There is something deeply unsettling about a government deciding that, when a person stands before a court to be sentenced, they should be stripped of the right to present their own humanity. Yet that is precisely what the Minns Labor Government has announced it will legislate to do. On 1 February 2026, the government confirmed it will move to prevent people convicted of offences from relying on evidence of “good character” in sentencing, removing section 21A(3)(f) from the Crimes (Sentencing Procedure) Act 1999. The provision currently allows judges to consider whether a so-called “offender” was otherwise of good character when determining a sentence. In other words: it recognises that no human being is reducible to the worst thing they have ever done.
The proposed amendment would erase a judge’s discretion when sentencing to consider the weight applied to that recognition.
Framed as a sensible reform that will “reduce trauma for victim survivors”, the move follows a July 2025 report by the NSW Sentencing Council and is being presented as a corrective to perceived misuse of character references, particularly in serious sexual offence cases. But the response is blunt and punitive. It does not simply apply to murder or violent or sexual offences. It does not target misuse. It does not refine judicial discretion. It applies to any offence and simply removes a long-standing principle applied since the 18th Century that has allowed courts to assess a person in full context rather than as a single criminalised act.
Sentencing is one of the few moments in the criminal legal process where nuance is still permitted to exist. By the time a person stands before a judge, the machinery of criminalisation has already done its work: police, prosecution, and conviction have established the legal narrative of wrongdoing. Character evidence has been one of the last remaining mechanisms through which a person can speak back to that narrative, through neighbours, community members, family, employers, and others who attest to the totality of who they are. Removing that mechanism does not strengthen justice. It narrows it.
Governments often speak about “individual responsibility” when justifying punitive law reform. Yet this proposal does the opposite. It reduces individuals to their offence and denies courts the discretion to consider the broader social and relational context in which that offence occurred. Many who come before the courts are themselves survivors of violence, poverty, state neglect, and systemic racism. Many have lived lives shaped by institutional harm long before they caused harm themselves. Character evidence has never excused offending. But it has allowed courts to recognise that people exist within systems that shape their pathways to criminalisation.
To remove good character as a sentencing consideration is to insist that context no longer matters. It is to tell courts to look only at the offence and not at the person. That is not principled reform. It is a retreat into a narrower, more punitive conception of justice that treats people as static and irredeemable.
The speed with which this proposal is travelling across jurisdictions should concern anyone who believes in proportionality and fairness in sentencing. Just over a week after the NSW announcement, Victorian Attorney-General Sonya Kilkenny confirmed she is now seeking advice on similar reforms for Victoria. This is how punitive legal trends spread: quickly, politically, and often without meaningful public debate about their long-term consequences.
There is a broader political logic at play. In an era defined by “tough on crime” posturing, governments increasingly seek reforms that are symbolically powerful but practically corrosive. Removing good character from sentencing allows politicians to claim they are closing loopholes and standing with victims. But symbolism should never come at the cost of fundamental fairness. Courts are already capable of weighing character evidence appropriately, including in serious cases where it may be given little or no weight. Judicial discretion exists precisely so that sentencing can be tailored, not automated.
What this reform ultimately signals is a growing comfort with dehumanisation in law. It suggests that once a person is convicted, the state no longer wishes to hear about their contributions, their relationships, or the ways they have lived outside the offence. It suggests that complexity is inconvenient, and that the political appetite is for punishment stripped of context.
A justice system that refuses to recognise the full humanity of those who come before it is not becoming more just. It is becoming more mechanical, more punitive, and less capable of delivering sentences that reflect the realities of human lives.
Everyone, no matter what they have done, should have the right to present their character to a court. Not because it excuses harm, but because it recognises that people are more than the worst moment of their lives. Remove that recognition, and what remains is not a stronger justice system, just a harsher one.
I have often disagreed with the writers and as a West Australian are not really across with the nuts and bolts of the changes in judicial procedures in NSW. But in this case I agree with them. Surely when sentencing it is best for the judge to have as complete a picture of the offender as possible. As I understand it (which is by no means complete) this reform will reduce a judges knowledge of the accused. Surely that’s a bad thing.
PS the writers speak of this being a ‘tough on crime era’. Has there every been another era? Rightly or wrongly public symapthy for criminals has been scant for as long as I’ve followed political discourse and that’s been over several decades!