Introduction

According to Bateman (2016) and Paterson-Young et al. (2019), youth detention facilities offer a distinct and frequently difficult environment for young people. Each year, thousands of children and young people become involved in the youth criminal justice system and experience periods of detention or incarceration. For instance, the year April 2023 to March 2024 saw 13,686 children and young people aged 10 to 17 in England and Wales receive a caution or a sentence (Youth Justice Board, 2025) Although there have been attempts to bring about changes in youth justice procedures, there are ongoing concerns over the possible adverse effects of subjecting young individuals to custodial settings during their developmental stages (British Medical Association, 2014; Day, 2022; Paterson-Young, 2022).

Young people’s experiences in detention can influence their perceptions, emotional well-being, and future trajectories (British Medical Association, 2014; Sutherland et al., 2017; Case and Hampson, 2019). There are concerns over the long-term effects on their mental health, social integration, and overall life outcomes while navigating the complexity of the judicial system at a crucial developmental time (Taylor, 2016; Paterson-Young et al., 2019). In order to effectively guide policies, practices, and interventions aimed at minimising harm and fostering rehabilitation, it is important to obtain a comprehensive understanding of the lived experiences and perspectives of young individuals who have experienced youth detention and incarceration (Haines and Case, 2015; Case, 2022).

For clarity, this article uses the terms custody, detention facilities, and youth detention interchangeably, recognising that while they carry slightly different legal and institutional connotations, they all describe contexts in which children are deprived of their liberty within the youth justice system (Goldson, 2002; Bateman, 2016).

Despite policy commitments to reform, this article confirms what has long been established: custody continues to neglect the developmental, educational and mental health needs of children. These are not new insights — studies over more than a decade have consistently documented the same harms, from violations of rights and exposure to violence through to inadequate rehabilitative provision (Haines and Case, 2015; Taylor, 2016; Paterson-Young, Hazenberg and Bajwa-Patel, 2019). The central argument of this article is therefore that the persistence of these themes itself demands attention. That is, the problem is not a lack of evidence, but a lack of progress in practice and policy. This raises pressing questions about the effectiveness of current youth justice interventions and highlights the need for structural change if custody is to meet children’s most basic needs.

From evidence to themes

This article identifies a wide range of research exploring children’s experiences of custody. While studies have varied in terms of jurisdiction, methodology, and focus, a striking consistency emerges in their findings (Goldson 2002; BMA, 2014; Sutherland et al., 2017; Paterson-Young, Hazenberg and Bajwa-Patel, 2019; Hampson et al., 2024). Children repeatedly describe environments that are restrictive, unsafe, and ill-suited to their developmental needs. The themes of rights violations, exposure to violence, and unmet educational and mental health needs dominate the research (Taylor, 2016; Case & Hampson, 2019; Hampson, Nisbet & Case, 2024).

What is most notable is not the novelty of these findings, but their persistence. Despite more than a decade of reform initiatives and repeated calls for child-centred practice, the same problems continue to surface. This article therefore presents the key themes, not as new discoveries, but as evidence of a continuing failure to address long-recognised harms.

Rights, dignity and everyday oppression

Research consistently highlights that children in custody experience their rights and dignity as routinely undermined. Accounts describe daily life as highly regulated, with limited autonomy and restricted opportunities to make meaningful choices (Bateman, 2016; Goldson, 2002). Such environments can foster feelings of powerlessness and resentment, with children reporting that their voices are seldom heard and their concerns often dismissed (Case and Hampson, 2019).

These findings underscore the contradiction between policy rhetoric and lived reality. While youth justice frameworks increasingly emphasise principles of participation and respect for rights (Haines and Case, 2015), custodial settings continue to operate in ways that prioritise order and control over children’s dignity. The persistence of this disconnect suggests that rights-based principles remain peripheral rather than embedded in daily practice.

Violence, intimidation and coercive control

Another recurring theme is the prevalence of violence and intimidation within custodial environments. Studies document both peer-to-peer aggression and the use of coercive control by staff, including restraint and segregation (British Medical Association, 2014; Lennox, 2014). For many children, such experiences normalise violence as part of custodial life and exacerbate existing trauma.

The use of physical restraint and isolation has been particularly criticised for its psychological impact. Rather than providing safety and stability, these practices can compound fear and mistrust, leaving lasting effects on children’s mental health (Paterson-Young, Hazenberg and Bajwa-Patel, 2019). The continued reliance on coercive measures reflects a punitive orientation that stands in tension with stated aims of rehabilitation and child-centred care.

Development, education and mental health: Needs unmet

The research consistently demonstrates that custody fails to meet the basic developmental, educational and mental health needs of children. Indeed, this theme consistently emerges as the central finding of children and young people’s experiences of custody. Despite differences in context and methodology, studies repeatedly show that the custodial environment disrupts education, undermines healthy development, and neglects or exacerbates existing mental health problems (Bateman, 2016; British Medical Association, 2014; Lennox, 2014).

Educational provision in custody is often experienced as limited, disrupted, and of lower quality than that available in the community. Rather than supporting learning and reintegration, custodial schooling can entrench educational disadvantage, leaving children ill-prepared for release (Goldson, 2002; Taylor, 2016). Developmentally, the loss of autonomy, family contact and opportunities for normative growth further restricts children’s ability to build resilience or a positive sense of self (Case and Hampson, 2019).

Mental health emerges as a particularly acute area of need. High levels of trauma, self-harm and unmet psychological need are documented across jurisdictions, yet service provision is patchy and often inaccessible (British Medical Association, 2014; Paterson-Young, Hazenberg and Bajwa-Patel, 2019). For many children, custody not only fails to provide appropriate therapeutic support but compounds pre-existing vulnerabilities through isolation, restraint, and exposure to violence.

The persistence of these findings over more than a decade raises serious questions. The evidence reinforces many well-established themes about the lived experiences of children and young people in youth custody but does not reveal new insights. The fact that the same problems, oppressive environments, violations of rights, exposure to violence, and a lack of rehabilitative focus, are still being documented (Haines and Case, 2015; Taylor, 2016; Paterson-Young et al., 2019) suggests that systemic change remains elusive. This lack of progress raises questions about the effectiveness of current policies and interventions aimed at improving conditions for children and young people in custody. As Case, Browning and Hampson (2023) demonstrate, the ‘Child First’ principle is now embedded in youth justice strategy in England and Wales yet remains inconsistently translated into frontline practice. Reform efforts have too often been rhetorical rather than structural, with implementation hampered by competing risk-management priorities, inconsistent guidance, and limited investment in training and relational practice (Case, Browning & Hampson, 2023). To break this cycle, policies must move beyond risk management toward embedding education, mental health provision, and relational practice as core elements of custody. This requires investment in specialist staff, trauma-informed training, and accountability mechanisms to ensure that rights-based standards are not optional but integral to custodial practice.

One possible explanation for the absence of new insights is the saturation of qualitative research in this area. Qualitative studies have been invaluable in foregrounding children’s voices, but they may now be reaching a point of diminishing returns (Flick, 2018). The repetition of similar themes across studies indicates the need for different kinds of inquiry—longitudinal research to examine outcomes over time, participatory approaches that allow children to set the research agenda, and evaluation studies that directly test the impact of reforms in practice. Without such shifts, there is a risk that research will continue to catalogue harm without generating the evidence needed to drive systemic change.

Implications and ways forward

The persistence of long-established themes raises a central dilemma for youth justice research and practice. If we already know that custody undermines rights, normalises violence, and fails to meet developmental and mental health needs, why do these conditions remain largely unchanged? I argue that the challenge lies not in generating knowledge but in mobilising it to effect meaningful change.

From a practice and policy perspective, progress requires structural reform rather than rhetorical commitment. The evidence points to the need for custody to move beyond a risk-management orientation and embed child-first principles at the core of practice (Haines and Case, 2015; Case, 2022). This means:

• Education must be re-designed to support reintegration, recognising that disrupted schooling entrenches disadvantage (Taylor, 2016).
• Mental health provision should be consistent, specialist, and trauma-informed, addressing the disproportionately high rates of self-harm and psychological distress among detained children (British Medical Association, 2014; Paterson-Young, 2022).
• Accountability mechanisms are essential to ensure rights standards are not aspirational but enforceable. Without independent oversight and resourcing, reform risks remaining superficial.

From a research perspective, the field must guard against the risk of reproducing the same insights without offering new directions. Qualitative studies have been invaluable in foregrounding children’s voices, but as Flick (2018) suggests, they may now face diminishing returns. Future inquiry could contribute more powerfully by:

• Conducting longitudinal research to capture the long-term impacts of custodial experiences on education, health, and life outcomes.
• Expanding participatory research approaches that allow children to co-design questions and shape analysis, thereby shifting power dynamics within knowledge production (Ozer, 2017).
• Undertaking evaluative studies that measure the effectiveness of specific reforms in practice, linking children’s perspectives with outcomes data.

Together, these shifts could help bridge the gap between knowledge and change. Rather than continuing to catalogue harm, research and practice must work in tandem to disrupt entrenched patterns and build custodial environments that genuinely support children’s development, rights, and rehabilitation.

Conclusion

This article highlights the persistence of well-established themes in the literature on children’s experiences of custody. Across jurisdictions and over time, research has consistently shown that custody undermines rights, exposes children to violence, and fails to meet developmental, educational and mental health needs. The central finding here is not novelty but repetition. The fact that the same issues continue to be documented demonstrates a profound gap between what is known and what is enacted in policy and practice.

Rather than seeking new themes, the task now is to confront why these harms endure. Reform must move beyond rhetoric, embedding child-first principles in the daily realities of custodial life, with accountability structures to ensure rights-based practice is non-negotiable. Research must also adapt, shifting from reiterating harms to testing solutions, tracing long-term outcomes, and engaging children as partners in shaping the evidence base.

Ultimately, the question is not whether we understand the challenges of youth custody, but whether the political and institutional will exists to act upon that knowledge. Until this gap is closed, children will continue to experience custody as an environment that constrains rather than supports their growth, and research will continue to echo long-standing concerns without delivering change.