UK explores upgrading prison security to ease overcrowding crisis

England's prison system is running out of space, and the government is now quietly exploring an unconventional fix: upgrading the security at lower-risk facilities to shuffle prisoners around like pieces on a board. The idea, which officials have been examining for weeks, would involve moving remand prisoners and those serving short sentences out of the Victorian reception prisons—places like HMP Liverpool, Manchester, and Pentonville—and into category C jails or repurposed women's prisons, once their security infrastructure has been sufficiently hardened.

The pressure to find a solution has become urgent. Andy Burnham, the prime minister, demanded this week that Justice Secretary Alex Norris produce a plan to free up cell space, driven in part by a political firestorm over the potential early release of the men convicted of killing police officer Andrew Harper in 2019. The public outcry has been intense, particularly from Harper's family, and the government is keen to demonstrate it is doing everything possible to prevent their release. But the underlying crisis is far larger than one case: England and Wales holds approximately 86,000 prisoners across its estate, and the system is buckling under the weight.

The reception prisons—there are 30 of them scattered across the country—are the front door of the system. They are typically old, often dating back to the Victorian era, with high walls, razor wire, and controlled access points. They hold remand prisoners awaiting trial and those serving short sentences, and they are severely overcrowded. The remand population alone now comprises roughly one-fifth of all prisoners in England and Wales, a proportion that has climbed steeply in recent years as court backlogs have lengthened. These facilities deploy X-ray body scanners to detect contraband—drugs, phones, weapons—hidden internally, a measure of how much pressure they face.

Category C prisons, by contrast, are designed differently. About half of the prison estate falls into this category. They hold prisoners assessed as low to moderate security risks and focus on preparing offenders for work and resettlement. They lack the high walls and razor wire of reception prisons, and prisoners face fewer body scans and searches. The government's proposal would essentially upgrade these facilities—and potentially convert emptied women's prisons—to hold the overflow from reception jails, freeing up space for more serious offenders.

But the plan faces immediate skepticism from those who work inside the system. Mark Fairhurst, the national chair of the Prison Officers Association, warned that upgrading security in any prison is a lengthy process that will not solve the immediate crisis. The category C estate is already tight for space, he noted, because of delays in moving suitable prisoners to open conditions. What the system actually needs, he argued, is a reduction in the remand population itself—fewer people held awaiting trial, not a reshuffling of where they are held.

Andrew Neilson, director of campaigns at the Howard League for Penal Reform, raised a different concern: that the plan risks eroding the distinction between prison categories altogether. If category C facilities become as crowded and security-focused as category B reception prisons, they will cease to function as places of rehabilitation. "Is the government just accepting that there is no room for rehabilitation in prisons that were designed to offer it?" he asked. "If so, this is a counsel of despair."

Meanwhile, the government has also been exploring more exotic solutions. Both the Conservative Party and Reform UK have suggested renting cells in foreign prisons—including in Estonia—to ease overcrowding. But that option has now closed. Estonia's justice minister, Liisa Pakosta, told the BBC this week that her country will not rent jail cells to other nations while it is already housing Swedish prisoners in its half-empty Tartu facility. The UK government itself explored the idea in 2024 and found it led nowhere.

With foreign solutions off the table and domestic upgrades facing time constraints and philosophical objections, the government is left with a narrowing set of options. Burnham has promised to turn over every stone, to listen to families like the Harpers, and to push the system further. But the stones being turned over reveal a system that has outgrown its infrastructure, and the solutions being considered may only delay the reckoning rather than resolve it.