For decades, scholars and activists have decried the punitive turn in U.S. criminal policy and the rise of mass incarceration. Unsurprisingly, then, much ink has been spilled exploring alternative frameworks for responding to risk creation and interpersonal harm. And many commentators have embraced proposals that would repurpose existing criminal legal institutions—replacing a punitive orientation with one grounded in rehabilitation or restorative justice. In this Essay, I turn a critical eye on the project of reimagining criminal courts as therapeutic institutions. Drawing from the literature on penal welfare, I argue that these well-intentioned proposals risk reinforcing a troubling feature of post-Great Society U.S. political economy: viewing the criminal system as a primary site of governance and the right place to solve social problems. Instead, I argue that a turn to therapeutic justice should invite a turn away from criminal legal institutions and a shift to alternative frameworks for redressing harm and managing risk.
Introduction
The footprint of U.S. criminal law is massive. Almost 2 million people are currently incarcerated. Another 3.7 million adults are under some form of community supervision (probation, parole, etc.). Roughly one-third of all adults have a criminal record. No one has been able to compile a definitive, comprehensive list of all substantive criminal laws on the books, but recent estimates suggest that there are at least 5,100 federal criminal laws. And that figure does not include the massive bodies of state and local criminal law, which serve as the basis for the vast majority of arrests and convictions. Nor do those figures track the number of ostensibly civil regulations that restrict the liberty of people based on their criminal record. In short, criminal law plays a massive role in U.S. society—and an even larger role in race-class marginalized communities where enforcement tends to be concentrated.
Nevertheless, the study of U.S. criminal law—at least in U.S. law schools—has historically adopted a relatively narrow focus. Conventional criminal legal scholarship and constitutional criminal procedure insist on strict lines between civil and criminal. And conventional criminal legal theory focuses on individual culpability or social interests in crime prevention, while giving short shrift to the structural forces that shape defendants’ behaviors—and the state’s decisions to police and punish.
Recent scholarship and advocacy have pushed back on “criminal law exceptionalism” and sought to reverse the siloing impulse that has led to a cramped understanding of the legal institutions and social structures relevant to criminal legal policy. From a focus on the nexus between criminal law and employment policy, to an explosion in work on “crimmigration” and the so-called “family regulation system,” this capacious understanding of what it means to study and reform criminal law is both welcome and necessary. Taking the “criminal system” seriously requires both inter- and intradisciplinary engagement with a host of U.S. socio-legal institutions.
Viewed against this backdrop, the rise of “therapeutic jurisprudence” or “therapeutic justice” (“TJ”) as a lens for criminal justice policy initially seems appealing. According to Bruce Winick, one of the movement’s founders,
Therapeutic jurisprudence is the study of the role of the law as a therapeutic agent. . . . Therapeutic jurisprudence proposes the exploration of ways in which, consistent with principles of justice and other constitutional values, the knowledge, theories, and insights of the mental health and related disciplines can help shape the development of the law. . . . Therapeutic jurisprudence calls for the study of [the law’s] consequences with the tools of the social sciences to identify them and to ascertain whether the law’s antitherapeutic effects can be reduced, and its therapeutic effects enhanced, without subordinating due process and other justice values.
Such a “multidisciplinary perspective” might be helpful for those of us concerned about the narrow gaze of conventional criminal legal thought and policy—perhaps serving as a way of emphasizing that “structural factors and experiences influence behavior.”
For example, in an explicit effort to reject a narrow conception of how criminal legal institutions operate, socio-legal scholars Hadar Dancig-Rosenberg and Tali Gal have drawn from TJ literatures to
coin[] the term “multi-door criminal justice” to reflect contemporary criminal law and criminal justice systems in post-industrial societies. This metaphor of multi-door criminal justice seeks to evoke the multiplicity of processes, mechanisms, values, and goals that coexist in modern criminal justice systems worldwide. This variety of punitive and non-punitive criminal justice mechanisms includes, for example, arraignment hearings, problem-solving courts, restorative justice processes, diversion programs, and more, each representing a “door” in a multi-door system. Although the various doors differ in their characteristics, prevalence, and outcomes, each may be suitable in different circumstances for different cases—they are all, at the same time, part of a rich, complex system that provides social responses to crime.
Consistent with Dancig-Rosenberg and Gal’s vision, TJ has played a significant role in the development of problem-solving courts—criminal legal institutions that depart from conventional adversarial models and purport to function less as sites of punishment than as sites of general governance.
In this respect, TJ interventions tend to reflect an orientation toward “penal welfare”—“welfare administration through criminal law.” Penal welfarism, an approach associated with earlier rehabilitationist approaches to criminal law, is defined by “its unquestioning commitment to social engineering; its confidence in the capacities of the state and the possibilities of science; and its unswerving belief that social conditions and individual offenders could be reformed by the interventions of government agencies.”
For critics of a siloed criminal law and the brutality of the status quo, this new conception of criminal legal institutions might offer some promise. These interventions appear to focus on humanizing criminal defendants—emphasizing social context and people’s needs, not just reflecting punitive impulses. Much TJ-inflected work recognizes the broader constellation of state functions and services that an individual criminal case might implicate. And many reform efforts informed by TJ pragmatically deploy a preexisting criminal legal infrastructure to engage in social welfare policy.
In this Essay, though, I critique the project of reimagining criminal courts as therapeutic institutions. Drawing from the literature on penal welfare, I argue that these well-intentioned proposals risk reinforcing a troubling feature of post-Great Society U.S. political economy: viewing the criminal system as a primary site of governance and the right place to solve social problems. Instead, I argue that recognizing the insights of TJ should invite a turn away from criminal legal institutions and a shift to alternative frameworks for redressing harm and managing risk. If many features of contemporary penal administration are properly understood as “antitherapeutic,” then any project for reform, transformation, or abolition should involve seeking out noncriminal sites for addressing social problems—finding actors and institutions better equipped to tackle challenges and provide needed services.
To be clear, I am hardly the first person to level critiques at or raise questions about TJ and its relationship to penal welfare. Scholars have noted the indeterminacy of “therapeutic” and “antitherapeutic” as categories, and commentators have raised concerns about a shift away from adversarialism and its attendant procedural protections. Further, critical commentators have raised concerns about net-widening, the individualization of social problems, the continued use of threats and coercion, the reliance on questionable claims to expertise, and the failure to address distributive justice.
My analysis builds on and contributes to this critical literature. In this Essay, I focus on three related critiques of TJ and the logic of penal welfare. The Parts that follow sketch out these critiques in turn. In Part I, I raise questions about institutional capacity: Why should we think that criminal courts and criminal justice actors are particularly well suited to doing large-scale social welfare policy (or even smaller-scale therapeutic treatment)? In Part II, I express concern about institutional growth. I argue that efforts to address the institutional shortcomings described in Part I necessitate massive investments that will in turn grow and entrench criminal legal institutions—a result that should worry penal minimalists, abolitionists, and many critics of the carceral state. Finally, in Part III, I argue that TJ-informed penal welfare interventions risk crowding out noncriminal models for providing services. This approach, I worry, doubles down on decades of “governing through crime”—of turning over critical social functions to institutions of policing, prosecution, and violent social control.