For a penal reform lobby accustomed to a diet of “get tough” policies from the Tories and Labour alike, the appointment of one of their own, James Timpson, as prisons and probation minister was a bolt from the blue.
It’s a clever appointment by Keir Starmer, who has thrown down the gauntlet to those crying out for change that goes beyond mere aspiration, thoughtful insight and weighty tomes—and to come up with quick, practical solutions through their very own champion.
And yet, though the CEO of the Timpsons group seems to have grasped, rather than been handed, this poisoned chalice, a poisoned chalice it remains.
As chair of the Prison Reform Trust, Timpson carries the hopes and dreams of its distinguished and erudite board, staff and wider hinterland. The Trust and other such bodies should ask themselves what they have achieved in the way of reform of our prison system, given that they have invested millions a year over many decades in the fight for change. The answer is precious little. Indeed, the criminal justice system in general, and the prison and probation service in particular, have all but collapsed. Yes, we can blame governments; but the subtext of this appointment is to ask the sector not what the government can do for it, but what it can do for the government.
The 52-year-old was brought up in a culture of kindness. His parents fostered dozens of children. That kindness has been translated into his business through unusual policies, such as offering staff holiday accommodation and free dry cleaning for the unemployed. But the worlds of prisons and politics are unforgiving: trust is betrayed, second chances for offenders often demand third and fourth chances, weakness is exploited. And prisoners can be even more testing. Yes, Timpson knows the terrain, but so far he has only walked on the margins.
As a Labour peer, Timpson bears the burden of collective, cabinet responsibility. Before his appointment, Timpson told Channel 4's Krishnan Guru-Murthy that the UK has an obsession with incarceration and that we cannot afford to build our way out of the problem. He is spot on, but such views are now, for him, not politically on message as a member of the government. As a minister, he will face greater scrutiny for more radical policy positions, however much he might have espoused them in his pre-government past.
He will also face senior leaders in the prison service, to whom he has been close and who eat evanescent prison ministers for breakfast while remaining hidden and unaccountable themselves. Politicians of all colours share the blame for the mess we are in, not least another new lord, Chris Grayling. But while ministers come and go, senior leadership at HMPPS has been consistent—and adept at blaming its own failings on everyone else. Meetings without coffee—as the late Lord Ramsbotham, former chief inspector of prisons, would call it on return from a ministerial reprimand—are long overdue.
Timpson’s task is immense and goes beyond simply numbers. The public will not accept, and the government will not countenance, mass release. If some form of early release is implemented, prisoners will simply come back faster for longer, given how little support they are getting from probation services. An immediate answer is to address why so many former prisoners come straight back after their release. Most prisoners are released on some form of probation licence, which, if breached, triggers their recall to prison. The most recent statistics show 7,152 licence recalls between October and December 2023, a sharp increase of 17 per cent on the same quarter in 2022.
People are not being prepared for release in custody nor supported in the community. They are going into prison clean and leaving addicted, in debt and homeless. Some 50,000 people are released from prison each year; one in three are released with nowhere to go or to unknown circumstances. The charity Switchback is calling for a National Resettlement Framework that guarantees accommodation on release, which should include investment in approved premises. These are sensible investments, as opposed to spending billions on new penal warehouses. The new minister should refocus the debate on the former.
For penal reformers, prison staff sit in the “too difficult to handle” tray. They rightly embrace people with lived experience of the prison system, but not those with the experience of holding keys. New ill-trained staff are either quickly corrupted or leave disillusioned. The first inspection at new ”super prison” HMP Five Wells, carried out in December, highlighted that just 272 of the nearly 750 staff hired since the prison opened less than two years prior remained in post.
Prisons are a people business, and relationships between staff and prisoners are at the heart of a safe and decent system. Timpson runs a successful business on his understanding of people. He is rightly heralded as a popular boss in the world of shoes and keys. Translating that good leadership to a new and more pressured workforce, however, will be a monumental challenge and first priority.
Lord Timpson enters a new world. He begins with many friends but will need to disappoint a good few while making new enemies. He will need to be bold, imaginative and pragmatic, and acquire the hide of a rhino. He will, above all, need to avoid the mistakes of one of his most famous predecessors, Rory Stewart, who became a cross between Tigger and a prison super-governor. It is not the role of ministers to micromanage operations. Timpson’s job is to employ managers who manage and, if they can’t do what he does in his retail outlets, replace them.
