"Life gets in the way and I've just got back from the south of France. Just before I set off my latest PET scan confirmed that I remain free of disease and hence thankfully in remission. I will always be eternally grateful for an NHS. I try to publish all contributions including those of differing viewpoints of course, but not those that are injudiciously critical of the Napo General Secretary or other staff. The standard of contributions has waned over recent years, no doubt reflecting the demographic changes within the Service and its general descent into HMPPS comand and control. The new government and Justice Secretary hasn't helped and to be honest I'm worn out by it all I suppose. Accepting defeat is not a pleasant or easy thing to do, especially of something you feel passionate about. Virgin having lost my email account hasn't helped and so I may well have lost potential Guest Blog pieces. People can still contact me via Twitter though. To conclude, I will endeavour to keep going as long as there are people willing to read and contribute. Thanks go to anyone who still wants to come along."
Well, another couple of weeks have gone by and you've all kept the show on the road, something I'm both deeply thankful for and impressed by. It's clear that, despite everything, the probation ethos remains and I feel duty-bound to try and give the blog the attention it deserves. .
--oo00oo--
The Mike Guilfoyle Essay Prize is an annual competition, co-hosted by the Centre for Crime and Justice Studies and Napo, that honours the legacy of Mike Guilfoyle. Mike was a dedicated probation officer and active Napo member, and this competition aims to encourage reflections on all that is valuable and important in probation. This year’s essay question was What does professionalism mean in probation? Anne Burrell is the winner of the 2025 Mike Guilfoyle Essay Prize:-
Reflections on the meanings of professionalism in probation practice
It’s the summer of 1974. I am still a teenager, and an undergraduate at the University of Nottingham, studying for a degree in Applied Social Studies. This involves mandatory practice placements during the long summer vacations.
The final summer of my course, I was placed at a Probation Office in Birmingham, which served a wide and diverse area, including Handsworth - later to become infamous as a result of riots; a huge housing estate, which generated serious and organised crime (although not recognised as such at that time); and locations of all kinds in between. This was the experience which confirmed to me that I had found my tribe; and which has shaped a lifelong career. It also proved pivotal in opening my eyes to the world of criminal justice - including structural and institutional inequalities, notably the effects of institutional racism, which permeated all levels of the system (and which was a factor in riots during my time working there, as well as subsequently); and the ways in which structural inequalities play out in the lives of people brought before the courts.
I qualified as a Probation Officer in 1977, having achieved a Certificate of Qualification in Social Work - the then recognised qualification for probation. Shortly after, Home Office approval for the particular course which I undertook was withdrawn for probation practice; much later still, in 1998, probation training became separated from social work, replaced by the Diploma in Probation Studies, a qualification focused more on ‘offender management,’ and less on rehabilitation and reform.
Research over time suggests that these changes in policy and practice generated a perceived diminution in the professional role. Nevertheless, I don’t think that considerations of professionalism concerned me a great deal during my early career as a practitioner. Maybe it was the social work qualification which implicitly conferred a sense of professionalism. Maybe it was the status of being a ‘servant of the courts.’ Although the paternalistic approach of some magistrates and judges rankled at times, it nonetheless felt that probation was a respected and valued profession in the judicial setting, and more widely. Mainly, and in retrospect, it seems likely that the role was able to meet the generally accepted criteria for being a profession – that the practitioner holds specialised knowledge, skills and expertise; and has agency and autonomy over their work.
In the late 1980’s, I left probation for a time, to work in an education setting. Whilst enjoyable, I never felt at home in the way that I had as a probation practitioner. I returned to probation in 2003, when the National Probation Service for England and Wales had not long been established (2001). I didn’t realise until later that this organisational change meant that all of probation’s funding was centrally allocated by the Home Office – a precursor to the current location of the Service in the Civil Service. I was aware of an exodus of qualified and experienced staff, largely related to significant changes in probation practice, particularly the implementation of National Standards, and the associated performance measures which came into being. For many longstanding practitioners, these factors represented a fundamental shift in the culture of The Probation Service which proved untenable for their practice.
But returning from a teaching setting, I still considered that I retained considerable autonomy in my practice, and could exercise what Mawby and Worrall describe as ‘responsible creativity,’ meaning, a context in which ‘situations that verge on the edge of chaos, where things might just fall apart, professional skills are tested to keep things together’ (emphasis mine). This was a rewarding period, in a supportive team of like-minded practitioners, with an appropriate level of challenge in the work, without feeling overwhelmed by it.
All these considerations were blown out of the water by the Transforming Rehabilitation organisational restructure. This policy initiative is now recognised as a significant trauma for individual staff and for the organisation as a whole. Personally, this sense of displacement, and of loss, was not solely related to the changes of location, of team and of managers, but also since I held a split job role, and ended up working for the National Probation Service simultaneously with being employed by a privatised Community Rehabilitation Company. This situation was not sustainable, both for practical reasons, and also since it felt that my professional identity was not just being diminished, but stifled out of existence. And that, correspondingly, the principles and ethos of probation work were similarly being demolished wholesale.
I’m now working on a PhD investigating professionalism in probation, in an effort to analyse and understand what has happened to the Probation Service, and the significance of professional identity to practitioners. Amongst other things, I’ve learned that professionalism in probation can refer to a set of values which inform practice, which have remained remarkably resilient over time, and which Garland refers to as ‘the pursuit of values such as justice, tolerance, decency, humanity and civility.’ Also, that these values shape professional practice, in approaches which are humane, non-judgemental, and which recognise the impact of the structural inequalities which I first encountered as a student in Birmingham.
I retired from Probation at the end of January 2025. This was the right time to do so - although still committed to the work, the sense of dissonance at location within the Civil Service felt increasingly problematic, in terms of the constraints on what I perceive to be the professional role in probation, replaced with increased emphasis on targets and performance figures. I considered that I was losing my own sense of professional purpose and meaning – and that this reflected similar losses in the organisation itself.
Mawby and Worrall describe the Probation Service as an ‘honourable profession.’ Yet the value of probation work – and, specifically, the value of its professionalism – seems to be increasingly obscured. The strength of probation practice comes from the people doing the job, conducting themselves as professionals, with commitment and humanity – qualities which characterise the life and work of Mike Guilfoyle, who was himself an honourable man and professional practitioner, who sought to uphold those values in The Probation Service, and which must shape its future.
It’s the summer of 1974. I am still a teenager, and an undergraduate at the University of Nottingham, studying for a degree in Applied Social Studies. This involves mandatory practice placements during the long summer vacations.
The final summer of my course, I was placed at a Probation Office in Birmingham, which served a wide and diverse area, including Handsworth - later to become infamous as a result of riots; a huge housing estate, which generated serious and organised crime (although not recognised as such at that time); and locations of all kinds in between. This was the experience which confirmed to me that I had found my tribe; and which has shaped a lifelong career. It also proved pivotal in opening my eyes to the world of criminal justice - including structural and institutional inequalities, notably the effects of institutional racism, which permeated all levels of the system (and which was a factor in riots during my time working there, as well as subsequently); and the ways in which structural inequalities play out in the lives of people brought before the courts.
I qualified as a Probation Officer in 1977, having achieved a Certificate of Qualification in Social Work - the then recognised qualification for probation. Shortly after, Home Office approval for the particular course which I undertook was withdrawn for probation practice; much later still, in 1998, probation training became separated from social work, replaced by the Diploma in Probation Studies, a qualification focused more on ‘offender management,’ and less on rehabilitation and reform.
Research over time suggests that these changes in policy and practice generated a perceived diminution in the professional role. Nevertheless, I don’t think that considerations of professionalism concerned me a great deal during my early career as a practitioner. Maybe it was the social work qualification which implicitly conferred a sense of professionalism. Maybe it was the status of being a ‘servant of the courts.’ Although the paternalistic approach of some magistrates and judges rankled at times, it nonetheless felt that probation was a respected and valued profession in the judicial setting, and more widely. Mainly, and in retrospect, it seems likely that the role was able to meet the generally accepted criteria for being a profession – that the practitioner holds specialised knowledge, skills and expertise; and has agency and autonomy over their work.
In the late 1980’s, I left probation for a time, to work in an education setting. Whilst enjoyable, I never felt at home in the way that I had as a probation practitioner. I returned to probation in 2003, when the National Probation Service for England and Wales had not long been established (2001). I didn’t realise until later that this organisational change meant that all of probation’s funding was centrally allocated by the Home Office – a precursor to the current location of the Service in the Civil Service. I was aware of an exodus of qualified and experienced staff, largely related to significant changes in probation practice, particularly the implementation of National Standards, and the associated performance measures which came into being. For many longstanding practitioners, these factors represented a fundamental shift in the culture of The Probation Service which proved untenable for their practice.
But returning from a teaching setting, I still considered that I retained considerable autonomy in my practice, and could exercise what Mawby and Worrall describe as ‘responsible creativity,’ meaning, a context in which ‘situations that verge on the edge of chaos, where things might just fall apart, professional skills are tested to keep things together’ (emphasis mine). This was a rewarding period, in a supportive team of like-minded practitioners, with an appropriate level of challenge in the work, without feeling overwhelmed by it.
All these considerations were blown out of the water by the Transforming Rehabilitation organisational restructure. This policy initiative is now recognised as a significant trauma for individual staff and for the organisation as a whole. Personally, this sense of displacement, and of loss, was not solely related to the changes of location, of team and of managers, but also since I held a split job role, and ended up working for the National Probation Service simultaneously with being employed by a privatised Community Rehabilitation Company. This situation was not sustainable, both for practical reasons, and also since it felt that my professional identity was not just being diminished, but stifled out of existence. And that, correspondingly, the principles and ethos of probation work were similarly being demolished wholesale.
I’m now working on a PhD investigating professionalism in probation, in an effort to analyse and understand what has happened to the Probation Service, and the significance of professional identity to practitioners. Amongst other things, I’ve learned that professionalism in probation can refer to a set of values which inform practice, which have remained remarkably resilient over time, and which Garland refers to as ‘the pursuit of values such as justice, tolerance, decency, humanity and civility.’ Also, that these values shape professional practice, in approaches which are humane, non-judgemental, and which recognise the impact of the structural inequalities which I first encountered as a student in Birmingham.
I retired from Probation at the end of January 2025. This was the right time to do so - although still committed to the work, the sense of dissonance at location within the Civil Service felt increasingly problematic, in terms of the constraints on what I perceive to be the professional role in probation, replaced with increased emphasis on targets and performance figures. I considered that I was losing my own sense of professional purpose and meaning – and that this reflected similar losses in the organisation itself.
Mawby and Worrall describe the Probation Service as an ‘honourable profession.’ Yet the value of probation work – and, specifically, the value of its professionalism – seems to be increasingly obscured. The strength of probation practice comes from the people doing the job, conducting themselves as professionals, with commitment and humanity – qualities which characterise the life and work of Mike Guilfoyle, who was himself an honourable man and professional practitioner, who sought to uphold those values in The Probation Service, and which must shape its future.
Anne Burrell
Author’s note: I was aware of Mike and his influence over my own lengthy period as a practitioner and as a NAPO member – especially at AGM time! In the autumn of 2020, I started work on a PhD, investigating professionalism in probation work. Mike got to know of this, and contacted me to talk about it. So, during one of the lockdowns in late 2020/early 2021, we had a very convivial meeting via TEAMS. Mike was interested, supportive, full of knowledge and concern, and, above all, kind. I hope that this essay does some small justice to him and to his values.
Author’s note: I was aware of Mike and his influence over my own lengthy period as a practitioner and as a NAPO member – especially at AGM time! In the autumn of 2020, I started work on a PhD, investigating professionalism in probation work. Mike got to know of this, and contacted me to talk about it. So, during one of the lockdowns in late 2020/early 2021, we had a very convivial meeting via TEAMS. Mike was interested, supportive, full of knowledge and concern, and, above all, kind. I hope that this essay does some small justice to him and to his values.
Glad your back on it Jim. As far as commentary on the erstwhile Napo fellah protecting him from the truth only sees him survive longer and continue the plague on our members terms. That said no one can halt time and we will have to wait him out to make any real union fightback. That being said you have been the real voice of concerns strategy and direction which provides a platform for oldies and newbies to learn of what was. Your body of work in the true record of views despite my irritation at some censorship is a testament of the views of those unable to speak out . Either at work or the stifled unions. For your voluntary dedication to a cause worthy and notable for your influence and support there should be some award. Some proper recognition of your talented creation of the blog your blog the blog of alternative views inclusive to all about our diverse changing role in probation that was and is now. Stay as long as you can then there is some real hope the evidence is here and the direction can be changed.
ReplyDeleteGreat news you’re in remission. Very pleased for you.
ReplyDeleteTodays post has caused me a great deal of emotional turmoil for several reasons.
ReplyDeleteIt's great to hear that Jim is on the good side of his personal journey, and it's also good to hear his intention to continue with the blog.
What else could he do? If you have probation with the advise, assist and befriend ethos running through your bones there really is no cure for that!
To my knowledge I've never meet Mike Guilfoyle, but I lived in Handsworth between '72 and '78. I remember the probation office on Hampstead Road and the one in Perry Barr. I remember the social services office on Finch Road too.
The demographic was predominantly Black, Asian ad Irish, and although we all mixed together, the pubs remained quite purposely segregated, strongholds of protection for your own ethnic identity.
There was, but not many, racially motivated offences within the community, but most of the racism was institutional. The police wore tie pins or a badge on their lapel that let you know that they didn't come from your community and nor did they approve of it!
It was a deprived community. High levels of crime, poverty, drug and alcohol abuse, prostitution, domestic violence, unemployment, illegal shebeens and blues.
I'm not sure of what riots Mike is referring to as the main one people remember occurred in 1985. However , the mid 70s saw a large National Front movement grow nationwide and they held several large rallies in Handsworth. It was antagonistic given the demographics and there was always some serious rioting when they appeared.
I recall one such rally at Benson road school where a young black policeman was put on guard at the main door of the school whilst the National Front did whatever they do inside. He hardly looked old enough to leave school, but a black police officer protecting the National Front was inflammatory and he came under a hail of broken paving slabs, bricks and bottles. I often wonder now if it was a mistake by the authorities, or if it was just because he wasn't wearing the right tie pin?
1974 of course also saw the Birmingham pub bombings, and kids from Irish families were taken out of school, and many of their parents couldn't go to work.
For those of Irish heritage Handsworth was a relatively good sanctuary as the people that lived there were all familiar with the consequences of blanket discrimination.
The Handsworth that Mike Guilfoyle knew in the 1970s was a tough place to be, with any social problem you can possibly think of to be found there. I'm sure he would have loved it, because there can be no better place to cut your teeth as a probation officer.
Then my trip down memory lane led to quite a profound full stop. Just how do you square the notion of professionalism in probation when you believe that the whole ethos is wrong?
I've struggled with it all day, and I still can't find an answer. Is it even possible for 'professionalism' to exist in today's model of probation?
For sure, there's people that are enthusiastic and good at their job. They can dot all the I.s and cross all the T,s. They can keep all their files up to date, and leave their desks clean and tidy at night. But it's all prescribed. When do they get the opportunity to make a difference?
Surely for most joining the service, making a difference was the original attraction to the service? If the service isn't about making a difference then do we really need it?
As I say, I've struggled all day with the concept of professionalism in probation. I've considered fundamental questions like purpose, ethos and identity, and now I'm going to sleep with another fundamental question on my mind:-
"What makes a good probation officer?"
'Getafix
This felt more like a biography of the author than an essay about the service. Personally, I couldn’t identify what the winning quality was, perhaps it was the only submission. Getafix, I noticed the author seemed to be recalling her own time working in Handsworth, not Mike’s. She also referenced riots breaking out later, not during her tenure, which made the inclusion feel somewhat misplaced. Inner-city work offers different experiences to different people, so I wasn’t sure of the relevance here. I would have liked to see more reflection on how those experiences shaped her values and identity. After a 30–40 year career, what ethos and values should underpin probation today? Interestingly, for someone who speaks so much about professionalism, she left the service at least twice and never appeared to challenge the systemic issues, just quietly walked away. I did like your final question. A recent article I read asked: “What do clients think of probation? What should it be - a friend, an acquaintance, or an authority to be feared?”
DeleteSo pleased to see your post and continuing remission. The standard and quality of contributions have declined, in my opinion it is the demographic change, the managerialism that has taken over in the system, the inexperience of PTA’s, online training and now the colourful crayon diagrams in OAsys to assist with the identification of RSR and ROSH. The professionalism of the service has decreased and some find it hard trying to explain professional decision making and just want to tick the box to keep the IT big brother off their backs.
ReplyDelete