court room and waited for Séan’s case to be called. One-by-one cases were heard. Solicitors made claims, gardaí presented evidence, defendants pleaded innocence.

One case caught my attention. Aidan, a man in his late twenties, was facing dangerous driving charges. He was average height, lean and built. His face reminded me of an old friend from school. As he stood, the judge reviewed Aidan’s substantial criminal record. She told him the charges he was facing were serious. His actions had intentionally endangered a garda on duty.

Yet, no one was harmed. No victim impact statement was presented. Aidan’s solicitor pleaded his case. He said his client recognised what he did was wrong, but that his action had been fuelled by addiction. An issue he had struggled with for many years. However, since the incident he was being charged for, Aidan had attended rehab and gotten himself clean. He was employed and living with his new girlfriend. He had turned his life around. He was willing to do community service.

The judge recognised Aidan’s progress. However, she felt his actions could’ve caused serious harm. He had acted dangerously. She sentenced him to four months in prison.

The crestfallen look on Aidan’s face as he turned to look at his girlfriend when the sentence was handed down has stayed with me. In my mind I mapped out the challenges that stood before this man – who had already struggled to get clean, work and start to build a ‘normal’ life.

Aidan would face the struggle to stay clean. Prisons are awash with drugs. Would imprisonment break his spirit? Would he seek comfort in the escapism that intoxicants offer? Would he get lost in the pain and drudgery of prison life? Or would he have the mental fortitude to stay sober?

Aidan would most likely lose his job. Most employers wouldn’t keep someone employed for four months while they do a stint behind bars. On release would he be able to get employed again? Would someone take on an ex-con with a recent history of imprisonment? That is of course, if he managed to stay clean and be fit and able for work on his release.

Would Aidan break up with his girlfriend and loose his home. Imprisonment undoubtedly impacts relationships. Would they stay together, or would imprisonment lead to the breakdown of their connection? Did they live together? Would she be able to keep up the rent alone? Would he have a home to go to when he was released?

Aidan’s future unravelled in my mind in a dystopian daydream. A man who had gone to rehab and was living up to societal expectations of a proper way of life, now faced the prospect of prison, using again, being unemployed, homeless, and alone. This didn’t seem like justice to me. He was being charged for a ‘crime’ with no victim. He was being punished for the harm he could’ve caused.

I hoped my dystopic vision wouldn’t become reality. Yet, I know that prison is an oppressive, violent and often hopeless place. Being imprisoned is dehumanising and can be soul crushing. People like Aidan, who are given a short sentence, also have to deal with a lack of institutional care and attention because most activities and support are aimed at those on long/life sentences. This leads many people to be trapped in a revolving cycle of short sentences, homelessness and addiction.

Leniency

The judge’s lack of leniency didn’t bode well for Séan. “I’m fucked!” he whispered to me as the man was put in cuffs. Séan’s case was called shortly after. The judge read through the documents and then read through the letters provided. She was concerned for his family’s living situation and the high level of health needs of his family members. After short consideration, she suspended Séan’s sentence and ordered him to do community service.

We quickly left the court room after the judgement. Séan was over the moon and immediately called his partner to let her know. We chatted as we waited for his partner to come collect him. Séan told me how he had been talking to Aidan before the court hearing. Aidan told Séan how he hoped to avoid prison due to all the work that he had put into rehab and turning his life around. Séan was gutted for him.

Addicted to short sentences

Short sentences are typically defined as 12 months or less. However,it has been shown that short sentences do not work. They do not enable ‘rehabilitation.’ They do not prevent people from ‘reoffending.’ In fact, they contribute to people’s lives becoming harder, which inevitably pushes them towards engaging in criminalised activities on release. Resulting in the phenomena know as the ‘revolving door’ – people leave prison, only to return shortly after.

In 2022, 74% of sentence committals in Ireland were for a sentence of 12 months or less.In 2023, the average length of time served in Irish prisons was seven months, compared with the Council of Europe average of 10 months. Ireland’s overreliance of short sentences has led to ‘unimaginable’ numbers of people in overcrowded Irish prisons. By December 2025, Ireland’s prison occupancy rate sat at 123%, far exceeding official capacity.

It is estimated that up to 70% of imprisoned people have addiction issues. Problematic substance use is connected to common experiences of poverty and marginalisation. It is also as aspect of the high levels of psychiatric diagnosis, self-harm and suicidal ideation among people in prison. All of which are, in turn, connected to homelessness. Research suggests around 20% of people enter Irish prison homeless, and many have no home to return to on release.

Ultimately, most people sent to prison in Ireland have biographies shaped by hardship and trauma, with criminalisation and short-term imprisonment worsening their difficulties. People on short sentences receive little to no meaningful care or support while in prison. Then they are often released with little notice or preparation. On release they are often homeless and faced with the challenges of reintegrating themselves into society following whatever pains of imprisonment they may have experienced.

The Irish Government’s proposed solution to overcrowding is to build more prisons. Yet, if its addiction to short sentences continues, new prison places will simply be filled. Prisons will become overcrowded again. We will need to build more prisons. Rinse and repeat. This prison expansion trap means millions of public funds will be invested in state institutions premised on dehumanisation, punishment and ostracisation. 

The Irish Prison Reform Trust has argued that there is a need to shift away from short sentences and increase the use of community-based sanctions. They suggest community-based sanctions should be the default rather than the exception for less serious offences. With people diverted from prison, investment can be made in person-centred interventions to prevent reoffending. In theory, community-based sanctions offer the chance to reduce the number of people sent to prison and redirect public funds to community based mental health and housing services. However, this will only be meaningful if community-based ‘sanctions’ are designed grounded in abolitionist values of solidarity, mutual aid and humanisation. If designed within the current logic of retributive punishment we will simply create new forms of oppression that deepen social inequality.

The development of community-based alternatives to prison would be aided by the prohibition of short prison sentences. In March 2026, England and Wales introduced changes to sentencing in this direction. Courts have been directed to stop handing out short sentences other than in specific or exceptional circumstances. The measure is aimed at reducing the prison population. This is the direction Ireland should be moving in, not prison expansion. The millions of Euros earmarked for building more human cages could be funnelled into community services that provide care and support to those in need. Perhaps then, people like Aidan would be given a chance to make amends in their communities instead of having their lives upended in the pursuit of retributive punishment.

*Ruari is an IPAN member and…

a member of the Incarcerated Workers Organising Committee. He lives in north Tipperary where he works as an advocacy worker by day and grows chilies, keeps bees and djs by night.