My Lords, I so want to be able to welcome this Bill; instead, I feel rather despondent. I ask the Minister, of whom I am something of a fan, not to take that personally.

The issue of sentencing matters—to me, to all of us here and to the public—and it has been rightly agitating the public of late. Recent debates have raged over controversial sentencing decisions. Lucy Connolly’s social media posts saw her sentenced to prison for longer than actual rioters who used violence against asylum hotels—is that the right kind of sentencing? Then there are the regular rows about whether some crimes are punished too lightly, whether mitigating circumstances are used too liberally and whether sentencing for serious offences such as sexual assault or child abuse adequately reflects those heinous crimes.

Conversely, many are concerned that some crimes are punished too heavily. Should activists be locked up for protesting? Are too many young people and women being locked up when better alternatives exist? Others worry about all the Laws being pushed through Parliament that criminalise ever more activities. Over in the Crime and Policing Bill, we are seeing the creation of a plethora of new offences such as respect orders, the breach of which can lead to two years in prison. So there is plenty for us to discuss and debate in relation to sentencing.

In that spirit, I welcome the Bill’s attempt to clip the wings of the Sentencing Council. Debating sentencing is our responsibility, not a quango’s. I agree with the Justice Secretary’s point that any sentencing framework needs greater democratic oversight and that

“policy must be set by parliamentarians, who answer to the people”.

Let us be frank: the people are tearing their hair out about the mess that parliamentarians are making of sentencing and prisons as we speak. The now-weekly revelations of prisoners being freed from jail by mistake make a mockery of our deliberations here. What is the point of hours and hours pondering sentencing if, once they are sentenced, the system is going to let them go by accident? These are not harmless lags: of the 262 released by accident in the year to March 2025, 87 were convicted of violence against a person and three for sexual offences. Never mind the accidental releases—we have also witnessed the travesty of an emergency release scheme that has seen 38,000 prisoners released early for no other reason than official mismanagement of prisons.

Then there is another anomaly: too many criminals are not being caught to be sentenced, not because they are criminal masterminds but because the forces of criminal justice seem to have abandoned swathes of the country to lawlessness. We will all know friends, family members and colleagues whose stolen phones, laptops and bikes are fitted with tracker devices. When they report that to the police and say, “I know where it is, officer, and who has it”, the police shrug and do nothing. Let us not mention those many instances of mass shoplifting, which is such a scourge in so many communities yet is ignored by the authorities. These are criminals missing from our sentencing consideration because of state negligence, and the public are inevitably frustrated.

With that backdrop, it feels surreal and demoralising to be asked to have a meaningful debate about sentencing policy. But, ever hopeful, I hope that we can try to dig deeper, as this Second Reading debate has done, to consider all sides philosophically. Are ever-longer prison sentences the key to tackling crime, or is prison itself, as the Minister implied, creating more criminals than it is rehabilitating? I am worried that the Bill avoids those proper debates. Despite what the Minister said, the Bill will hem us in, because the Government’s justification for it is hooked on the problem of prison capacity and overcrowding. We are told that

“we cannot … build our way out of this crisis. Without significant reform, demand for places will outstrip supply by … early 2028”.

It is posited as a technical problem.

What is demoralising is that we are basically being told that we have no choice but to reform by reducing sentences. Regardless of what we think, or if we disagree, we are met with the retort, “It’s the overcrowding crisis, stupid”. The proposals in the Bill are all about reducing sentences—not based on principle but for technocratic ends, with a contested evidence base and without the resources, as we have heard.

One of the key proposals is to reduce by a further 10% early releases of fixed-term sentences. The public are already bewildered about why it is so routine to release prisoners after only 50% of their time inside. Then the Government’s recent emergency release scheme lopped off another 10%, which has meant that tens of thousands have been freed after serving 40% of their sentence. This Bill now suggests a further 10% reduction, to 30%. How can that do anything but make a mockery of sentencing? If someone is given a sentence of 15 years and will be out in five, what is the point of the original 15-year sentence in the first place?

Clause 1 introduces a presumption against the use of short custodial sentences of 12 months or less, so you get sentenced to a year in prison but will not go to prison. Meanwhile, suspended sentences will be expanded from two to three years. I am often on the prison reform side of such policies, and there may well be merit in bringing in either of those measures or even the leaked revelations that the Majority of women prisoners should not be incarcerated. But the Government’s emphasis on freeing up space in prisons to justify such moves is likely to sideline the need to persuade the public, who might well query whether these policies will weaken deterrence or threaten public safety. Hiding behind the Damocles sword of an overcrowding crisis seems to be an evasion of political accountability and could well fuel public cynicism.

The choice of sentence has a real-world consequence. Take the case of Brahim Kaddour-Cherif, the Algerian sex offender mistakenly released from HMP Wandsworth, who was a repeat offender and visa overstayer when he was convicted in November 2024 for indecent exposure. He was then put on the sex offenders register for five years—fair enough—but his sentence was only an 18-month community order. That non-custodial sentence does not meet the threshold for automatic deportation, so when people ask why he was even in the country to offend, the answer is: sentencing choices. I have some worries that community orders and suspended sentences —forced through not based on efficacy but because we are told there is no room to lock people up—will create even more problems.

The Secretary of State, David Lammy, talks of expanding

“effective sentencing outside of prison

What does expanding effective sentencing outside of prison mean? It sounds as though communities are now expected to accommodate a quasi-militarised security and surveillance regime. It seems that convicts in the community can now be banned from certain pubs, attending sports and other public events, and confined to restrictive geographical zones, and, of course, there is more use of electronic monitoring. To me, that sounds more like prison than freedom. As the noble Lord, Lord Sandhurst, has asked, who is going to monitor all these provisions and supervise a huge influx of prisoners into our communities? It seems delusional to rely on an already overstretched Probation Service, as we have heard so eloquently expressed by so many people, particularly the noble Lord, Lord Foster of Bath, who just summed up what the problems were.

The problem of probation gaps is one reason why we should not fool ourselves or the public by saying that using community resources and sentences as an alternative to incarceration is always humane, progressive or effective. This was the presumption of the Mental Health Bill, but as we debated that Bill earlier this year, the review of the Valdo Calocane case was published. Catastrophic errors in his medical treatment in the community led to schizophrenic Mr Calocane stabbing three innocent people to death, so we should not romanticise what punishment in the community means.

Finally, the Minister will not be surprised to hear that I cannot finish this speech without noting that, when sentencing policy goes wrong, it can wreck the lives of so many people, including prisoners, and discredit criminal justice. The imprisonment for public protection—the IPP—was a sentence brought in in 2003. It was so wrong-headed and such a stain on our justice system that it was abolished, and yet here we are, 13 years after that abolition, with, as we have heard, 2,500 prisoners still languishing on a sentence that went wrong. I just finish by stating that even the Prison Officers’ Association has hit out at the Government for clinging on to this grossly unjust sentence. Napo, representing probation officers, has called on the Government to “finish the job”. I really hope that we use this Bill to finish the job when it comes to IPP. “Prison overcrowding”, you say? Surely, the state can let out some obvious candidates: that is, at least some or quite a lot of the IPP prisoners.