I consider myself a privileged woman in many ways. I get to work with amazing people and travel to places all over Europe, meeting smart, funny, and kind people. I have two healthy children, I studied at university, and I have many friends who are there for me whenever I need them and vice versa.

But my life started out differently. My father is from Algeria, born on 21 November, 1954, 20 days after the start of the war of independence against France. My mother is from a Christian family in the south of the Netherlands, she was the 7th daughter of 10 children, when all my grandparents wanted was a boy. So here are two people, neglected in their early childhood, who came together. Ultimately this led to my mother in the hospital and my father being sent to prison for a couple of years when I was six years old.

You would think that justice was done. She survived and my father was punished. I remember a police officer that day saying to me, to comfort me, ‘do not worry, your father will be sent to a place far away from society’. This terrified me. I believed they would let him fall off the earth. In a way they did. Because for the next five years I saw my father only a few times. I am now 39 years old, and it is 33 years since my father was sent to prison. But the repercussions of how we deal with injustice in society I still feel today.

However sad the story of my parents might be, it is not a unique story. There are so many more stories like theirs. Their story is part of patterns of injustice. My father was a child born and raised in war, like many children in the world today, Sudan, Palestine, Congo and many more. Social and political injustice creates collective trauma that leads to personal trauma. So my way to deal with this is to work towards a different future in our criminal justice system. That is why I work for RESCALED.

A detention house itself is part of the fabric of the city, part of all the ecosystems in the city. As human beings, we belong to many ecosystems in communities; schools, work, sports, cultural activities, and more. A detention house is not just an architectural replacement to a prison , it is a different answer to justice being done in society. Not by removing an individual from society, but by doing the opposite, including a person into every fibre of society, making sure that whenever possible the person in a detention house will be part of every ecosystem in communities.

This means society and communities itself must become a place of justice. Our cities must become restorative. Not only the individuals in detention houses need to heal the injustice they might have done to people in communities, but the ecosystems in cities must also heal from the injustice they have inflicted onto their communities. I am talking about the lack of social housing, the underperformance of schools in certain neighbourhoods for years,, I am talking about capitalist systems of which often poor people are the victims, of which the Grenfell Tower fire in 2017 in the United Kingdom is an example. The Prime Minister Keir Starmer said this about it; “It should never have happened. The country failed to discharge its most fundamental duty, to protect you and your loved ones. Today is a long awaited day of truth, but it must now lead to a day of justice.”

How do we change and heal these patterns of injustice in our cities? That is the essence of a restorative city. It’s too much to go into here, but RESCALED has written a booklet about detention houses within restorative cities, to be shared with anyone who is interested.

In 2026, RESCALED will organize restorative city walks in different European cities, walks that show places of injustice and tell stories that could lead to restorative cities. Because justice is not about walls and distance, but about proximity, connection, and responsibility.  society gets to choose: do we build prisons? Or do we build futures?

Detention houses are intentionally designed as part of the social and physical fabric of our communities. They are not isolated structures built to exclude, but integrated spaces created to support the well-being of the individuals within them and the society around them.  This is not a utopian idea. It is a deliberate and practical choice  that reflects the kind of society we want to be. We already make bold decisions when it comes to our planet: we set climate goals, we invest in renewable energy, we demand sustainable solutions. Why, then, should we accept outdated, harmful prison systems in justice that we would never accept in health care, education, or climate policy?  

Just as we are transitioning to a sustainable future for our environment, we can, and must, choose a justice system rooted in human dignity, social equity, and individual autonomy. A system that heals rather than harms, connects rather than isolates, and prepares rather than punishes. 

It has always surprised me that one of the symbols of our justice system is Lady Justice wearing a blindfold, representing neutrality. But we need to accept that she is not neutral and never has been neutral. Our laws were written in a time where men held all power, and when women and people of colour did not have rights in many countries. Today, we still see the ripples of that legacy in our societies and justice systems.

I am asking you to not turn a blind eye towards injustice. I am asking you to keep looking beyond the words that are written in policies and see the people and stories behind it. And more importantly, recognise the patterns of injustice behind those stories, patterns of injustice that cause collective traumaThese are not individual failures, but collective problems that we, as a society, have created together. And therefore, we must deal with it together and not place that on the individual shoulders of people in prison and their families. 

Too many of the people in prison were raised in poverty. Too many of them lack access to quality education. Too many come from broken homes. Too many live with the ongoing effects of  colonial histories. Too many deal with mental health issues. So why do we not feel collective shame when we imprison people? Why do we not feel collective shame when we talk about improving prisons? And why are we not talking about removing prisons from our societies instead?

The personal is political, the political is personal.

You are probably reading this because you want a different future, because you realise we can do better. You are likely trying to shape a better future every single day. And you probably have your own personal painful history as well, perhaps also shaped through justice systems. 

Nevertheless, you stand up when you are faced with injustice, not only for yourself, but for your family, friends and strangers. I thank you for that. 

For justice is not written in law books, it is not embodied by the state. 

Justice lives in us; it lives in communities where we live.

Veronique Aicha

You can sign up at RESCALED to either organize or to take the walk.

veronique.aicha@rescaled.org