I should be as upset as the hon. Gentleman or any other Member would be if such circumstances were to arise, but I do not believe that threats should be made to individual Ministers. I have made my point and I shall continue.
I praise the Dorset probation service, which is outstanding. I agree with many of the points that have been raised. I spoke in the Opposition day debate and I agree with many points made by the Opposition
and by one or two Members on the Government Benches. The probation service has made comments to me about privatisation and the 70% that has been suggested in the House tonight, and there are concerns about this. Will people fall through the gaps? What about careers, as has been asked? There are serious concerns about whether this proposal from the coalition Government will work. All I would say is that something is better than nothing, as we have heard from several good speakers on the Government Benches. We must do something because the reoffending rate is unacceptable.
Perhaps the situation has become so serious that we should be even more radical than the Government now are. At the young offenders institution on Portland, Sir James Spicer, who was the MP for West Dorset—I am sure some in the House will remember him—has introduced an initiative called the Airborne Initiative. The young men from that young offenders institution are taken out to Dartmoor and for five or six days they are taken day and night across the moors to navigate and learn about team spirit, camaraderie, friendship, discipline—all the things that these reoffenders and many young men and, dare I say, young ladies need.
Will the private sector and all these good intentions solve the problem? Has it got to such a point that the state needs to be even more radical? Perhaps I could lodge an idea in the minds of those on the Front Bench. How about a third force? I am not talking about making people join the armed forces, because as an ex-soldier myself I know that that clearly would not work, but I have trained young soldiers for two years, and some of them—not all—have arrived at the barracks in a similar state of mind to many young men who are in jail today. But six months later, after the training and the discipline they have received, and the friendship and camaraderie that have been engendered, these are young men one would be proud to die with. The system works.
So why do we not have a third force in this country? Why do we not put the Border Force and Customs and Excise all under one cap badge, run it on a militaristic basis and into that organisation put young men and women who, on a third warning in the magistrates court—call it what you will—rather than being sent to the young offenders institution in Portland, are given a chance? They can spend two years in the third force or go to jail. If they go to the third force and make a mistake, they end up in jail. Those who are coming to the end of a sentence of, say, six or seven years, are told in year five that they have a choice: two more years in jail or two more years with the third force.
The third force would be manned by volunteers who made a career on the sea, in the air and on the land—manned to a large extent by ex-service personnel. Rather than give second or third-hand ships to countries like India, those ships can be kept in this country and used for that purpose. Aircraft that may have outlived their usefulness on the front line can be used in the air. Those who have served in the Army can join the third force and represent the third force on the land. I know, because I have seen it work, that when young men and women are given a structure, discipline and hope, they can be turned around. Will all the good intentions of the private sector and the probation service, which, as I said, in Dorset is exceptional, work? The problem we have heard today from my hon. Friend the Member for Salisbury (John Glen) costs £7 billion to £10 billion a
year. If we can grab just 30% or 40% of these young people and turn them around, which I believe we could do, when they leave the third force they can go on to contribute to society. They learn what it is like to be selfless, to give, to work together with other people, and to contribute to their country.
I very much hope that all these good intentions work, and I welcome something being done to cut the reoffending rate, but we could go much further and be far more radical with the future of our young people, many of whom have no structure at all in their lives. As a Conservative, I do not like the state to get involved, but perhaps the problem is so big that the state must get involved to cut the bill further. The state has the power and the money to provide something that these young people can be put into and given a chance. If the light is turned on, it is so simple. I have seen it happen. People with no hope are given a simple task to do, the structure and discipline within which to do it, and their lives are changed.
The police, ambulance and fire services ran an experiment with 12 young people aged 14 to 16 years old, out on one of the moors. They had four baddies, let us call them, four who were pretty okay, and four goodies, and they put them all together to spend the night out on the moor. The first task was run by a huge barrel-chested ex-Royal Marine. He said to them, “Right, your first task is to put up your tent.” None of these people had ever seen a tent. It was one of those old ones, with lots of bits and bobs, made of canvas. They stood there looking at it with hands in pockets and phones ringing. Their whole attitude was, “What the hell am I doing here?” Then one of them said, “Staff, could you come and help me?” The sergeant-major said, “Gentlemen, and ladies, gather around. What is the first lesson in life?” They looked at him perplexed. He said, “You’ve just done it: if you don’t understand, you ask.” Within an hour the tent was up.
The next day I watched all three groups go round quite a challenging assault course. They put the two bad boys with the two ladies and sent them around. The two young men who were the worst offenders—they clearly came across as the worst—were the best at it, and when they finished they went back, without being asked, to help the ladies, who were struggling. They finished the assault course and stood with their shoulders back, inspired. They had been gripped, disciplined and they had achieved something. I am utterly convinced that if that small glimmer of light was pursued they would have a chance in life.
It is nothing new. It is not reinventing the wheel. I believe that the Government’s intentions are honourable and good, as are the Opposition’s, but will it work, because the problem is so serious? I am afraid that my answer, from my experience of life and from looking around—I have been around a few years—is that it will not, and certainly not to the degree that it should and could.
Someone said from a sedentary position, “Put them in the Army.” I am not saying that we should put them in the Army; I am saying that many of those young people need what the Army and those sorts of careers engender. The hon. Member for Barnsley Central (Dan Jarvis), who is sitting on the Opposition Front Bench, is a distinguished former officer of the Parachute Regiment. He knows exactly where I am coming from, and I suspect
that in his heart he knows I am right. We can reach lots of young people if we are more radical and daring and go back to the old-fashioned way of helping people who are in trouble and need our help. I leave that thought with Members on the Front Bench.
I will support the Bill tonight and hope that it works but, on behalf of the probation service in Dorset, I have some doubts about whether it will be sufficient. As many Members across the House have said tonight, there are genuine concerns that people will fall through the net. That is what worries me. That is the risk element. We have to accept that there is an element of risk, but there is risk in whatever we do. Have we balanced the whole argument to ensure that the risk is as minimal as possible? In this case—I do not like using this expression—only time will tell. I hope for all our sakes that it works.