Apparently, eGullet is home to many lawyers. I am in my third year at Emory Law School in Atlanta, Georgia and this semester I took a class called "Americans Behind Bars." We watched many documentaries, read many cases, and even visited several prisons in order to familiarize ourselves with the system. For our final paper, we were able to choose our topic. In an effort to prove my devotion to all things culinary, I chose to write about food. My paper title is "Eating Behind Bars: Prison's Cruel and Unusual Cuisine." Despite its size and mind-numbing legalness, I'll paste it below for those with time on their hands. For everyone else: here are some topical issues that might be worth discussing... - Do you think prisoners should be fed bad food as punishment? - Do you think good food might have an effect on a prisoner's state of mind? Do you think that might work towards rehabilitation? - Should we keep prison food bad so as not to induce recidivism? - The "loaf" is a ground up version of a normal prison meal, baked in the oven, wrapped in plastic and served without utensils. It is used for disciplining inmates. Does that amount to cruel and unusual punishment? - Should Jewish and Muslim prisoners have their special diet needs met? To what degree should we honor them? - Should prisoners be able to sue for unsanitary conditions: mice and maggots in the food? - Is 2500 calories a day (the Texas standard) too low? What calorie amount would be just? Of course, there are many other issues here, but these are the biggies. And for the brave souls who like a 20-page challenge, here you are! (Otherwise, I suggest skimming). Eating Behind Bars: Prison’s Cruel and Unusual Cuisine Adam David Roberts Americans Behind Bars Final Exam Fall 2003 Introduction: Dignity and Dining “The world may or may not need another cookbook, but it needs all the lovers—amateurs—it can get. It is a gorgeous old place, full of clownish graces and beautiful drolleries, and it has enough textures, tastes, and smells to keep us intrigued for more time than we have. Unfortunately, however, our response to its loveliness is not always delight: It is, far more often than it should be, boredom. And that is not only odd, it is tragic; for boredom is not neutral—it is the fertilizing principle of unloveliness.” - Father Robert Farrar Capon, The Supper of The Lamb Food, as it relates to prison, is almost always thought of in terms of survival. The motif of “bread and water” is as vital to our public perception of prisons as is the image of bars. We expect prison life to be a life of basic needs fulfilled: nothing more, maybe less. Certainly, the provision of food should be limited to its lowest utilitarian function: food as sustenance. Yet, one cannot easily deny the intimate relationship that exists between food and the spirit. We are a culture that savors the home-cooked meal, that ritualistically feasts several times a year. We are a nation of eaters: our landscape is peppered with billboards, road signs and advertisements that celebrate and encourage the consumption of food. The sheer size of the American food industry suggests that there is certainly more to eating than simple survival. For the large majority of Americans, eating is a spiritual act: one that warms the soul as much as it nourishes the body. Thus, when dealing with the food that we feed our prisoners, there is more to account for than simple nutrition. Notions of retribution and rehabilitation take on new meaning when explored in the context of food. Should prison food be so tasteless and vile as to terrorize prisoners into reforming their ways? Or should prison food warm the spirit, restoring some semblance of dignity to men and women who otherwise have been made to feel worthless? The Supreme Court offers little guidance in this regard. The main cases concerning prisoner’s rights—Rhodes v. Chapman, Wilson v. Seiter—barely touch on the issue of prison food. The Rhodes court finds that food must simply be adequate and not offend evolving standards of decency. The court chooses to limit claims to deprivations that deny “the minimal civilized measure of life’s necessities.” Such a vague standard allows for food that is, at best, merely edible—if even that. The Wilson court requires deliberate indifference to a prisoner’s rights and conditions. Thus, petitioner’s claim of “unsanitary dining facilities and food preparation” (in addition to many other charges) requires intent from the prison officials in order to succeed. In his concurrence, Justice White writes: “[the majority’s intent requirement] will prove impossible to apply in many cases. Inhumane prison conditions often are the result of cumulative actions and inactions by numerous officials inside and outside a prison, sometimes over a long period of time.” So, therefore, a prisoner’s right to protest inedible, deplorable food might easily go unanswered. As we will see later on, this often proves to be the case. The issue of restorative prison food versus retributive prison food, then, yields a disturbing number of cases in the latter camp. This paper will explore the many ways that food in prison encompasses an entire spectrum of indignities and deprivations. The familiar adage “you are what you eat” suggests that what we feed our prisoners reflects how we feel about our prisoners. As this paper will show, prison food implicates a system that regards its prisoners with severe disgust and unbridled disdain. First Course: Food As Punishment “Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months: at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn’t been used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small cookshop), hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age.” - Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist Institutionalization is the process by which one becomes deeply conditioned to one’s environment. Prison—much like school or the army—achieves this through structure: days are programmed with extreme precision. Work, exercise and sleep are each balanced to such a degree as to induce reliance by the prisoner. One of the few comforts of prison is, perhaps, institutional predictability. Along these lines, food enjoys a secure place in prison life. Regardless of the day, week or season, prisoners can rely on the fact that they will be fed. Never mind what they are being fed, there will always be food and this fact proves incredibly comforting for most prisoners. Surely, it is a guarantee that rarely exists in the real world. Yet, because of food’s sacred status, prison officials are in the unique position of using food as a tool for punishment. Stripped of most everything else, there are few things in prison life one can remove or alter more meaningfully than food in order to sanction bad behavior. Weights and television are removable luxuries; their absence fosters boredom, but little else. Food, on the other hand, is a bodily depravation: pangs of hunger or nausea can torture more readily than the cruelest torture device. Because of this, many cases have emerged concerning the distribution and retention of food in prison. These cases involve prisoners who, for one reason or another, are denied their daily meals, or served food that is inedible or cruelly unappetizing. In most of these cases, courts are loathe to correct the injustice: the deprivation falling just shy of “cruel and unusual.” In the case of Cunningham v. Jones, the district court makes just such a finding. The case involves a prisoner who, after an attempted jail break and stabbing of a guard is placed in solitary confinement. Once there, he is denied food for four straight days after which he is given only one sparse meal day for 16 days in a row. These meals consist of either a small portion of watery soup or boiled potatoes. The court finds that it is “unable to say that the furnishing of one meal a day for a short period of 15 days constitutes cruel and unusual treatment, although the Court certainly does not approve of the practice….” On appeal, however, the 6th circuit remands the case for further proceedings. The court likens the case to that of deprived medical care or the use of a leather strap and quotes Justice Blackman in Jackson v. Bishop: “the strap’s use, irrespective of any precautionary conditions which may be imposed, offends contemporary concepts of decency and human dignity and precepts of civilization which we profess to possess.” Thus the court remands the case and puts the burden on the state to defend its actions by demonstrating that the prisoner was fed the requisite calorie count of 2000. If it is demonstrated that the plaintiff was fed at least 2000 calories on the days in question, the case is to be dismissed. The case of Summitt v. Cezano finds a similar (and similarly unusual) result for the plaintiff. Here, after the plaintiff refuses to sit on his bed while the food is placed in the receptacle, he is denied most meals for a 21-day period. The court finds this unacceptable and concludes “presented with this evidence, a reasonable jury could conclude that prison officials starved Summitt with deliberate indifference and that Summitt was injured as a result.” Otherwise, courts almost uniformly find against plaintiffs in food deprivation cases. In the case of Kendrick v. Foti, the plaintiff claims that he was forced to choose between eating spoiled food or not eating at all. The court responds that “at most, plaintiff has alleged a single instance of food poisoning, which, undoubtedly unpleasant, does not arise to the level of a violation of his civil rights.” In the case of Gardner v. Beale, plaintiff complains that on weekends (Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays) the prison reduced meals from three to two: providing only brunch and dinner. Consequently, there was an eighteen hour interval between dinner and brunch that left the plaintiff “starving” causing alleged “mental anguish.” The court is unsympathetic stating that “Gardner’s contention that he was starving and suffered mental anguish is simply not enough….” In addition to punishment by food deprivation, there is the matter of punishment by food contamination. These cases, unlike the previous ones, are matters of covert acts by prison personnel and not acts of prison policy. In the case of Wilson v. Denton, a Muslim inmate contends that prison food managers purposely served him (and other Muslim as well as Jewish prisoners) pork products, representing that the food was non-pork. The court denies relief since the plaintiff does not allege “irreparable consequences.” On the other hand, the court in Fort v. Palmateer is slightly more generous. Here, the plaintiff alleges that while housed in segregation the prison staff contaminated his food with saliva and other bodily excretions. The court simply declares that summary judgment by the district court was inappropriate because there was a dispute of material fact as to whether the food was contaminated. The judgment is reversed and the case is remanded. Interestingly, the case of Fuller v. Rich involves a homosexual prisoner who is removed from his position in food services because the inmates suspect that he is HIV positive. The removal, according to the inmate, is a violation of his Constitutional rights under the eighth amendment. The court, however, finds that “in light of Fuller’s status as a prisoner and the level of constitutional protection afforded homosexuals, it appears that Fuller’s claim cannot survive a rational basis review.” Thus, actual contamination (ie: the pork example above) warrants little concern, while imagined contamination (based on the homophobic assumption that all gay men are HIV positive) warrants judicial validation. Most prevalent under the umbrella of “food as punishment” is the use of a ground up prison meal that is baked in the oven, wrapped in plastic, and served without a tray or utensils known as the loaf. More often than not, the loaf consists of “whole wheat bread, imitation cheese, carrots, spinach, raisins, Great Northern Beans, vegetable oil, tomato paste, powdered milk, and potato flakes.” Served separately, these ingredients may indeed prove edible if not quite enjoyable. Together, though, the assembled product achieves its desired effect: disgust and revulsion. The loaf becomes an effective tool of punishment, one that inspires several loaf-friendly court decisions. Perhaps the most carefully explored loaf decision is that of United States of America vs. State of Michigan. Here, U.S. District Judge Richard Enslen explores the Constitutionality of the loaf under both the cruel and unusual punishment standard as well as the due process clause. He finds that while the loaf is most certainly a punishment, it fails to reach the categorization of “cruel and unusual.” He writes: “While it is certainly not as appealing as a meal made up of separate food items, and while it may be unappetizing, it is not so deficient that it poses a risk to the health of the prisoners receiving it.” Therefore, he concludes, the food loaf does not violate the Eighth Amendment’s probation against cruel and unusual punishment. As for due process, Enslen points out that “given the severe restrictions already placed upon these prisoners, from restricted access to out-of-cell activities to restrictions up on the possession of personal property, it is also obvious that the food served to these prisoners takes on a significance for them that it might not have for prisoners in other settings.” However, he finds that even though the private interest at stake is great, there is no need for a prior hearing before the imposition of the food loaf. Instead, he criticizes the policy that allows a hearing officer to continue food loaf punishment despite a finding that misconduct charges are unwarranted. Setting this aside, he ultimately rules that the use of the food loaf is Constitutionally permissible. Similarly, courts today find the loaf an acceptable form of punishment. In Doucett v. Warden, the court finds that “While special management meals are ‘by no means a culinary delight,’ in the absence of any adverse health effects they are not a significant and atypical hardship.” The court in Griffis v. Gundy echoes this sentiment. The court writes: “A diet of food loaf does not violate the prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment , because it has been shown that these loaves meet nutritional and caloric requirements for humans.” Thus the loaf remains an acceptable form of punishment in America’s prison system. That the loaf sparks such concern from courts (if not the empathy that would render the loaf unconstitutional) is a testament to the breadth of meaning food elicits in the context of prison. The loaf issue acknowledges that there is more to food than just calories and nutrition. For the loaf is an effective punishment because of the ineffable qualities that make food a vital component of our prison system. In the way the loaf serves to punish, we begin to understand the ways that quality food serves to heal. Second Course: Sanctity vs. Survival “For my first meal in the New World I bought a three-cent wedge of coarse rye bread off a huge round loaf, on a stand on Essex Street. I was too strict in my religious observances to eat it without first performing ablutions and offering a brief prayer. So I approached a bewigged old woman who stood in the doorway of a small grocery-store to let me wash my hands and eat my meal in her place. She looked old-fashioned enough, yet when she heard my request she said, with a laugh: “You’re a green one, I see.’ ‘Suppose I am,’ I resented. ‘Do the yellow ones or black ones all eat without washing? Can’t a fellow be a good Jew in America?’ ‘Yes, of course he can, but—well, wait till you see for yourself.’” - Abraham Cahan, The Rise of David Levinsky (as quoted in Joan Nathan’s Jewish Cooking in America) The implicit relationship between food and spirituality in prison is made explicit in the matter of special religious diets. The religious laws and precepts that govern the intake of food quite often conflict with the policies and procedures for serving food in prison. Surprisingly, many prisons go out of their way to accommodate their religious prisoners. Even so, the strictly devout often find problems with what seem like the most generous of efforts. The two major religious groups with special dietary needs in prison are those of either the Jewish or Muslim faith. In both cases, pork is a forbidden product and any pan or plate that makes contact with pork becomes contaminated. Additionally, there are special restrictions in each case—certain laws and mandatory procedures—that make accommodating everyone close to impossible. Yet, the free exercise clause of the Constitution promises the free exercise of religion for all Americans. Does confinement limit this constitutional guarantee to such a degree as to force the violation of major religious dietary laws? In the case of Schlesinger v. Carlson, prison officials go above and beyond the call of duty for the plaintiff’s religious needs. In preparation for Passover, an ultra orthodox Satmar Hassidic prisoner, Schlesinger, demands that the Seder food be completely kosher in accordance with the Kashruth division of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations. The prison accordingly allows a 21-hour kashering process that involves the steam cleaning of all movable equipment, heated bricks for cleansing, the dismantling and hand scrubbing of the cooking range with kosher oven cleanser, the scraping and steaming of all pots and pans, the purchase of new skillets, dishes, bowls and silverware, and the sanding of the walk-in refrigerator. Additionally, the stainless steel sink was filled with boiling water, heated by metal grates placed to encourage boiling over. This was done twice because the first boiling over failed to satisfy Schlessinger. After the completion of this difficult process, a vote is taken by the prison’s Jewish population as to whether the kitchen is now kosher for Passover. The resulting vote is 39 to 1: Schlesinger is the lone dissenter. Thus, at the ensuing Seder meal, Schlesinger refuses to eat. His problem is that the open partition in the kitchen allows chometz (“any food containing leavening agents, certain entire groups of food, and in general any food which is not prepared in a manner which assures that no forbidden matter is introduced into the food” ) to enter as well as leaving the kitchen open to gentiles. Surprisingly, the court empathizes with Schlesinger. While the court finds that a prisoner does not share the same Constitutional rights as a free person, he is entitled to a balance between his rights and legitimate penological objectives as per the Supreme Court’s decision in Jones v. North Carolina Prisoners’ Union. Hence, the court declares itself convinced that “if Schlesinger is not afforded relief, he will not eat non-kosher food until he is in danger of death….It is the Court’s view that the nature of the injury which will be suffered by Schlesinger if relief is not granted far outweighs any harm which might befall the respondents-defendants or the public if Schlesinger is granted interlocutory relief.” The court, then, orders that Schlesinger be provided with an unused personal heating element, two sets of utensils, Empire chickens, Alle Processing Co. meats, fresh fruits, vegetables and potatoes. This shocking result may seem inconsistent with our notions of prison as punishment. Yet, it attests to the profound importance of food in preserving the dignity and, as in this case, identity of prisoners. The court clearly goes out of its way to ensure this. Similarly, the court in Prushinowski v. Hambrick finds that an Ultra Orthodox Satmar Hasidic prisoner is entitled to his special diet, ordering that “respondents make available CRC-certified foodstuffs on behalf of Prushinowski and other inmates similarly situated.” Yet, other courts find such demands unreasonable. The court in Ben-Avraham v. Moses invokes the 4-part Turner test from the Supreme Court case of Turner v. Safley. Created to determine whether prohibiting facial hair violated a prisoner’s free exercise rights, the test looks at (1) whether the regulation has a logical connection to the legitimate government interests, (2) whether there are alternative means of exercising the rights that remain open to inmates, (3) the impact that accommodation will have on other inmates, guards and prison resources, and (4) the presence or absence of ready alternatives. Applying these factors, the court finds that an Orthodox Jewish inmate is not entitled to special kosher meals beyond what the prison already offers. Muslim prisoners fare just as poorly under Turner. In the case of Kahey v. Jones , a Muslim prisoner in a women’s facility requests a special diet to accommodate her practice of Islam. The prison responds by providing protein alternatives to pork and shellfish and offering dishes, like beans, both with and without pork. The plaintiff is not satisfied. The court invokes Turner and declares, “the [prison’s] reluctance to supply an individualized kosher diet and preparation for Kahey fully accords with the result and reasoning of Turner.” Consequently, summary judgment for the prison is affirmed. In Denson v. Marshall, a Muslim prisoner is placed in the Department Disciplinary Unit for raping a female therapist. In order to observe three religious fast days per month, he requests that the prison replace his regular meals with “the caloric equivalent of cereal, milk, bread, peanut butter and jelly that he can eat before and after daylight hours.” The prison refuses and Denson sues. Applying Turner, the court finds that the government interest is legitimate (disruption, expense), alternative means of worship are present (a month-long Ramadan celebration, non-perishable provisions), and that the impact of the requested accommodation would be great (creating logistical and economic problems). Therefore, the court denies Denson’s motion for summary judgment. It is difficult to reconcile the court’s generosity in Schlesinger with the court’s reluctance in Kahey and Denson. Perhaps the presence of “imminent danger” in the kosher cases—with their starving, undernourished plaintiffs—pushed the court in a liberal direction. Otherwise, the Muslim requests seem minimal compared to the lavish commands of Schlesinger. As an example of religious dietary demands taken to an extreme, Scatena v. Rowland concerns a member of the World Church of the Creator. This questionable religion revels in anti-Semitism and requires that its members consume only “nonrabbinical food and liquid staples that are free of the Jewish religious kosher food symbols known as ‘(U)’ and ‘(K)’.” The court, while dubious of Plaintiff’s religion, takes the issue more seriously than might be expected. Finding inconsistencies in plaintiff’s stance, the court questions plaintiff’s unwillingness to eat anything with a kosher label and willingness to eat fruits and vegetables that are also kosher but without a label. In a rather tongue-in-cheek conclusion, the court finds: “that to require the plaintiff to eat such labeled foods is a violation of his religious principles. The remedy for the plaintiff is simply, ‘don’t eat or drink such foods.’” Religion aside, there is also the matter of special dietary needs for prisoners with health issues. Prisoners with illnesses as far ranging as AIDS, diabetes, and hypoglycemia must have their needs dealt with more carefully than that of the average prisoner. Yet, the interpretability of illness and variety in treatment makes this task quite difficult. In Williams v. Coughlin, plaintiff suffers from hypoglycemia and “dumping syndrome” due to a duodenal ulcer that required two-thirds of his stomach to be removed. As a result, plaintiff is to maintain a restricted diet of bland, high protein foods. At his former prison, the medical director instructed that he was to have six small feedings a day. At his new prison, Green Haven, the medical director allows only three feedings a day that are supplemented with cheese, milk and eggs. The court defers to the current medical director and sees no evidence that three meals a day is hazardous to plaintiff’s health. The court writes: “While a difference in medical opinion may be presented by this case, such circumstance does not constitute a callous indifference to a serious illness that gives rise to a 1983 claim.” Thus, the court denies plaintiff’s request for injunctive relief. Similarly, the court in Whitsett v. Newcombe finds that a diabetic fails to state a claim for an instance where he was denied a meal. Plaintiff claims that he had just taken medication that lowered his blood sugar and his lack of a meal made him incredibly sick. The court is unmoved, stating “the brief discomfort alleged is insufficient to establish a constitutional violation.” Surely, then, the interpretability of special dietary needs for prisoners—whether religious or medical—allows courts a great deal of leeway in controlling the prison experience. That so many prisoners’ needs go unmet speaks volumes about judicial perceptions of justice. Third Course: You Are What You Eat “I now took little interest in anything except my daily plate of soup and my crust of stale bread. Bread, soup—these were my whole life. I was a body. Perhaps less than that even: a starved stomach. The stomach alone was aware of the passage of time.” - ElieWiesel, Night We now come to the matter of what the well behaved, non-religious, healthy prisoners eat. Prison is, first and foremost, a business: decisions regarding food, like decisions regarding any other aspect of prison life, are based on economics. What is cheapest, what is up to nutritional standards, and what is least likely to upset prisoners is what is most likely to be served. Taste, quality and freshness are as peripheral to prison menu planning as Feng Shui is to prison room design. For the most part, though, prisoners eat well. While the gourmet prisoner may show disgust at the undercooked tater tot, the majority of prisoners are grateful for a hot meal three times a day. The phrase “three hots and a cot”—used by prisoners to refer to the perks of prison life—nicely captures prison’s culinary guarantee. As we will see in this section, however, occasionally the guarantee fails to fulfill its promise. In the case of Waring v. Meachum, prisoners file a class action lawsuit to challenge many harrowing aspects of prison life. In addition to charges of sexual assault, lack of showers, and denial of routine medical care, the prisoners challenge the temperature and quantity of food. Specifically, prisoners complain of a “lockdown” that left them eating donuts for breakfast and cheese or cold cut sandwiches for lunch and dinner. The court responds coolly, citing many similar cases, and concluding that “plaintiffs did not suffer a sufficiently serious deprivation of their rights because there are no allegations that they did not receive nutritionally adequate meals during the lockdown.” Shrader v. White has prisoners asserting that unsanitary food conditions exist at the Virginia State Penitentiary. The prison, on the other hand, presents “evidence of a Four-Star restaurant with excellent management procedures.” Because the evidence conflicts so greatly, the court finally turns to the health of the prisoners. The lack of mass food poisoning, diarrhea, or other diseases, or any common factor making any two individuals sick, leads the court to dismiss the claim. The court quotes Rhodes: “The Constitution does not mandate comfortable prisons, and prisons of SOCF’s [southern Ohio Correctional Facility’s] type, which houses persons convicted of serious crimes, cannot be free of discomfort.” In terms of individual prison food complaints, there are two notable cases. In Miles v. Konvalenka, a prisoner sues after (1) another inmate finds a dead mouse in his food, and (2) he (the plaintiff) is refused coffee with breakfast while in segregation. As for the first complaint, the court notes that the prison reacted immediately: paramedics treated all exposed prisoners and an alternate meal was delivered two hours later. Therefore, the court dismisses plaintiff’s claim for lack of deliberate indifference. Additionally, plaintiff failed to prove any damage from the incident since there was no mouse in his food. As for the coffee, the court explains that there are significant penalogical interests for not giving segregated inmates coffee. Even so, the court points out that “to suggest that denying some convicted felons coffee constitutes cruel and unusual punishment ignores that millions of persons in our society, in and out of jails, freely prefer not to drink coffee for a variety of reasons. Plaintiff’s argument would fare no better discussing the absence of tea or whiskey. A complaint asserting a deprivation of water, on the other hand, would easily pass muster.” Maggots infest the case of Islam v. Jackson . After being served a dinner of elbow macaroni with meat contaminated with maggots, prisoners refused to eat any more meals prepared by the prison kitchen. Immediately after, then, the Sheriff instructed jailors to go to the supermarket and buy baloney for the prisoners. In making the sandwiches, prison workers worked in a substandard kitchen without gloves or medical examinations or certifications to work with food. Despite all this, plaintiff’s claim is dismissed on the grounds that the deprivations were not sufficiently serious and lacked deliberate indifference. Finally we come to the matter of poisoning. As is the case with the preceding cases, courts are unimpressed by single instances of institutional lapse, no matter how egregious. Thus, in the case of Seymour/Jones v. Oldt, the court fails to honor the claim of a plaintiff who was served “poison hot dogs” at dinner. All the prisoners felt ill after eating the hot dogs on March 1, 1990, and the next morning plaintiff found, in the kitchen, a sign in red letters reading: “Hold. Do not Ship. 124 beef franks. Awaiting lab analysis.” The court shrugs its shoulders and explains: “At most, plaintiff has alleged a single unintentional instance of food poisoning, which, though undoubtedly unpleasant, does not rise to the level of a violation of his civil rights.” Similar results await the plaintiffs of both George v. King and LaFontaine v. Johnson. Each case involves a single instance of food poisoning and each case results in a dismissal. The George court worries over Federal courts controlling all details of prison food service management and procedures. The LaFontaine court states that “the mere failure of prison authorities to follow prison rules and regulations does not, without more, give rise to a constitutional violation.” In both cases, the courts show little to no regard for prisoners who suffer from food poisoning in prison. It seems to be par for the course. Ultimately, then, prisoners—while fed consistently—are constantly at risk for violations that may leave them sick or emotionally bruised with little recourse. Again, we see that food in prison plays many roles. Here food becomes a way of showing prisoners that what they are being fed—be it maggot, mouse, or poison—is a reflection of what they are in the eyes of the law. Conclusion: Just Desserts “If you can eat sawdust without butter, you can be a success in the law.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes As the above quote suggests, the law is often a dry, tasteless business. The practical, mundane aspects of government can be stultifying to the point of numbness. And it is that numbness that we, in our enforcement of the law, casually force on to our prisoners. This is dangerous, it seems, because as this paper’s opening quote tells us: “boredom is not neutral—it is the fertilizing principle of unloveliness.” The few opportunities that we have in prison to snap people out of complacency are limited by the complacency of those who would undertake them. And while food provides a source of comfort in and of itself, it also serves as a reflection of how the system views its tenants. This paper does not call for radical change in prison food: no four-star chefs, no foie gras, no palate-cleansing courses. Instead, this paper simply calls for the restoration of humanity and dignity to our prisoners by improving the standards by which we feed them. Several steps have been taken recently in the opposite direction. Legislatures have lowered the mandatory calorie count for prisoners in several states. Texas, for example, lowered the acceptable calorie count from 2700 to 2500 a day. This is a bare minimum standard and leaves many prisoners and prisoner rights activists upset. Also, the use of the “loaf” as a disciplinary measure is increasing. Popular sentiments, however, remain indifferent. A recent 20/20 episode left the unimpressed John Stossel concluding: “The loaf is cruel and unusual? Give me a break.” Such indifference echoes a larger issue, one that gets at the heart of the prison problem: is prison a place of rehabilitation or a place of retribution? To those in the retribution camp, prison food reform must seem like a ridiculous conceit. In fact, retributionists might revel in images of mice and maggots in prisoners’ food. But those who believe in rehabilitation would do well to consider food as a starting point. A popular expression goes: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” If we are out to reform our prisoners, we must reform their hearts. Tactics such as therapy and education explore the psychological and intellectual roots of criminality. These are all important, but perhaps the best answer is the simplest. Perhaps the best answer is a good, satisfying meal.
