Transforming Rehabilitation: The impact of austerity and privatisation on day-to-day cultures and working practices in ‘probation’

Introduction

Despite widespread opposition, the Transforming Rehabilitation (TR) agenda, which was introduced by the government in 2012, was operationalised at great speed, severing probation from its public-service and humanitarian foundations (Deering and Feilzer, 2015). ¹ In the place of existing probation trusts emerged a ‘new’ and much smaller National Probation Service (NPS) and, following a complex bidding process, 21 new Community Rehabilitation Companies (CRCs) took over responsibility for managing medium- and low-risk offenders. In 2014, following a review of all staff caseloads conducted on a randomly chosen date in 2013, all probation staff were reallocated either to the NPS or to CRC (Robinson et al., 2016), and what followed was a swift array of changes typical of broader patterns in the field of work and employment within the context of neoliberalism. Well-documented downsizing through redundancies, staff cuts and role changes ² has injected a sense of job insecurity amongst many probation workers – particularly those working within CRCs. Such feelings have been deepened by the CRCs’ over-estimation of revenues and a shift toward more automated services, such as the introduction of offender management ‘kiosks’ and over-the-phone supervision (National Audit Office, 2017). The result has been at times unmanageable caseloads, giving rise to extreme stress and anxiety among probation staff and a general experience of deskilling and deprofessionalisation which has thrown many probation workers’ professional identities into a state of existential crisis.

Although the probation service has undergone numerous structural and cultural changes since its creation (Mawby and Worrall, 2013), the extent of these changes in the last few years cannot be over-stated. Described as ‘the most radical change it [probation] has ever seen’ (Newburn, 2013), TR has intensified the existing significant challenges that decades of neoliberal policies have posed to the ‘probation ideal’ (Deering and Feilzer, 2015) and its established working practices (Robinson et al., 2016: 165). Therefore, while this article builds upon existing critiques of contemporary probation, it focuses more specifically on a consideration of the harmful impact that these structural changes have upon workers. Indeed, it is our belief that TR and the changes this has brought about offer a unique opportunity to conceptually expand and advance research in the broad field of workplace violence.

Numerous studies have emerged detailing the systematic failings of TR, failings which have been confirmed in the government’s early termination of the CRC contracts (MoJ, 2018). However, government ministers have failed to concede that TR’s failings are a result of its neoliberal underpinnings and the problems inherent within the privatisation of public services. On the contrary, in discussing the termination of TR, Justice Secretary David Gauke defended the continued role of the private sector in the delivery of such public services, suggesting that ‘clear lessons needed to be learned in improving the system’, but that he ‘doesn’t favour excluding the private sector from this at all’ (Grierson, 2018).

Given the government’s clear ideological attachment to policies of privatisation, it is therefore important to stress from the outset that the purpose of this paper is not limited to a focus on analysing or critiquing specifically the effectiveness of the government’s TR agenda. In view of the early termination of CRC contracts and the clear intention of the government to continue private sector involvement within probation, we deem it necessary to situate TR as a symptom of a deeper neoliberal agenda and examine the impact that these changes have had on the organisational cultures and day-to-day working practices within probation more broadly. In other words, we focus on TR, austerity and privatisation as the mechanism through which systemic work-based harms emerge from their underpinnings in neoliberal ideology. By drawing upon qualitative interviews with former probation staff, in this article we explore some of the challenges faced by probation staff in the wake of neoliberal capitalism. We demonstrate how neoliberal ideology has modified professional roles and responsibilities, how it has affected day-to-day working practices, and how it has had a significant impact on the occupational identities of those working in the probation sector today. Ultimately, in this paper we argue that, when viewed as part of the broader neoliberal agenda, TR and the changes that have occurred within probation constitute a more pervasive and equally damaging form of systemic work-based harm.

Workplace violence and normalised harm

Throughout Europe the study of workplace violence (WPV) has attracted a growing body of attention from academics, governments, legal bodies, unions and management (Scott, 2017; Gill et al., 2002; Leather et al., 1999). Until relatively recently, such discussions have primarily focused on tangible harms such as physical violence and bullying. For example, during the 1960s, the focus was primarily upon violence against staff in the context of robbery and assault. In the 1970s, this attention shifted, in that the experience of healthcare workers, particularly nurses, was explored in relation to violence and abuse perpetrated by external actors and forms of prejudicial abuse along the lines of gender, race and sexuality. The focus of this attention was primarily patients and their relatives (Bowie, 2010). The 1990s then gave rise to psychological research into bullying in the workplace (see Leyman, 1990, 1996), culminating in 2011 when Einarsen et al. (2011) declared workplace bullying a public issue (Fevre et al., 2012).

This focus on individual and tangible harms resulted in a lack of recognition of the effects that organisational culture and management has on the wellbeing of staff (Bowie, 2010). However, more recent discussions have shifted towards a focus on the role of the organisation and workplace harms, with research incorporating factors of wider occupational culture and organisational change (Salin and Hoel, 2011). Suggesting this was particularly true in the context of economic rationalism, D’Cruz and Noronha (2013: 3) similarly argue organisational antecedents in relation to workplace bullying have, in the past, been ignored, highlighting once more a lack of understanding that surrounds WPV more generally. D’Cruz and Noronha (2013) describe this oversight as ‘surprising’ given workplace change is ‘ubiquitous and inevitable in the current global economic environment’, citing change as one of the most significant antecedents to direct forms of physical, verbal and psychological violence and bullying. To date, Berlingier (2015: 29) concludes that organisations might be typified as environments known to facilitate conflict. Workers’ experiences of these various forms of violence and bullying, she continues, need to be embedded within a broader organisational and societal context, and the examination of organisations and their practices ought to be situated within ‘their wider economic and socio-political context, such as those shaped by global capitalism’ (2015: 29).

We agree with Berlingier (2015) regarding the need to situate issues of workplace harm and organisational practices within the wider political-economic context of global neoliberal capitalism. The organisational culture of probation that has been engendered by TR and that has generated the harms experienced by probation staff in this article does not work in isolation and cannot be separated from the underlying political-economic demands of neoliberalism and privatisation. Rather, the organisational culture of probation under TR is symptomatic and reflective of a deeper underlying cause: namely, the profit motive that underpins the privatisation of public service work. While useful, we argue that there is a need to move beyond a focus on organisational cultures and interpersonal forms of physical, verbal and psychological bullying within the workplace. These existing forms of workplace harm not only situate the problem with the individual or organisation but, in doing so, misconstrue the causal roots of the pressures and harms experienced in work today. Indeed, ‘without connecting the macro with the mezzo and micro’ Lloyd (2017: 269) argues that we miss an ‘opportunity to reflect on the nature of capitalism in contemporary society and the potential harm it inflicts on the workplace’. As issues of ‘wellbeing’, mental health, and ‘work-life balance’ become increasingly central watchwords and common phrases within the field of contemporary work (Davies, 2011), we suggest there is a need to interrogate the more subtle, mundane and normalised forms of harm that are systemically produced by and are a seemingly inherent feature of work under late-capitalism (see also Scott, 2017; Tombs, 2007). It is for this very reason that we have decided to adopt the term workplace harm instead of the more commonly used WPV. Ultimately, by adopting a social harm perspective we aim to take discussions of workplace harm in probation beyond the individualised, the extreme, and the extraordinary in order to ‘problematise what might otherwise be deemed a normal part of everyday employment’ (Scott, 2017: 96).

Methodology

As the implications of the delivery of TR began to surface the effects on frontline staff in the probation sector became very apparent. Speaking to various media sources, ‘whistle-blowers’ from within the probation sector documented job-cuts, increased caseloads, and organisational pressures affecting the wellbeing of staff. ³ While studies have documented the shifting attitudes, identities and working practices of probation staff following the deployment of TR (see, for example, Burke et al., 2016; Deering and Feilzer, 2015; Robinson et al., 2016), we identified an absence of research which examines the harms that TR and the broader neoliberal agenda are having on the welfare of frontline workers. For us, it was clearly necessary to explore and document how the systemic neoliberal employment culture of this revamped probation sector was having an acute impact upon individual workers’ mental and physical health, their professional identities and their personal lives.

Having gained full ethical approval from the University of Plymouth, and using qualitative semi-structured interviews ranging in length from one to two-and-a-half hours, the researchers spoke in total with eight men and women who had supervised offenders within the probation sector. To protect the identity of these participants, when quoting directly in this article, all names have been changed. While the authors were keen to speak to those at the frontline of probation, it became apparent early on that, due to the precarious position of those working in probation, this would not be feasible or ethical. Our decision to exclude this population was twofold. Firstly, in recognition of the stressful working environments identified by whistle-blowers in media sources, we wanted to avoid causing any further distress or harm to individuals still working in the probation sector. In addition, despite being theoretically protected from repercussions under the Public Interest Disclosure Act 1998, whistle-blowers, if identified, can find themselves subjected to punitive treatment from their employer (Scott, 2017). In ‘rocking the boat’ and challenging the authority of their organisation, Scott observes that employers may choose to make an example of that individual, thus preventing further dissidence amongst other disgruntled employees – a process he refers to as ‘disciplining by proxy’. Again, we wished to avoid causing further harm to participants in this way.

In recognition of this, we focused our discussions with former probation staff from different areas of England who had left following the publication of the government’s strategy document, Transforming Rehabilitation: A Strategy for Reform (MoJ, 2013). Following calls for participation made through the social media platform Twitter, participants were recruited utilising a mixture of purposive and snowball sampling. While the recruitment of participants in this way could generate criticism amongst some in that it may attract the attention of disgruntled former employees and is therefore ungeneralisable to the wider population, the tone of discussions within online forums such as the ‘On Probation Blog’ ⁴ and recent media exposés suggest that the issues identified here follow more generalised trends within the probation sector. Once all interviews were complete, transcripts were analysed thematically to understand participants’ experiences of TR and the broader changes within probation and to identify common themes and views.

Five of the individuals interviewed had been employed by probation trusts (within the previously unified probation service) before plans for TR were announced. Following the implementation of TR, of these five individuals, three were re-allocated to the CRC, a fourth left before they could be re-allocated, and one stayed in the newly reformed NPS. Of those three who joined after TR was implemented, one was employed within the NPS while the other two were employed within one of the 21 CRCs (however, one later left and sought employment in the NPS). Drawing upon Mawby and Worrall’s (2013) typology of probation workers, of these eight individuals, one (Nigel) would be categorised as a ‘lifer’, two (Susan and Roger) as ‘second careerists’ and the remaining five (Tracey, Hannah, Harvey, David and Mary) as ‘Offender Managers’ (OMs). Unlike the newer OM recruits, lifers and second careerists are typified by those ‘whose probation careers pre-date computers, National Standards and offender assessment instruments’ (Robinson et al., 2016: 172). As demonstrated in this article, these differences in demographics are important in shaping an individual’s view not only about TR but about changes to the probation sector more generally, and it is to this wider context that we now turn.

Neoliberalism, the changing face of probation, and ‘probation underground’

Through a process of privatisation, the introduction of market incentives, and the implementation of ‘New Public Management’ (NPM) policies, neoliberal ideology entails a reinvent(ion) of ‘public sector agencies along private sector managerial lines’ and encourages non-market institutions such as probation to function in market or business-like ways (Davies, 2017: 120). In other words, those who ascribe to neoliberal ideology assume that by privatising public services, loosening restrictions on capital and markets and introducing competition, quality will be improved, and costs reduced (Harvey, 2005). The emphasis is therefore on encouraging individual entrepreneurial freedoms while simultaneously outsourcing state responsibility from many areas of social provision. While much has been written about neoliberal ideology as a withdrawal from state intervention, as Davies (2017) has observed, neoliberalism has always been a state-driven process dependent upon strong and authoritarian state actors to enforce policies of austerity and privatisation. In this sense, ‘neoliberalism is not just a political and economic philosophy, but also an entrenched ideological framework’ (Teague, 2016: 133) and the logic of neoliberal ideology has, since the 1970s, permeated and become firmly embedded within the UK criminal justice system through policy and practice (Reiner, 2007; Teague, 2016; Whitehead and Crawshaw, 2012). Indeed, typified by reduced social welfare, the intensification of punishment, and the increasing marketisation and re-regulation of criminal justice agencies to free market principles (Corcoran, 2014), what has followed is a substantial punitive turn within England and Wales (Bell, 2011).

In the contemporary context, the stated goals of the criminal justice system’s institutions to reduce re-offending, deliver rehabilitation and protect the public have, in practice, been largely subordinated to economic interests and the preservation of the last 40 years of neoliberal political-economic orthodoxy (Whitehead, 2010). This has intensified significantly since the 2007–8 Global Financial Crash, since which in order to reduce the government ‘deficit’ austerity measures have been pursued in an attempt to reduce public spending through staff cuts, tightening of budgetary belts and, of course, privatising public services. Until recently, probation had managed to manoeuvre its way around marketisation and privatisation (Teague, 2016), retaining a resourceful workforce that had adapted to changing political and punitive demands (Senior et al., 2007). Today, however, probation stands as a clear example of the impact that neoliberal ideology has had on the criminal justice system. Once a humanitarian organisation (Deering and Feilzer, 2015) with an ethos of ‘advise, assist and befriend’, probation has been culturally transformed into a target-driven organisation primarily concerned with risk, public protection, and evidence-based practice (Whitehead, 2010). In other words, the pursuit of neoliberal ideology has altered probation from ‘a people-orientated service into one of commodities and products that can be competed for in the market-place’ (Whitehead, 2010: 89). Despite the discursive emphasis upon ‘progressive’ ideals of rehabilitation, more emphasis has been placed upon embracing market principles of ‘enhancing efficiency’, ‘maximising value’ and working within budgetary limits (National Audit Office, 2012). As one of our participants, David, explained:

The one thing that I think they really kind of got wrong with this is the whole ‘Payment by Results’ thing. You know, ultimately probation was set up to reduce reoffending and for the protection of the public. […] I could be wrong but for me that’s what probation is all about, you know, reduce reoffending and manage risk. […] So, you’ve set up a model and you’ve set up a system [based on] all these targets […] and I think that’s fundamentally what’s wrong with it. The government have pushed this and said, ‘We’ll pay you if you deliver on x, y, and z’ and by doing that we’re now spending less time with the offenders, which is essentially what’s going to help people to stop reoffending.

This was a recurring frustration amongst the participants interviewed within this study. Indeed, irrespective of when they began their career in probation, all participants discussed being motivated by their desire to do ‘meaningful work’ and ‘make a difference’. Mirroring findings by Mawby and Worrall (2013) in their study of probation culture and its impact on staff identity, many expressed their frustrations either at what they felt was the changing nature of their role, or at the stark contrast as to what they had expected probation work to entail. This point was summarised in the following extract from David, one of the newer recruits:

I joined the job as a probation officer to help people kind of move and change their lives and, you know, to support them in reducing reoffending. That’s what I joined it for. But in reality I felt like a…essentially like a database handler.

In a later section, we will return to this sense of alienation and disillusionment that participants experienced with the new goals and purpose of their work. However, for now, it is worth exploring how this experience prompted many workers to try and ‘resist’ the impact of neoliberal ideology on probation by both delaying their exits and attempting to preserve what they felt were the underlying ethical values of probation work. This is far from an isolated trend within contemporary public sector work. In a study of the impact of austerity measures on youth support workers, Colley (2012: 322) argues that in the face of significant organisational changes such as this, in which the values and ethos of an organisation shift dramatically, workers must decide ‘whether to pursue conscientious objection, compliance, or adopt a stance of “principled infidelity’”. In other words, whether to voice their grievances, re-align themselves with the new values of their organisation, or attempt to continue working in a way that sustains their own values. More common amongst our participants, however, was a blurring of these options, as they attempted to adhere to targets and organisational pressures while still working in a way in which they felt held true to their personal values and what they felt to be the ‘traditional’ values underpinning probation work. Mary, for example, spoke about how she felt she needed to ‘protect’ the clients she worked with from what she believed to be the negative impacts of TR by ‘working against the grain’.

With increasing workloads and administrative pressures placed upon staff, Mary, like others – particularly those working within the CRCs – felt frustrated by the lack of one-to-one time she could spend with clients. Similarly, Roger regularly worked late, justifying this as part of his ‘duty’ towards the client:

I had just constructed this kind of professional world into which I kind of weaved a home life because the work I was doing was meaningful, you know. […] The people I worked with needed support.

While, at the time of interview, all the participants in this study had indeed exited their organisation, this point is evidenced by the fact that many of our participants had delayed and drawn-out exits from probation characterised by significant inner turmoil. Hirschman’s seminal essay argues that individuals have three possible actions in response to the decline of an organisation: loyalty (remain), voice (protest), or exit (leave). However, Cederström and Fleming (2012) suggest that in the current socio-political and economic climate none of these options are particularly tenable. Protesting, they argue, often ‘puts us on the radar for the next wave of downsizing’ (2012: 64), while in the current job market, if one were to exit, where else is there to go? Finally, at what cost does loyalty come?

These were questions and concerns raised by all of our participants. Significantly, direct protest was not mentioned as an option among our participants. Instead, their turmoil appeared to manifest from two main, often interrelated issues: firstly, from a lack of alternative opportunities open to them. As Harvey explained:

I think I wanted to leave for a very long while […] [But] it’s very difficult to try and find another job sometimes and to just make a change like that, so I just stayed on.

Workload pressures amongst probation staff

In their sociological polemic Dead Man Working, Cederström and Fleming (2012) suggest that much of modern work, rather than characterised by physical harms, is more explicitly concerned with that of the dying spirit of the worker; a death, they suggest which ‘can be equally slow and painful’ (2012: 33). Work today has colonised almost all areas of social life, occupying our thoughts even in our sleep (Crary, 2013). Much of contemporary work, including probation, draws upon forms of ‘emotional labour’ (Hochschild, 1983) such as affability, communication skills and sociability. We can see this in the command to ‘do something you love’, to incorporate work as part of our personal identities and to inject authenticity, meaning and life-affirming moments into our work; a trend quite clearly reflected in our participants’ desire to do ‘meaningful work’ within a profession they felt was ‘more than just a job’.

Supporting such an assertion, Scott (2017) demonstrates through his research how, whether in the form of insecure employment, excessive hours generated by unmanageable workloads, or a sense of occupational devotion, a common reality for the modern-day worker is the blurring between work life and home life. This blurred reality was one also shared by many of the participants in this study. The need to work above and beyond contracted hours was a recurring theme during interviews. Having worked in probation since the mid-1970s, one of our participants, Nigel, was quick to point out that this was not a new feature of probation work. Originally, Nigel argued, this was because of dedication to the job; wanting to work long hours due to a sense of love and devotion to the work which was closely tied up with his biography. However, as time has moved on and the probation service has undergone the forms of depersonalisation and deprofessionalisation characteristic of neoliberal trends in criminal justice, he explained that the reasoning and motivation behind this ‘overtime’ shifted:

I can remember working long hours, but it was different. It was longer hours because I was putting in the time working with people […] [doing] things which I felt was important. […] Now people are coming in at the weekend to do all their OASys and all their assessments and paperwork to defend themselves and the agency.

Yet, as the values and ethics of probation were perceived to have changed, the ‘heat’ of heightened caseloads and an increased burden to meet targets also became more difficult to endure in the absence of a sense of meaningful rationale. Interestingly, in many cases this would not prompt refusal to work beyond contracted hours. To the contrary, work would simply seep into all pockets of life, often spiralling as staff would sign-off with stress or illness, thereby increasing an already unmanageable workload. As David explained:

It was quite ‘funny’ because me and one of my colleagues were like ‘oh it can’t get any worse than this’ and gradually it did. […] Someone would go off sick with whatever, for whatever reason and we’d have to take over all their caseloads. Then someone else would go off sick and we’d have to look after their caseloads. And, you know, we kept on saying ‘oh it will get better, it will get better’ and it just progressively got worse and worse […] to the point where I had 80 plus cases. […] I was constantly coming home everyday just moody and depressed, you know, just really down […] She [my partner] could see that […] and her response was ‘well you need to get out of there, you need to get out of there!’ and I knew that, and I got that, but until you’re ready to do that, it won’t happen. […] [So] for us both, yeah, it was…it was difficult.

Unlike physical illness, emotional problems often elicit less sympathy within the workplace (Cederström and Fleming, 2012). Rather than viewed as the product of the nature of work and workplace cultures, blame is often placed upon the individual worker insofar as it is not the targets that have caused the stress but rather the worker who has failed to manage their time effectively. This was expressed explicitly by Tracey:

It’s very much a culture of…it’s all top-down and if you have a problem it’s because you aren’t managing your time, and you aren’t managing your offenders, and you aren’t managing your morale.

Conclusion

In this article we have built upon a growing body of literature that explores how TR, when situated within a broader neoliberal agenda, has impacted upon frontline staff within the probation sector. In drawing upon the lived experiences of eight former probation workers we have attempted to demonstrate how such changes constitute a pervasive form of work-based harm. From the experiences of our participants we can see how TR and its neoliberal ideological base have not only destroyed morale but also how it has engendered more insidious forms of harm for probation staff, such as stress, overwork, depression, domestic conflict, feelings of pointlessness and even suicidal thoughts. Such existential insecurity is indicative of labour under neoliberal capitalism today.

It is important to recognise that the problems experienced by the probation staff in this article were not just a case of ruthlessly demanding managers bullying and creating extraordinary working conditions to have their demands met. To the contrary, under the contemporary context of late-capitalism, these problems are quite ordinary (though nonetheless harmful). Qualitative changes to the nature of work under neoliberal capitalism have demanded reduced public spending, maximised value extracted from workers and, ultimately, enhanced profits. Indeed, while such harms and conditions are an established feature of work within the private and commercial sectors, in the context of austerity and privatisation they are no longer simply the preserve of the corporate sector. Indeed, while this research has focused on examining the impact decades of neoliberal policies has had on day-to-day culture and working practices of probation staff, we believe our findings are likely to be transferable to a wide range of criminal and public sector institutions.