I'm retired a few years now but I spent nearly 40 years of my career in and around probation. Like Jim I'm old school CQSW trained probation - and I would be the first to admit that I'm distant from modern day probation practice. But that doesn't stop me from caring about what is happening to probation or trying to work out how we ended up in such a mess. So I jotted the following thoughts down. I thought I would share them here. I'm sorry they got too long so I'll have to do it in parts.
When you look at what has happened to probation and prisons over the past decades, you can approach it in two ways. Either it’s a story of unintended consequences—well-meaning reforms that spiralled into dysfunction—or it’s the product of a subtle, persistent ideological project driven by right-wing political and commercial interests. In truth, you don’t need to believe in conspiracy to see how powerful interests lined up behind the same direction of travel: marketisation, managerialism, and a performative toughness on crime. The outcomes, planned or not, have been the same.
1. Privatisation: When Ideology Meets Profit
The probation and prison services became testing grounds for the idea that the private sector can always deliver public services more efficiently. It didn’t matter that evidence was thin or that services relied on professional relationships rather than widgets on a production line—privatisation fitted a political worldview and appealed to commercial providers keen for long-term government contracts.
The result? Large outsourcing firms took over supervision, tagging, and entire prisons. Success was measured in contract compliance rather than human outcomes. Inevitably, quality gave way to cost-cutting. Staff were stretched. Services became fragmented. And when things went wrong, the response wasn’t to question the model but to double down on it.
2. Managerialism: The Belief That Targets Fix Everything
A deep belief in managerialism crept across the justice system. It told ministers that if you create the right KPIs, dashboards, and compliance regimes, services would magically improve. But probation and prisons aren’t factory floors. They’re complex, relational environments where trust and time matter.
The managerial turn shifted culture from professional judgement to box-ticking, from human contact to case throughput. Officers increasingly spent more time recording their work than doing it. Decisions became less about what helps an individual change and more about what satisfies the audit trail. In the process, creativity, discretion and empathy were squeezed out.
3. Appealing to the Public’s Punitive Instincts
Politically, there’s always been an easier sell in punishment than rehabilitation. Saying you're “tough on offenders” gets headlines and applause lines; saying you want to invest in rehabilitation gets you accusations of being soft.
So the political incentives tilted decisively toward enforcement: more tagging, more conditions, more surveillance, more breaches, more recall. “Help” became “compliance.” Probation’s identity shifted from a service that supported people into one that monitored them.
It is cheaper and more electorally convenient to promise punishment than to engage the public in the harder truth that rehabilitation is messy, individual, and long-term—and far more effective in reducing crime.
4. The Cultural Shift: From Care to Control
Probation once lived in the space between social work and criminal justice. It was a service that believed people could change and worked with them to make it happen.
But over time, the system moved steadily from care toward control. The pressure to enforce, the contractualisation of services, and the politicisation of crime all pushed probation to become an arm of enforcement rather than an agent of rehabilitation.
Prisons, too, became less about resettlement and more about containment. Overcrowding, underfunding and constant crisis management left little room for anything resembling rehabilitation.
5. So Was It a Conspiracy or a Collision of Interests?
You don’t need backroom plots or dark networks pulling strings. Right-wing political ideology, commercial interests, and managerialist thinking simply aligned. They didn’t have to coordinate—they shared assumptions:
the market is efficient
the private sector can do it better
punishment is popular
professionals need tighter control
rehabilitation is too complicated to sell
These beliefs produced structural change that hollowed out probation, overcrowded prisons, failed communities, and ultimately made society less safe.
What we’re living with now may not have been intended, but it certainly wasn’t accidental. When ideology, profit and political convenience march in the same direction, you don’t need a conspiracy. You just need a government willing to ignore the warnings.
6. And Now?
We’re left with a probation service recovering from fragmentation, a prison system bursting at the seams, and a political climate that still reaches for punitive solutions first. The road back to a system rooted in rehabilitation, professional expertise and humane purpose will be long.
But admitting the truth is a start: the damage didn’t happen by chance. It happened because the incentives favoured control over care, punishment over change, measurement over meaning, and ideology over evidence.
The question now is whether we’re willing to reverse that trajectory—or whether the unintended consequences will continue to play out exactly as some interests always expected they would.
Anon
"Our own age of disillusionment could become the prelude to a new authoritarian era.
ReplyDeleteOr it could be remembered as the moment when a new kind of ambition took hold, a moral ambition like the abolitionists once embodied." Bregman, Reith Lecture #2.
And Steve Anglesey in the newworld magazine writes:
"On November 29, veteran assistant editor Jeremy Warner, described by the paper as “a serial winner of awards” and “one of Britain's leading business and economics commentators” told the Telegraph faithful it was “Time to admit the truth: Brexit has been an unmitigated economic failure”... Warner concluded: “If Brexit was supposed to be a moment of national economic renewal, it has comprehensively failed to deliver as it was supposed to.” He might have added that the king is in “the altogether, altogether as naked as the day that he was born”. "
This refers to an article in the torygraph. Yes, it seems the torygraph now publicly admits in its hallow'd pages that brexit was an unmitigated disaster.
If the torygraph can do that, it should not be impossible that moj/hmpps can admit their failures? For example, their authoritarian punishment first agenda, their ugly crime-pays-the-shareholders project and their utter negligence of issues around health & safety for staff & users of the prison & probation services.
This blog contains over a decade of evidence to support the case against all actors in the matter: from Home Office via noms through MoJ to hmpps. Evidence of enforced changes to contracts, of lies & deception, of fraud, of the funnelling of public funds to private enterprise, of the planned job losses, the threats, the bullying, the lack of care, the abuse of those employed by and supervised by the service... the list goes on.
So, to quote bregman again: "In the immortal words of Margaret Mead, Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."
You, all of you reading & posting & editing this blog who evidently care passionately about the Probation ethos, YOU are the thoughtful committed citizens who can make the difference, who can make things change.
I fell out with my factory working friends over Brexit stupidity. It takes no mathematician to work out trading in the EU block of a billion people equally or go out on your own and trade on your small corner hoping to balance the scale by orders. Never going to happen so we are now poorer. Blaming the immigrants and the unemployed or anything else than the stupid error of leaving our shared partners after 50 years of collaboration.
ReplyDeletehttps://beyondredemption.co.uk/
ReplyDeleteAbout the Book
Beyond Redemption tells the true story behind one of the most controversial events in modern Prison Service history. This story has never before been revealed. The raid on Blantyre House resettlement prison in Kent in May 2000 by a battalion of prison officers, many wearing full riot gear, wielding staves, crowbars and sledge hammers, was the climax to an ongoing conflict between myself and my line manager at Prison Service headquarters, Tom Murtagh. The conflict was due to our opposing views about how a prison should be run and what a prison should achieve.
As the Governor of the prison I insisted on giving long term prisoners with serious criminal histories trust and responsibility. This resulted in Blantyre House being credited with the lowest reoffending figures in the country. Tom Murtagh however was not impressed. He was heard by a teacher at the prison exclaiming that Blantyre prisoners were “beyond redemption,” and using bullying tactics and threats against me he pressed for more control and tighter security. I resisted for nearly two years until finally at Tom Murtagh’s instigation the Director General of the Prison Service sanctioned the infamous raid.
Redemption Beyond Bars: Blantyre House's Enduring Impact
Prepare to be enlightened as we delve into the far-reaching effects of redemption, elegantly depicted within the pages of this book. Beyond the stark prison bars, the story meticulously explores how Blantyre House’s revolutionary philosophy of trust and responsibility radiated far beyond its confines. Witness how this approach not only reshaped the lives of the inmates but also left a permanent mark on the very fabric of the surrounding community. Engage with the accounts that showcase the positive influence it exerted on society, unravelling the enduring legacy it left behind. Through this lens, gain a profound understanding of the book’s central message: redemption knows no bounds and possesses the remarkable ability to ignite transformative change even in the darkest corners of society.
Lessons for Tomorrow: McLennan-Murray’s Vision for Redemption
Get ready to set the course on a profound exploration with invaluable lessons and insights presented by Eoin McLennan-Murray. Uncover the depth of his experiences and how the saga of Blantyre House stands as a beacon, illuminating the path for reform within the prison system. Delve into McLennan-Murray’s visionary perspective, one that paints a compelling picture of a future where redemption is not merely a distant hope but an attainable reality for every individual, regardless of their past. Some particular aspects of the story serve as a clarion call, challenging societal norms and urging readers to reconsider their perceptions of redemption and rehabilitation critically. Through these compelling storylines, be inspired and empowered to advocate for change, igniting a transformative movement that echoes the very essence of the book.
Micro-management is now the preferred method of managing operational staff from the safety of the office and via Teams bowing to the senior management.
ReplyDeleteThis response is in two parts
ReplyDelete1/2
Thank you for this vital and clear-eyed analysis. You’ve perfectly framed the collision of ideology, profit, and political convenience that has hollowed out probation’s soul. Your question—‘unintended consequences or quiet conspiracy?”, pushes beyond the ‘how’ to the more profound ‘why.’
Reading your words, I was struck by a chilling thought: what if we are not witnessing a unique policy failure, but the latest activation of a very old blueprint? Your observations about the shift from care to control, the bureaucratisation of indifference, and the political theatre of punishment echo across centuries of systems designed to subjugate.
I’ve tried to trace these echoes below, not to contradict your excellent summary, but to place it in a darker, historical context. You ask if we’re willing to reverse the trajectory. I believe the first step is to recognise the ancient pattern we are up against.
The Blueprint of Control: What Probation's Decline Teaches Us About Systems of Subjugation
The story of probation’s slow transformation—from a service of social work to an arm of enforcement—feels like a modern, bureaucratic tragedy. But to view it only through a contemporary lens is to miss its deeper, more unsettling resonance. What we are witnessing is not an anomaly; it is the latest iteration of a historical blueprint for the subjugation of marginalised populations.
You asked if this damage was “unintended or ideological,” pointing to a pattern that repeats across centuries. The mechanisms may differ—no shackles or explicit pogroms—but the functional architecture of control remains recognisable.
The outsourcing of probation and prisons to corporate contractors mirrors a foundational tool of oppression: the commodification of human beings and their destinies.
The Atlantic Slave Trade and the Plantation System. Human beings were literally converted into capital assets, their value measured in labor output and market price. Their well-being was secondary to profit margins and contractual obligations between traders and owners.
Today, the “offender” becomes a revenue-generating unit within a Ministry of Justice contract. Success is measured by cost-per-case and contract compliance, not by healed lives or restored communities. The profit motive, when applied to human correction, inherently creates a perverse incentive to manage rather than solve, to process rather than liberate. It is the enclosure of the social realm, turning public duty into a private revenue stream.
The obsession with KPIs, dashboards, and audit trails is not neutral efficiency; it is the bureaucratisation of indifference.
The meticulous ledgers of colonial administrations and the cold, procedural efficiency of certain authoritarian regimes. These systems perfected the art of reducing complex human communities to data points—taxable units, resource quotas, census numbers—to be administered from a distance. South Africa apartheid was an example, propelled not just by hate, but by terrifyingly meticulous bureaucracy that turned ethnic control into a logistics problem.
The professional judgement of a probation officer, rooted in a relationship, is replaced by a drop-down menu of risk factors. The complex, messy human story is flattened into a “case file” for throughput. This illusion of scientific control strips away context, empathy, and humanity. It is a system designed to be blind to the individual, making oppressive outcomes feel like administrative inevitabilities rather than moral choices.
2/2
ReplyDeletePoliticians choosing “tough on crime” rhetoric over evidence-based rehabilitation are playing a very old game: consolidating power by defining and punishing an “other.”
The Roman practice of bread and circuses included the spectacle of brutal punishment in the Colosseum, pacifying and uniting the populace through the violent subjugation of a designated group (slaves, criminals, enemies). For centuries, rulers have used public punishment—stocks, pillories, executions—as theatre to reinforce social boundaries and state power.
The political theatre of announcing longer sentences, tougher conditions, and more surveillance serves the same purpose. It defines the “law-abiding” public against the “dangerous offender,” offering a narrative of safety through control rather than through complex social investment. It is a short-term political strategy that sacrifices long-term human and social well-being, exploiting fear for gain.
The move from care to control is the story of institutional mission drift, where systems designed for one purpose are warped into instruments of oppression.
The transformation of some religious missions, orphanages, and “schools for assimilation” (e.g., for Indigenous children). Founded under banners of salvation or education, they often became systems of cultural erasure, emotional abuse, and control, their original ethos corrupted by the unchecked power dynamics and punitive logic embedded within their operation.
Probation’s original mission—“advise, assist, and befriend”—has been corroded. The relational, social-work heart has been replaced by a surveillance-and-enforcement mechanism. The system no longer exists primarily to elevate the individual, but to manage the risk they are presumed to pose. The helper has been recast as the guard.
The retired officer is correct. You don’t need a conspiracy when ideology, profit, and political convenience align. History shows us this alignment is how oppressive systems are built: not always with a grand plan, but step-by-step, through the rational language of efficiency, safety, and order.
So where is the humanity? In this historical light, humanity is the first casualty of the blueprint. It is deliberately designed out of the system because it is inefficient, unpredictable, and resistant to metrication.
To fight for a humane justice system, then, is to do more than argue policy. It is to recognise and name these historical patterns of subjugation when they reappear in managerial dress. It is to insist that a system processing human beings must be built on a foundation of dignity, redemption, and relational trust—principles that have always been the antithesis of control and the bedrock of true liberation.
The question for us now is: having seen the blueprint, will we have the courage to stop building by it?”
ANARCHIST PO
What you describe as the “blueprint of control” is exactly what frontline probation staff are trapped inside. The hardest part isn’t recognising the problem—it’s acting against it when your job security is tied to the very bureaucracy you’re trying to resist.
DeletePractitioners are told to use their professional judgement, but the moment that judgement conflicts with targets or risk narratives, it gets shut down. You can’t easily challenge a system when the system controls your workload, your appraisal, and your future employment. That dependency keeps people compliant, even when they can see the damage it does.
If power is going to shift back to professionals, it has to start with three things:
(1) collective voice rather than isolated dissent, (cue the NAPO complaints)
(2) structures that genuinely trust practitioner judgement, and
(3) protections that make humane practice safe, not risky.
Probation can’t rebuild its humanity unless the people doing the work are free to act like humans—and right now, the bureaucracy holds too much of the power for that to happen.
Personally I'm not very optimistic about this getting any better anytime soon. I've had a lifetime of doing my best in difficult circumstances, but I can't wait for this to all end for me personally and I hope that there is life outside of probation where I can do something useful.
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.theguardian.com/society/2025/dec/04/probation-officers-in-england-and-wales-to-be-given-self-defence-training-after-stabbings&ved=2ahUKEwiOiI6R-aaRAxX4WEEAHW8aB0AQ0PADKAB6BAgiEAE&sqi=2&usg=AOvVaw3gO8PyRhs0FxbV3zkloTo4
ReplyDeleteProbation officers in England and Wales to be given self-defence training after stabbings.
DeleteSo, SPEAR training is to be piloted with probation staff, yet we will still be paid significantly less than our prison colleagues. This is an admission that probation staff now face many of the same risks as prison staff, and therefore should be renumerated appropriately.
DeleteI love this guest blog so thanks to whoever wrote it. In the parliamentary session the other day, Ferrar referred many times to "knowing what the root causes are" for the probation capacity issues and it seems OFPS is here to address this. What she failed to do is to articulate those root causes and I've not seen these communicated to us. I highly suspect the guest blog has truly encapsulated the root causes....while suspecting that whatever HMPPS have cooked up is world's apart from this.
ReplyDelete"Officers increasingly spent more time recording their work than doing it" seems spot on to me about why probation capacity increased way beyond understood capacity.
DeleteCapacity is measured by your contractual hours placed properly against an agreed workloads weightings table. The combined tasks plus admin and appropriate breaks become the workloads. Our collective problems are that both Napo officials at the top then Mr dean Rogers and Lawrence incompetently failed to enforce the workloads agreement and saw is disappear as a nuisance to them but a protection lost for us. It was enshrined under health and safety legislation. Something for the tub thumper speaks occasionally but does not understand his responsibility. No matter how persuasive or sustained arguments are these are not going to be anywhere near enough as nothing will change this lot without a proper formalised national dispute . The useless GS is not up for that sort of work and lacks the intelligence to deliver on his role. Seen and heard him blather all day long boring do your job properly Napo.
DeleteTo 18:36
ReplyDeleteThank you for this. You’ve put your finger on the exact tension: seeing the blueprint isn’t enough if we feel powerless to redraw it.
I hear you about NAPO—it’s a common feeling that the official machinery of change moves slowly, if at all. But maybe hope doesn't live there right now. Maybe it lives in the spaces between us—in the conversations like this one, and in the small, stubborn ways practitioners keep humanity alive despite the system.
When you say collective voice is needed, you’re absolutely right. And perhaps that voice begins long before it reaches a union podium. It starts when officers:
· Share their moral dilemmas openly, not just as complaints, but as evidence of a broken system.
· Document quietly, not just for cases, but for the record—noting when policies harm rather than help.
· Support each other’s judgement in team meetings, backing colleagues who advocate for a person over a procedure.
· Connect across offices, informally at first, building a network of the disillusioned but determined.
So when we talk about collective voice, maybe step one is exactly this: using spaces like this to name what’s happening, to mourn what’s been lost, and to imagine what could be. Every time someone shares a story like ours, it becomes harder for the system to pretend everything is working. We are building a living archive of frontline truth.
These aren’t dramatic revolts. They’re the daily, quiet work of keeping the professional conscience alive. And that conscience is like a seed—it can look dormant for a long time until conditions change.
You also mentioned making humane practice safe. That might begin with us deliberately protecting each other’s humanity—covering for one another, validating difficult choices, refusing to internalise the system’s contempt for our own values.
I don’t know if the big structures will change in time for those of us nearing the end of our careers. But I do know this: every time someone like you speaks plainly about what’s happening, we make it easier for the next person to do the same. We’re not just waiting for the end—we are passing on the clarity that will be essential whenever the cracks in the system finally widen.
Hope doesn’t have to mean believing the system will transform tomorrow. It can mean believing that what we protect now—our ethics, our empathy, our solidarity—will be the foundation for whatever comes next. We are already building that foundation, even on the days it feels like we are just surviving.
Thank you for staying in the conversation. It matters.
ANARCHIST PO
I'm not sure that unintended consequences is a fair descriptive term for what's gone wrong in probation.
ReplyDeleteThere's unintended consequences attached to almost any decision making.
However, the decisions that have been taken to reshape and drive probation forward have, and are not, being taken for the good of the service, those employed in the service or those using the service, nor indeed the public. Rather the decisions taken and policies formed are being constructed to harvest political capital. They only want the headline, the small print is someone else's problem regardless of any damaging fallout.
Unintended consequences no. Unconsidered and unconcerned consequences definitely.
'Getafix
I rather think that was exactly the point being made in the initial post.
DeleteI'm not going to write anything clever here because the above posts are excellent. I do not want to be censored out either because I am terrified the general mood on here is consistently passive to our destruction. The values and the core humanist approaches are completely under threat. I do not agree the whole thing is a right wing conspiracy either. It is more simply power greed and assertive leadership walking towards authoritarian Victorian values. I get frustrated that no one on here is not directing Napo to do its job. That we have no formal active or very able union doing what it has to.
DeleteThe rest of it is simple if you me we don't fight this fire with guns bullets loads of trouble action storylines and collective motions in local and regional meetings councils what have you then we will just lose completely . There is no fray and consistent argument nice as it is won't stop what they are planning . We need a real national actionable fight on a dispute that has basis in the wrongs being done to probation. Rehabilitation and the increasing risks to public. We need to get ourselves into a place we get public support and we need to start fast everyone think on please help form a strategy not a chin wag and no way is a the current position up to what is needed .
Cultivate resistance’: policy paper lays bare “Trump support for Europe’s far right”. Bodes well for the next few years. You may find probation under the auspices of Reform. So I suspect there may be more to worry about if Tommy Robinson and his ilk become the next Government….
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteThis guest blog hits hard because it calls out what many inside probation already feel in their bones: we didn’t stumble into this mess — we were steered into it. Bit by bit, the service drifted from rehabilitation to risk-orthodoxy, from social work to surveillance. And now, in an era of rising authoritarianism and populist “law-and-order” swagger — not just in England but across the world — probation risks becoming nothing more than a political prop.
But this doesn't need to be the end of the story. Staff still have agency, and there are ways to take back control and recover the rehabilitation mission before it is lost to the slogans and spreadsheet
Here's my top five suggestions for action.
1. Reclaim professional judgement like a tool left rusting in the shed.
For too long, discretion has been treated as a risk rather than a strength. It’s time to insist that time spent with people — not time feeding data into hungry dashboards — is what actually changes lives. Rehabilitation isn’t an algorithm; it’s a relationship.
2. Build alliances across the social landscape.
If probation waits for ministers to rediscover humanity, it’ll be waiting a long time. But local partnerships — with community groups, housing leads, mental-health teams, addiction workers — can rebuild what central government keeps stripping away. When probation becomes a bridge rather than a border checkpoint, rehabilitation breathes again.
3. Speak truth to power, loudly and consistently.
Document the reality on the ground. Not only what is failing, but what still works when staff have the space to practise properly. Counter the tabloid myth that “punishment equals safety.” Make the case — publicly, relentlessly — that rehabilitation is the only strategy proven to reduce reoffending.
4. Protect relationships from the rising tide of tagging and surveillance.
The more we outsource public safety to devices and recall culture, the more we amputate the core of probation: trust, hope and skilled human engagement. Tagging can track someone’s ankle; it cannot steer their life.
5. Tell the story of probation as it was meant to be.
The public is bombarded with political theatre — “toughness,” “crackdowns,” “zero tolerance.” But probation was built as the quiet counter-narrative: the lighthouse, not the searchlight. Staff, ex-staff and supporters need to say clearly what’s at stake. When rehabilitation is sidelined, communities don’t get safer — they get more fractured, more chaotic, more fearful.
We are living through a global moment when authoritarian instincts are growing louder and more confident. If probation doesn’t assert its purpose now, it risks being swept into that current, transformed from a service of hope into one more cog in the machinery of control.
This is the moment to grab the wheel.
Rehabilitation was never meant to be a footnote — it was the headline. And if staff stand together, insist on evidence over rhetoric, and keep practising the craft of change even in small daily acts, the rehabilitation initiative can be reclaimed.
Probation doesn’t need to wait for permission to rediscover its purpose. It only needs the courage to remember it.
Sometimes people ask me what's it like being a probation officer. I say : part social worker, part security guard, part clairvoyant — basically the Avengers, but with worse pay.
ReplyDeleteStill you'd be amazed at what you can achieve when you replace experience with optimism and a mandatory e-learning module.
I tell them it's basically a factory job with a human conveyor belt, transporting people from prison, to court, to the community then back to prison. We wrap them up nicely and label them High, Med, Low to ensure correct delivery and obviously we have to hit daily targets and also check for any damaged goods. So basically the criminal justice version of Amazon as we always accept returns and constantly introduce new ways to trap people into thinking we're offering a decent service.
Delete*Special offer this year, get a 12 months Community Order for the price of 3 by being a Prime Impact Pop
Anon 09:52 Oh that is sooooo good!
DeleteAye, it's in jest but a heavy dose of truth to unfortunately
Delete