By Ngaire Rasmussen

Challenges of power and accountability in restorative justice

Restorative justice (RJ) is a way of responding to harm and crime that focuses on accountability and repair rather than punishment. It offers people who have been harmed, and people who have caused harm, a chance to take part in a structured conversation about what happened and what needs to be done to make things right.

At its best, RJ is different from the regular justice system because accountability is not forced. In court, accountability usually comes through punishment; things like fines, probation, prison. In restorative justice, the goal is for accountability to come from within. That only happens when the person who caused harm through is treated with dignity and respect and is given space to reflect honestly on what they’ve done.

When that happens, people not only accept responsibility, they can have a transformative experience of accountability that connects them with their own communities. This can reduce further criminalisation, help communities respond to harm, and support healing.

But accountability only makes sense if someone – a person or community – has actually been harmed and wants to be part of the process.

How is restorative justice used in Ireland?

In Ireland, restorative justice has been integrated into the criminal justice system. It was recommended by a national commission in 2009, and today it is funded by the Department of Justice through the Probation Service. A small number of organisations deliver these programmes, including the Probation Service directly.

In most cases, a District Court judge refers someone to RJ before sentencing. The person agrees to take part voluntarily. A meeting is then organised — often between the person who committed the offence, a community volunteer, and a member of An Garda Síochána (AGS). If there is a harmed person, they might take part but often they do not.

The meeting is meant to focus on harm; what happened, who was affected, and what can be done to reduce the chance of it happening again. The judge may consider participation when deciding the sentence.

On paper, this sounds positive – surely alternative sanctions that centre the people impacted most by crime may reduce the harm caused by certain types of offences. But how something is implemented can change its outcomes fundamentally.

The problem in practice

There is no strong national evidence yet showing that restorative justice in Ireland reduces reoffending or improves people’s experience of justice. Most publicly available data tells us how many cases were referred, but not what difference the programme actually made. Nor is there evidence to suggest that those most impacted by crime are benefitting. Notably, most referrals do not result in a meeting between a harmed person and the person who caused harm. This raises a simple question: if the harmed person is not there, what is happening instead?

In many cases — especially minor drug or theft offences — there is no clear individual who says they were harmed. The “injured party” might be a supermarket, a bank, or the State. Often these entities do not feel personally affected and choose, as is their right, not to participate.

This raises questions about who is considered a victim, who voice matters, and what constitutes harm.

For instance, the “victim” role is sometimes filled by a member of An Garda Siochana, a representative from an association of businesses, or a volunteer who loosely represents “the public at large.” Meanwhile, the people most affected by the situation — families, partners, neighbours, or communities living with poverty and addiction — are not in the room, and neither is their voice actively sought.

When people with much more institutional power are placed in the role of victim, the process changes. It starts to look less like restorative justice dialogue, and more like the usual justice system. The power differences, from class-based discrimination to unquestionable institutional authority, remain intact and the offender, the person with the least power is tasked with proving their awareness of how they have caused “harm”.

So what is harm they are asked to take accountability for? Crimes are most frequently referred to are simple possession, minor public order offences, or money laundering. In such cases, the harm might be things like:

• The possibility that a supermarket’s insurance costs could rise because of theft, in a case where a woman stole food for her family. (Theft of retail properties)
• The discomfort that passers-by might have felt seeing a homeless man being arrested for public intoxication. (Public order – intoxication)
• The burden of paperwork placed on a Garda when a vulnerable young woman was threatened into withdrawing money from her bank account. (Money laundering)

In these examples, the harm, if not imagined, is minute compared with the impact of criminalisation on the person being held accountable. When institutional inconvenience is treated as harm, and structural hardship is overlooked, the process stops feeling restorative. It can feel more like public shaming — especially for people who are already economically and socially disadvantaged.

Why this matters

Restorative justice only works if it is honest about power. It must ask hard questions about who defines harm, who gets to speak, and whose voice carries weight.

If RJ is delivered entirely within or even by the structures of the criminal justice system there is a risk that it becomes another arm of that system rather than an alternative to it.

This is not about the intentions of individual practitioners. Many people working in RJ care deeply about fairness, respect, and dignity. The concern is structural. If these programmes cannot question power, or engage with real experiences of harm at the level of human beings and communities, and if it cannot show evidence of meaningful impact, then it risks reinforcing the very inequalities it could alleviate.

Ngaire Rasmussen is a registered social worker dedicated to supporting people impacted by violence, addiction, mental illness, and structural disadvantage. Her work emphasises trauma-informed care, participatory approaches, and community-led solutions to conflict and harm. She is passionate about exploring alternatives to conflict and harm that empower the individuals and communities most affected.

This article was initially published by the Irish Penal Abolition Network (IPAN) here. We are grateful to IPAN for allowing us to republish it.