Whole Life Prison Tariffs: A Fate Worse Than Death?

The True Cost of Whole Life Tariffs: Justice, Punishment, and the Question of Choice

By Jason King

Kyle Clifford will never leave prison. The 26-year-old crossbow killer, who brutally murdered his ex-girlfriend Louise Hunt, her mother Carol, and her sister Hannah, was sentenced to a whole life tariff—the most severe punishment available under UK law.

For many, this is justice. The public has little sympathy for those who commit such monstrous crimes, and there remains significant support for even harsher measures, including the reinstatement of the death penalty. But with capital punishment no longer an option, a whole life tariff is the maximum sentence available in the UK.

There is, however, a lingering assumption that life imprisonment is a lesser punishment—that a life behind bars is somehow more merciful than the death penalty. But is that really true? When we strip away the clichés and examine the reality of whole life imprisonment, it becomes clear that it is not a question of leniency—it is a question of whether society fully comprehends the punishment it has chosen.

What a Whole Life Tariff Really Means

Unlike standard life sentences, which offer the possibility of parole after a minimum term, whole life tariffs are absolute. There is no release, no review, no second chance. The prisoner will die behind bars.

For those serving whole life orders, prison life is not the mix of social interactions, jobs, and rehabilitative programs that many imagine. The worst offenders, especially those with high-profile crimes, are often held in near-total isolation.

Triple-murderer Kyle Clifford, now in a wheelchair after injuring himself in a failed suicide attempt, will, for his own safety, likely never be allowed into the general prison population.

In practical terms, this means:

• 23 hours a day in a small, windowless cell

• No prison job, no access to educational programs

• Meals passed through a hatch—no communal dining

• One hour of outdoor exercise in a small, cage-like pen

• Minimal interaction with other inmates or prison staff

This is not a temporary arrangement—it is their reality for life. The European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) has previously ruled that prolonged solitary confinement can amount to torture, yet for whole life prisoners, it is the status quo.

It is worth asking whether those who call for the death penalty truly understand the alternative they are advocating against. A whole life tariff is not “softer” justice. It is, in some ways, a fate even harsher than death—one that stretches over decades in a slow, relentless erosion of the human spirit.

A Life Without Purpose

Most people measure their lives by milestones—education, career progression, relationships, family, and experiences. A whole life tariff strips all of that away.

Kyle Clifford is 26. If he had led an ordinary life, he might have expected another 50 or 60 years of opportunities. Instead, every one of those years will be spent in prison, with no possibility of change.

Unlike prisoners with fixed-term sentences, he has no external reason to improve himself—no incentive to study, work, or develop skills. There is no parole board to impress, no eventual reintegration to prepare for. Time becomes meaningless.

There is also the physical toll. Clifford’s own actions have ensured that his punishment is even more severe. After killing his victims, he attempted to take his own life by shooting himself with his crossbow. He survived but was left paralysed and wheelchair-bound. This means he now faces not just a life sentence but a lifetime of imprisonment combined with disability—a reality that will only become more punishing with age.

The Financial Burden of Whole Life Imprisonment

There is also the question of cost. While justice should not be dictated by financial concerns, the reality is that housing a whole life prisoner is extraordinarily expensive.

The average cost of holding a standard prisoner in a UK high-security facility is around £60,000 per year. For whole life prisoners, the figure is often higher due to additional security measures.

In Clifford’s case, his paralysis means he will require lifelong medical care, specially adapted cells, and assistance for basic daily tasks. This will add significantly to the taxpayer’s burden, amounting to millions of pounds over his lifetime.

There is no suggestion that he should be released—his crimes were abhorrent, and society has decided that he should never walk free. But it is a question worth considering: at what point does the practical reality of a whole life sentence become more than just a form of punishment?

The Question of Choice

One aspect of this debate remains largely unspoken: the question of whether those serving whole life tariffs should have the option to end their own lives.

The prison system takes strong safeguarding measures to prevent suicide, even for those who express a clear, reasoned desire to die. The guiding principle is that all life is valuable and must be preserved.

Yet in the wider legal landscape, society’s stance on this is shifting. The UK is currently moving toward legalising assisted dying for those with terminal illnesses. If it is accepted that individuals suffering from incurable conditions should have the right to choose death over prolonged suffering, should the same right extend to those serving irreversible life sentences?

Whole Life Tariffs vs. the Death Penalty

Many still argue that the UK should reinstate capital punishment for the worst offenders. Supporters say it would provide justice, deter crime, and eliminate the financial burden of lifelong imprisonment. Opponents counter that execution is inhumane and irreversible.

But what if the greater inhumanity lies in prolonged confinement?

Notorious killers like Ian Brady and Peter Sutcliffe spent decades in prison, pleading for the right to die rather than endure endless isolation. Brady, in particular, spent years in legal battles trying to refuse food and medical treatment, arguing that his continued existence was itself a form of cruelty.

A whole life tariff is, in many ways, a slow-motion death sentence. The only difference is the method. Instead of a lethal injection, the prisoner dies inch by inch, year by year, their world shrinking to the size of a cell.

A New Conversation

None of this is to suggest that Kyle Clifford or others like him deserve sympathy. His crimes were unspeakable, and no punishment can ever undo the horror he inflicted.

But justice is not just about retribution—it is about ensuring that the system we uphold is rational, consistent, and aligned with our values as a society.

As the debate over assisted dying progresses, it may be time to ask whether this option should be extended to those serving whole life sentences. It would not be a question of state execution, but of individual choice. If a prisoner sentenced to 50 or 60 years in isolation wishes to take the same option offered to the terminally ill, should they be allowed to do so?

It is an uncomfortable question, but one that will not go away. If society insists on whole life tariffs as the ultimate punishment, it must also confront the realities of what that actually means—for justice, for the prisoner, and for the system that sustains it.

Well, that’s all for now. But until our next article, please stay tuned, stay informed, but most of all stay safe, and I’ll see you then.

Jason King

Birmingham City-Desk

Twitter (X) @JasonKingNews

Jasonkingnews@gmail.com