Reflections on "Supply Chain Justice: The Logistics of Border Control"

At the book launch for her recently published book, Supply Chain Justice, Mary Bosworth explained why she had chosen to explore the economic nature of the immigration detention system in the UK. Her hope is that - by examining this less explored area of immigration detention (in contrast to the wealth of research into the punitive and harmful nature of detention) - this can open new discursive possibilities and illuminate different avenues for challenging the use of detention.

The focus of the Supply Chain Justice is on the “immigration detainee escorting system” in the UK. That is the in-country escorting (ICE) – i.e. the movement of people detained between ports, police stations, various sites of detention and to court – and the overseas escorting (OSE) a system – i.e. the expulsion of people from the UK via scheduled and charter flights. This system is privatised and wholly contracted to Mitie.  Originally a cleaning and facilities management company, Mitie may have seemed an unlikely contender for this contract, a contract which earnt them half a billion [1].However - as Mary explains – their experience in logistics and of managing a mobile workforce in fact positioned them well to manage the “border control supply chain”.

The Supply Chain Justice takes us through the web of infrastructure which makes up the immigration detainee escorting system and which were the sites for Mary’s extensive research. Two control centres – the in-country control centre in Belfast and the overseas escorting centre at Spectrum House near Gatwick airport – are the sites of data management where, respectively, internal transfers and removals are co-ordinated or, as one of the staff members that Mary spoke to puts it, where the “brain” (pg. 25) of the system does its thinking. The data that is inputted and tracked at these sites is also what allows Mitie to monetise their services by measuring performance indicators against their service level agreement with the government. For example, how many people ICE moves in a day will generate a payment. Mary also joined Mitie staff in secure vans which form the mobile infrastructure of the system and she visited residential short-term holding facilities (RSTFs) and holding rooms - the system’s physical infrastructure - which serve an important function as they keep the supply chain moving, giving the Home Office the ability to free up spaces in London detention centres by the airports in preparation for removals. Or, as Mary puts it, circulating people for “administrative convenience” (pg. 85). Enforced removals are the endpoint of the supply chain, where its purpose is supposedly realised using charters to facilitate “bulk movements” (pg. 135) or carefully co-ordinated scheduled flights (“supposedly” because, as Mary points out, most flights are cancelled putting into question the exact function of this system).

On reading Supply Chain Justice, I was reminded of something that Aminata Kalakoh (my colleague, Senior Member Coordinator at AVID) once said to me. That is:

‍“we are money making machines.”

In Mary’s description of the border control supply chain, it is people who are the “product” – people who arrive or stay in the UK and are subject to detention, people who are sorted, managed, moved and monetised. The government is the customer and Mitie’s shareholders, alongside a myriad of other private companies who are involved in this system, its profiteers.  

This money-making process is put most frankly by some of the staff members interviewed by Mary during her research. For example, in one conversation with an oversees escort – Tony - Tony explains that the purpose of his job (and the escorting contract which it is part of) is:

“to transfer public funds into private hands by using hatred of migrants created by the media to allow very little scrutiny… the worst thing about my job is knowing it’s just about shareholder dividends”(pg. 129)

and later, when talking about the impossibility of the Rwanda plans:

“there’s millions of pounds being thrown at it, and my shares (as a senior staff member) have tripled in value… this is not about deporting people to Rwanda. This is about controlling the narrative and getting the money”.

Mary is more nuanced in her arguments, explaining ways in which failure, crisis and profit are all built into the system. The potential for failure is recognised in the contract between the Home Office and Mitie, where either side can be fined for failing to perform (e.g. for a missed deportation, late delivery or – most galling – for a death in custody which incurs a £10,000 fine). Crisis at the border has led to innovation, investment and profit or as McKinsey management consultancy firm puts it “a major growth opportunity for (third party logistics) (pg. 61). And the level of financial (£715 million to be precise[2]) and political commitment to the Rwanda plans, despite its inherent flaws and ultimate failure, is by no means an outlier as Mary’s analysis makes clear –70% of flights and internal movements are, ultimately, cancelled.

Returning to Mary’s starting point for the book, this certainly invites new questions. We often talk about the fact that the immigration detention system fails on its own terms – i.e. the majority of people who are detained are not in fact removed – but we have not yet found the language to explain this in a way that does not lend itself to an argument “well we should just be better at removing people then”. We must not shy away from talking about different motivations that govern the immigration detention system. We should go beyond the argument that the system “fails on its own terms” and look more closely at what the actual terms of the system are including political and financial ends. From here, the question of “why the system is sustained despite its failures?” becomes “who is this system benefitting?” The argument that detention and removals is for the good of local UK communities unravels and we can make new connections about the wider societal impacts of this system.

This line of argument can also lead to new possibilities for campaigns against immigration detention. Not only is the system sustained through financial investment but through the commitment from a vast array of actors. These are just some of the companies referenced in Supply Chain Justice: Maple Systems and the VUE group - who operate CCTV in the secure vans - Vauxhall - who make the vans - Aeromed -paramedics sub-contracted by Mitie to accompany removals - Carlson Wagonlit Travel - who make travel arrangements for schedule flights and VPI and Pilgrims- who conduct risk assessments. In this network - following the example of previous campaigns such as Freedom From Torture’s campaign which saw Privilege Style and Titan Airways withdraw their involvement in flying people to Rwanda - we might find new targets to influence or even unlikely allies.

Other unlikely connections might be found with potential recruits for jobs in the border control supply chain. Contrary to government arguments that new sites of detention create desirable jobs, these jobs see regular turnover and have a significant impact on people’s mental health. In the Detainee Escorting Staff survey, which formed part of Mary’s research, one in eight of the respondents had had suicidal thoughts in the previous week. Looking again to past examples and as highlighted in Supply Chain Justice, the first legal challenge brought against the Rwanda plans was from the Public and Commercial Services Union (PCS) - who represent border force agents and immigration case workers, alongside a group of NGOs.

Not only did reading Supply Chain Justice make me wonder about who is gaining from this system, it made me sad for what is lost - not just through the immense financial investment but what is taken from our shared humanity.

Whilst the focus of Mary’s book is on the mechanics of the border control supply chain, this cannot in fact be separated from the harmful and violent nature of the detention system. This is because, as is clear throughout every chapter of the book, violence is not distinct from its bureaucracy; rather, they are concurrent.  While the system dehumanises the people who are treated as a “product”, it never-the-less deals with people, people who do not want to be moved. Coercion and control are necessary features, therefore, of the system. Its coercive nature is simultaneously transformed and diffused by the bureaucracy of form filling, rules, and data entry – whereby the emphasis for the use of force is the importance of documentation and whether someone has a food allergy or has experienced suicidal ideation are two questions on the same form. Or, as Mary puts it,

“The system defines and manages violence, absorbing and neutralising it within the supply chain” (pg.152). 

The end result is that – in this system - it is “business as usual” for someone to be put on a plane, bleeding, while staff stand by and observe.

In the midst of this violent system, I was struck by the staff members who – when questioned by Mary on what they like about their jobs in detainee escorting – answered that they get to meet people from all over the world who they never would otherwise, learn about different cultures, religions, food and languages.

What Supply Chain Justice makes clear is that if efforts were invested in infrastructure geared towards shared communities instead of in keeping people out, we all stand to gain - not just materially but through the wealth that exists in human connections.  

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References:

[1] https://news.mitie.com/news/mitie-awarded-contract-with-the-home-office

[2] Breakdown of Home Office costs associated with the MEDP with Rwanda and the Illegal Migration Act 2023 - GOV.UK

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