The deadline has been extended to Monday 2 March at 11.55pm in:
East of England
Kent, Surrey and Sussex
London
South Central
The deadline has been extended to Monday 23 February at 11.55pm in:
East Midlands
Greater Manchester
North East
North West
South West
Wales
Yorkshire and Humber
If you’re interested there’s still time to submit your application. This is your chance to earn while you learn, gain a degree equivalent qualification, and play an essential role in your community and the wider justice system.
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Nothing says “high demand, thriving profession” quite like repeatedly extending the application deadline. We’re told the staffing pipeline is being strengthened with 1,300 trainees. Yet deadlines keep shifting. Almost as if the issue isn’t awareness… but attractiveness.
And while we’re here, just a small but important point. PQiP leads to a Level 6 professional qualification. That sits at the same academic level as a bachelor’s degree. It is not the same thing as being awarded a university degree. Calling it “degree equivalent” is shorthand for level, not status. That distinction matters not because the training lacks value, but because clarity builds credibility.
The bigger question isn’t the label. It’s whether newly qualified staff enter a service where:
• Experienced mentors are available
• Workloads are manageable
• Professional judgement is respected
• Pay progression makes staying worthwhile
You can rename a qualification and you can extend a deadline. But unless the job itself is sustainable, recruitment campaigns become a revolving door and that’s the part no advert fixes. No panic though. Everything’s fine.
Nothing says “high demand, thriving profession” quite like repeatedly extending the application deadline. We’re told the staffing pipeline is being strengthened with 1,300 trainees. Yet deadlines keep shifting. Almost as if the issue isn’t awareness… but attractiveness.
And while we’re here, just a small but important point. PQiP leads to a Level 6 professional qualification. That sits at the same academic level as a bachelor’s degree. It is not the same thing as being awarded a university degree. Calling it “degree equivalent” is shorthand for level, not status. That distinction matters not because the training lacks value, but because clarity builds credibility.
The bigger question isn’t the label. It’s whether newly qualified staff enter a service where:
• Experienced mentors are available
• Workloads are manageable
• Professional judgement is respected
• Pay progression makes staying worthwhile
You can rename a qualification and you can extend a deadline. But unless the job itself is sustainable, recruitment campaigns become a revolving door and that’s the part no advert fixes. No panic though. Everything’s fine.
So it's not a degree is it. That is bullshit and equivalent like things are never the real deal. It's a con degrees are uni issues after real enrollment to a real process this pquip is gloss no one believes it's value .
ReplyDeleteIt is a degree, in Community Justice, or if you have a relevant previous degree then it’s a graduate diploma. De Montford University and Portsmouth University run both. Not sure why you think it’s a “degree equivalent”.
ReplyDeleteIt's lipstick bright shouty loud lipstick a lovely rouge . Shame it's lipstick on a pig.
Delete
ReplyDeleteWe need to be real about the future of probation. You couldn’t make it up really. A new Sentencing Act, £700 million invested in Ai and IT, and 1,000 new trainee probation officers promised, yet here we are on the precipice with rising workloads, growing uncertainty and a carefully packaged 4% pay offer presented as progress. We’re told probation is “extraordinary work”; the glossy recruitment adverts insist on it. But scratch beneath the surface and a different picture of probation in 2026 begins to emerge.
Imagine every probation office of the near future. An offender walks in, places their bag in a locker and pauses at the door to be facially and bodily scanned. If the system does not recognise them, or flags an unknown object in a pocket, a security wand completes the ritual. Efficient. Controlled. Managed. They sit and wait for their probation practitioner, who is likely newly qualified, recently out of university, bright and well-intentioned but learning the craft in a system that no longer appears to value craft. It isn’t their fault. They need employment and income like anyone else. Many will leave when something more stable or better paid appears, unless they are accelerated into management within a year if their psychometrics fit.
They move to a supervision room. An induction, a toolkit session, a review of licence conditions, delivered through structured prompts. Tick boxes completed. Risk assessment refreshed. Every word captured in real time by Justice Transcribe AI and uploaded directly into the case management system. Reports drafted instantly. Risk tools auto-populated. Supervision records formatted before the conversation has properly settled. The practitioner informs the individual that their risk level has been lowered. Not necessarily through nuanced professional judgement shaped by experience and relational depth, but because the algorithm indicates it. The outcome is eligibility for automated reporting. Instead of attending weekly or fortnightly, the offender now logs into an app once a month, speaks to an AI interface and confirms everything is fine. Compliance recorded. Case maintained. Human contact reduced to exception management.
Meanwhile, the probation practitioner holds a caseload exceeding 100. With no short sentences going into custody, probation absorbs the volume. Post-Sentence Supervision has ended, everyone is electronically tagged and tracked, and recalls recycle through the system with predictable speed of less than 2 months. Reports are AI-drafted. Risk assessments AI-assisted. Supervision notes AI-transcribed. Enforcement actions processed by administrative teams prompted by automated flags. Half the caseload reports digitally. The practitioner’s role becomes one of oversight rather than engagement, validation rather than intervention. Professional discretion narrows as the system standardises responses. Time once spent building motivation or challenging thinking is redirected into monitoring dashboards, tracking offenders on tags, and ensuring the technology has functioned correctly.
At that point, the question becomes uncomfortable. If supervision is automated, reporting is automated, monitoring is tagging and tracking, enforcement is automated and risk assessment is automated, what exactly are the 1,000 new probation officers for? What is the long-term workforce plan in a service increasingly shaped around digital compliance? Perhaps the 4% pay offer was not misjudged after all. Perhaps it was transitional, and intentional. It is easier to contain pay when you quietly redesign the profession to be less.
On a shelf somewhere in that office sits a book with that old motto: advise, assist, befriend. It reads almost like an artefact from another era. Now replaced by scripted prompts, app notifications, dashboards and tracking. This may sound exaggerated, even dystopian, but the building blocks are already visible. Technology and AI isn’t enhancing probation, it’s replacing it now.
Guest Blog 26
DeleteAdvise, Assist and Befriend.
https://probationmatters.blogspot.com/2015/02/guest-blog-26.html?m=1
Spot on! All of this is already operating in pilots.
DeleteI think part of the confusion here is that different parts of the system describe the qualification differently.
ReplyDeleteThe advert says:
“Level 6 Professional Qualification in Probation. This is a combination of a Level 5 Diploma in Probation Practice and a Diploma of Community Justice.”
The webinar refers to a “degree level qualification.”
The universities (for example De Montfort and Portsmouth) advertise a BA (Hons) Community Justice delivered alongside the vocational elements, which together make up PQiP.
Those phrases are not identical but they’re not necessarily contradictory either.
“Level 6” refers to the academic framework level. That is the same level as a bachelor’s degree on the Regulated Qualifications Framework.
“Degree level” means the level of study is equivalent to that of a bachelor’s degree.
A “BA (Hons)” is a named university award.
Where a university partner is awarding a BA (Hons) Community Justice as part of PQiP, then yes that is a degree. Where delivery routes differ, the professional qualification itself may be described primarily in framework terms rather than by the academic title.
So the disagreement isn’t really about whether the training has value. It does. It’s demanding and people work incredibly hard to complete it.
The issue is clarity. When wording shifts between “degree”, “degree level”, “degree equivalent”, and “professional qualification”, people understandably ask which is which. In a profession built on precision, that kind of ambiguity jars.
But stepping back, the label is not the real problem.
Call it a BA.
Call it a Level 6 Professional Qualification.
Call it degree-level.
The bigger question is what happens after qualification.
Do newly qualified officers enter teams with:
• Experienced mentors available
• Workloads that allow learning rather than survival
• Space for reflective supervision
• The confidence to exercise professional judgement
• Pay progression that makes staying worthwhile
Because a qualification, however described, does not substitute for experience. And experience cannot be manufactured at scale.
If the service is numerically staffed but thin on institutional memory, the risk doesn’t disappear. It just becomes harder to detect and harder to manage.
So yes, accuracy in wording matters. But the sustainability of the profession matters more.
You can debate the title of the qualification. What will determine the future of probation is whether the job that follows it is one people can actually stay in.
That’s the part we should probably be focusing on.
@anon 09:01
ReplyDeleteI understand why this vision resonates. When you line up the Sentencing Act, AI investment, recruitment drives and a restrained pay offer, it is easy to see a pattern forming.
But I am not sure the future is quite as linear or as inevitable as that picture suggests.
Technology can standardise process. It can draft text. It can flag patterns. It can simulate structured questioning. What it cannot do is hold professional responsibility.
When something escalates, when risk shifts subtly, when someone presents compliant but feels off, when a safeguarding concern sits between the lines, that is not an algorithmic moment. It is a judgement moment.
And judgement carries liability.
If AI drafts a report, a practitioner still signs it.
If a tool auto populates a risk score, someone still owns the decision.
If digital reporting replaces face to face contact, someone still answers when that person reoffends.
That accountability alone makes full substitution far less straightforward than it sounds.
Where this post really lands is in the cultural shift it describes. If probation becomes increasingly process driven, metrics led and efficiency framed, then the role risks narrowing. Not disappearing. Narrowing.
More monitoring.
Less relational depth.
More compliance oversight.
Less discretionary craft.
That is not necessarily dystopia. But it is redesign.
The uncomfortable question is not whether AI replaces probation officers. It is whether probation officers become system managers rather than practitioners.
If caseloads remain high and experience thins out while automation increases, the risk is not that humans vanish. The risk is that humans become supervisors of workflow rather than agents of change.
That is a philosophical shift as much as an operational one.
The old motto of advise, assist, befriend was rooted in human relationship. Modern probation cannot return to a previous era. But if we lose the relational core entirely, we are not simply modernising. We are redefining the purpose of the role.
Technology will expand. That is inevitable.
Whether it replaces probation or reshapes it depends on how deliberately boundaries are drawn now.
If AI is used to reduce administrative burden and protect practitioner time, it strengthens the profession.
If it is used to justify higher caseloads, thinner experience and contained pay, then it becomes substitution by stealth.
The future is not written yet.
But the design choices being made now will determine which version of that office we eventually walk into.
9:01 is spot on. It’s exactly what’s already in play in pilots around the country. 2026 joins it all up under the new act.
DeleteWhat I continue to find incredible that people can graduate with a degree, leave the service & face no economic consequences. Other young people are taking on eye watering debt but not making significantly higher wages. I appreciate that PQIPS are working as PSOs and therefore being paid a wage but it should be possible for some economic consequences to be visited upon NQOs who jump ship post qualifying. For context my son graduated 10 years ago, qualified as a teacher, works in a tough inner London comprehensive and now owes more money than borrowed.
ReplyDeleteLast week, in the morning, a colleague of mine got a email from the parole board (following an oral hearing) declining release as they thought the offender lacked the skills to self moderate his behaviour and that his risk was therefore unmanageable in the community.
ReplyDeleteIn the afternoon, he got a email advising that the offender was being released under the FTR56.
Make it make sense, please!