It is time to release prisoners trapped by inhuman endless jail terms

Independent

16 hours ago

The Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP) sentence, introduced in 2005 under the Labour government, was intended to protect the public from serious offenders deemed too dangerous for a fixed-term release. But nearly two decades on, this law stands as one of the most egregious stains on Britain's criminal justice system.
Abolished in 2012 for its inherent flaws, it nonetheless continues to trap thousands of people in a cruel legal limbo, as a debate in the House of Lords today will no doubt highlight.
It is long past time that every person still serving an IPP sentence be resentenced. The continued use of this now-defunct punishment is both unjust and, arguably, inhumane.
At its core, the IPP sentence allowed judges to hand out indeterminate prison terms for offences that did not justify life imprisonment but were deemed serious enough to warrant extended supervision. Offenders were given a 'tariff' – the minimum time they must serve before being considered for release. Many of these tariffs were shockingly short, some as low as two years. Yet thousands remain in prison long after these tariffs have expired.
Why? Because release is dependent not on time served, but on proving to the Parole Board that they are no longer a danger to the public – a nebulous, subjective, and often unreachable standard.
This flips the basic presumption of justice on its head. In a fair system, the state must prove guilt beyond reasonable doubt to imprison a person. Under IPP, once the tariff is served, the burden of proof shifts unfairly to the prisoner. It is no longer the state's job to justify incarceration; it is the prisoner's burden to earn freedom. This is particularly problematic when access to rehabilitative programmes, often required for parole, is limited or unavailable – especially in overcrowded prisons. The system sets people up to fail and then blames them for not succeeding.
Moreover, the psychological toll of such indefinite punishment is catastrophic. Suicide and self-harm rates among IPP prisoners are significantly higher than average. Many live in a state of constant uncertainty and despair, unsure if they will ever be released, even decades after their offence. It is not unusual to find individuals still imprisoned for minor crimes – such as theft or assault – that would today warrant only a few years behind bars, yet they languish without a release date. The punishment no longer fits the crime, if it ever did.
The injustice of the IPP system has been widely recognised. The House of Commons justice committee labelled it "irredeemably flawed" and called for all remaining IPP prisoners to be resentenced. The European Court of Human Rights has also condemned aspects of the sentence as incompatible with human rights obligations.
Yet the government has so far refused to act decisively, citing public safety and political sensitivity. This is a failure of courage and leadership. Protecting public safety does not require trampling basic rights or holding people indefinitely for crimes long past. Dangerous individuals can be managed through proper risk assessment and robust parole conditions – not through perpetual punishment without end.
Resentencing every IPP prisoner is not only fair, it is necessary. It would give judges the opportunity to reconsider the nature and severity of each offence and impose a proportionate, fixed sentence with clear guidance for release. For many, this would mean immediate or imminent freedom; for others, it would offer clarity, rehabilitation goals, and hope – something the current system wholly lacks. Justice demands consistency, proportionality, and transparency. The IPP sentence undermines all three.
Some argue that resentencing might release dangerous individuals back into society. But the risk can be responsibly managed without recourse to indeterminate detention. Modern sentencing tools, community supervision, mental health support, and parole frameworks are all capable of mitigating risk. Perpetual incarceration without due process is not a solution – it is a violation.
Britain prides itself on the rule of law, but this chapter of penal policy betrays that principle. IPP sentences should not only be consigned to history – they must be actively undone. Every person still caught in this Kafkaesque trap deserves a proper sentence, a path to rehabilitation, and a chance at freedom. Anything less is a continuation of a deep and unforgivable wrong.