James Timpson’s resignation as prisons minister ends one of Keir Starmer’s most imaginative appointments. Entering Government in July 2024, Timpson generated rare optimism among prison reformers, as well as people working across criminal justice more broadly. Here was a minister who had actually run something. During 22 years as a chief executive, he grew the family business from 300 to more than 2,000 shops while employing hundreds of former prisoners. He had chaired the Prison Reform Trust and connected prisons with employers.

Timpson understood that rehabilitation could work. In his maiden speech, he said prisons produced “better criminals, not better citizens”. He later promised empowered governors, trained officers, purposeful activity and an attack on drugs. Organizational change, he warned, took three to five years; he intended to “stay the course”.

He leaves after two. His claim that prisons and probation are in a much “healthier and happier” state is difficult to square with the evidence. Self-harm has fallen, 3,100 new places have been delivered, and the capacity crisis has eased. But much of that relief came from Timpson’s emergency early-release scheme, which moved the automatic release point for eligible prisoners from 50% to 40%. It prevented collapse, but releasing thousands earlier than scheduled cannot be mistaken for fixing the system.

Earlier this month, the Chief Inspector of Prisons reported that 41% of men found drugs easy to obtain and organized crime groups operated “with impunity”. Work, training and education remained grossly inadequate. Labour has overseen a 20–25% reduction in core education hours, while official figures show assaults rose by 2.7%, prisoner-on-prisoner assaults by 6%, and homicides reached a record of nine.

This is not an intractable problem. Instead, it is a failure of political will and priorities. For decades, ministers have swung between cheap declarations of toughness and equally superficial talk of rehabilitation, while avoiding the unglamorous work of restoring authority inside prisons. Timpson brought practical knowledge, but knowledge without the power and resolve to impose change is not reform.

Having reminded ourselves of this mission, we need to build the places required while reserving custody for those who present a real danger. Whatever one thinks of Lucy Connolly’s words, sentencing a mother to 31 months in jail for stirring up racial hatred through a social media post was hardly a sensible use of scarce prison space.

Space alone, however, will not create order. Prisons need experienced, brave officers, backed by governors when confronting violence, intimidation and drug dealing. The difficulty is finding — and keeping — them. The latest Prison Service Pay Review Body report recorded concerns that recruitment was “poor” and entrant quality “not as good as it should be”, while almost one in 10 officers left last year. Modest pay and volatile wings make it difficult to retain recruits long enough to become experienced. Former Armed Forces personnel should therefore be recruited, alongside others with the temperament to enforce boundaries and run reliable regimes.

Violence should meet an immediate, certain response. Criminal organizers flooding wings with drugs should be removed from the mainstream and managed in specialist units, just as influential extremists can be placed in separation centers. Close supervision centers show that dangerous prisoners can be contained safely and under review. Human rights law should prevent abuse, not give violent prisoners a veto over safe custody. Where law or prison rules obstruct necessary separation, Parliament should provide clear statutory authority. Safety must come first.

Rehabilitation must recover its moral core. Education and employment matter, but neither works in prisons governed by drugs, fear and idleness. The regime should require prisoners to exercise agency, accept responsibility and earn trust through conduct. Staff must challenge coercion and extremism without fearing that an allegation of prejudice will end their career — a problem identified by the Acheson review a decade ago.

Timpson leaves the estate safer from immediate collapse, but not properly ordered, disciplined or rehabilitative. That is far from a success. Yet the failure is not his alone: it belongs to a political culture that wants the language of punishment and the results of reform, without accepting the cost or confrontation required for either.