Grayling's reckless probation privatisation is a threat to public safety

The Justice Secretary is pushing ahead without parliamentary approval and without any evidence that his plans will work. Labour will call him to account.

Every evening the British public settle down in front of their televisions, tuning into dramas and films set in courts, prisons and the police. All three are deeply engrained in their psyche as a result. They know a judge, police officer, court room or prison cell if they see one.

But out of sight and out of mind, the Probation Service is a much less known branch of our criminal justice system. Ask a random punter on the street and they’d struggle to describe a probation officer’s average day.

Not for one minute does that mean they’re any less important. Given that probation works with guilty criminals not locked up behind bars but living in our midst in our cities, towns and villages their role is arguably even more important. And they make a difference. Evidence shows those in their responsibility are less likely to reoffend than those unsupervised, contributing to making our society safer.

Labour's 2007 reforms  further strengthened the profession, cementing their role by creating local Probation Trusts. We put faith in local expertise and knowledge as best placed to tackle reoffending – allowing local trusts to commission those they see fit to rehabilitate offenders in their area, be they from the public, private or voluntary sector. And that is, no doubt, one of the reasons why the Probation Service was awarded the British Quality Foundation Gold Medal for Excellence less than twp years ago.

But the government has embarked on the biggest upheaval in the 100 year history of probation. And let's be clear - I'm firmly of the view that more needs to be done to reduce reoffending. That's why I welcome government plans to support those on sentences under a year who previously were left to their own devices. But I don't support ministers' broad thrust. Their plans sweep away local probation trusts, and see services commissioned on behalf of local areas by the Justice Secretary from his desk in Whitehall.

Most worryingly, private companies with no track record of work in this area - some currently under investigation by the Serious Fraud Office for irregularities with other Ministry of Justice contracts – will be in sole charge of 80% of offenders. Amazingly, the government claims these are only 'low' and 'medium' risk offenders. Yet these are people who have committed crimes such as domestic violence, robbery, violence against the person and sexual offences.

Responsibility for 'high risk' offenders will remain in the public sector, the government clearly not entrusting G4S or Serco with that role. More importantly, separating offenders by 'risk level' creates a wholly artificial divide as, in reality, offenders' risk levels fluctuate in a quarter of cases, meaning responsibility for them would end up chopping and changing between private and public sectors.

This worries experts, as an offender whose risk level escalates is a danger to themselves and the public. This isn't a time for red tape and bureaucracy – the system must respond quickly if public safety is to be protected. Like many experts, I fear the cumbersome model proposed by the government isn’t sufficiently nimble to deal with these dangerous situations. And the Ministry of Justice’s own civil servants agree, which may be the reason Chris Grayling refuses to publish the advice he has received about what could go wrong.

Compounding matters, he is pushing ahead without parliamentary approval, without testing to make sure it works and on an unrealistic timetable. By not testing the plans, there's no opportunity to see what does and doesn’t work, nor iron out any problems. Given that these plans involve offenders living in our communities, to purposely avoid seeing if they work before full national roll-out is reckless.

But the Justice Secretary has nailed his colours to the mast. It happens that his predecessor, Ken Clarke, began pilots but Grayling ditched them in his first week in the job. Instead, he proudly proclaims his disdain for evidence and his unbending belief in his own instincts. This from the man who brought us the failing Work Programme - so bad it's actually better for your employment prospects to steer clear of it. I'm not confident in his instincts – call me old fashioned, but I prefer some hard evidence.

Rushed implementation also comes with risks – just yesterday, chief executives and chairs of three Probation Trusts warned the Justice Secretary the pace of implementation could have deadly consequences

Avoiding parliament is further evidence these plans don't stack up. Chris Grayling is going out of his way to prevent scrutiny, as he knows their half-baked nature will see them shredded by those in the know.

That's why we have secured today's debate in the Commons. Ministers should have to explain their plans to parliament. MPs should have the opportunity to speak about our criminal justice being dismantled, all on the whim of a Secretary of State with a dubious gut instinct approach to policy.

I agree we need to root out better ways of working if we are to get a grip on the revolving door of offending. But I'm not prepared to support plans that are ill-thought through, rushed and risk endangering the public. 

Justice Secretary Chris Grayling speaks during the Conservative conference in Manchester. Photograph: Getty Images.
Sadiq Khan is MP for Tooting, shadow justice secretary and shadow minister for London.
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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times