17/08/2026
THE PRISON CRISIS:
EMPTY CELLS, EMPTY LANDINGS AND STAFF RUNNING ON EMPTY
There are empty prison cells across the country.
Not because we have suddenly solved overcrowding.
Not because crime has disappeared.
Not because the prison population has collapsed.
Some of those cells are empty because there simply aren’t enough staff to safely operate them.
Welcome to the modern prison crisis.
A crisis where Government talks about creating prison places while existing capacity can be restricted by the inability to safely staff it.
Where experienced officers leave and those remaining are expected to absorb the pressure.
Where Operational Support Grades, prison officers, managers, healthcare, OMU and countless other staff somehow keep establishments functioning while the system around them becomes increasingly stretched.
And when one prison cannot cope?
Detached duty.
Pack a bag.
Leave your home establishment.
Travel elsewhere.
Help plug another staffing gap created by the same national staffing problems affecting your own jail.
Then return home and discover that the pressures haven’t magically disappeared while you were gone.
And let’s make the CJWU position absolutely clear:
Other unions may be prepared to support detached duty as an answer to the staffing crisis.
THE CJWU DO NOT.
We do not accept that repeatedly moving already overstretched staff around the country represents a credible solution to years of recruitment and retention failures.
We do not accept that staff should be expected to disrupt their home lives, travel significant distances and leave their own establishments short simply because workforce planning has failed elsewhere.
And we certainly do not accept that forced or compelled detached duty should become normalised as a substitute for properly staffing our prisons.
Detached duty may temporarily move the problem.
It does not solve it.
You cannot cure a national staffing shortage by moving the shortage from one prison to another.
This isn’t resilience.
It’s robbing Peter to pay Paul and calling it workforce planning.
Meanwhile, those who remain walk through the gate every day knowing exactly what understaffing means.
It means fewer people available when an alarm sounds.
Less time to speak to the prisoner whose behaviour has suddenly changed.
Less opportunity to notice the warning signs before self-harm.
Less time for meaningful rehabilitation.
More pressure.
More overtime.
More fatigue.
More experienced staff wondering whether they can continue.
And potentially another resignation that makes tomorrow’s staffing position even worse.
Then comes another review.
Another reform.
Another policy.
Another restructuring.
Another initiative.
Another announcement telling frontline staff that somebody, somewhere, has finally discovered how to fix prisons.
Those staff have seen it before.
The wheel isn’t just reinvented anymore.
It’s reinvented, renamed, rebranded, relaunched and rolled straight back over the people keeping the system alive.
Every reform seems to demand more from fewer people.
Every efficiency eventually reaches the frontline.
Every staffing gap becomes somebody else’s additional responsibility.
Every operational failure becomes another process.
And every time the system approaches breaking point, the extraordinary men and women working inside it are expected to stretch just a little further.
Yet there is a limit.
You cannot operate safe prisons without enough prison staff.
You cannot rehabilitate people when staff barely have enough time to complete the essentials.
You cannot maintain decent regimes when wings cannot safely operate.
You cannot keep moving staff around the country indefinitely and pretend the underlying vacancies have disappeared.
And you cannot announce thousands of prison places while ignoring the fundamental question:
WHO IS GOING TO STAFF THEM?
Behind every ministerial announcement about capacity sits a much less comfortable reality.
A prison cell is not a prison place simply because somebody built a door and bolted it to the floor.
It needs officers.
It needs OSGs.
It needs healthcare.
It needs OMU staff.
It needs operational managers.
It needs maintenance, education, administration and support.
It needs experienced people who understand prisons.
And most importantly:
It needs enough of them.
The CJWU sees the people behind the statistics.
The officer finishing another exhausting shift.
The OSG covering another essential duty.
The member of staff being told to travel miles on detached duty because another establishment cannot safely function without reinforcements.
The family whose plans are disrupted because staffing failures elsewhere have suddenly become their problem too.
The experienced colleague quietly deciding that enough is enough.
And those who stay, still unlocking doors, answering alarms, preventing self-harm, managing violence, supporting vulnerable prisoners and protecting the public while carrying pressures that rarely make a Government press release.
They aren’t failing the prison system.
They are the reason it is still functioning.
Stop reinventing the wheel.
Stop moving an inadequate workforce around the country to disguise shortages.
Stop treating detached duty as workforce planning.
Stop treating experienced staff as an endlessly renewable resource.
Recruit.
Retain.
Invest.
Listen to the frontline.
Because eventually there won’t be another establishment to borrow staff from.
There won’t be another shift that can be covered.
There won’t be another colleague willing to sacrifice their wellbeing to fill the gap.
You can build all the cells you like.
Without the people to safely operate them, they’re just expensive empty rooms.
And on detached duty, our position couldn’t be clearer:
Other unions may support it.
THE CJWU DO NOT.
A staffing crisis should be fixed -not redistributed.
CJWU - Criminal Justice Workers Union
Standing with the people who keep the criminal justice system running when policy, politics and promises fail.