Whistleblowers reveal harsh realities of Britain's deportation flights

Whistleblowers who worked on Britain’s deportation flights allege the operation is hamstrung by courtroom battles, staffing pressures and a culture of appeasement toward detainees who are being forcibly removed from the country. The accounts describe long-haul runs in which men freshly out of British jails are kept on track for departure, with guards attempting to smooth the process through everyday concessions and small comforts. The disclosures come as the wider deportation program, already costly to taxpayers, faces ongoing legal challenges and political debate over how quickly overstays, failed asylum claims and convicted offenders can be removed.

On the way to the plane in the early hours, guards reportedly stopped their van for burgers at an all-night fast-food outlet to “give them a treat” after months, or even years, of prison meals. Once the flight was underway, nicotine gum was offered to those who craved a cigarette, and guards handed out playing cards and colouring books with crayons so migrants did not feel bored during long journeys. In one stark account, a detainee responded, “F--- off. We’re not in a nursery. We’re not children. Leave us alone. We want to sleep.” The mood on deportation flights, according to the whistleblowers, can turn ugly as the foreign nationals are forcibly removed from Britain against their will. Many are described as hardened criminals—convicted drug dealers, rapists, thieves, and even killers—who have overstayed visas or lost asylum claims.

[IMAGE]

To protect staff from potential violence, some guards have been issued face masks to shield against spitting. One worker cited an incident in which a tooth was knocked out while trying to restrain a detainee on a plane. Others described injuries sustained while forcing a reluctant migrant up aircraft steps or restraining him once aboard. The officers—often deployed in greater numbers on long-haul flights—assert that their job is to get people on board and deliver them safely, regardless of the challenges they face at each stage of the process.

Beyond the plane, the system’s wider bottlenecks have become a flashpoint in British politics. In the same week, after three days of aborted attempts under the so-called one-in, one-out deal struck between Prime Minister Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron, the first returns of a small-boat migrant were scheduled on a passenger flight from London to Paris. An Indian man was removed to Paris, followed by an Eritrean, and a third migrant, an Iranian, on subsequent flights. The government announced that, if these departures proceeded, Britain would begin accepting French asylum seekers in return, provided they do not pose a national security or public-order risk.

The policy push has not silenced controversy, however. A last-minute legal challenge forced ministers to pause the removal of a 25-year-old Eritrean who had crossed the Channel in March aboard a traffickers’ boat and had been scheduled to depart on Tuesday. Lawyers argued he could be a victim of “modern slavery,” a claim the judge fast-tracked to the High Court, where an interim injunction temporarily blocked removal for 14 days. Emma Ginn, director of the charity Medical Justice, welcomed the decision and said the people detained under the one-in, one-out scheme are often survivors of torture or trafficking. “We are in contact with people detained for the one-in, one-out scheme. The vast majority are torture and trafficking survivors,” she said.

Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood pushed back at the criticism, saying migrants were “making a mockery of our laws and British generosity.” The Home Office contends that the system must operate within the framework of human rights obligations while pursuing removals. A notable friction point is the ongoing practice of judicial reviews, or JRs, which whistleblowers say are used to delay deportations. They describe lawyers and refugee charities as encouraging last-minute challenges, sometimes providing helplines or contacts to secure injunctions that halt a planned removal. They even described the practice of “JR wars” as a common tactic that drains capacity and delays flights.

Some whistleblowers argued that the system’s legal framework has become a weaponized obstacle. They said the use of JRs is “industrial scale” and that, in practice, once a judge grants a review, the case is re-examined, often with new evidence such as modern slavery claims. They asserted that when a JR is granted while a migrant is technically airborne, the detainee may be returned to Britain because the case remains covered by British law, creating a chaotic and costly loop that undermines the removal process. Staff described the impact on operations as “a farce” when families miss flights, only to be forced through repeated collection and departure attempts, sometimes multiple times for the same group.

A complex web of actors underpins the removals program. The deportation enforcement officers are hired through outsourcing giant Mitie, which won a multiyear contract in 2017 to staff flights. On long-haul operations, the officers can outnumber migrants by as much as three to one. They speak of maintaining control through a combination of containment and persuasion, including non-urgent measures like offering water every two hours and scheduling regular toilet breaks. Some guards say they must refer to detainees as “residents” to soften the impact of removals, framing them as paying guests in Britain—an approach they say is dictated by human rights rules, regardless of behavior.

The whistleblowers described a culture in which even routine travel logistics—such as ensuring seating for a full plane—are undermined by legal interventions that force last-minute changes. In one case highlighted by the accounts, a planned charter to Albania carrying 60 deportees was pared down to 40 by the time it took off, after lawyers had secured an injunction for several passengers. In another instance, a Moroccan detainee at the Paris airport stripped naked and smeared himself with feces while awaiting an onward flight, leading to his return to London. The anecdotes illustrate the operational strain on the system and the perceived mismatch between removal objectives and the realities of legal challenges.

Despite the critiques, the individuals who spoke to the Daily Mail emphasize that many people working in the deportation chain are caught in a difficult, costly system that many see as unsustainable without reform. Some argued that the money spent on fencing off delays and engaging in complex litigations could be redirected toward clearer, more expedient processes. They warned that, unless significant changes are made, the tax-funded program risks spiraling into further inefficiency as legal tactics evolve and more migrants seek to delay removals.

The disclosures underscore a central tension in Britain’s immigration policy: the imperative to remove those without lawful status or viable asylum claims as quickly as possible, while complying with legal protections and humanitarian concerns. The deportation system’s supporters maintain that removals are essential for border control and rule of law, while opponents say human rights obligations and the practical realities of modern migration require a more nuanced, humane approach. The whistleblowers insist that reforms are needed to break the cycle of delays, reduce costs and restore confidence that the system can function effectively. As the debate continues, the government faces mounting pressure to detail how removals will proceed in the near term and to demonstrate that operations are conducted with both safety and legality in mind.