On 13 November 2025, the Government announced that the role of elected Police and Crime Commissioners (PCCs) will be abolished before the end of this Parliament.
Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood described the system as a “failed experiment” and promised that its removal would save £100 million over the next few years. The current 41 commissioners — introduced 12 years ago under the Cameron–May government — will serve out their terms until 2028, after which their powers will transfer to elected mayors or council leaders.
For many people, this may sound like a dry reshuffle of local government. After all, only around 20% of voters can name their PCC. Yet the decision to dismantle this layer of local accountability will have deep consequences for the commissioning of victim services, for community-based justice programmes, and for the thousands of people — especially women — who rely on those services to stay safe, rebuild their lives, or avoid reoffending.
There are currently 41 Police and Crime Commissioners across England and Wales, each responsible for setting policing priorities, holding local chief constables to account, and commissioning support services for victims and rehabilitation programmes for offenders.
After the May 2024 PCC elections, the Association of Police and Crime Commissioners reported that 12 of the 37 elected commissioners were women — around one-third of all posts. For a role long criticised for its lack of diversity, this represented slow but visible progress.
That progress now risks being rolled back. As the system is dismantled, there is no guarantee that women — who are still underrepresented in senior policing and local government leadership — will retain the same level of representation once powers shift to mayors or council leaders.
Behind the headlines about policing budgets and “cutting red tape”, PCCs perform a set of functions that are anything but peripheral. They fund victim support services, domestic abuse and sexual violence charities, and community projects that work with women and men leaving prison.
They also chair or coordinate Local Criminal Justice Boards, Violence Reduction Units, and multi-agency groups that link prisons, probation, police and councils. In short, they are the connective tissue between the justice system and local communities.
Removing PCCs without a robust transition plan could unravel that network of services overnight.
Each PCC is supported by a small office — often 20 to 50 staff — who manage contracts, funding and community engagement. Across England and Wales, that amounts to hundreds of skilled public servants whose jobs are now uncertain. While the Government promises “savings”, it has yet to say how many of those staff will be absorbed into councils or mayoral offices, or how existing victim services contracts will be protected.
The Home Office argues that abolishing PCCs will save £100 million over this Parliament. But to date, over £100 million has already been spent running PCC offices and elections since 2019 — not a huge sum relative to the £17 billion policing budget.
The key question is whether those savings will actually improve the justice system or simply disappear into general expenditure. The Association of Police and Crime Commissioners (APCC) has warned that removing directly elected oversight could create an “accountability vacuum”, weakening public confidence in how policing decisions are made.
Many PCCs, regardless of political colour, have publicly criticised the move. They argue that the model was finally beginning to mature — bringing local responsiveness, focus on victims, and community partnerships — just as the rug has been pulled from under it.
Perhaps the most worrying consequence lies in the commissioning of services. PCCs fund local organisations that support survivors of domestic abuse, sexual violence, and stalking — many of which are small, women-led charities that depend on multi-year contracts from PCC offices.
If those commissioning powers shift to council leaders or mayors in 2028, there is a serious risk that smaller charities could lose funding or face long delays while new authorities reorganise budgets and priorities.
Without clear transitional arrangements, gaps in funding could mean the closure of specialist refuges, counselling projects, and restorative-justice programmes that help women leave cycles of abuse and offending.
These are not abstract fears. Each PCC has built networks and expertise over a decade. Replacing them with broader municipal structures risks diluting focus on specialist support and losing institutional knowledge about local needs.
PCCs also play a critical role in linking probation, prisons, and police. They co-commission resettlement programmes, addiction services, and employment support for people leaving custody.
If those partnerships falter during the handover to mayors or councils, the result could be more reoffending, fewer rehabilitative pathways, and a heavier burden on the already overstretched prison and probation system.
The abolition of PCCs will have a disproportionate impact on women — both as service users and as professionals.
Women make up a third of PCCs but a much higher proportion of those working in victim services, community safety, and rehabilitation programmes funded by PCC offices. These are the very roles that may be lost or destabilised.
Moreover, women in the criminal justice system — whether as victims, survivors, or offenders — often depend on continuity of care across agencies. PCC-led commissioning has been central in maintaining those links.
If funding is frozen or redirected, support for women in or leaving prison, survivors of sexual violence, and women at risk of offending could all suffer. The result: more women falling through the cracks, more trauma unaddressed, and more lives set back by the loss of local advocacy.
When the role was created in 2012, critics called it an experiment. Now, the Government has declared that experiment over.
But perhaps the real failure lies not with the PCC model itself, but with a political culture that undervalues local accountability. Scrapping elected commissioners might deliver headline savings, but the hidden costs — in lost expertise, disrupted services, and weaker public confidence — will take years to repair.
What’s needed now is transparency: a clear plan for how victims’ services, women’s justice initiatives, and rehabilitation projects will be protected during the transition. Without that, this “saving” could become another quiet dismantling of the very networks that make justice humane and effective.
Image source: The Guardian