Prison Food: Identity, Meaning, Practices, and Symbolism in European Prisons (Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology) 3030961249, 9783030961244

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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN PRISONS AND PENOLOGY

Prison Food

Identity, Meaning, Practices, and Symbolism in European Prisons

An-Sofie Vanhouche

Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology

Series Editors Ben Crewe Institute of Criminology University of Cambridge Cambridge, UK Yvonne Jewkes Social & Policy Sciences University of Bath Bath, UK Thomas Ugelvik Faculty of Law University of Oslo Oslo, Norway

This is a unique and innovative series, the first of its kind dedicated entirely to prison scholarship. At a historical point in which the prison population has reached an all-time high, the series seeks to analyse the form, nature and consequences of incarceration and related forms of punishment. Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology provides an important forum for burgeoning prison research across the world. Series Advisory Board Anna Eriksson (Monash University) Andrew M. Jefferson (DIGNITY - Danish Institute Against Torture) Shadd Maruna (Rutgers University) Jonathon Simon (Berkeley Law, University of California) and Michael Welch (Rutgers University) More information about this series at https://link.springer.com/bookseries/14596

An-Sofie Vanhouche

Prison Food Identity, Meaning, Practices, and Symbolism in European Prisons

An-Sofie Vanhouche Department of Criminology Vrije Universiteit Brussel Brussels, Belgium

ISSN 2753-0604     ISSN 2753-0612 (electronic) Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology ISBN 978-3-030-96124-4    ISBN 978-3-030-96125-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2022 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgements

It is often said that writing a PhD and book is a lonely business. Indeed, at times, that rings undoubtedly true. However, in my experience, writing a PhD and book was also a wonderful journey, on the road of which I have encountered many fantastic people, many of whom have become good friends. I want to extend my gratitude to all these people for their consistent support and encouragement. First, I would like to thank the imprisoned persons and prison staff members I have worked with for their support and input during the whole process. This research was the culmination of a process in which thanks to their investments, time and enthusiasm we created a meaningful mutual understanding. Prisons are harsh environments, but my lasting memories are of the many imprisoned persons who I unfortunately cannot refer to by name; especially their warm personalities and willingness to engage with me. I am grateful also to all the prison governors, officers and chefs who made this research possible. A special thanks goes to Wendy, who supported me with the research, and who always made the time for pleasant conversations. I would like to make a special mention to the participants of our writing group in the prison of Beveren. While these writers did not directly participate in this study, our long conversations on a variety of topics, including the analysis that I made in light of this study, added additional layers to my understanding of imprisonment and prison life. I would like v

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to thank you all for our long and deep discussions, which were so enriching and remain extremely valuable to me. I would also like to thank my supervisors, Kristel, Peter and Linda for so many things, but most of all, I would like to thank you for creating a safe space for me to grow. I always strongly felt that you had faith in me and trusted in my work; even if some things did not work out as I expected, or I had moments of self-doubt, when I lost my courage, you always reassured me with the belief that I would get through any difficulties. This safe space, where not only joy, but also intellectual challenge and doubt could co-exist, was, in retrospect, most precious to me. A special thanks also goes to Linda, for welcoming me in her house in Denmark during my research stay, especially for the long evening talks, the travels all around Europe and beyond. It was an unforgettable time that I will always cherish. Besides my supervisors, I want to thank the jury members of my PhD, Miranda, Anja, Ole and Sonja for their invaluable feedback and questions. Your insight pushed me to reflect further on my findings and intellectually engage with new ideas and visions. One person, who was not formally part of the jury, but who felt like my critical friend during the whole writing process (of the PhD and this book) is my proof-reader Fraser. Thanks a lot for reading, writing and thinking with me, for highlighting strong and weak points. But mostly, thanks for all the funny jokes and stories that you would add in your comments, these would cheer me up when I needed it the most. As well as those who were directly involved in the PhD process, I am very grateful for being associated with, and to receive support from, several outstanding colleagues. First, it was fantastic to meet with other prison food scholars whose work was a great inspiration for me: Amy, Linda, Julie and Rosie, I loved reflecting on prison food with you. Next, I would like to thank the people from the ESC working group on imprisonment, where I met so many supportive and inspiring colleagues. I was also lucky to meet wonderful colleagues at my university, some of whom have left academia but remain close friends. In an academic world that is increasingly characterised by competition and speed, I was very grateful for wonderful colleagues who provided me with such strong support. They not only made time for scholarly discussions and

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brainstorms, but also for informal chats, and, no surprise here, the sharing of lengthy and extensive meals: Steven, Sofie, Jana, Lana, Aline, Lars and Pieter, thanks for all your support! A special thanks to Sofie for helping me with some revisions for this book. Finally, I would like to thank my family and friends for supporting me during the whole process, for travelling with me, and supporting me whilst I defended my thesis in another country, wrote a book, and for providing necessary distraction when I needed it the most. A special thanks to the people who are most precious to me Mama, Papa, Oma, Opa, Meter Huguette, Pieter, Margot, Enzo, Nils and Max.

Contents

1 Introduction  1 1 Part 1: The Symbolic Role of Prison Foodways   7 2 Part 2: Prison Foodways in Belgium: Policies, Practices and Experiences  8 Bibliography  8 2 Food for Thought 11 1 Normalisation and Less-Eligibility  12 2 Scholarship on Prison Foodways  14 2.1 Identity Shaping in Prison  16 2.2 Power Relations and Resistance  20 2.3 Order and Security  27 2.4 Food as Punishment?  28 3 Conclusion  29 Bibliography 32 3 Penal Policies in Belgium 35 1 Why Belgium?  36 2 Punitiveness in Belgium: Public Culture and Debate  38

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3 Punishment and Imprisonment in Belgium  42 3.1 Prisons in Numbers  43 3.2 Legal Framework  44 3.3 Prison Legislation and Policies at the Federal Level  45 3.4 Legislation on the Community Level  51 3.5 De jure Moderation Versus de facto Illiberalism  52 4 Conclusion  55 Bibliography 57 4 On Water and Bread 61 1 Water and Bread  63 2 Belgium Under Imperial France: Food as an Additional Form of Punishment  64 3 Belgium Under the United Kingdom of the Netherlands: Food and Economic Considerations  66 4 Belgium After Its Independence: Searching for a Balance Between Humanitarian and Economic Considerations  68 5 Hunger and Starvation During the World Wars  73 6 Canteen Products  76 7 Conclusion  79 Bibliography 80 5 The Symbolic Role of Food: Debates on Punishment and the Treatment of Imprisoned Persons 83 1 Detention Conditions  84 2 Goals of Imprisonment  86 3 Order, Safety and Security  89 4 Hunger Strikes  91 5 Covid-19 and Food  91 6 Conclusion  93 Bibliography 94 6 Official Food Systems 95 1 Prison Foodways in Belgium  95 1.1 Food Inspection 100 1.2 Food and Health Care 103

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1.3 Kitchen Staff 104 1.4 Experiences of Imprisoned Chefs 105 1.5 The Meal Distribution 115 1.6 Meal Consumption 118 1.7 The Prison Canteen 120 1.8 Cooking Facilities 122 2 Prison Foodways in the Prison of Tilburg 125 2.1 Nova Belgica 125 2.2 The Prison Regime in Tilburg Prison 126 2.3 The Prison Food System in Tilburg 127 2.4 Pre-Prepared Ready-Made Meals 128 2.5 Cooking Oneself 130 3 Conclusion 134 Bibliography135 7 Prison Food: Philosophy and Practice137 1 The Principle of Normalisation 138 1.1 The Principle of Normalisation in Belgium 142 1.2 Normalisation and Prison Practices: Imprisoned Persons’ Experiences 144 1.3 Experiences with Ready-Made Meals in Tilburg 153 1.4 Experiences with Self-Catering 158 1.5 Sharing Foods During the Visits 159 2 Normalisation and Identity Construction in Prisons 163 2.1 Identity Construction Through Food 163 2.2 Narratives on Prison Meals and Identity Shaping 172 3 Conclusion 198 Bibliography199 8 Prison Foodways and Prison Order203 1 Order in Prisons 205 1.1 Order in Belgian Prisons 209 1.2 Order in Dutch Prisons 212 2 Prison Foodways and Order: Empirical Findings 213 2.1 Power and Order in the Distribution and Consumption of Ready-Made Meals 213

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2.2 Subcultures 215 3 Experiences with Self-Catering 216 3.1 Self-Catering 216 4 Conclusion and Discussion 230 Bibliography232 9 Conclusion and Discussion235 Appendix: Methods241 Bibliography263

List of Photos

Photo 6.1 Photo 6.2 Photo 6.3 Photo 6.4 Photo 6.5 Photo 6.6 Photo 6.7 Photo 6.8 Photo 6.9 Photo 7.1 Photo 8.1

Meal distribution, prison 2, 2013 116 Food distribution on the housing tiers, prison of 4, 2013 118 Prison cell, prison 2, 2013 119 Water distribution in solitary confinement, prison 2, 2013 120 A self-made oven, 2013 122 A confiscated sardine can filled with oil to make a fire, Tilburg prison, 2013 123 Foods and drinks placed outside the cell to keep the products fresh, prison 4, 2013 124 Deep-frozen ready-made meals in Tilburg prison 129 Meals cooked by imprisoned persons in the self-catering project, 2015 133 The preparation of couscous in Tilburg prison 193 Confiscated cutlery and cooking materials, Tilburg prison, 2013220

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1 Introduction

Conditional release, the psychosocial service in prison and food are the three biggest causes of feelings of powerlessness and frustration in a prison. My general director taught me: If there are problems, give prisoners some more croquettes. That often means a lot. (SEGERS, 2013, pp. 86–87)

In 2013, Guido Verschueren wrote the memoirs of his 34-year career as prison governor of Belgian’s famous prison Leuven-Centraal. After a major riot in the seventies, an open-door policy and a more liberal regime were installed to alleviate the prison pains of those facing Belgium’s longest prison sentences. The prison is now nationally renowned for its decades-old progressive system. Verschueren, often jokingly called the mayor of this penitentiary, substantially humanised the institution and achieved notable authority and recognition for his achievement. The quotes above illustrate what he considered to be the central elements in a person’s prison experience: foodways; the conditional release and the psychosocial service. For prison governors, a well-known strategy is to serve meals at the same time as difficulties arise in prisons. At times, this is regarded as a means of reducing tension: a proper and tasty meal, which in Belgium means fries or croquettes, can symbolise a soupçon of humanity in the cold and drab world of prison. While the other two causes of © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_1

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frustration—conditional release and the psychosocial service—were already the subject of extensive research, the role of prison meals was seldom explored in penological research for a long time in Belgium and abroad (Van Den Berge & Pieters, 1992). This prompted the Belgian dietician Van den Berge and former prison governor Pieters already to comment in 1992 that: While an average of 6000 prisoners in Belgian prisons eat three meals a day, there is little criminological attention to this phenomenon. Those who wish to be informed therefore search for answers in nutritional studies. (Van den Berge & Pieters, 1992, p. 80)

As the prison population in Belgium grew to its current figure of between 10,000 and 11,000, the lack of criminological attention to foodways did not similarly expand in light of their initial observation (Vanhouche, 2021). Food-related problems, however, remained ever present in daily prison reality. This book has its origins in a study conducted as part of a Belgian-­ Dutch research team, based in a Penitentiary Institution in Tilburg between 2010 and 2016 (Beyens & Boone, 2013; Kox et al., 2014). During this period, the Belgian government rented what was then an empty Dutch facility in the hope of controlling the problem of overcrowding in Belgian prisons. Amongst the methods, the research involved interviewing incarcerated respondents about their experiences in this peculiar institution. When asked about which type of regime aspects determined their experience of detention, prisons’ foodways was oftentimes uppermost in their responses. For example, when I asked one of the respondents about his image of the prison, and the most striking regime aspects in his opinion, the following discussion took place: Me:

And did you hear something of Tilburg prison before you were transferred? Imprisoned respondent: I had heard something. For me the most important element was that you can cook cosily. That was the most important for me. But the food served by the prison…, there

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Me: Imprisoned person:

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were even articles about it in the press…I don’t eat the food here. I prepare my own food every day. Okay, and what was the most striking thing when you arrived here [in the prison of Tilburg]? That, mainly in the negative sense, the food is crap, just crap. So if you do not have your own funds, it is really miserable here, really miserable… [but] If you cook together, it connects us. It is not that my cellmates…when I am released, I will avoid them, I will not look them up. But inside prison, it binds us: cleaning together, cooking together, eating together.

It was more than intriguing to find an opinion such as this, especially in a complex, transnational and controversial institution where we expected other concerns to prevail. This finding was not only put forward in our study, but also by the Belgian League for Human Rights (2011), and even the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment (CPT) reported extensively on the complaints of the ready-made meals in this institution (CPT/Inf (2012) 19). After the CPT referred to complaints about the quality and preparation of the meals, the Belgian authorities gave the following response: The meals align with the requirements of the Netherlands such as stated in the co-operation agreement between Belgium and the Netherlands. (CPT/ Inf (2013), 10: 5)

The co-operation agreement to which the Belgian government referred, stated that the Dutch Judicial Service was responsible for providing a full and balanced diet that met all Dutch standards. An internal document from Tilburg prison clarified the quantity per foodstuff a person should receive per hot meal (e.g. 150 gr. cooked vegetables or 200 gr. raw vegetables; 90 gr. meat/fish without bone, 110 gr. with bone; …). Such

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calculations, inspired by a biomedical view of nutrition, often serve in Belgium and abroad as a justification for heavily criticised prison meals. This narrow biomedical view of food has been strongly critiqued by sociological and anthropological research on nutrition (Lupton, 1996). In the biomedical narrative, the role of culture is regarded as secondary to nutrition, and only considered important in so far as it hampers the consumption of a healthy diet. Such a narrow approach to nutrition significantly underplays and misunderstands the complexities and nuance that are inscribed into rituals of food and eating. There has long been a growing awareness that these biomedical disciplines offer neither understandings of, nor sufficient explanations for, eating habits and experiences. Eating habits do not arrive predesigned in human beings, they develop in particularised contexts, represent (cultural) norms, and convey individual and group identity (Fischler, 1988; Lupton, 1996; Kittler & Sucher, 2004). It is, therefore, uncontroversial to assert that social rituals surrounding food, self-evidently play an important role across various societal and cultural dimensions. This is no different for those in prison. Just as food plays an important role in society, so it does in prison. Because of the restrictive detention conditions, however, food may harbour a much more pressing significance in prison than it has outside. In this respect, food experiences are meaningful because they come to symbolise the incarcerated person’s prison experience. The international literature shows that for many people in detention, food is what conditions their life in custody (Smith, 2002). Foodways and experiences in prison, increase our knowledge of food as a means of normalisation, autonomy, identity construction, power, group formation and even security. Tackling the issue of prison food from sociological, anthropological, criminological, medical, and human rights perspectives, researchers have given various reasons for its importance through many different epistemological lenses. In most of these accounts, food possesses symbolic power and is a means of communication in a closely controlled environment. Research has shown that power in prison is often exercised through the food system (Godderis, 2006a, 2006b; Smith, 2002; Ugelvik, 2011; Ugelvik, 2014; Valentine & Longstaff, 1998; Brisman, 2008). Godderis (2006b), for example, explained how food practices represent overt and covert displays of institutional power. She showed how prison officers

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make arbitrary decisions when distributing meals, revealed the economic restrictions imposed on purchases in prison shops and the inconsistent application of prison regulations. These were only a few examples of how power can be exerted through food. Next to these forms of power, imprisoned persons experience an even more extensive and intrusive coercion when they lose choices about their own food intake. In general, it is the prison staff and the state who decide what, when and how people in prison eat (Cate, 2008; Godderis, 2006a; Ugelvik, 2011), resulting in some feeling as though they have lost control over their own bodies (Smith, 2002). However, the power and rigidly hierarchical relationships are not immune to change and can be substantially reformed, even overturned. This is because food and food-related activities are among the few activities people can try to take control of in highly supervised institutions (Dusselier, 2010; Godderis, 2006a; Smith, 2002; Ugelvik, 2011; Brisman, 2008). In prison, the most obvious food-related form of resistance is the hunger strike. Hunger strikes constitute a form of protest where imprisoned persons seek to elicit their demands by putting the prison organisation under moral pressure (Gétaz et al., 2012). Equally, however, more mundane activities have also been defined as forms of resistance. Smith (2002), for example, explained how eating unhealthy food can be both a relief and form of resistance against a system that promotes healthy eating. A review of the international scholarship also reveals knowledge gaps in relevant areas where this book makes an original contribution. For example, the introduction and experience of normalisation in locations other than Nordic welfare states, understandings of multiculturalism in prison (as stated by Philips, 2012), and the question of identity construction in prison, where food can unite and separate imprisoned persons. This study uses food as the creative lens which is able to magnify greater levels of nuance in the understanding of these concepts, and give penologists a deeper insight into prison policies and people’s experiences of them. To appreciate why such awareness has particular import, it is necessary to grasp the importance of prison foodways in all its complexity. A detailed overview of what should be studied to understand these systems is conveniently provided by Smoyer and Minke (2015):

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Food systems in correctional settings include institutionally-run catering services, self-cook facilities, prison shops or canteens, and informal food preparation among inmates which may take place in spite of institutional rules that prohibit such activity. Food systems in correctional settings may also include opportunities for incarcerated people to cook and eat with their visitors and participate in garden or farming programs. (Smoyer & Minke, 2015, p. 1)

The literature on prison foodways has focused primarily on Anglo-­ Saxon countries (mainly the UK and the USA) and Nordic countries (Denmark, Sweden and Norway), which has resulted in a particularistic knowledge base. These predominantly neoliberal and welfare states are known for their distinct penal cultures (see e.g. Cavadino & Dignan, 2006; Pratt, 2008a, 2008b). The salient question is whether the knowledge drawn from penal practices in these countries can be regarded as generalisable across national, systemic and cultural borders (see e.g. Nelken, 2010). This book shows the complexity and layered understandings of the penal culture in another country and highlights how this results in differences and at times surprising similarities with practices in other parts of the world. This study uniquely explores prison foodways in the Belgian context, a continental European country. The following questions are put forward: What role(s) does food play in a (Belgian) prison context? What does this tell us about incarcerated person’s prison experiences? In answering these questions, two central topics are relevant and form the organisational basis of the book: (1) the symbolic role of prison foodways; (2) Prison Foodways in Belgium: Policies, practices and experiences.

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 art 1: The Symbolic Role P of Prison Foodways

The (symbolic) role(s) of food in a prison environment are examined in the first part of this book. Taking into account a broad catalogue of scholarship, this section gives a brief overview of the meanings that have been attached to prison food around the world. The symbolic role that food

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has played in Belgian penal history and worldwide is also highlighted. From the water and bread diet in the eighteenth century, to the contested abolition of alcohol consumption in prisons in the twentieth century, prison food has always been a reflection, and an indicator, of how Belgian governments have treated imprisoned persons, and how they perceived their care. This section provides the necessary background within which contemporary developments, and functions, of prison foodways in Belgium are internationally and historically contextualised. In order to fully capture this symbolic role, Belgian penal philosophies and practices more widely, of which food is an example, are discussed in depth.

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 art 2: Prison Foodways in Belgium: P Policies, Practices and Experiences

This section considers foodways in contemporary Belgian prisons in greater analytical detail. Based on participant observations and interviews with incarcerated respondents and prison staff, the book provides an in-­ depth insight into the impact of penal policies on people’s daily experiences. In revealing both joys and pains related to prison food, the book shows imprisoned people talking explicitly about their food desires, fantasies and frustrations. In this context, imprisoned persons present themselves as chefs, putting forward positive narratives of the self. These deeply personal stories set the scene in this section for an expanded consideration of prison policies and key concepts in penology and food studies: normalisation; identities and security. The field work that informs the analysis was undertaken in four prisons in Belgium and one in the Netherlands (Tilburg prison). Incarcerated respondents as well as prison staff shared their experiences with prison foodways through interviews and participant observation which were chosen as research methods. In total, 19 staff members and 48 incarcerated persons were interviewed, and participant observations were carried out over six months in the selected prisons. The book presents and analyses these narratives.

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Bibliography Literature Belgian League for Human Rights. (2011). Tilburg: gevangenisregime en levensomstandigheden. Verslag naar aanleiding van het bezoek aan Tilburg. Belgian League for Human Rights. Beyens, K., & Boone, M. (2013). Zeg Maar Henk tegen de ‘chef ’. Boom-Lemma. Beyens, K., De Koster, K., Kloeck, K., Beckmann, M., Breuls, L., Scheirs, V., Snacken, S., & Vanhouche, A.-S. (2016, May 7). Onze gevangenissen staan in brand. De Morgen. Brisman, A. (2008). Fair Fare?: Food as Contested Terrain in US Prisons and Jails. Georgetown Journal on Poverty Law and Policy, 15(1), 68–145. Cate, S. (2008). ‘Breaking Bread with a Spread’ in a San Francisco County Jail. The Journal of Food and Culture, 8(3), 17–24. Cavadino, M. J., & Dignan, J. (2006). Penal Policy and Political Economy. Criminology and Criminal Justice, 6(4), 435–456. CPT/Inf. (2012). 19. CPT/Inf. (2013). 10. Dusselier, J. (2010). Does Food Make Place? Food Protests in Japanese American Concentration Camps. Food and Foodways, 10(3), 137–165. Fischler, C. (1988). Food, Self and Identity. Social Science Information, 27(2), 275–292. Gétaz, L., Rieder, J.-P., Nyffenegger, L., Eytan, A., Gaspoze, J.-M., & Wolff, H. (2012). Hunger Strike Among Detainees: Guidance for Good Medical Practice. Swiss Medical Weekly, p. 142. https://doi.org/10.4414/ smw.2012.13675 Godderis, R. (2006a). Dining in. The Symbolic Power of Food in Prison. The Howard. Journal of Criminal Justice, 45(3), 255–267. Godderis, R. (2006b). Food for Thought. An analysis of Power and Identity in Prison Food Narratives. Berkley Journal of Sociology, 50, 61–75. Kittler, P., & Sucher, K. (2004). Food and Culture. Thomson Wadsworth. Kox, M., De Ridder, S., Vanhouche, A., Boone, M., & Beyens, K. (2014). Detentiebeleving van strafrechtelijk gedetineerden zonder verblijfsrecht. Tijdschrift voor Criminologie, 56(2), 31–47. Lupton, D. (1996). Food, the Body and the Self. Sage Publications. Nelken, D. (2010). Comparative Criminal Justice: Making Sense of Difference. Sage.

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Philips, C. (2012). The Multicultural prison. Ethnicity, Masculinity, and Social Relations among Prisoners. Clarendon Studies in Criminology. Pratt, J. (2008a). Scandinavian Exceptionalism in an Era of Penal Excess. Part I: The Nature and Roots of Scandinavian Exceptionalism. British Journal of Criminology, 48, 119–137. Pratt, J. (2008b). Scandinavian Exceptionalism in an Era of Penal Excess. Part II: Does Scandinavian Exceptionalism Have a Future? British Journal of Criminology, 48, 275–292. Segers, V. (2013). Burgemeester achter tralies—34 jaar directeur van Leuven-­ Centraal. Davidsfonds. Smith, C. (2002). Punishment and Pleasure. Women, Food and the Imprisoned Body. Sociological Review, 50(2), 197–214. Smoyer, A., & Minke, L. (2015). Food Systems in Correctional Settings—A Literature Review and a Case Study. World Health Organization. http://www. euro.who.int/en/health-­topics/health-­determinants/prisons-­and-­health/ publications Ugelvik, T. (2011). The Hidden Food. Mealtime Resistance and Identity Work in a Norwegian Prison. Punishment and Society, 13(1), 47–63. Ugelvik, T. (2014). Power and Resistance in Prison. Palgrave Macmillan. Valentine, G., & Longstaff, B. (1998). Doing Porridge. Food and Social Relations in a Male Prison. Journal of Material Culture, 3(2), 131–152. Van Den Berge, H., & Pieters, F. (1992). Voeding der gedetineerden in de Belgische gevangenissen. Panopticon, 80–87. Vanhouche, A.-S. (2021). Eten achter tralies: een kwalitatief onderzoek naar de rol van voeding in detentie. Panopticon, 42(1), 41–57.

2 Food for Thought

Despite the historical tendency of scholars from penology or socio-­ cultural studies to steer away from prison food, leaving healthcare policy analysts to tackle it, food experience(s) are a central element to prison life. This is not to say that prison food has been entirely neglected in previous scholarship, but it has nevertheless been a consideration of prison life rather than principal feature. Significantly, the turn of the new millennium saw a growing body of prison research beginning to engage with this relatively new topic, making it a distinct theme in prison research. In 2019, a scoping review on food in correctional settings found 38 peer reviewed articles in relation to narratives on prison foodways (Smoyer, 2019). The overview showed that two major strands of prison food scholarship exist: scholarship on food narratives which focused on the symbolic role of food, and scholarship with pragmatic approaches where the focus is on what, where and when people eat. The literature considered here focuses mainly on the symbolic role of prison food. Of particular concern here, is the consideration of how correctional food systems have been discussed in historical studies of the less-­eligibility principle; the assumption that living conditions in prisons had to be lower than those of the poorest labourers (Tomlinson, 1978). These studies illustrate how national and regional authorities approached the question of food for imprisoned persons. It has been the emergence of prison © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_2

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ethnography as a research tool, that an increased understanding of incarcerated people’s food experiences has begun to develop beyond the focus on policy studies. When reading seminal prison studies, some attention to prison meals is noticeable (see e.g. Clemmer, 1940; Sykes, 1958; Cohen & Taylor, 1972; Sparks et al., 1996), but it is only recently that food experience(s) have emerged as a distinct research topic within penology. This scholarship is attentive to the myriad ways that foodways affect the experiences of those in correctional systems and give important insights into the symbolic roles of prison food.

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Normalisation and Less-Eligibility

Prison fare provides a unique insight into the dominant theoretical assumptions underpinning how incarcerated persons should be treated. More specifically, it illustrates how the success or failure of prison policies can be measured with regard to the implementation of certain living standards. Foucault (1975) explains how imprisonment replaced corporal punishment as the dominant form of retribution in the nineteenth century. Since then, the body is not physically punished, but is nevertheless still affected by punishment. According to Foucault, imprisonment and the deprivation of liberty had never been approached as a ‘punishment as such’; additional harm was needed to justify its use. This additional harm often affects the body of those in custody: forced labour; limited food rations; beatings and solitary confinement all serve to illustrate how, notwithstanding the abolition of corporal punishment, prison regimes continue to attack the bodies of its inmates. Additionally, for a range of reasons, imprisonment was believed to be insufficiently harsh: imprisoned persons suffer less from hunger and cold relative to the poor for example. Foucault clearly noticed the role of food as an additional punitive aspect. This assumption that less-eligibility should shape prison regimes arises in a wide variety of studies throughout history. Rusche and Kirchheimer (1939) illustrate how this principle developed in the UK in the light of the organisation of workhouses. Because government spending increased

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substantially during the period 1775–1817, the Poor Law of 1834 was introduced, to support the vision that: … the situation of the relief recipients should not be so eligible as the situation of the independent labourer of the lowest class. (Rusche & Kirchheimer, 1939, p. 94)

The authors continue to show that it was a fundamental principle still supported by prison administrations in 1939. The principle did not only establish itself in the UK, but also in other jurisdictions where the question arose whether or not this principle should be introduced, and if so to what extent. Since food is a basic human need, the question as to its applicability to the prison regime had been widely discussed. A more extended historical overview of the Belgian situation is presented in the next chapter, the following, however, is limited to one narrative example, a study on meals in nineteenth-century British penitentiaries. Tomlinson (1978) investigated whether the less-eligibility principle was applied to incarcerated person’s meals in nineteenth-century penitentiaries. The author noted that it was difficult to introduce this principle since poor living standards on the outside made it impossible to lower them even more in penitentiaries without devastating consequences for incarcerated persons’ health. The principle was therefore rejected in practice, and inspectors asserted that food should not be made part of the punishment. Tomlinson concluded that imprisoned persons received a bigger quantity of food than the poorest labourers, but that meals were less varied. Over time, official visions on detention changed, and whilst food has not always been an official part of the punishment, legislation has strengthened the protection of (food) standards in European prisons. In order to protect incarcerated persons’ rights in its member states, the Council of Europe developed rules to protect people from harm caused by their imprisonment. These European Prison Rules (Council of Europe, 2020) currently require the implementation of the normalisation principle. This principle opposes the assumption of less-eligibility. The Council of Europe (ICF, 2016) supports the application of this principle to food practices and even self-catering, which means that life inside the

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institution should, as far as possible, reflect positive living conditions in outside society. The policy discusses how self-catering could enable people to have three meals a day and give them access to adequate kitchens and nutritious ingredients. Denmark was ahead of this recommendation, and since the seventies, the idea of normalisation has strongly influenced its food system. As Minke (2014) explains: In accordance with the principle of normalisation, prisoner self-catering was introduced on a trial basis in 1976. The self-catering system requires all prisoners (except prisoners held in remand centres and isolation units) to buy and prepare their own meals. (Minke, 2014, p. 230)

Clearly, food systems can be intimately related to the underlying vision and goals of prison policies and legislation, and the study of them is an effective measure of whether or not they are put (partly) into practice.

2

Scholarship on Prison Foodways

The link between visions on detention and prison food is clear. The growing body of ethnographic work in prison environments, adds an additional layer to our knowledge on prison foodways. The following considers the body of literature that regards prison food as a distinctive and important aspect in understanding experiences of prison life. While studies on prison foodways substantially grew since the 2000s, seminal prison work had already earmarked the topic as an important aspect of daily prison life. Clemmer’s (1940) study of the prisoner community in a US male prison in the 1930s, paid attention to the food service, discussing how imprisoned persons complained about monotonous meals, and their unappetising preparation. There was, however, a distinction between meals for ‘regular’ imprisoned persons, and those with trustee status. Trustees (the so-called politicians) received the same palatable meals as officers and were therefore envied and disliked by their fellow inmates. Sykes (1958) broadened the understanding of prison foodways, noting how this loss of ‘interesting foods’ was experienced as one of the pains of imprisonment. He effectively discovered how food deprivations affected

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people in detention. The deprivations of these goods and services, he argued, did not mean that basic needs were not met, rather it showed how the symbolic values of those aspects were crucial in a person’s prison experience: … however useful it may be in setting minimum levels of consumption for the maintenance of health. A standard of living can be hopelessly inadequate, from the individual’s viewpoint, because it bores him to death or fails to provide those subtle symbolic overtones which we invest in the world of possessions. (Sykes, 1958, p. 68)

This argument reflects the notion that the absence of possessions, such as self-chosen foods, constitutes an attack on a man’s self-worth. Later scholars, such as Cohen and Taylor (1972), focused amongst other things, on the ways in which imprisoned persons resist the prison system in order to survive, and how they gave meaning to their situation and developed ways to consume self-chosen foods. They distinguished several types of resistance including self-protection which tackled the meaning of daily attempts to survive imprisonment; one of which concerned, “… all the ingenious devices for getting more and better food” (Cohen & Taylor, 1972, p. 134). In addition to considering prison food a pain of imprisonment and a source of resistance in the form of food strategies, Clemmer (1940) was attentive to mealtimes as possible moments of conflicts. The fact that 1200 imprisoned men ate together in one mess increased the potential for riots; only the presence of an officer with a firearm ensured that mealtimes would not turn into a place of violence. Next to mealtimes, food itself could also provoke criticism and riots. In the wake of the riots in Strangeways Prison in the UK, a comprehensive study was conducted to understand the causes of the conflict, and consider preventative measures to forestall problems in the future (Prison Reform Trust, 1991). Amongst the many recommendations that focused on the needs of imprisoned persons, one was explicitly concerned with food, stating that “… the poor quality of prison food was the most common complaint from prisoners” (Prison Reform Trust, 1991, p. 32).

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Unappetising meals, and in particular unreasonable intervals between meals, provoked criticism. The study showed that the role of food in the maintenance of order in prison cannot be underestimated. The pioneering work of Sparks et al. (1996) further elaborates on the problems of order in UK prisons. The authors claim that: … the regular provision of certain services is central in determining prisoners’ feelings about their quality of life and the quality of such services can have important bearing on the incidence of grievance and conflict. (Sparks et al., 1996, p. 164)

The importance of visits and food is further used to illustrate this point: Taking institutional food on plastic plates and carrying it back to a cell is a visible reminder of the fact that one is in prison, which contrasts sharply with some of the associations of food in the outside world—as a domain for expressing personal preference and pleasure, with a central place in familial social relations. (Sparks et al., 1996, p. 163)

These well-known prison studies clearly recognised several roles of prison food: it is a form of self-expression, pleasure, resistance, prison pain and it can serve to improve or break down order in an institution. These aspects have been further elaborated in recent work on prison foodways. The discussion below focuses on the symbolic role of prison fare, and imprisoned persons’ own food narratives, as reflections of their wider detention experience.

2.1

Identity Shaping in Prison

Food has been perceived as an incentive to shape imprisoned persons’ identities. Studies have found that prison food can express several aspects of one’s identity: a cultural or ethnic identity; a gender identity; caring and empathic personal characteristics or healthy and self-respecting lifestyles. More generally, it is also claimed that non-criminogenic identities encourage imprisoned persons to transform their criminal identity and define themselves, and their qualities, outside a criminal discourse. These

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identities may therefore encourage them to desist from crime in the future (Minke, 2014; Smoyer, 2014). However, the creation of these identities is often hampered by the prison, its organisation and its authority structures.

2.1.1  Cultural and Ethnic Identities There is something axiomatic about asserting that food is important in creating cultural and ethnic identity, yet it is still necessary to articulate that food is a key element in expressing one’s ethnicity (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998). In a study of a UK male prison published in 1998, it was suggested that food has the potential to become a powerful tool in distinguishing oneself from others and from the prison system. For example, when ethnic and religious minorities received typical English menus, these were often experienced as a painful reminder of the distance from home. These menus regularly consisted of porridge and a cooked breakfast, pie and chips for lunch with Manchester tart for dessert, and a roast dinner with treacle pudding. Moreover, claims that institutions catered for ethnically diverse prison populations were rejected by imprisoned persons who saw it as an ‘anglo-institutional understanding’ of how their dishes look and taste like. This feeling represents a more general experience of disrespect for minorities and the favouring of white hegemony by the institution. In contrast, and in particular for ethnic minorities, the prison canteen brings relief since it: … offers prisoners an opportunity to resist the way the institution contains their identities or inscribes itself upon their bodies. (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998, p. 139)

Canteen foods remind incarcerated individuals of home and evoke food fantasies such as one man’s longings for kebabs. Similar results were later reported in Canada (Godderis, 2006a), the USA (Cate, 2008), Norway (Ugelvik, 2011), Denmark (Minke, 2014) and again in the UK (Earle & Philips, 2012). Ethnic minorities in Canadian prisons, for example, form food groups and obtain approval to purchase food that is

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more culturally specific than the ‘Canadian’ meals that are usually served. This form of cooking is described as a legal form of group-based resistance against the Canadian prison system (Godderis, 2006a). The assumption that food-based resistance is situated around cultural and ethnic differences between imprisoned persons and the prison system is also recognised in the Norwegian context in a male prison: … the prisoners’ strong antipathy towards the official prison food can be understood also on this level: as tied into antipathy towards Norwegian society in general. (Ugelvik, 2011, p. 59)

In prisons where kitchens or cooking facilities are available for self-­ catering, these can become spaces where ‘cultures meet, clash, and grapple with each other’ (Pratt, 1991 in Earle & Philips, 2012, p. 149). In line with this observation, Cate (2008) explores how men in Californian prisons prepare spread. The preparation and consumption of spreads is a social activity in which reciprocity is crucial. One of the respondents explains how it improves relationships between imprisoned persons when a respondent says: ‘It’s like we’re bonding in here when we break bread with a spread’ (Cate, 2008, p. 19). These different groups are formed along racial lines: ‘In here, the whites spread with the whites and the blacks spread with the blacks’ (Cate, 2008, p. 19). Similarly, in a UK male prison the cooking area forms a place where ethnicity flourishes (Earle & Philips, 2012). Often, these kitchens are convivial places where one can prepare meals in the same manner as at home. The conviviality and peaceful negotiation between different cultural groups are at times, however, overshadowed by the exploitation of one another, or the wish to dominate the kitchen and make others comply with certain eating habits. At times, white people perceive the presence of black and Muslim cooks dominate the kitchen as a means of destabilising the ‘white privileges’ otherwise enjoyed by white imprisoned persons. This feeling of a breakdown of ‘white privilege’ through food experiences, contrasts with the study of Valentine and Longstaff (1998). In their study, ‘white prisoners’ were still privileged thanks to the institutional English meals. Moreover, the presence of prison kitchens also leads to the organisation of food groups along ethnic lines, making the differences between ethnic groups

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become clearly visible (Godderis, 2006a; Earle & Philips, 2012; Minke, 2014; Vanhouche et al., 2018). While current studies do not indicate that the establishment of these group identities negatively impact on peoples’ social networks (the contrary appears to be true), a report by ICF Consulting Services Ltd. for the European Commission (2016), recommended that staff should monitor these ethnic group processes closely to prevent negative outcomes.

2.1.2  Non-Criminogenic Identities Next to ethnicity, cooking can also encourage imprisoned persons to create an identity away from crime in the institution. This identity can relate to cleverness, health, support for others or positive skills. An analysis of a US prison cookbook demonstrated how cell cooking improves a person’s skills (Rouhan, 2012). Additionally, the creation of a cookbook by imprisoned persons provided them with: … a feeling of pride, ownership and control and demonstrates to convicts that through their talents, they are able to be contributing members of society. (Rouhan, 2012, p. 1)

Similarly, in Ugelvik’s study (2011), people who construct their own cooking facilities and manage to hide these from staff while deliberately consuming the food in front of officers, are perceived as smart and clever. This identity is contra to the one derived from eating official meals which represent the entire prison: thus becoming symbolically part of the institution. By throwing this food away, a sense of dignity is reclaimed. In Denmark it was similarly noted that when authorities installed self-­ catering facilities (such as those in Danish prisons), incarcerated persons experienced a change in their social identity. The title of Minke’s (2014) Danish study ‘From Crook to Cook’, illustrates how people shake off a criminal identification and replace it with personal characteristics such as cooking skills. These identity shifts were argued to encourage desistance in the long term.

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A similar process characterised the resistance of convenience food in a UK-based resettlement wing. Here, people considered food packages as a threat to the self as convenience food was linked to the low status associated with being a prisoner (Parsons, 2020). The purchase of canteen products and self-cooking was a way to reify one’s identity as a middle-class citizen. The link between identity and desistance is also reflected in the literature on women’s prisons in the USA (Smoyer, 2014). Women in US prisons emphasise their good and healthy characteristics through food consumption. Good characteristics relate to the care, empathy and generosity towards fellow imprisoned persons (see also de Graaf & Kilty, 2016). Female respondents tend to share food with others as a means of helping them solve problems. A change to a healthier lifestyle while imprisoned also fits with the general positive changes the women wish to experience. An example is how drug users who were formerly undernourished increased in body weight, reflecting their progression away from drug consumption and malnourishment. Nevertheless, the omnipresence of unhealthy snacks in the prison canteen hampers people’s options for a healthy lifestyle. Moreover, food sharing is forbidden by the authorities and therefore people risk punishment when they perform helpful behaviour. Therefore, Smoyer (2014) suggests that correctional policies should aim to encourage non-criminogenic identities and desistance instead of curtailing it.

2.2

Power Relations and Resistance

2.2.1  Resistance Previous studies have shown how identity shaping can be hampered by institutions, which in part explains the significance of food as a representation of power relations and resistance in prison. The imposition of power in the following studies is not perceived as either a unilateral or top-down process, rather it is multi-layered and nuanced. The research upon which this book is based shows the variant ways that imprisoned persons seek to regain control and power over their own food intake.

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Underlying this is the way the prison system leaves its mark on people’s bodies. Sometimes individuals experience weight gain, constipation and at times food poisoning that can evoke shame due to the presence of guards while people use the toilet (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998). Nevertheless, thanks to the prison canteen, purchased foods can provide memories of home, influencing or representing power relations between people where goods possess important exchange value. In addition, people who enjoy the gym, often purchase foods rich in protein, whilst others use their purchases as a means of exchange for commodities of limited availability, including cigarettes and telephone cards. This leads to a black economy in which the strongest (in the prison hierarchy) and richest persons are able to improve their status. In such ways people can use the framework to, albeit sometimes passively, resist the system. The officers are fully aware of this economy and routinely check canteen lists in order to get an insight into the position of people in the hierarchy, and to recognise those who might need protection. Power relations between people can sometimes prompt weaker people to seek protection of staff. While commissary purchases are apparent in most countries as part of a barter system in which tensions and prison hierarchies become visible, stark differences between countries exist. In Croatia for example, people on remand can order food from a restaurant at their own expenses; and in Serbia people can receive food packages from the outside (Simanovic & Gosev, 2019). Whilst this practice can help to resist the prison system, it also visibly marks the differences between wealthy and well-connected persons and others. Mealtimes are also a crucial moment during which subordination or physical violence can occur. Consequently, some people search for a place in the view of officers to avoid brutalities from the so-called barons or prison gangs. Consequently, some people do not always perceive the use of authority by staff as negative exercise of power (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998). In a UK women’s prison, people condemned the way in which the prison took control over their bodies, and in particular their health (Smith, 2002). People often resist this process of subordination and seek to reverse the power dynamics. Traditional forms of health promotion are considered problematic in this context. While the ‘disciplinary machine’

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dictates healthy dietary choices to its female population, resistance to this type of control manifests in binge eating or starvation. This provided them with a specific, but strong, feeling of control over their own bodies. Therefore these—what are considered in outside society as unhealthy— eating habits challenged the dominant meanings that were constructed in health promotion discourses in this environment. Behaviours that are perceived as unhealthy on the outside (starvation and binge eating) thus form a way of coping with, and surviving, imprisonment (Smith, 2002). Similarly, in the USA, women in prison seek to use food to gain control over their own lives, but in different ways to those in the UK. In this case, people performed defiance through portion resistance, smuggling, stealing, cell eating and cooking. Portion resistance is performed in the cafeteria where the food is distributed and eaten. The cafeteria servers at times illicitly distributed bigger rations than were allowed by authorities; a behaviour justified with reference to the paucity of food and their consequent hunger. Smuggling food, such as seasonings, into the prison is a second form of resistance. Food was also smuggled out of the cafeteria, and not only to fight hunger, but because meal times were too short (about ten minutes). In such instances, food would then be eaten in the dorms, or used to prepare more appetising and tasty self-made meals. Finally, kitchen workers took food from kitchens, an act regarded as compensation for the low wages prison chefs received, and recompense for the feeling that their work was undervalued (Smoyer, 2014). Food-based resistance like this is characterised as being oriented towards different forms of food related to institutional power: overt and covert forms of institutional power (Godderis, 2006b). Overt forms of power are found first in arbitrary decisions of officers, secondly, in the inconsistent application of prison rules, and thirdly, in the threat of involuntary transfer. In the first instance, the lack of consistency concerning the quantity and quality of food, illustrates the power of officers to make arbitrary decisions over people’s basic human needs. A useful example of the second are the inconsistencies in the application of rules, such as the prohibition on purchasing certain foods like fruit, in order to prevent the preparation of alcohol. People in prison commonly believe that security measures all too often lead to unjustified restrictions on their

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food consumption. A final example of overt institutional power relates to threats of an involuntary transfer. Conflicts during food-related activities are kept to a minimum by threatening people with a transfer to institutions with a higher security level. These forms of overt power inhibit a person’s ability … … to express one’s self through decisions about consumption and enhances the sense of distance between one’s self and one’s body. (Godderis, 2006b, p. 69)

Covert expressions of power are less clear and can be difficult to reveal. Godderis (2006b) has documented three examples of how covert power was used in specific situations in Canadian prisons. The first concerns the way in which purchases are restricted due to either low wages or the need for approval when people wish to buy particular products. The second relates to when people feel they can evoke little change in the system. When asked if they can complain about the food, and if they did whether changes would be introduced, they note that little is done with their complaints or suggestions for improvement. The third form of covert power was illustrated by the employment of unskilled imprisoned workers in the kitchens, which incarcerated consumers believed would lead to low-quality food and health and safety concerns. Food-based resistance against these covert and overt forms of institutional power can take on the form of visible and invisible routine activities (Godderis, 2006a; Cohen & Taylor, 1972; Bosworth & Carrabine, 2001) and can be an individual, as well as a group, activity (Godderis, 2006a). Individual resistance is divided into adaptations and adjustments and displays of opposition. Group activities can be legitimate and illegitimate. An individual form of adaptation is a cognitive trick that people use to ignore food memories that remind them of home. Television commercials that trigger these food memories are therefore turned off. Individual displays of opposition are often explicit and visible forms of resistance. Rumours concerning the contamination of officer’s food, for example, are a way to shift power. The food groups and cooking activities for ethnic minorities are moreover defined as legitimate group activities since the authorities allow ethnic minorities to use the kitchen to cook a

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personal cuisine. Finally, the stealing of institutional food illustrates illegal group activities. Brisman (2008) further elaborates Godderis’ categories of resistance, by adding the ‘combined individual and group displays of opposition’. The hunger strike is arguably one of the most dramatic illustrations of this type of resistance, because it protests against prison conditions, or is weaponised to make a political statement. In a later study, Ugelvik (2011) revealed food-based resistance in a Norwegian prison where legal and illegal forms of cell cooking were defined as forms of resistance, because they enabled people to shape their identity. Their resistance was not simply against the prison system, but also Norwegian society in general. Bosworth and Carrabine’s (2001) findings elaborating how incarcerated persons shape identity in everyday life to oppose the ones supported by prison regimes, have influenced many scholars, including prison food researchers, to redefine secondary adjustments as resistance. Rubin (2015) however, warns against both the overuse, and misuse, of this concept. According to her, resistance implies ‘consciously disruptive, intentionally political actions’. For secondary adjustments, she suggests that the term friction is more appropriate. She describes frictions as “… reactive behaviours that occur when people find themselves in highly controlled environments” (Rubin, 2015, p. 24). Further, whilst Rubin recognises a person’s agency, and the limits to the power of a prison authority, she believes resistance and agency should not be used as synonyms: By labelling these activities as “resistance”, scholars have joined a large variety of prisoner behaviours, with different meanings, causes, and effects, into a single politically charged category. (Rubin, 2015, p. 25)

She consequently levels criticism at behaviour defined as an act of ‘resistance’ simply due to its effects, with no consideration of intent. Thus, claims of resisting behaviour are not always grounded in reliable empirical data. She cites Ugelvik’s (2011) work in particular, arguing that the account of illicit foods being consumed in his study, conforms to her description of frictions as opposed to resistance. Moreover, Philips (2012) also suggests that there is little evidence that the (illicit) cooking by minority groups represents resistance against Norwegian society at large.

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Therefore, some authors recommend a careful use of the term ‘resistance’. Consequently, what is considered resistance depends heavily on the context and a person’s intent.

2.2.2  Power Relations Between Imprisoned Persons Some scholarship tends to conceptualise power relationships between prison authorities, officers, and imprisoned persons as top-down and unidimensional. In so doing, the power relationships between imprisoned persons can be overlooked or underplayed. As previously shown, the black economy, where a person’s status can be established or demonstrated, reveals how canteen food can serve as a powerful resource (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998). Moreover, cooking provides insights into social relationships between people (Minke, 2014) by expanding the analysis of power relationships between ethnic groups (Earle & Philips, 2012). In Denmark, food groups starkly reflect and interact with power relations between imprisoned persons (Minke, 2014). The code that inmates use, described by Clemmer in 1940, is also present in Danish institutions (see also Minke, 2012; Nielsen, 2012). This code increases imprisoned persons’ distance from staff, and encourages them to be immersed in the inmate community. The status of imprisoned persons in this community is reflected in, and influenced by, the food groups. Since people do not receive pre-prepared meals in Danish prisons (in contrast to remand prisons in Denmark), they receive money to buy and prepare their own meals usually in groups of two or more. Food groups are not random or formed by accident. On the contrary, people consciously choose their food group based on variant aspects such as ethnicity, friendship, and the menus that are prepared in the group (e.g. meals that are low in fat), but also on whether one wishes to be associated with a particular group of imprisoned persons. This is a significant choice as food group members stick together and defend each other outside of the kitchen. Due to these far-­ reaching consequences, and the fact that the role that one performs within this food group is often a reflection of a person’s status, the decision to choose one food group over another, is not to be taken lightly. The

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role of cook is often taken by skilled and more financially able persons, whilst (physically) stronger persons often recruit waiters and dishwashers to perform these unpopular tasks. Usually, waiters and dishwashers are paid for their work or find themselves engaged in this work to pay off other debts. The persons who benefit from their services have a higher rank in the hierarchy. At first glance, these relationships appear to reveal a system that encourages subordination of certain persons, it is however, a reflection of the extant hierarchies in a particular institution, and waiters or dishwashers seem relieved they can pay off their debts without suffering the more disastrous consequences that unpaid debts can often elicit. It is remarkable that the people’s relationships in self-catering projects can strongly differ. A study in a Swedish women’s prison where self-­ catering was introduced concluded rather negatively that the system became an increased source of tension and violence (Johnsson & Ekström, 2007). The background to this study originated with the Swedish Prison and Probation Service introducing principles of self-management to increase imprisoned persons’ responsibility and counteract institutionalisation. To realise this, the women were required to do the cleaning, washing, food planning and cooking, which the authors reported, resulted in fights for power between imprisoned women with food used as a weapon: … in reality there were often just a few women who took the whole responsibility [for cooking], all the others having to give in and accept the food choices that had been made on their behalf. (Johnsson & Ekström, 2007, p. 294)

Some women took the lead and decided what the others had to eat, leading to food protests and food rejection. A staff member reflected that in his opinion the introduction of self-management in male prisons seems to develop differently: Men really are something different in their relation to food. Among men it is very calm compared to an apartment for females. Women are constantly nagging. (Johnsson & Ekström, 2007, p. 295)

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This suggests that gender may have an impact on how social relationships between people are interpreted in foodways more generally, and self-catering systems in particular. However, more research is needed to further elaborate on this topic.

2.3

Order and Security

Besides power, resistance, and identity, food is also linked to order and security in prison. Consistent with the study of Sparks et al. (1996), cooking and eating in prison ought not increase security risks, and food policies should therefore not be impacted by such considerations. For Valentine and Longstaff (1998), food played two major roles in the creation of order in an institution. First, decent meals led to people’s appreciation of food and contributed to a calm atmosphere, while sloppy meals raise discontent, which sometimes ended up with serious conflict. Secondly, mealtimes generally mean a large gathering of people in a small place, and the consumption of meals is often cited as the spark for potential disagreements or violence. Therefore, prison authorities chose to distribute food in cells, instead of in a communal dining hall, so as to facilitate control over incarcerated individuals during mealtimes: This system is effective precisely because it maximises the surveillant gaze of the officers, by spatially segregating the inmates and enabling the officers to observe what is going on in each cell. (Valentine & Longstaff, 1998, p. 146)

This outcome contrasted with the study of Earle and Philips (2012), who concluded that the presence of a communal kitchen for imprisoned people does not negatively affect order in the institution. Whilst cooks assembled in the kitchen, where knives and kitchen cutlery are freely available, the respondents proudly argued that conflicts are kept to a minimum thanks to their negotiation skills. Moreover, the well-functioning kitchen is perceived as part of an informal contract between staff and imprisoned persons where they obtain trust and certain privileges under the condition that these are not abused. For imprisoned women in the

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Danish context, food-related activities such as the consumption of self-­ chosen foods created what was considered to be a safe, peaceful and relaxed atmosphere in the prison cell (Smoyer & Minke, 2019). However, food consumption can also become a degrading event due to the use of plastic cutlery (de Graaf & Kilty, 2016). For the safety of staff and imprisoned persons, they reported that incarcerated persons were required to eat their meals with plastic utensils. The authors comment that, … the use of plastic cutlery is a degrading practice that may be interpreted metaphorically as using throwaway utensils for a throwaway population. (de Graaf & Kilty, 2016, p. 34)

2.4

Food as Punishment?

As explained above, current prison policies rarely consider activities relating to the provision and consumption of food as an aspect of punishment. Nevertheless, imprisoned persons do perceive food-related issues as denigrating and chastising. Food can, for example, be used as a “concrete and symbolic form of punishment” for imprisoned women in US prisons (Smoyer & Lopes, 2017). The consumption of disgusting food, short and rushed mealtimes, and the illicit ways used to store and prepare one’s meals are reported as humiliating. The preparation of self-made meals in trash bags perfectly illustrates this degrading process. A further demeaning example concerned the way in which people stored food. A respondent confessed “Get cold water and put it in the toilet and keep it cold like that. It’s an experience you never want to go through” (Smoyer & Lopes, 2017, p. 246). Such examples illustrate how prison authorities sometimes have scant regard for the welfare of imprisoned individuals. Equally, their rules make little sense with regard to their stated aims; they simply serve to reinforce the symbolic power that prison food represents at numerous levels, and in varied contexts. This was amply demonstrated by the example of a woman with food allergies, who reported that she was not receiving meals consistent with the demands of her condition; believing, therefore, that the authorities

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were not bothered about her health. Similarly, women in Canadian prisons reported that prison fare was experienced as status degradation (de Graaf & Kilty, 2016). In this respect, the authors argued that the less-­ eligibility principle was still applied to food. While it is unclear how far this principle is still official Canadian prison policy, the researchers argue that it was certainly experienced as such by their interviewees, with poor preparation, repetition, and tasteless food, cited as just a few of the examples that are linked to the assumption of less-eligibility in practice.

3

Conclusion

The existing scholarship on prison foodways provides important insights to the symbolic role prison food can play. Food is important to the way that imprisoned persons shape aspects of their identity(s), it reflects power relationships between those who are imprisoned, and between imprisoned people and officers or wider prison authorities. Some studies also show how people have used food to fight and resist power structures. Finally, food can be used as a tool to create, or conversely breakdown, order in penitentiaries. In short, the existing prison food literature on identity, resistance, power, order, and normalisation provided a rich seam of scholarship to mine, and a significant anchor, from which the matters discussed throughout this book are attentive to. The extant scholarship does, however, reveal gaps in our knowledge about prison food, specifically themes that require robust empirical investigation to throw light upon. The first concerns normalisation and the principle of less-eligibility. While it is evident that in some countries people perceive prison meals as elements of their punishment, it is not always clear whether this is an intended policy (see e.g. de Graaf & Kilty, 2016). In this respect, prison food scholarship has been less attentive to what Hayes (2018) describes as the debate between penal subjectivists who focus on the pains experienced by penal subjects, and penal objectivists who study the suffering or pain that is intended by the authorities. The complex interactions in relation to food and food provision in prison can provide greater nuance into how penal philosophies are implemented and which barriers or conflicting internal goals exist. Studies in Denmark

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are an important exception here since they do provide insights about penal concepts that underpin prison food policies. However, research in one particular European country does not provide answers to how far other countries have implemented normalisation (as stated in the European Prison Rules) with regard to daily life, food and how it is experienced in prison. This book is part of the effort to articulate empirically driven arguments about these aspects of prison life, by focusing particularly on Belgian prisons, their penal philosophies, the daily reality of working and living in prison and the experiences imprisoned persons have with food. The second gap can be found in the literature on ethnicity, food and identity in prison. Whilst previous studies have shown that food can be an important tool to introduce cultural food habits that reflect broader cultures in an institution, Philips (2012) alludes to the fact that general understandings of multicultural prison populations remain limited. It is of particular concern, therefore, that this book looks more closely at how cultural food habits are imported into prisons, how imprisoned persons manage to cook according to their customs, what this means to them, and specifically how it relates to the different catering systems in different prisons. Moreover, the book will develop a better understanding of how cultural group identities are formed, and how far they are experienced as an asset or a threat by both prison authorities and incarcerated people. In considering the evidence presented here adds scientific data to address a concern of the ICF Consulting Services Ltd, who, when advising the European Commission, asked: If food is used to construct group identities (delineating prisoners by cultural, religious, or regional differences) then this could impact negatively upon prisoners’ social networks. However, current evidence does not demonstrate this being a particular problem in self-catering prison facilities. (ICF Consulting Services Ltd., 2016, p. 7)

The seminal work of Sparks et al. (1996) noted how the provision of decent food is a protective factor against disorder. They even recommend

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self-catering and state that the risks associated with providing incarcerated persons with certain cooking materials are outweighed by the benefits that this system can have for order in a facility. However, this topic is only marginally tackled by the studies that have elaborated on self-catering. Since the findings presented here enable meaningful comparison between prison experiences with pre-prepared meals and self-­catering, it is possible to elicit significant data on subjective experiences in relation to safety and security. Thirdly, in the scoping review, Smoyer’s (2019) conclusion that the current scholarship pays little attention to food for imprisoned persons during their trial, during prison visits and when they are in solitary confinement is considered a pertinent scope of enquiry here. Additionally, little is known about the food in prison nurseries and on the experience of women who breastfeed their children. This too is highlighted in the findings. Finally, most prison studies have been carried out in Anglo-Saxon (notably, the UK and the USA) and Nordic countries (Denmark, Sweden and Norway), which has resulted in knowledge that is driven by a rather narrow research base. To put this in more concrete terms, Smoyer (2019) showed that the majority of studies on prison foodways have been conducted in the Anglo-Saxon world: of 27 studies, only 4 were based in continental Europe. To compound the statistics further, the studies in continental Europe focused mainly on Nordic countries. It is axiomatic that the food systems developed in these countries are likely to evoke very different experiences. The presence of prison kitchens and self-catering facilities, as in the studies of Earle and Philips (2012), and Minke (2014), for example, does show positive food narratives. In contrast, the food systems explored by Smoyer (2014), where imprisoned people consume pre-prepared meals in cafeterias, largely resulted in feelings of denigration and disrespect. The experiences of foodways in Belgian prisons will no doubt add a distinctive flavour to the study of prison fare.

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Bibliography International Council of Europe. (2020). European Prison Rules. Council of Europe Publishing.

Literature Bosworth, M., & Carrabine, E. (2001). Reassessing Resistance: Race, Gender and Sexuality in Prison. Punishment & Society, 3(4), 501–515. Brisman, A. (2008). Fair Fare?: Food as Contested Terrain in US Prisons and Jails. Georgetown Journal on Poverty Law and Policy, 15(1), 68–145. Cate, S. (2008). ‘Breaking Bread with a Spread’ in a San Francisco County Jail. The Journal of Food and Culture, 8(3), 17–24. Clemmer, D. (1940). The Prison Community. Rinchart. Cohen, S., & Taylor, L. (1972). Psychological Survival: the Experience of Long Term-Imprisonment. Penguin Books. de Graaf, K., & Kilty, J. (2016). You are What you Eat: Exploring the Relationship between Women, Food and Incarceration. Punishment & Society, 18(1), 27–46. European Commission. (2016). Pilot Project Related to the Development of Evidence Based Strategies to Improve the Health of Isolated and Vulnerable Persons. Case Study Pilot 2: Danish Model on Food Systems in Correctional Facilities. https://ec.europa.eu/health/sites/health/files/social_determinants/ docs/2016_vulnerable_danishprisons_en.pdf Foucault, M. (1975). Surveiller et punir. Naissance de la prison. Gallimard. Godderis, R. (2006a). Dining in. The Symbolic Power of Food in Prison. The Howard. Journal of Criminal Justice, 45(3), 255–267. Godderis, R. (2006b). Food for Thought. An analysis of Power and Identity in Prison Food Narratives. Berkley Journal of Sociology, 50, 61–75. Hayes, D. (2018). Proximity, Pain and State Punishment. Punishment & Society, 20(2), 235–254. ICF Consulting Services Ltd. (2016). Pilot Project Related to the Development of Evidence Based Strategies to Improve the Health of Isolated and Vulnerable Persons. Case Study Pilot 2: Danish Model on Food Systems in Correctional Facilities. European Commission. Online. https://ec.europa.eu/health/sites/health/ files/social_determinants/docs/2016_vulnerable_danishprisons_en.pdf

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Johnsson, I., & Ekström, M. (2007). Self-Management and Meal Experiences in Swedish Prisons. Paper Presented at the European Cultural Studies Conference organised by Advanced Cultural Studies Institute of Sweden, Norrköpig, Sweden. Minke, L. (2012). A Study of Prisonization among Danish Prisoners. Prison Service Journal, 211, 37–43. Minke, L. (2014). Cooking in Prison-from Crook to Cook. International Journal of Prisoner Health, 10(4), 228–238. Nielsen, M. (2012). To Be and Not to Be: Adaptation, Ambivalence and Ambiguity in a Danish Prison. Advances in Applied Sociology, 2, 135–142. Parsons, J. (2020). Making Time for food when ‘doing time’; how enhanced status prisoners counter the indignity of prison foodways. Appetite, 146, https://doi. org/10.1016/j.appet.2019.104507 Philips, C. (2012). The Multicultural prison. Ethnicity, Masculinity, and Social Relations among Prisoners. Clarendon Studies in Criminology. Prison Reform Trust. (1991). The Woolf Report. A Summary of the Main Findings and Recommendations of the Inquiry into Prison Disturbances. Prison Reform Trust. Rouhan, S. (2012). Food Behind Bars: The Real Iron Chefs. Food, Media & Culture, 2, 1–15. Rubin, A. (2015). Resistance or Friction: Understanding the Significance of Prisoners’ Secondary Adjustments. Theoretical Criminology, 19(1), 23–42. Rusche, G., & Kirchheimer, O. (1939). Punishment and Social Structure. Columbia University Press. Simanovic, T., & Gosev, M. (2019). Is Food More Than a Means of Survival? An Overview of the Balkan Prison Systems. Appetite, 143. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.appet.2019.104405 Smith, C. (2002). Punishment and Pleasure. Women, Food and the Imprisoned Body. Sociological Review, 50(2), 197–214. Smoyer, A. (2014). Good and Healthy. Foodways and Construction of Identity in a Women’s Prison. The Howard Journal, 53(5), 525–541. Smoyer, A. (2019). Food in Correctional Facilities: A Scoping Review. Appetite, 141. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.appet.2019.06.004 Smoyer, A., & Lopes, G. (2017). Hungry on the Inside: Prison Food as Concrete and Symbolic Punishment in a Women’s Prison. Punishment and Society, 19(2), 240–255.

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Smoyer, A., & Minke, L. (2019). Hygge: Food and the Construction of Safety among Incarcerated Women in Denmark. Appetite, 141. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.appet.2019.104319 Sparks, R., Bottoms, A., & Hay, W. (1996). Prisons and the Problem of Order. Clarendon Press. Sykes, G. (1958). The Society of Captives. A Study of a Maximum-Security Prison. Princeton University Press. Tomlinson, M. (1978). ‘Not an Instrument of Punishment’: Prison Diet in the Mid-Nineteenth Century. Journal of Consumer Studies and Home Economics, 2, 15–26. Ugelvik, T. (2011). The Hidden Food. Mealtime Resistance and Identity Work in a Norwegian Prison. Punishment and Society, 13(1), 47–63. Valentine, G., & Longstaff, B. (1998). Doing Porridge. Food and Social Relations in a Male Prison. Journal of Material Culture, 3(2), 131–152. Vanhouche, A.-S., Smoyer, A., & Minke, L. (2018). Couscous in Tilburg Prison: Food Narratives and the Quality of Prison Life in a Belgian-Dutch Prison. Prison Service Journal, 238, 3–10.

3 Penal Policies in Belgium

The symbolic role of prison foodways provides a means of seeing the lived experiences of imprisonment in a particular way. However, each experience, although similar in many ways, is affected heavily by the distinctive contexts in which they are embedded. In order to capture and understand prison foodways in Belgium, it is essential to ground my findings in the penal philosophies and practices that are germane to Belgium, and in so doing to discern the extent to which Belgian penal philosophies are manifested in their approach to food. This chapter develops the above by tackling recent penal developments in Belgium in ways that explain the Belgian context to an international audience. Thus, concepts of penal moderation (Loader, 2010) and punitiveness (systemic and attitudinal punitivity) (Lappi-Seppälä, 2014) will be linked to recent scholarship and policies on punishment. This overview of the specificity of the Belgian penal landscape will permit an easier reading of similarities and differences with other European states. This chapter, in concreto, provides an overview of (1) public attitudes and the public debate about punishment; (2) the scale of the penal system with a particular (but not sole) focus on imprisonment; (3) qualitative aspects of imprisonment such as prison conditions, imprisoned persons’ rights and the treatment of former incarcerated individuals.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_3

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Why Belgium?

The traditional literature on imprisonment and penal policy has primarily focused on Anglo-Saxon countries (mainly the UK and the USA) and Nordic countries (Denmark, Sweden and Norway), which has resulted in a culturally narrow knowledge base. With the former being neoliberal and the latter welfare states, both are marked by their distinct penal cultures (e.g. Cavadino & Dignan, 2006; Pratt, 2008a, 2008b). The question of whether the knowledge drawn from these countries is generalisable across national, systemic and cultural borders is a pertinent one (see e.g. Nelken, 2010). This book uniquely explores prison foodways in a Belgian context, a continental European country which constitutes a particularly interesting case for several reasons. First, Belgium is considered by Cavadino and Dignan (2006) as a conservative corporatist state. They define this as having characteristically lower levels of inequality in comparison to neoliberal states. Increased protection against the free market, however, does not result in an egalitarian state since divisions between groups of citizens continue to exist (Cavadino & Dignan, 2006). Ample studies have contributed to a wide scholarship on neoliberal and welfare states, but international knowledge of penal policies in conservative corporatist states is conspicuously less apparent in the English literature. This is important since it appears there might be an association between the type of welfare state and the criminal justice state (Garland, 2002). This book is concerned to articulate insights on the relationship between penal policies and a conservative corporatist state. Secondly, while macro-level comparative studies consider corporatist states as a homogenous group, large differences exist between these countries. In the Belgian case, a strong reminder of these differences occurred during the previously mentioned lease of a Dutch prison by the Belgian Government between 2010 and 2016. The coincidence of overcapacity in the Netherlands and overcrowding in Belgium, resulted in what politicians considered a mutual beneficial agreement. In this unique collaboration, Belgium rented the empty prison of Tilburg in the Netherlands, which was located close to the border with Belgium. The initial presumption that the prison systems of these neighbouring countries would be similar was soon shown to be illusory (see Beyens & Boone, 2013). This

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and other collaborations and exchanges between Belgium and European countries have nevertheless resulted in learning opportunities. In the case of Tilburg, for example, new legislation and policies linked to the role of Belgian prison officers were notable outcomes (Law 23 March 2019 concerning the Organisation of the Penitentiary Services and the Statute of Prison Staff). The Belgian case therefore provides insight into practices of convergence and divergence in continental Europe. Thirdly, this type of convergence is also encouraged by the influence of the Council of Europe (and its committees) on imprisonment. In this respect, Belgium is an example of how Europe protects imprisoned persons’ rights, but also the limits of these protections. In the case of the latter, obvious examples would be the influence of the European Committee for the prevention of torture and inhuman and degrading treatment on the officers’ strikes in Belgian prisons, and Belgium’s convictions in the European Court of Human Rights in relation to the treatment of people with an internee status (see further). Fourthly, alongside international influences, Belgian prisons face a unique set of interrelated problems and developments. High levels of overcrowding, frequent staff strikes, progressive and activist prison workers who seek to change these issues from within the system, all combine to provide a distinctive set of pressures (see e.g. Claus, 2018). This, moreover, is complemented by the Belgian Prison Act of 2005, which established the additional context of a strong legal basis concerning incarcerated persons’ rights. However, implementing the Act is an ongoing, and often problematic, process which imprisoned persons regularly highlight when lamenting the negligible benefits they receive. As a consequence the Belgian situation is ideally suited to elaborate on the tensions between the law in books and the law in action (Kaminski, 2015; Snacken, 2015). In addition, the resistance against legislation and greater protection of imprisoned persons’ rights in Belgium provides a complex dynamic to explore in a prison context. This context provides the shifting dynamic and background that the book develops with a new and distinct scholarship on imprisonment outside the Anglo-Saxon and Nordic world, and hence an important contribution to the study and practice of penology in Europe.

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 unitiveness in Belgium: Public Culture P and Debate

In June 2020, Matthias Schoenaerts, one of Belgium’s most famous international actors, painted graffiti of praying hands and bursting walls on the walls of Oudenaarde prison in Belgium. Schoenaerts regularly feeds the public debate on imprisonment and has stated: “We don’t have to punish people with the death penalty. The death penalty has long been abolished. But not being dead does not mean being alive”. By making such statements he regularly pushes for changes in, and gives broader reflections on, the Belgian penal system. Together with the Rescaled movement he strives for major changes in the Belgian penal system: the abolishment of large-scale prisons and the introduction of small-scale community integrated and differentiated detention houses (De Jaegere, 2020). Though hopeful, his words stand in stark contrast to another public debate at that time: the criticism inspired by the release of imprisoned persons from overcrowded institutions in March 2020 during the first wave of COVID-19. This divide is characteristic of many public debates on punishment in Belgium. While the examples above are just two illustrations of different discussions in the public debate, a selection of important research results below illustrates attitudinal punitivity and media representations about punishment in Belgium. Compared to other European countries, Belgium’s punitivity rankings are in line with neighbouring Western-European countries such as the Netherlands, France and Germany. Equally, when the public’s punitive demands are tracked over time (between 1989–2005) they have remained largely the same in Belgium. This is consistent with the evolution of attitudes in France, but contrasts with increased punitive demands in other neighbouring countries over the same period of time such as the Netherlands (Lappi-Seppälä, 2014). More recent data gathered solely in Belgium give greater insight. In 2014, a large-scale questionnaire was carried out on the public’s view of the (criminal) justice system (Phonecom, 2014). This questionnaire contained several questions in relation to punishment. The results showed that 60 percent of the population believed

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imprisoned persons should receive early release, even if they were still under surveillance or some other form of control during the final part of their sentence. The study also revealed that a not insignificant part of the population favour the use of alternative sentences: 83 percent of the population favour community sentences, while 69 percent are in favour of electronic monitoring. However, the usual caveats apply about the reliability of these results: the formulation of questions in public opinion polls, the details and/or cases presented in the question, and the order of answer options, all significantly influence the respondent’s answers and increase the likelihood of spurious outcomes. Consequently, and in line with similar polls abroad, the results of the Belgian’s questionnaire have been subjected to strong criticism (see e.g. Verfaillie, 2012). Popular media too, can feed public opinion. Since few people have direct experience of life in prisons, most rely heavily on media coverage (Knight & Bennett, 2020). Research shows that the media significantly shapes our perceptions and opinions about prisons (Surette, 1997). Snacken (2017), for example, shows how Belgian media coverage of crime and punishment since the 1980s created an intermediary factor in the growth of the Belgian prison population. The media thus becomes a source of power in fuelling punitive reactions regarding punishment, and populist opinions on criminal justice per se. Any understanding of Belgian public opinion on punishment demands particular attention to Belgian media framing of matters related to crime and punishment. Studies on media reporting in relation to crime are unavailable for the whole country, instead they focus on regional communities. The Flemish expertise centre on news and media regularly analyses media representations on crime reports and punishment in Flanders, the Northern part of Belgium. Between 2003 and 2014 large differences between media reporting are discernible between high-quality newspapers and commercial newspapers. One high-quality newspaper spent only 4 percent of its news coverage on crime reporting, while 22 percent of a commercial newspaper’s coverage focused on crime-related matters. For commercial television, the results show more attention is paid to crime reports. The commercial station VTM, for example, used between 15 and 20 percent of its total news time on crime reports. Stark differences between commercial and public television reflect the diversity of the Flemish media.

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Besides a quantitative analysis, the content of these crime reports reveals interesting insights. For example, cases in relation to murder and paedophilia are largely over-reported, while reporting on robbery obtains far less attention (De Smedt & Walgrave, 2015). Whilst crime reports do not reflect nationally reported crime figures, data on comparisons between Flanders and other European regions show that the Flemish commercial television station (VTM) covers a rather high rate of crime news (24 percent), and was right behind Star (Turkey) 34 percent, ITV (27 percent) (UK) and BBC (25 percent) (UK). Wallonian public television finds itself in the middle range with 20 percent of its total coverage on crime reports while the public Flemish media (Eén) pays less attention (17 percent) (De Smedt et al., 2011). Beside this study, a recent article reported on imprisoned persons’ visions on media coverage in relation to crime and punishment. The imprisoned authors and university scholars co-constructed knowledge on the topic and came forward with some notable findings. First, imprisoned persons in the study believed media reported on their characteristics in an inaccurate way; negative characteristics were exaggerated while pro-­ social behaviour was absent in media coverage. One person testified: I then ask myself: What right does a journalist have to attribute character traits and exaggerate or minimize the real truths in order to create a fun and marketable story? Is there any thought given to the impact of such reporting on the subsequent life of the person in question, as well as his/her family members?.... Family members are stigmatized and are also victims because of the actions of their loved one. But the media doesn’t look at that or just doesn’t care. (Imprisoned person’s quote from Edame et al., 2021)

Belgian media coverage on imprisonment has contributed to a public image of prison as one largely influenced by Anglo-Saxon movies and drama series. In contrast, the ‘actuality’ of the Belgian prison situation is very different. In some cases, the Belgian situation was experienced as better, while in many other cases—mainly in relation to sensory consciousness—experiences were unexpectedly harsh:

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My initial idea that I would have to survive on water and bread was already undermined on the first day in prison. My first hot meal in prison was fried potatoes with curry sausages...I also presumed that it was no longer possible to be intimate with my partner. Soon it turned out that this was possible, a conjugal visit was allowed three times a month...Nevertheless, when I entered the high security cell a kind of burden of life fell from me but an even heavier burden came in its place. What I will never forget in that cell is the smell of an open sewer and a life check where the light was turned on every 15 minutes. (Imprisoned person’s quote from Edame et al., 2021)

A further difference between visions of imprisonment in the media and real experiences relates to the overwhelming feeling of boredom: So detention really isn’t like in all those Hollywood blockbusters with all the sensational action and gangs and all that other charade... It’s more like a drawn-out feature movie with no plot where you want to zap away after just a few minutes before you get bored or fall asleep. (Imprisoned person’s quote from Edame et al., 2021)

Finally, it is striking that in Flemish media coverage of prison, such as the most recent and popular documentary about prisons ‘Ooit vrij’ (translation: ‘Released one day’), problems are commonly attributed to individuals rather than to systemic issues germane to the prison institution. The problems that do arise are conspicuously created by and attributed to imprisoned persons—even the most basic research would resolutely refute this characterisation. A further example is the portrayal of the psychosocial service as very approachable with its members walking happily on the prison wings—the blame for a failed relationship with the service is surreptitiously linked to the imprisoned person. Moreover, conversations with the psychosocial service are shown to be speedily consecutive, giving the impression of copious time to prepare for reintegration. This contrasts markedly with the experiences of many people in detention. The lack of time to work with imprisoned persons and the long waiting times that come with it characterise many people’s prison experiences (Edame et al., 2021). Consequently, and similar to the study of Knight and Bennett (2020), imprisoned persons in this essay hold the idea that

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the picture the government wants in the media is often the one that is drawn. To conclude, it is clear that there is little recent reliable data on the Belgian population’s opinion regarding punishment. Media coverage gives us an indication, but the research shows a big difference between commercial and public channels and between media coverage of imprisonment and what people in prison actually experience. This is important because media coverage has been shown to leverage public opinion on punishment in Belgium, particularly with the use of emotive stories that give the public a skewed perception on punishment (Snacken, 2017).

3

Punishment and Imprisonment in Belgium

A fuller picture of penal policies in Belgium demands an understanding of the scale of the penal system with a particular, but not sole, focus on imprisonment. The imposition of sentences in Belgium is organised according to the inquisitorial criminal justice system. Judges impose individual sentences based on an assessment of the crime, its consequences and the culpability and character of the person accused of committing the offence (Scheirs et al., 2016). Legislation provides a wide range of sentencing options for judges: fines, imprisonment, a suspended sentence, probation, work penalty, electronic monitoring, internment of people who committed a crime and have a mental illness. They also have the contested power to impose a form of preventive detention for people who commit a sexual offence after the actual sentence has expired (Beyens et al., 2017). For a very long time, fines and imprisonment were the dominant forms of sentencing. The 1960s witnessed the first wave of alternatives for imprisonment, which were designed to individualise the sentence and reduce the number of short prison sentences. Notably, probation and suspended sentences were established to the criminal justice system. In the 1990s, the search for more alternatives was driven by the need to reduce prison overcrowding and a recognition of the destructive effects of

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imprisonment. Since then, two new freestanding sentences have been introduced: the work penalty and electronic monitoring (Beyens et al., 2017). In addition to these alternatives to traditional custodial sentences, mediation obtained increased attention in response to the growing victim-­oriented climate. In the current climate, fines are the most used form of sentence. Of all criminal sentences in 2013 fines constituted 57.8 percent, and prison sentences 8.2 percent (Scheirs et al., 2016). Diversification of punishment has however been accompanied with a bifurcation in sentencing policies and practices. Since the 1990s, the propensity for non-custodial sentences has grown and imprisonment has become, officially at least, the sentence of last resort. In reality, judges consider these alternatives as ‘favours’ for those they deem deserve a second chance, while the prison sentences they do impose have become longer. Longer custodial sentences and restrictions for parole gained new credibility, especially for persons who have committed sexual offences. This has come to characterise the punitive attitude towards certain types of offence. Incapacitation and protection of the public are advanced as the primary goals in these cases (Scheirs et al., 2016).

3.1

Prisons in Numbers

Belgium has a prison population rate of 93.6 per 100,000 inhabitants, making Belgium lower than the European median of 103.2 per 100,000 inhabitants (Aebi & Tiago, 2021). Belgium has 32 prisons of which 9 have places for imprisoned women, 3 have been adapted for imprisoned mothers with their children and 8 prisons have a special psychiatric wing (Royal Decree 17 August 2019 concerning the implementation of the Prison Act). In addition to this, Belgium has two transition houses for about 15 persons each. When people find themselves with at least 18 months before their conditional release date, they can be transferred to these halfway houses (Royal Decree 22 July 2019 on Transition Houses). In relation to prison numbers, Belgium scores substantially higher than other European countries when measured across several parameters (Aebi & Tiago, 2021). The percentage of those held in pre-trial detention

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is 37 percent against the European median of 22 percent; this partly accounts for the serious level of prison overcrowding Belgium faces where the ratio of prison density is 117 persons per 100 places. This is the third highest in Europe (after Turkey and Italy). These problems are increasingly recognised by politicians but remain doggedly persistent. In response, the federal government coalition agreement of 2020 proposed an expansionist prison policy to reduce overcrowding, and improve material prison conditions. New prisons and forensic psychiatric centres are planned in the near future. Haren prison in Brussels opens in 2022 and has already become the symbol of the contested expansionist view of this, and previous, governments. Haren will become Belgium’s largest prison with 1200 places and is a public-private collaboration in terms of its design, build, finance, maintenance model. The prison received significant levels of criticism from activists and academics who favour reductionist prison policies and fear that Haren symbolises the beginning of a large-scale ‘industrial’ prison strategy.

3.2

Legal Framework

Qualitative aspects of imprisonment such as prison condition and imprisoned persons’ rights and their treatment are commonly discussed within the contested, and shifting, landscape of Belgian criminal justice. Many issues surrounding this contestation are played out within and between Belgium’s particular legal framework. In order to unpick this, it is important to understand Belgium’s complex state structure. Belgium is a federal state with a federal government and federal parliament which are responsible for all federal matters in relation to Justice—the prison service, for example, falls under federal authority. In addition to this, Belgium is home to three distinct regions and three communities. The three Belgian communities are defined according to their official languages and the regions they occupy: Flanders, located in the Northern part of Belgium, is home to 6.5 million Flemish (Dutch speaking) people; Wallonia, in the south, is populated by 3.6 million French speakers;

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and towards the east, the German region counts 78,000 inhabitants. Each regional community has legislative and executive power. Since the 1980s, each community has obtained increased responsibilities in relation to matters such as education and culture. The Flemish and French communities are thus responsible for the organisation of non-­ infrastructural matters in the prisons located on their territory. In concreto, this means that the communities mainly provide the following services in prison: sports and cultural activities, education, judicial welfare work, mental health care and job support in preparation of a release (De Koster, 2017).

3.3

 rison Legislation and Policies P at the Federal Level

3.3.1  Federal Prison Act of 2005 Prior to the 2005 Prison Act, daily life in prison was organised according to the so-called general regulation concerning penitentiary institutions (Royal Decree 21 May 1965 on General Regulations of the Penal Institutions), and the general instructions for penitentiaries (Ministerial Order 12 July 1971 on General Regulations of the Penal Institutions). These rules regulated the rewards and sanctions which could be imposed upon people in prison, in a context where imprisoned persons’ rights were largely absent. Even throughout the 1970s, when strikes by incarcerated persons in several European countries resulted in changes to their (legal) status, the legal framework remained unchanged in Belgium. The strikes in Belgium during that period, of which the strike in Leuven-­ Central prison is the most famous, did result in some important improvements such as an open-door regime in this specific prison, more transparency on (the denial of ) early release decisions and a strengthening of opportunities to maintain social ties with the outside world. The absence of a legal framework remained, however, and was subject to criticism in the following years from amongst others the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment (CPT). In 1996, the Minister of Justice issued a note in which he

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elaborated on the goals of imprisonment and clarified the intention to implement a legal framework. The core of this argued that the execution of detention ought to focus on harm reduction, restoration and preparation for reintegration back into society. In order to achieve these goals, a law had to be developed that took into account, and respected, the European Prison Rules and standards set out in the European Convention of Human Rights (Snacken & Kennes, 2017). After a long process, the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 was passed into law, which strengthened the legal status, and clarified the rights and duties, of imprisoned persons. Despite this, traditional neoclassical views on the goals of sentencing still predominated the reasoning of judges when they impose a prison sentence. This means that prison sentences were still imposed to retribute and deter (Scheirs et al., 2016). Nonetheless, the Prison Act of 2005 legally institutes the relative autonomy of the goals of the sentence implementation: reducing detention harm, normalisation, respect, responsibility and participation. Some of these goals apply to all imprisoned persons whether they are convicted or on remand, namely, respect for a person’s human dignity, participation and normalisation. These various objectives need to be fleshed out, however, if sense is to be made of how they impacted upon the topography of Belgian Criminal Justice. First, the Act guarantees respect for human dignity by virtue of articles that regulate the adequate (material) conditions of detention, such as the right to wear one’s own clothes instead of a penal uniform. Secondly, participation in the Act has a dual inference to both individual and collective levels. On a collective level, the Act established a prisoner council per prison, with responsibility for providing advice to the prison management about issues of general interest. On an individual level, imprisoned persons should be involved in the creation, and adaptation, of their personal detention plan which allows them to prepare for re-entry in society. Thirdly, like most European prison policies, normalisation means that life in prison shall approximate, as closely as possible, the positive aspects of life in the wider community. The Act guarantees this by recognising the variety of social roles that imprisoned people have. A person should, for example, be able to retain the role of partner or husband thanks to regular, and conjugal, visits. For people convicted of a crime, additional

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goals are added to allow the preparation of a person’s reintegration and restoration. The detention plan initiated by the Act supports this reintegration process. The plan is a collaboration between the imprisoned person and the prison service, which plans activities and forms of support, and if necessary, treatment that will be provided during his or her detention. Finally, in order to protect the rights of imprisoned persons, the Act additionally introduces the right to complain. In each prison, a complaint commission is installed which provides accessible opportunities to file a complaint against decisions of the prison governor. This right of complaint was largely inspired by the internationally famous Dutch complaint right (Boone & Kelk, 2015). The passing of the 2005 Act was the beginning of a gradual and ongoing process of transforming the Belgian prison system. Snacken (2015), for example, has shown how articles that reflect, or support, existing prison practices were easily introduced (e.g. family visits), and that articles which mainly protect the interests of the organisation (such as the processes to impose disciplinary sanctions, with the exception of the rights to complain against disciplinary sanctions) were prioritised. The introduction of regulations that protect imprisoned persons’ rights has at times been perceived as a threat to prison officers or the institution; their implementation has consequently been slow. The right to complain to the local complaint commission was, for example, only introduced in 2020. Notwithstanding these valid criticisms, imprisoned persons’ living conditions, and prison regimes, generally but slowly improved since the acceptance of the Act. But this ought not inspire analytical complacency, it is important to note persistent and longstanding problems in Belgian prisons: the presence of people with an internee status in regular prisons, overcrowding, and old buildings all remain stubbornly unresolved and make it impossible to respect legal obligations. Politicians increasingly recognise these problems. The federal coalition agreement of 2020 written by the French and Flemish Socialist, Green, Liberal and the Flemish Christian Democrat parties highlights the aim to resolve some of these problems. Yet, alongside these well-meaning objectives several punitive (and arguably self-defeating) measures were put forward in the agreement. For example, recidivists will be treated more

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harshly, but at the same time will be guided to a different way of life. How these two goals can be reconciled remains unclear, and once again illustrates a bifurcation in penal policies with increased punitiveness towards recidivism. Additionally, and as explained previously, the government proposes an expansionist prison policy to improve living conditions and the quality of life in penitentiaries (Regeerakkoord, 2020). The Minister of Justice has also sought to invest in a meaningful detention period (Beleidsverklaring 2.0 justitie, 2021). The practical implementation of a detention plan is therefore high on his political agenda since this might provide better and more structured support for reintegration. An increased investment in the psychosocial service, differentiation between the roles of security and assistance of officers as well as small-scale and integrated forms of community detention should support this process. In conclusion, the current policy trajectory does not have a reductionist flavour, rather it has clear expansionist goals. This is evinced by, amongst other things, the (increasingly) tough talking approach towards recidivism that supports a markedly punitive agenda. Whilst attention and support for reintegration are recognised, it should be noted that this is strongly embedded within a rhetoric of risk reduction.

3.3.2  Legislation on Release from Prison In addition to changing rules and practices internal to prison, the release process from prison also provides meaningful insight to prevalent penal philosophies in Belgium. In 1996, Belgium was shocked by the discovery of two kidnapped minors (girls) hidden and locked up in a small part of the basement in a house in Marcinelle. They were alive, but the discovery eventually led police to unearth horrifying crimes that have seared into Belgium’s national memory. The investigation led to the discovery of the bodies of two children and two young women which later brought charges and successful convictions against Marc Dutroux for kidnapping, torture, sexual abuse and murder of young girls and women. There is a reason why this case is mentioned here, and it relates explicitly to contemporary narratives relating to early release from prison. The discoveries led to a

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hitherto unseen public outcry against, the police, and strong criticism of the Belgian criminal justice system. Part of this was orientated towards the fact that Dutroux, who had committed offences in the past, was on conditional release when he committed the most recent and serious crimes. The conditional release system, especially for people who had been convicted of sexual offences, came under pressure, and led to restrictions on conditional release for sexual offenders. In addition to this, and to counter the legitimacy crisis facing the criminal justice system, it was decided to set up and expand a number of services, such as the Houses of Justice in 1996, the Psychosocial Service in prisons and the Service for Social Work in 1997 (Storme & Gyselinck, 2012). Moreover, in the Dutroux case, the Minister of Justice was responsible for decisions on conditional release. After the case, Ministers wished to avoid being held responsible for these kinds of judgements. This led to a growing support to introduce a sentence implementation court that would be responsible for deciding, amongst other things, about conditional release from prison. Consequently, the External Prison Act (2006) was introduced in 2006. Designed to regulate the release process and the actors involved, it covers day releases, furloughs, transfers to transition houses, temporary sentence suspensions, limited detention, and release under electronic monitoring and conditional release. The External Prison Act of 2006 is concerned with preparing a person for reintegration in society, providing imprisoned persons with subjective rights in order to receive sentence implementation measures. Moreover, in a change aimed to protect imprisoned persons’ rights, those measures which substantially change the prison sentence (i.e. conditional release, electronic monitoring and limited detention) require approval by a sentence implementation judge or court and not anymore by the Minister of Justice. While this introduced some progressive changes, such as elements of legal protection for imprisoned persons, it has been subjected to criticism by academics. Nederlandt’s study (2020), for example, concluded that the decisions of the sentence implementation courts have treated the legal protection of imprisoned persons’ rights as less of a priority than one might have expected. Instead, the focus of most courts has been more concerned with the discipline, transformation and normalisation of the person who committed the offence. Moreover, the courts have displayed

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a tendency to consider sentence implementation measures as ‘favours’, rather than subjective rights. The discourse surrounding the granting of these measures is, in reality, embedded in a post-disciplinary control system which has a primary focus to reduce risks and recidivism. Consequently, reintegration is considered an additional means to reducing recidivism, rather than an end in itself. Nederlandt concludes that the Belgian situation therefore remains consistent with what Robinson (2008) regards as ‘managerial rehabilitation’. Next to a gradual shift towards risk aversity and recidivism reduction, the evidence also strongly suggests growing attention to the discipline of psychology in prisons. Similar to other countries, this development brought new pains. These pains are in line with what Crewe (2011b) describes as the new pains of imprisonment: the pain of uncertainty for example about the date of a (conditional) release; the pain of psychological evaluations and risk assessments where a person sometimes feels unrecognised in the results of the tests; and finally the pain imposed by a system of self-governance and empowerment lacking clear guidelines. While the power of the Belgian Psychosocial Prison Service does not appear especially overt in the External Prison Act of 2006, in reality, however, the advice function of the service makes it a powerful actor in the release process (Scheirs & Decoene, 2016). While they only provide information on, for example, assessments that have been conducted, this information (indirectly) informs the prison governor, the Minister of Justice and ultimately the sentence implementation court before a decision is made. The combination of an increased psychological focus on risk, as well as the striking absence or limited presence of support services in prison, leads people to max out1 in prison. The most recent data from Belgian prisons show that more people are choosing to max out and avoid conditional release (Beyens, 2019). This is also explained by the lack of institutional support. Imprisoned people are commonly subject to psychological assessment late in their prison sentence. This means that by the time their 1  ‘Maxing out’ refers to an imprisoned person serving their full sentence either to avoid the supervision of parole and other early release services, or because the necessary support systems to facilitate it are absent.

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needs are finally understood, it is far too late for the right support and appropriate treatment to be put in place. An article written by imprisoned authors and academics (Edame et al., 2021) showed that imprisoned persons’ experience of the Belgian system is consistent with what Crewe and Ievins (2020b) define as lax, inconsistent and deficient. The system demands high levels of engagement and change by imprisoned persons, but provides little assistance that is fit for purpose in achieving that requirement. Moreover, when assistance is available in prison, people are often confronted with long waiting lists, leading to a global sense in Belgian’s prisons of being penalised for systemic failures. Taken together, the context of prison release is best characterised as one in which the experiences of people in prison contrast sharply with the stated goals of legislators and policymakers.

3.4

Legislation on the Community Level

Since the greater part of the research underlining this book was conducted in Flanders, this focus will fall primarily on the organisation of person-related matters organised by the Flemish community which exercises its powers over prisons in the Flemish and Brussels region. In the Brussels region, due to its mixed status, this is developed in collaboration with the French community. Nonetheless, the Department of Welfare coordinates services provided by the Flemish community in prison, such as mental healthcare services, sports, cultural activities and education. Their legal basis rests on the Decree 8 March 2013 on the Organisation of Aid and Services for Prisoners and their Families. The decree was designed to support: personal development; social relational and psychological stability; reduce the harm caused by imprisonment, reintegration, participation, restoration and a reduction of recidivism. To achieve this, the Flemish community developed an import-model, similar to what the international literature likens to Nordic models operating in countries such as Norway. In Flanders this means, for example, that schools and teachers working in outside society have a duty to allow the import of (a part of ) their offer to prisons.

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Every five years, the strategy is (re)developed to implement a concrete policy plan to support the achievement of the decree’s goals. The plan covering the period 2020–2025 includes: the implementation of an evidence-­based service; a maximal effort to improve education, work, welfare, mental health care to ensure a smooth return to society and reduce recidivism. In addition to this, the plan includes a tailor-made offer for, what the plan calls ‘radicalised prisoners’, those with psychiatric problems, so-called repeat offenders and people involved in intrafamilial violence. This strategic plan thus becomes a meaningful source to gain insight into, and measure the success of, contemporary policy choice and direction. This strategic plan developed by the Minister of Justice Zuhal Demir, of the centre-right party the N-VA, largely stresses the importance of a successful reintegration in terms of a reduction in recidivism. Despite the stated policy preferences, the plan pays little attention to activities that would support the normalisation of the prison regime. During the discussion of this plan in the Flemish Parliament, little attention was paid to this, which observers regarded as a small, but important, rhetorical shift. A politician from the Socialist Party (Vooruit, Ludwig Vandenhove) raised the question on what kind of offer would be developed for the large population in pre-trial detention since proposed reintegration programmes are not applicable to those who are presumed innocent—there was no meaningful response. These developments can be taken as indicative of the changing landscape of Flemish, and Belgian, criminal justice legislation: one that is being carefully contoured to realise a largely risk-based model. This inevitably will primarily focus on a reduction in recidivism, and pay far less attention to principles such as normalisation and a conception of imprisoned persons as rights-bearing citizens.

3.5

De jure Moderation Versus de facto Illiberalism

The Belgian prison system does not publish an annual report, and official reports of any kind on Belgian prisons are at best limited. The last official report in 2017 revealed that the system focused on countering

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radicalisation, investment in electronic means of controlling mobile phone use, support for interventions in cases of emergencies, the work undertaken by incarcerated persons, increased attention on various ethical problems that arise in prison and activities to support the interaction between imprisoned persons and the outside world. Whilst official reports are thin on the ground, recent reports have been published consequent upon ad hoc visits from external (control or monitoring) bodies. Some of these have highlighted a number of issues where the everyday treatment of imprisoned persons is far removed from the legal requirements. For example, the Ombudsperson’ report (Federale Ombudsman, 2019) stated that in some cases, strip searches do not protect the human dignity of the person involved. After a lengthy period of relative silence, the Belgian Central monitoring body published a comprehensive annual report in 2020. This is the most comprehensive information made publicly available at the time of writing and whilst much is of itself pertinent, various aspects are important here. In no particular order, the board was attentive to the overcrowding problem, the absence of minimum service requirements during officers’ strikes (at the time of writing, the act has been passed and a minimum service is guaranteed after a strike of 48 hours), the problematic (read regular) use of segregation, the absence of detention plans and the limited group of incarcerated people who were able to work or follow a professional training course. Furthermore, there were concrete and lingering problems that are germane to the particularities of the Belgian context. First, despite the judgments of the European Court of Human Rights, the recommendations of the CPT and the progress made in recent years thanks to, among other things, the opening of forensic psychiatric centres, worrying situations persist in relation to the treatment of those with psychiatric problems. For example, it was reported that the board of Mechelen prison revealed how a mentally vulnerable detainee was locked up in the punishment cell as there was no room for him in the psychiatric annex, while detainees in Berkendael were placed in the punishment cell for their own safety. Secondly, overcrowding remains a prominent problem in Belgium. Several boards reported on ground-level sleepers, something that is not infrequently accompanied by inadequate material living conditions. The

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presence of vermin, poor ventilation, outdated buildings and inadequate infrastructure for mothers with children are just a few examples. A third point concerns the location of some institutions and the visiting regime. Prisons are regularly located in remote areas, and several boards pointed out difficulty of accessibility to several institutions, especially with regard to public transport links, which has a significant impact on the visits. Similarly, visitors sometimes face other barriers during visits. For example, for a period of time visitors of one prison were required to queue up outside the prison from 6:00 a.m. in order to reserve a place in the visiting room from 8:00 a.m. Belgium’s historically liberal policy of prison visits is thus at times placed under pressure due to practical problems related to inadequate infrastructure. A final, yet recurrent, problem is the relationship between incarcerated persons and prison staff. In some prisons, boards received complaints about unfriendly staff members, whilst more seriously other institution boards received complaints of harassment, provocation, inhuman or humiliating treatment, discrimination and racism. In several prisons, improper behaviour during strip searches has been reported, as well as the invisibility of staff name badges. Many of these instances are either a consequence of, or compounded by, the high levels of staff shortages in many prisons. In some prisons, staff shortages were so severe that essential activities, such as the time on the courtyard, could not take place. Recurrent staff strike actions, ironically in response to staff shortages, not only put further pressure on the system, but also profoundly impacted on activities for imprisoned persons. Belgium has already obtained a public statement for these strike actions from CPT (CPT/Inf (2017) 18), and in order to deal with these problems, a new act was passed in 2019 on penitentiary services and the statutes covering prison officers. The law regulates for example an internal inspection body, the educational training for prison workers and a minimum service during strikes. Notwithstanding this, there has clearly been a considerable lack of fit between the expectations of the prison service embedded in legislation, and the realities that are practically experienced. Nonetheless, many of these structural problems have been, in my opinion, too easily ascribed to the prison service, when effective solutions need a more holistic approach. This, however, would demand a

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courageous policy agenda, a truly reductionist approach and an equally strong investment from the communities.

4

Conclusion

Many of the processes that take place in Belgian’s prisons show a conflict between what is prescribed in legislation and a lack of means to realise these goals in reality. Recent public opinion research in Belgium is lacking, but indications on news media conjure a less than accurate vision of crime and punishment. A study of media representations on crime and punishment showed marked differences between the high incidence of crime reported in commercial news channels and the limited number in their public cousins. Incarcerated persons, moreover, highlight that their real experiences and voices have negligible influence on media and public narratives. Consequently, the picture of what punishment and imprisonment means, is often painted by outsiders—with least experience of the system. This is important to note; media coverage has been shown to bring some degree of influence to bear on the Belgian public’s perception on punishment, and may well give succour to the punitive requests made by the public (Snacken, 2017). One of the standout features of punishment and imprisonment as matters of public policy is the tangible level of conflicting objectives which reveals a conspicuous lack of joined up thinking. On the one hand, the official judicial line is that imprisonment is a means of last resort, and prison is a place where normalisation is a key facet of the prison regime. Moreover, for people convicted of crime, the official narrative demands that support is in place for their reintegration and restoration. In many respects these goals appear to notably conflict with expected organisational boundaries. First, there is some institutional resistance against the implementation of, for example, the Prison Act of 2005. Some prison officers do not support the goals as stated by the law and have shown their lack of willingness to implement them (Snacken, 2015). Secondly, failures on a macro level ensure that legal requirements fall short of achieving the objectives. As has been shown above, prison overcrowding

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for example strongly militates against various prison workers in fulfilling legal requirements (Snacken, 2017). Consequently, whilst Belgium strives for a moderate penal climate in its laws, the reasons explored in this chapter show that they are barely achieved. Some evolutions appear closer to what Garland (2002) defined as a new culture of control. More worryingly, a resurrection of ideas akin to less-eligibility, a centrality of dangerousness, security minded interventions and the prevention of future crimes are increasingly presenting themselves in the contemporary political debate. The impact of these in Belgium might not be as intrusive and omnipresent as they have been in the USA or the UK, as Belgian and EU legislation and civil society bodies, all serve to protect incarcerated persons’ rights and act as forms of resistance against punitivity. In addition to this, within the prison system, critical criminologists, social workers and other human rights defenders act as civil watchdogs who strongly invest in small, but meaningful, changes within the system, regularly ‘ring the alarm bell’ as a vocal brace against a punitive turn. It is worth noting at the close of this chapter how the discipline needs to focus more on the courage of people in the system who act to prevent a damaging penal turn and improve the quality of life of those in prison and those who work there. These actors can and do make meaningful impacts. An example of the above is a prison governor with decades of experience who brought together practitioners, imprisoned persons, academics and politicians to reflect with him on the limitations of the prison system and what possible structural solutions could be put forward. Questions of substance about incarceration and the criminal justice system aligned as a whole over matters as diverse as abolitionism, pragmatic solutions were also put forward that could make speedy improvements to the current situation. Small-scale forms of incarceration, embedded in the environment, in ways that allow for differentiation and recognition of the person, emerged as one solution to drive short-term improvements. Major social investment was required to get this idea accepted by all political parties, and it is gradually making a significant difference. This group of people, called De Huizen vzw, is now nationally known, and an impactful organisation that aims to inform the public and politicians about the harmful impact of imprisonment.

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Bibliography Literature Aebi, M., & Tiago, M. (2021). Prison Populations Space I—2020. Online. https://wp.unil.ch/space/files/2021/04/210330_FinalRepor t_ SPACE_I_2020.pdf Beyens, K. (2019). Belgian Release Policies, Rationales and Practices. European Journal of Probation, 11(3), 169–187. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 2066220319895776 Beyens, K., & Boone, M. (2013). Zeg Maar Henk tegen de ‘chef ’. Boom-Lemma. Beyens, K., De Pelecijn, L., & Michiels, W. (2017). Overzicht van de straffen. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 137–164). Kluwer. Boone, M., & Kelk, C. (2015). Nederlands detentierecht. Kluwer. Cavadino, M. J., & Dignan, J. (2006). Penal Policy and Political Economy. Criminology and Criminal Justice, 6(4), 435–456. Claus, H. (2018). Achter tralies: hoelang houdt de gevangenis nog stand? Borgerhoff- Lamberigts. CPT/Inf. (2017). 18. Crewe, B., & Ievins, A. (2020). Tightness, Recognition and Penal Power. Punishment and Society, 23(1), 47–68. De Jaegere, A. (2020). Matthias Schoenaerts en twee gedetineerden maken kunstwerk in gevangenis. Online. https://www.vrt.be/vrtnws/nl/2020/06/24/ matthias-­schoenaerts-­maakt-­graffiti-­in-­de-­gevangenis/ De Koster, K. (2017). Hulp- en dienstverlening aan gedetineerden. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 619–646). Kluwer. De Smedt, J., Hooghe, M., & Walgrave, S. (2011). Vlaamse televisiejournaals: het buitenland verdwijnt van de radar Criminaliteit, Cultuur, Politiek en Buitenland in de Vlaamse televisiejournaals (2003–2010). Nieuwsmonitor, 4, 1–13. Online. https://www.steunpuntmedia.be/wp-­content/uploads/2012/ 06/Nieuwsmonitor_4.pdf De Smedt, J., & Walgrave, S. (2015). Minder aandacht voor criminaliteit in de Vlaamse nieuwsmedia: een onderzoek naar criminaliteit op het tv-nieuws en in de kranten in Vlaanderen. Nieuwsmonitor, 22, 1–12.

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Edame, E., Janssens, G., Vanhouche, A.-S., De Bus, S., Langens, L., & Robberechts, J. (2021). Het leven zoals het is: de gevangenis. Reflecties over mediarepresentaties van criminaliteit en gevangenissen. Fatik, 170, 18–28. Federale Ombudsman. (2019). Onderzoek 04—Naaktfouilleringen. Het evenwicht tussen de veiligheid in gevangenissen en de waardigheid van gedetineerden. Online. http://www.federaalombudsman.be/sites/default/files/samenvatting_onderzoek_naakfouilleringen_-­_federale_ombudsman.pdf Federale Overheid, Regeerakkoord 30 september (2020). Online available at: https://www.belgium.be/sites/default/files/Regeerakkoord_2020.pdf Viceeerste minister en minister van Justitie en. Garland, D. (2002). The Culture of Control: Crime and Social Order in Contemporary Society. University of Chicago Press. Kaminski, D. (2015). Condamner. Une analyse des pratiques pénales. Érès. Knight, V., & Bennett, J. (2020). Reading Bronson from Deep on the Inside: An Exploration of Prisoners Watching Prison Films. In M. Harmes, M. Harmes, & B. Harmes (Eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of Incarceration in Popular Culture (pp. 33–49). Palgrave Macmillan. Lappi-Seppälä, T. (2014). Imprisonment and Penal Demands: Exploring the Dimensions and Drivers of Systemic and Attitudinal Punitivity. In S. Body-­ Gendrot et al. (Eds.), The Routledge Handbook of European Criminology (pp. 295–336). Routledge. Loader, I. (2010). For Penal Moderation: Notes Towards a Public Philosophy of Punishment. Theoretical Criminology, 14(3), 349–367. Nederlandt, O. (2020). Les juges de l’application des peines face à la réinsertion des personnes condamnées. Une immersion dans la fabrique législative et la pratique judiciaire du droit de l’exécution des peines privatives de liberté (PhD dissertation). Université Saint-Louis. Nelken, D. (2010). Comparative Criminal Justice: Making Sense of Difference. Sage. Noordzee. (2021). Beleidsverklaring 2.0 Justitie. Sneller-menselijker-straffer. Online available at: https://usercontent.one/wp/www.teamjustitie.be/wpcontent/uploads/2021/03/Beleidsverklaring-2.0.pdf Phonecom. (2014). Vierde Justitiebarometer 2014. Online. https://hrj.be/admin/ storage/hrj/justitiebarometer-­2014.pdf Pratt, J. (2008a). Scandinavian Exceptionalism in an Era of Penal Excess. Part I: The Nature and Roots of Scandinavian Exceptionalism. British Journal of Criminology, 48, 119–137.

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Pratt, J. (2008b). Scandinavian Exceptionalism in an Era of Penal Excess. Part II: Does Scandinavian Exceptionalism Have a Future? British Journal of Criminology, 48, 275–292. Robinson, G. (2008). Late-Modern Rehabilitation: The Evolution of a Penal Strategy. Punishment and Society, 10(4), 429–445. Scheirs, V., Beyens, K., & Snacken, S. (2016). Belgian Sentencing as a Bifurcated Practice? Crime and Justice, 45(1), 267–306. Scheirs, V., & Decoene, S. (2016). De (on)macht van de psychosociale dienst. Enkele reflecties bij de mogelijke impact van het psychosociaal verslag in het beslissingsproces van de strafuitvoeringsrechtbanken. Panopticon, 37, 393–400. Snacken, S. (2015). Tien jaar Basiswet- ‘Back to Basics’. In T. Deams, C. Hermans, F. Janssens, J. Millen, L. Robert, & V. Scheirs (Eds.), Tien jaar basiswet gevangeniswezen en rechtspositie van gedetineerden (pp. 179–203). Maklu. Snacken, S. (2017). Bestraffen als maatschappelijke constructie. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 77–94). Kluwer. Snacken, S., & Kennes, P. (2017). De interne rechtspositie van gedetineerden. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologische perspectief (pp. 425–474). Kluwer. Storme, I., & Gyselinck, L. (2012). Van overheidsreclassering naar Psychosociale Dienst en Dienst Justitiehuizen. In R. Roose, F. V. Laenen, I. Aersten, & L. Van Garsse (Eds.), Handboek Forensisch Wenzijnswerk. Ontwikkeling, beleid, organisatie en praktijk (pp. 47–69). Academia Press. Surette, R. (1997). Media Crime and Criminal Justice: Images and Realities. Thomson Wadsworth. Verfaillie, K. (2012). Punitive Needs, Society and Public Opinion: An Explorative Study of Ambivalent Attitudes to Punishment and Criminal Justice. In S. Snacken & E. Dumortier (Eds.), Resisting Punitiveness in Europe?: Welfare, Human Rights and Democracy (pp. 225–246). Routledge.

4 On Water and Bread

Feast in Belgian prisons: ostrich, venison, and salmon. Those who thought the 11,000 prisoners in Belgium lived on water and bread are wrong. —Het Laatste Nieuws (2016)

This newspaper headline, illustrating how menus in prison resemble what is generally eaten in society during Christmas, generated public astonishment. The reaction reflected the idea that water and bread as a symbolic form of punishment is still a powerful narrative in public debates about prison food. At root, the idea of prisons serving meals that conform to the same standards as those consumed in society, is frowned upon. In this type of discourse, water and bread is sometimes still advocated as the ideal, and just, punitive diet for people who find themselves in prison. The example of water and bread is rather illustrative of a valorised form of harsh punishment characteristic of bygone eras. While most of us often can sum up some vague examples of this practice in the past, a detailed insight in this practice is lacking: where does this idea of water and bread come from? Was it actually used as a form of punishment, and

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_4

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if so, when, and under what conditions? Was it an accepted form of punishment, or contested? This chapter explores the historical roots of this practice, and how debates suggesting its contemporary pertinence are not limited to the diet itself, but embedded in wider punitive discourses. Chapter 2 was especially attentive to how visions on the goals of imprisonment, such as deterrence, reintegration and normalisation are often reflected in the prison’s food policy. Here I will elaborate on how these penal visions changed over time, and how they can help inform, and increase, understandings of current prison food policies in Belgium and abroad. In so doing, I address how the current food system came into existence: why were certain practices abolished or introduced? Which goals of imprisonment prevailed, and how were they reflected in prison foodways? In order to answer these questions, we need to recognise how ongoing discussions about imprisonment began over 200 years ago. The primary sources of evidence in this focus are the visions of prison food put forward by policymakers or in policy documents. Most historians writing about imprisonment in Belgium have focused on prison policies (see e.g. Maes, 2009; Maes et al., 2017; Martyn & Velle, 2011; Erkul, 2020). This is more of a pragmatic, rather than methodological, choice since historical references on the lived experiences of imprisoned persons which can be found in, for example, diaries are limited. An interesting exception is the work of Bruyneel (2006) who focused on ‘ego documents’ written immediately after the Second World War. This kind of work gives an insight into how prison policies were experienced by people convicted for collaboration (Bruyneel, 2006). Based on archival research of Belgian historians a history of imprisonment in Belgium is drawn in this chapter. Whilst most of this work deals with imprisonment in general, and only occasionally refers to food policies (the work of Erkul 2020) on hunger strikes is an exception here), these references are consolidated to develop the contours of a history of prison food. Beginning with a limited discussion of policies in the sixteenth century, a period which has been identified as one in which food was used as a punishment, I go on to cover the period from the nineteenth century onward. It is here that knowledge of imprisonment—and therefore also the accounts

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on prison food—becomes more apparent, before concluding with a discussion on the postwar period.1

1

Water and Bread

In the sixteenth century, food was commonly regarded as part of a punishment. Local authorities executed sentences and handed out punishments which led to significant local differences. In general, the deprivation of liberty was used to ensure that the real punishment—such as a corporal sentence—could be executed (Martyn, 2011). However, in some cases, liberty deprivation was used as a punishment, sometimes in combination with a water and bread diet. Some catholic religious institutions, for example, had their own spaces of liberty deprivation where sinners were incarcerated. Clerics and lay justiciables who had sinned were locked up for weeks or months and only received a water and bread diet. This punishment aimed to induce regret. The practice did not remain limited to the ecclesiastical context, and also included imprisoned debtors, especially those unable to pay off their debts. In those cases, imprisonment in combination with a water and bread diet was imposed. Imprisonment as a punishment in criminal cases was rare. Some examples exist, such as the case of Joos van Nieudonc who served 14 days of imprisonment in 1502 for a case of concubinage. Nieudonc was prescribed a special diet as part of his punishment, which consisted of one day on water and bread and the other day on beer and bread. While the consumption of alcohol in prison might be a surprise in light of its general prohibition nowadays in Belgian prisons, alcohol, and in particular beer, was a common part of the dietary consumption in that period. Belgian beer traditions stretch back over centuries. Scholliers and Albala (2008), for example, describe how a soldier’s ration in the Belgian city of Antwerp in 1568 included rye bread, two litres of beer, cheese, butter, salt, peas or beans and some salted meat (for soup). The inclusion of beer in the prison diet consequently shows that water was exchanged for another normal calory rich 1  The word ‘prison’ is used in this chapter to refer to places of confinement; it is important to note that the names of these places changed over time.

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alternative. Moreover, by stressing the prison diet, imprisonment clearly existed in sixteenth century, and that poor diet played a central and punitive aspect to the punishment (Martyn, 2011). As explained previously, imprisonment was used for people awaiting trial or waiting until their sentence would be executed. In these arresthouses, daily meals were served, and in the second half of the sixteenth century in an arresthouse in Ghent, this typically consisted of soup, vegetables and wine or beer. The costs of these meals were partly paid by charity, whereby volunteers asked citizens to provide sufficient money for bread, meat, vegetables and fish. Clearly, imprisoned persons were considered as people who needed, and deserved, the support of charitable intervention—a vision that would change. The situation for the well to do, who could buy additional brandy (stronger in alcohol) and meat in prison, was somewhat different. Those imprisoned persons were able to afford food and drink that constituted a rather luxurious diet in that period of time (Martyn, 2011).

2

 elgium Under Imperial France: Food B as an Additional Form of Punishment

In his book on the birth of the modern prison, the French philosopher Michel Foucault explained how visions of punishment gradually changed after the French Revolution. These changing visions were apparent in several countries in Europe, including Belgium which between 1794 and 1814 was annexed by France. Foucault (1975) explained that by the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, public executions gradually disappeared. The body, as an obvious site of physical punishment gradually disappeared, but was nevertheless still affected as imprisonment replaced corporal punishment as the dominant form of retribution. Imprisonment and the deprivation of liberty were, however, not considered a punishment as such. Therefore, additional harm was needed to justify its use. This additional harm often affected the custodian’s body: forced labour; limited food rations; beatings and solitary confinement all serve to

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illustrate how prison regimes continued to attack the bodies of its inmates even after the gradual abolition of corporal punishment. This changed vision was reflected in prison policies of the time. When Belgium was under French annexation (1794–1814) a retributive and cost-saving logic prevailed (Maes et al., 2017). Gradually prison labour became an important activity for incarcerated persons and was considered a means to re-educate ‘lazy’ citizens into diligent workers. By the end of the eighteenth century, imprisoned persons were even outsourced to private entrepreneurs. In exchange for work, the entrepreneur paid for incarcerated persons’ food, drinks and a small salary. In this system, the prison’s living conditions deteriorated. Food rations diminished and entrepreneurs often did not fulfil their care-related duties which led to riots, violence and illnesses (Cattrysse et  al., 2011). Moreover, penal codes stipulated that food, or the lack of it, could be part of a punishment. The French Penal Code of 1791, for example, provided for a water and bread diet for those convicted to forced labour. After their working hours, imprisoned persons were incarcerated and only received water and bread; any other food and drinks had to be bought from their salary (Art. 15). Similarly, those convicted with a prison sentence of a maximum of six years were subjected to a water and bread diet, and again, additional food was bought at personal expense (Art. 21). It should come as no surprise that the poor diet resulted in serious consequences. Imprisoned persons were underfed, and conditions were considered worse than those under a system of corporal punishment (Maes, 2009). Foucault’s idea that the body was still ‘attacked’ by additional deprivations of this new form of punishment is clearly exemplified by this illustration. Foucault further explains how three forms of detention were proposed. The first one, the cachot, was a form of imprisonment in which the inflicted pain would increase due to various measures such as the restriction of food. A less intrusive form of liberty deprivation was the gene. The least suffering would be caused by a form of detention that solely consisted of confinement without additional harm. This vision as put forward by Foucault was indeed discussed and sometimes (partly) put into practice throughout Belgian history. Foucault additionally highlighted that the birth of the prison went hand in hand with reformers’ reflections on how to find the ‘right punishment’ for each crime: “to find the

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suitable punishment for a crime is to find the disadvantage whose idea is such that it robs for ever the idea of a crime of any attraction” (Foucault, 1975, p. 104). A calculated fear of punishment had to be installed, and an exact relationship between the nature of the offence and the nature of the punishment should exist. In order to adapt punishment as much as possible to the crime, aspects of prison regimes differed, and importantly here, so did food.

3

 elgium Under the United Kingdom B of the Netherlands: Food and Economic Considerations

Between 1815 and 1830 Belgium was part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. In this period, economic gain and discussions on the less-­ eligibility principle were central to prison policies. In line with previous policies, it was still believed that imprisoned persons had to be re-­educated through hard labour. It was believed this would transform them to law abiding citizens instead of lazy profiteers. Living conditions saw a slight improvement, but not due to humanitarian considerations, rather a consequence of increasing the government’s profit from prison labour (Bruyneel, 2006). In the context of Belgium being part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, understanding how the Dutch government organised its imprisonment will be useful. Franke (1990) highlights how the growing interest of the state in the organisation of imprisonment increased its interventions in punishment-related practices; at least officially. Alongside what appeared to be a gradual centralisation, local governors still held great power over their prisons, and in reality, there remained large local differences. In general, prison institutions in that period of time were characterised by decline and poor conditions (Franke, 1990). The jobs that imprisoned persons performed in that period gradually conferred upon them in a slightly more advantageous position. Their health became important because they had to be able to work to ensure financial gain for those in charge of the prison. It was consequently

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important to serve sufficient food to ensure people could perform optimally at the workplace. Nevertheless, prison meals were far from luxurious. Only soup and bread were served, and the quality was dubious, since guards were sometimes bribed by suppliers to accept and serve expired foods. It goes without saying that the food quality was poor, and supplemented by the incarcerated person’s small salary to buy jenever, brandy and beer in the canteen. The more well-off persons could afford to be housed in the pistole. This was a contested and luxurious place in prison that epitomised social inequality within the prison population. In the pistole, one could eat at their own expense and could buy amongst other things, exclusive wines. Franke (1990) quotes a former incarcerated person who defined these practices thus: “the men in the pistole feast and revel as bacchants”.2 While this luxury was only accessible to a small part of the prison population, it nevertheless led the Dutch government to decide that imprisonment brought too much joy and suffering needed to increase. The fact that many poor persons in that period died due to the overwhelming presence of illnesses was neglected (Franke, 1990). Because it was almost impossible to survive on the diet served by the prison, imprisoned persons found other ways to add food to the daily rations. The less well-off survived thanks to citizens (the public could visit the prison as an amusement attraction) and family visits. During visits, imprisoned persons traded goods and obtained food, snacks and drinks from visitors. On other days, people would stick small bags and wallets to a rope that those incarcerated would hang outside their cells in a form of begging. Passants could support them by placing money in these wallets (Franke, 1990). The poor diet and the need to beg for additional allowances gradually attracted criticism. A Dutch doctor in the prison of Amsterdam provided a detailed criticism of the limited food rations and the water and bread diet for those who obtained a disciplinary sanction. Once again, it is clear that this poor diet was part of the punishment, and was considered a means to increase suffering during imprisonment. In this example, the 2  This practice was abolished in Belgium’s central prisons after independence. The pistole however, continued to exist in secondary prisons until 1905 (Maes, 2009).

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diet was, however, unrelated to their crime, but conspicuously dependent on the person’s behaviour in the institution. Finally, the use of alcohol also increasingly gained criticism. Brand van Langerach (a court member at that time) raised strong criticisms of prison conditions and proposed what he considered to be improvements. His main concerns related to the lack of hygiene, the abuse of alcohol, yelling and sexual intercourse between imprisoned persons and their wives or prostitutes (Franke, 1990). Van Langerach’s account highlighted that it was not only a lack of food, but also that alcoholic drinks impacted on the population’s behaviour, and could increase problems inside prisons. Little changed, however, until Belgium’s independence.

4

 elgium After Its Independence: B Searching for a Balance Between Humanitarian and Economic Considerations

Post Belgian independence in 1830, Edouard Ducpétiaux became the first general inspector of Belgian’s prisons, and gradually led to a centralisation of the prison service (1830–1861). When Belgium was still part of the Netherlands, Ducpétiaux was imprisoned for 15 months for a press offence. His personal prison experiences prompted him to introduce changes. He believed that overcrowding, disorder and the communal regime resulted in promiscuity and recidivism. He believed an improvement of material conditions combined with a cellular system would lead to individual repentance. Instituting solitary confinement would reduce the risk of ‘criminal contamination’ between incarcerated persons while religion, work and education could resolve underlying causes of crime. Moreover, he related criminality to immorality and saw it as a rational choice of protagonists (Snacken & Beyens, 2017). The use of food as punishment was present in his policy recommendations. The existence of solitary confinement, for example, led to a regime in which meals were consumed alone in the cell. The regime would be characterised by each person residing in a personal cell, where he or she

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would spend most of the day, and sleep, work and eat. The star-formed prisons that he designed had a central space from where all movements could be monitored. The panopticon design ensured that each wing consisted of individual cells, communal places were kept to a minimum, with only the chapel providing one of the exceptions (Snacken & Beyens, 2017). The prisons thus looked like the Pennsylvania prison system. Several Belgian prisons built by Ducpétiaux, or built according to his model, are still in use today. Grasping the historical development of prison design and regime systems explains why most people still eat alone, or with their cell mate, in their cell. Communal dining areas such as those in the USA are still an exception in Belgium. While the architectural ideas of Ducpétiaux are still present today, his views on less-eligibility are commonly rejected, at least in official prison legislation. Ducpétiaux appeared sensitive to the concept of less-­eligibility, claiming that “to a large number of prisoners, the prison has lost its horror and many consider it a refuge against poverty” (Ducpétiaux, 1845, p. 45). One of the reasons for this strong statement was related to his comparison between the living standards of working people in society, and those of people in prison. In order to compare this standard, Ducpétiaux discussed food costs, arguing that “the maintenance cost of detainees during the years 1847–1849 averaged around 63 centimes (per person per day), or 13 centimes more than for a member of a workingclass household” (Ducpétiaux, 1855, p. 154). However, while this discussion was very prescient in political reflections about punishment, and was often considered as social injustice, Ducpétiaux believed it was undesirable to lower the food costs for incarcerated persons even more. He claimed that a decrease in food costs would eventually result in a hidden death penalty, reasoning that “once this limit is lowered, for particular categories of imprisoned persons, diseases will increase adding to the number of deaths: imprisonment may equal to a kind of death sentence” (Ducpétiaux, 1845, p. 40). Clearly, economical, humanitarian and social justice matters were balanced in regulating the prison diet (Maes, 2009; Maes et al., 2017). So while food had to meet certain minimum standards, a restricted diet was evidently part of a disciplinary punishment in prison, which echoes some of what Franke found in the Netherlands (Maes, 2009). Thus, it was not a naked cell (as we know it today) that was

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considered the punishment, it was the diet. These sanctions were often imposed on people who violated the rule of a solitary life and communicated with others. It was also inflicted for other transgressions such as an unclean cell, or masturbation, which could result in a punishment of water and bread (Drossens et al., 2011). While Ducpétiaux’s prison policy became internationally famous for its presumed impact on people’s morality, and the reduction of recidivism, his ideas were increasingly contested by the end of his life. The high number of suicides and psychological suffering caused by isolation placed his system under pressure (Snacken & Beyens, 2017). So too were the detrimental effects on people’s physical health gaining more critical attention. As the examples above show, attention for people’s health and their food intake was not absent before Ducpétiaux’s reforms, but the topic came to the forefront as the nineteenth century came to an end. Debates about the relationship between food quality and deaths in prisons were not restricted to Belgium. In 1885 at the penitentiary Con­ gress of Rome—in which the Belgian Minister of Justice participated— the prison food regime was discussed in an international context. The fifth question that was discussed during the conference specifically tackled prison food: “On which principles should the prisoners’ food be based taking into account hygiene standards and penitentiary premises?” During the conference it was stated that the mortality rates of the prison population were excessively high compared to outside society. Consequently, a food regime had to be developed to ensure that people maintained their health and continued their prison work. At the same time, exaggerations had to be prevented and costs reduced as much as possible. Thus, food guidelines had to be developed, that not only balanced health needs with budget restraints, but were also considered in relation to a person’s re-entry in society and his or her right to live: the state has to protect the lives of those convicted in order to ensure they will not be released unhealthy and weak due to prolonged suffering. The prisoner who lost his right to freedom did not lose his right to live. Sufficient and healthy food is the basic need of life. (Comité Executif du Congrès Penitentiaire International, 1885, p. 384)

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Clear statements about incarcerated person’s lives and the provisioning of their basic human needs were put forward. This was, however, an official reflection on what the diet should look like. In order to understand whether it was implemented in reality, the prison diet guidelines in 1906 in Belgium will provide a meaningful comparison (Maes et al., 2017). Comparing the prison diet with what was eaten by workers on the outside at the same time, it was found that bread and potatoes were similarly present in both menus, although the diet for workers contained more variation and meat. However, based on the preparation methods, the meals served in prison were almost certainly less tasty (Maes et al., 2017). Besides this standard menu, some imprisoned persons, commonly those with illnesses, received a different diet. In these cases, a doctor would have prescribed additional food rations. Moreover, people who performed hard labour, such as those working in the prison kitchen or the kitchen’s bakery, received additional drinks—¼ litre beer twice a day. This was considered a humane intervention for those who performed at the workplace (Maes, 2009). That some efforts were made to implement the recommendations made at the Congress of Rome in Belgian prisons was similarly evinced by the director of the Belgian central prison of Leuven. Based on the conclusions made at the Congress, he further developed a document with guidelines for the Belgian context. He made two major conclusions concerning prison meals. First, people in Belgian prisons should obtain sufficient food (and protein substances) to maintain their health and to continue their prison work. Additionally, he proposed that each incoming person would be subjected to a medical check and that their weight would be recorded. Secondly, he believed the prison system had to make moral considerations. While he agreed with the conclusion of the Congress that food should not be used as part of the punishment, since the punishment “should not destroy the human who is evil but the evil in a human being”, he also believed that prison food may not spoil the incarcerated men and women (Bertrand, 1934). It is clear that throughout the nineteenth century, the vision of prison food and its functions slowly changed. While it had long been considered as part of the punishment, or as fuel to keep people working, food soon became a basic element of the regime, and a way to ensure a person’s health. It was moreover believed that healthy people would reintegrate

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more easily after release. It would be a mistake to assume that these progressive ideas were either driven by kindness or designed to lavish incarcerated persons with fine cuisine. Indeed, abundance was very much contested, and therefore a balance was sought between healthy food and a moderate diet. Consequently, while deterrence, moral improvement and retribution were the important goals of imprisonment in the nineteenth century (Maes, 2009), the food regime did not serve them. However, when imprisoned persons were disciplined, for one infraction or another, a special diet was still part of that punishment. The General regulations on imprisonment of 1905 stated that: All disobedience, all acts that are not in line with the discipline or that are not subordinated, all infractions to the regulations are punished as follows and according to the severeness of the violation. The punishments are the following: deprivation of work, literature, the canteen, visits, communication and other favours; the diet of water and bread; Imprisonment in a repressive cell (cellule de repression) with a water and bread diet. The water and bread diet can be used for a maximum of nine days.

The use of food as part of disciplinary sanctions, or other forms of punitive addition to a sentence, was not uncontested. A further example relates to the proposal of Jules Lejeune. Jules Lejeune, who was the Belgian Minister of Justice between 1887 and 1894, wished to differentiate the regime based on the crimes committed. Lejeune particularly wished to increase suffering for recidivists and sexual offenders (Cattrysse et al., 2011). While he is nowadays still famous in Belgium for the early release system that he introduced—and the lenient approach that public opinion nowadays links to this system—he also made proposals that would be considered rather punitive now. While a decrease in food quality or regime was very much contested, Lejeune proposed to place recidivists on an alternating diet of water and bread during the first 30 days of their imprisonment. This proposal was however not accepted. Only restrictions to canteen products, which were seen as additions to the regular diet, became more restricted for recidivists (Maes, 2009).

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 unger and Starvation During H the World Wars

Throughout the twentieth century the vision of imprisonment changed. This was consistent with the increasing importance of medico-­psychosocial approaches, which led to a focus on the person as ‘the criminal’ and on increased differentiation and individualisation of crime and punishment. However, while imprisonment, and thus the prison food regime, gradually changed over time, there were two major disruptions to this process: the First and the Second World War. During the First World War, Germany occupied Belgium and took control of the prisons. One of the only tasks that was still performed by the Belgian prison governor was the food provision. During this period, an imprisoned person witnessed that the food deteriorated, the bread rations diminished and the quality of the meals worsened. Ghent prison serves as an illustrative example. In this period, people in the prison of Ghent received chicory (a weak substitute for coffee) in the morning, followed by a lunch of soup and bread. Four times a week it was bean soup, but on the other days, the soup was prepared with corn, rice or beef. In order to increase these food rations, people were allowed to receive food packages from their families. In certain cases, imprisoned people did not receive this poor diet since the German occupier used starvation as a technique for interrogations, mainly when questioning spies (Drossens & Roden, 2011). During the Second World War, the prison food quality and quantity similarly decreased. On 10 May 1940, the German army attacked Belgium and less than a month later Belgium once again became an occupied territory. During this period, the prison population in Ghent received 250 gram of bread in the morning with Ersatz coffee, a litre of soup for lunch and a portion of vegetables and potatoes for dinner. While the amount of food was similar to what Belgians ate outside society during the war, the food quality was much lower, vegetables were actually only stems and some leaves. A person described the prison meals as: “disgusting coffee that is drinkable when hot but makes you shake from disgust once it cools down” (Baeyens in Drossens & Roden, 2011, p. 122).

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While the living conditions in prisons were low during the Second World War, the situation did not immediately improve after Belgium’s liberation. The prison population sharply increased to 70,000, which was mainly because of imprisoned collaborationists and the delays in bringing their cases to court (Bruyneel, 2006). With overcrowding, material conditions deteriorated further. In Ghent for example an old textile factory obtained a new function and was used to house those who collaborated. Detailed accounts show the problematic situation in this institution. In 1944, the food regime consisted of a normal bread ration in the morning, soup, potatoes and vegetables for lunch and vegetables and potatoes for dinner. However, one year later this menu deteriorated. It was therefore suggested to add raw carrots to the menu to prevent vitamin C deficiencies and to serve additional bread. However, the problem was still apparent in 1946. Consequently, imprisoned persons searched for other ways to increase their food rations and corruption flourished. Family members were allowed to bring in food package, and prison officers exploited this by smuggling in letters and food in exchange for money. However, as hatred towards collaborators became more intense, their families became targets. They were an easy target when waiting outside to bring in food packages, and were violently attacked by people from the local communities. As a consequence, and in order to reduce incidents, the food packages were abolished. The abolishment of these packages, the poor prison diet and the abolishment of certain favours inspired riots in 1945. Officers fled and imprisoned women entered the rooms of officers to steal their food. In order to prevent this situation in the future, people were transported, and the overpopulation decreased in this institution (Drossens & Roden, 2011). This is however an oral history of the miserable (food) conditions in some institutions immediately after the war. Similar stories were found in ego documents of collaborators in other prisons, one of whom wrote: Hunger can take hold of a person. One must have suffered from hunger oneself to understand that feeling. (Bruyneel, 2006, p. 60)

Many people in outside society were also experiencing hunger after the war, so the situation in prisons was not particularly different from the

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situation in free society. However, the large quantities of food that were needed to feed the huge group of imprisoned persons, created an even more vulnerable situation. Food that could be delivered was dependent on available food stamps of imprisoned persons. In one prison, a governor had urged incarcerated persons to request their stamps from their families; only when they possessed sufficient food stamps, was it possible to buy food. This was particularly acute in the first weeks after the war when the food shortages were a major problem. So-called watersoup was initially served which was low in calories, monotonous and insufficient, and although meals became more varied, they still failed to meet minimal requirements. The criticism of food also increased from governors who had to deal with the growing tensions of starving men resulting in bread and potato riots. In 1944 an imprisoned person wrote: It was the first time that we were able to eat potatoes in four weeks. You can imagine how it tasted. (Bruyneel, 2006, p. 64)

It is assumed that in the post 1945 period people suffered less from hunger. Nevertheless, the lack of certain nutrients made imprisoned persons complain about physical weakening, weight loss and headaches. Three ways have been documented as strategies to reduce hunger: packages brought in by families; food that was smuggled in; and cigarettes (nicotine acts as an appetite suppressant). After 1945, the food undoubtedly improved, but taste, quantity and variation remained subject to criticism (Bruyneel, 2006). The widening awareness of the atrocities of the Second World War inspired a liberalisation process in Belgium’s prisons and in the following years, the communal regime returned. This change was induced by prominent persons who having been imprisoned during the First, or Second, World War, and experienced the atrocities of (solitary) confinement began to (re)shape opinions about imprisonment. Even at a purely pragmatic level, the mass incarceration and overcrowding that had accompanied the growth of the prison population, made it impossible to commit to a regime of strict solitary confinement (Bruyneel, 2006). In the case of food policy, postwar economic considerations saw a maximum spending per day, per person and a detailed overview of

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ingredients in meals was abolished. The maximum expenditures by 1955 were 18 BEF for healthy persons, and 25 BEF for unhealthy persons. This price changed almost every year and depended on the monthly reports provided by the local prisons in which governors reported on the food expenses (Maes, 2009).

6

Canteen Products

Meals provided by the prison service are not the only source of nutrition for imprisoned persons. The prison canteen enables incarcerated persons to buy additional food (as well as other products) to soften the prison regime. It is known that canteen products form an important part of a person’s actual food intake, which makes it useful here to consider the history of policies in relation to the canteen. As mentioned earlier, the code pénal of 1791 enabled imprisoned persons on the poor prison diet to purchase additional foods. When Belgium was part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, the canteen was officially introduced in prisons where inmates worked (Maes, 2009). Its existence, however, has not been free of controversy. Throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, numerous politicians and prison administrations regularly demanded the abolition of the canteen. In 1837, for example, a member of parliament asked for the abolition of the canteen on the grounds that the prison diet provided sufficient nutrition. He believed the canteen exacerbated inequalities between imprisoned persons visible and led to a continuation of immoral behaviour. He concluded that it would have been better for people’s prison salary to be saved for their release. The Minister of Justice at that time disagreed and considered the canteen as a form of support and motivation for the working prison population. He believed the canteen was a reward for hardworking people who should spend their salary as they wished. Nevertheless, not all prisons introduced a canteen. In some prisons, it was believed that the presence of a nutritious diet served by the prison indeed compensated for the absence of a canteen (Maes, 2009). Similar to Foucault’s identification of three regimes that were established to differentiate between the prison population, post-independence

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Belgium divided incarcerated persons into moral classes: division de récompense, division d’épreuve and division de punition. Depending on their moral class people received a different salary for their work, had greater numbers of visits, could send and receive more letters and were granted access to the canteen (Maes, 2009). A person in the prison of Ghent in 1850 in a regime récompense could, for example, buy beer, butter and ryebread on a daily basis. A person in a regime d’épreuve could buy ryebread every day, butter once a week and beer only on Sunday. An imprisoned person in a regime de punition could not buy these products at all. Another form of categorisation was put in place in 1905. Persons condemned to forced labour could order canteen products only once a week while people convicted for minor offences could order products each day (Maes, 2009). Incarcerated persons also had the possibility to receive food from the outside world at their own expense. The person had to obtain authorisation for these foods and drinks, in particular the consumption of beer and wine was regulated (and limited) by the governor. Liqueurs spiritueuses were forbidden in 1905 (The General Rules of 30 September 1905). It was noted earlier how Lejeune’s advocacy of increased suffering for recidivists with a poor diet was rejected. A different proposal that related to a person’s canteen purchases was, however, accepted. Consequently, recidivists and people serving short sentences, had access to a limited number of canteen products. This measure was limited in time, and aimed to prevent recidivists becoming used to the normal prison (food) regime. In 1921, this regulation changed and for people who performed well at the workplace, exceptions were made. Moreover, in 1922 an additional exception was made for imprisoned persons who were unwell. These changes led to a new canteen system in 1937 that was more liberal and open to everyone. There were however three lists of canteen products. The first list consisted of basic products and was accessible to all. Bread, herring and salt were the food products that could be bought on this list. The two other lists contained ‘luxury’ products. The second list additionally sold products such as milk, sugar, eggs, smoked bacon, beer and mineral water. In the third and most extended canteen list, people could also buy chocolate, seasonal fruits, sardines, corned beef and gingerbread. The most extended list was only accessible to those who

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conducted a political crime, people in pre-trial detention and people who were imprisoned for more than six months and did not violate the prison’s internal regulation (Maes, 2009). Clearly, while the exclusion of certain categories of people from the canteen list had been a means to increase suffering, and although this measure was softened over time it was not fully abolished. All people had access to the canteen but the limited products that were available to certain categories of imprisoned persons served to harden their regime and upheld the principle of regime differentiation. In the second half of the twentieth century, a more liberal regime emerged. This was exemplified in several ways. First, people could receive special packages during the holidays. Since 1948, family members could send their loved ones in prison a package that mainly consisted of food ingredients such as milk, meat or fish, cheese, pastry, gingerbread, sugar, chocolate and fruit such as apples and pears. The aim of this system was mainly to strengthen the ties between families and incarcerated persons, a goal that became increasingly important to successful reintegration in society. A second, and more explicitly liberal, approach concerned the abolition of the distinction of categories of imprisoned people with regard to the canteen lists they had access to. This differentiation was fully abolished in 1965, when the frequency of canteen deliveries had increased to three times a week. The last vestige of differentiation, the limit on the maximum amount of money that could be spent in the prison canteen, was finally abolished in 1991. This general liberalisation of the regime contrasts with one practice; the consumption of alcohol. In general society, when the vision on the consumption of alcohol started to change, alcohol consumption in prison was further regulated. While the consumption of alcohol and in particular beer and wine had not been limited, new regulations in 1925 changed this situation. Persons who were convicted for drunkenness, or who were drunk whilst committing a crime, were not allowed to consume beer during their sentence. In 1947, alcohol consumption was further restricted for all people in prison. The maximum consumption of beer was ¾ of a bottle of beer per person, per day. Also the consumption of coffee was restricted. From 1972 one could only buy loose coffee or caffeine free coffee. This measure was introduced to restrict the overconsumption of coffee.

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Conclusion

Historically then, the goals and principles of different penal policies are conspicuously reflected in prison foodways: whether that be in the penal codes of the late sixteenth century, the era of French and Dutch imperialism, the ages of Ducpétiaux and Lejeune, or the long road to liberalisation, the meals served by the institution and the additional foodstuffs that can be bought in the canteen shop, are fundamentally defined by the dominant penal principles. Of particular concern here was the establishment during the French annexation that the food received in prison was a part of a person’s punishment. This changed during the Dutch period when meals were considered a fuel to perform hard labour, and whilst food was not officially a means of punishment, it can hardly be regarded as a source of comfort either. When Belgium regained independence, and Ducpétiaux used his personal experiences to improve the prison system, there was no desire to lower food standards since this would result in a hidden form of death penalty. While he agreed that the situation in prison should not be better than the situation of workers in society, he did not want the diet to result in increased deaths in custody. At the end of the nineteenth century, the diet improved and was required to ensure that a person would be fit for his or her release. The menus served were officially defined in great detail to ensure all the needs were met. The two world wars, however, served to derail, and fundamentally alter, the trajectory of penal policies that had hitherto been established. Hunger existed in and outside prisons during both conflicts, but also persisted in the immediate postwar periods. Whilst diet was officially recognised as an important means of fuel to work, or to reintegrate and participate in society after release, the foodstuffs in the prison canteen were far more part of a punitive rhetoric and often considered as favours, or on the contrary, ways to harden prison life. Consequently, restrictions on canteen purchases over time served as a way to differentiate between prison regimes and made living conditions, for example, for recidivists, harder.

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The history of prison foodways provides great insight on how visions of detention changed, and how policymakers and practitioners dealt with visions of minimum standards in relation to human needs, and how prison food has often been perceived by the public as luxuries or indulgences for imprisoned persons.

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Maes, E. (2009). Van gevangenisstraf naar vrijheidsstraf. 200 jaar Belgisch gevangeniswezen. Maklu. Maes, E., Vanhouche, A., Scholliers, P., & Beyens, K. (2017). A Vehicle of Punishment? Prison Diets in Belgium Circa 1900. Food, Culture & Society, 20(1), 77–100. Martyn, G. (2011). Een blik in de ‘oude doos’. Gevangen in Gent voor 1862. In G.  Martyn & K.  Velle (Eds.), 150 jaar Nieuwewandeling: gevangenis Gent (1862–2012) (pp. 10–37). Snoeck. Martyn, G., & Velle, K. (Eds.). (2011). 150 jaar Nieuwewandeling: gevangenis Gent (1862–2012). Snoeck. Scholliers, P., & Albala, K. (2008). Food Culture in Belgium. Greenwood Press. Snacken, S., & Beyens, K. (2017). Het Belgische beleid ten aanzien van de gevangenisstraf en haar alternatieven. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 95–136). Kluwer.

5 The Symbolic Role of Food: Debates on Punishment and the Treatment of Imprisoned Persons

The previous chapters have been attentive to the past and present official goals of punishment and imprisonment in Belgium. It was also noted how the extant scholarship highlights the difference between stated policy goals and real outcomes, a tension that is visible in Belgium (see e.g. Snacken, 2017). The ‘real goals’ are stated and developed on different levels and in different fora. Here I elaborate on the food-related parliamentary debates held between September 1999 and March 2021 in relation to prison foodways. The debates cover a variety of topics on prison foodways, which are in themselves symbolic, and therefore interesting to include in the analysis of the goals of detention, and consider how they are, or are not, translated into practice. In particular, the food-related examples will give a better understanding of how politicians want to see policy translated into practice. The focus here is to consider questions such as: what points are raised by the parliament in relation to prison food? What problems do they wish to resolve? What obstacles or difficulties do ministers utilise when arriving at solutions? In addressing these, an analysis is made of the political discussions in the Commission for Justice of the Belgian Federal Parliament. In this commission, politicians can raise justice-related questions to the Minister of Justice. It is considered a democratic tool to hold the governments’ policies and practices to account. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_5

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Detention Conditions

In parliamentary debates, food is often used as a symbolic example to refer to incarcerated persons’ basic rights, and the need to conform to a minimum standard of material conditions in prison. In the Belgian case, two situations were regularly discussed in which the basic right to food was put under pressure: prison overcrowding and prison staff’s strikes. As previous chapters have explained, Belgium has faced serious problems with prison overcrowding for several decades. In some prisons, mainly the arrest houses, this results in difficulties with the preparation and distribution of food, with materials and kitchens that were not built to cater for such large groups. In parliamentary questions, concerns about material conditions in overcrowded prisons have been common. In 2007, for example, a member from the Flemish liberal party raised his concern about the situation in an arrest house: There are 640 instead of 450 prisoners. Mattresses are provided for 610 prisoners. The budgets allow for cooking for about 600 people […] It seems that the prisoners, some of whom are big men, are given very little to eat. Those who have the means can get something to eat in the canteen, others cannot […] We are not only talking about overcrowding, but about a fundamental right to hygiene and food. (Commissie voor Justitie, 9 January 2007)

In this case, as in many other debates, the Minister of Justice highlighted the difficulties to provide a short-term solution for this problem and referred to comprehensive plans that aim to solve these problems on a structural basis (problems which are not solved until today). In 2012, a similar concern was raised, but the Minister of Justice argued that prisons obtain funding for meals (not the materials to prepare foods) based on the number of imprisoned persons present in each institution. This was to ensure, he suggested, that overcrowded prisons received a financial budget per person that is housed in the institution. The problems in relation to the lack of material means such as cooking material were not discussed.

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The second alarming situation related to prison officers’ strikes. During these strikes, prisons struggle to provide imprisoned persons with basic needs such as food, showers and visits from families or lawyers. A public statement made in 2017 by CPT (CPT/Inf (2017), p. 18) required that in all circumstances meals, including one hot meal, must be prepared and distributed at set times every day. This was a reaction to the situation CPT observed in 2016 (CPT/Inf (2016b), p. 29). Strikers, for example, prevented the baker from entering the prison with the bread provisions for those locked up inside. Moreover, the staff shortages during the strikes increased issues surrounding the preparation and distribution of meals in prisons. As a consequence, on some days, all meals were served at once and the hot meal was already cold when it arrived at the person’s cells. In response to CPT’s public statement on the conditions during these strikes, a member of the Flemish Greens political party made the following statement: It happens too often in our country that prisoners during strikes end up in inhuman living conditions, whereby elementary matters such as sanitation, food, outdoor air and contact with the family are put under pressure. (CRIV 54 COM 780; 2017–2018)

This situation regularly provoked questions on the distribution of food during strikes, which is usually followed by the civil services entering prison to ensure persons can eat their meals. The Minister answered that new legislation would ensure a minimum service during strikes. This new legislation was passed two years later in 2019 (Law of 23 March 2019 concerning the Organisation of the Penitentiary Services and the Statute of Prison Staff), and of which article 17 explicitly refers to the food provisioning during strikes: In order to ensure the safety and health of the detained persons, at least on a daily basis throughout the duration of the strike, provision shall be made for each detainee to: 1. receive meals in sufficient quantity and quality, in accordance with his state of health and with one hot meal being served at a fixed time.

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These food-related examples highlight how officers’ strikes and prison overcrowding have an extreme, profound and devastating impact. It cruelly exposes how people in detention are still largely dependent on institutions to provide for their basic needs. When these fail to do so, it puts their fundamental rights under pressure, with no, or limited, sources of redress.

2

Goals of Imprisonment

The hitherto emphasis on prison conditions has been mainly inspired by the belief in a person’s basic rights and their vulnerable and dependent position against a public backdrop of misinformation and misplaced notions of punishment. The following is attentive to how prison foodways also play their own particular symbolic role in penal populism. Previous chapters have already focused on the official goals in relation to the prison sentence in Belgium, such as normalisation, reintegration and a reduction of detention harm. Whilst parliamentary debates tend to discuss high-profile cases, it is interesting to show how the visions of parliamentarians either differ from or support these principles. In 2012, the parliament debated about the food regimes of two of Belgium’s high-profile cases; the case of Marc Dutroux and Farid Bamouhammad. As explained previously, Marc Dutroux was arrested in 1996 and later convicted for the rape, abduction and murder of several girls and young women. The Dutroux case shocked the country and led to a public outcry for changes in the judicial and police system. The impact of this case still resonates today. The media regularly reports about Dutroux’s life in prison and his requests for early release. In 2012, the media reported that Dutroux had requested a specific medical diet and that this would lead to an additional workload for the prison’s kitchen staff. Additionally, it was claimed by the news media that he had not received medical advice for this special diet and had therefore received preferential treatment, creating a strong, negative public reaction. A second case concerned the treatment of a high-profile person, Farid Bamouhammad, and was related to the prison governor’s involvement in the distribution of this person’s meal. Bamouhammad was an

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omnipresent figure in the media who characterised him as ‘Farid le fou’ (Farid the crazy) and referred to him as one of the most difficult and dangerous persons in prison. Using a degrading moniker not only served to dehumanise this man, but was also used by the parliamentarian who raised a question on his treatment. In this case, prison officers had refused to deliver meals to this person, even with additional protection from police forces. Consequently, the officers were subjected to a disciplinary enquiry. These two food-related incidents were published, in their own unique way, by the media at the same time as the debate. Critical questions were raised in the parliament about the disciplinary inquiry for the prison officers and the so-called preferential treatment of a high-profile person. The emotional connotations linked to the high-profile cases resulted in an interesting political discussion about whether penological principles should be applicable to all, and what the public might think of the imprisoned persons’ treatment. What came out of this debate was first the ease with which the rights of people in detention could be undermined and how they still rest on quite fragile foundations, and secondly, how the effortless manner in which political parties, subjected to populist visions and ideas, can backslide on questions of human rights. The Minister of Justice took a standpoint in this discussion which was clear—even if they were high-profile cases, rules had to be followed. She stated in clear language that the behaviour of the prison staff was unacceptable and that even in the case of a high-profile imprisoned person, officers had to fulfil their duty: In the end, the meals were distributed by the governors and police officers. I cannot accept these practices. Meal distribution is part of the core duties of a correctional officer. It is his duty to fulfil them. Moreover, the security of the staff was guaranteed thanks to the police presence. (CRIV 53 COM 393; 2011–2012)

Moreover, a clear statement was made that no information would be given about the specific medical condition and dietary requirements of one particular person, but that contrary to what the media claimed, no one gets preferential treatment. The reactions from two members of the

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parliament then showed how deep-rooted the idea of less-eligibility is still embedded, even when normalisation is one of the official goals of imprisonment. One parliamentarian from the Christian Democratic party (CD&V), for example, considered it offensive that imprisoned persons can choose their menu while at the same time, people in society rely on food banks: What I find most serious in this matter is that such a report reaches us about special prison menus. It is almost ludicrous that we read these reports at a time when the alarm bells are being rung because more and more Flemish people are ending up in poverty and have to rely on food banks and so on to be able to meet their needs and those of their children. That a prisoner can have the menu changed in such a ridiculous way must feel very bitter and must leave a very sour feeling in many families who are now struggling to make ends meet with much less than the menus offered in prison. The government should also make sure that all families on the housing market find a house at affordable prices of energy and etc. If we read this, then we are faced with a serious discrepancy. (CRIV 53 COM 393; 2011–2012)

Another parliamentarian from the Flemish centre right wing party (NVA) agreed: When one hears how many people have to rely on food parcels then it is indeed a bit cynical that this happens. I assume that the fact that this has been reported in the media and that some questions have been asked about it, may lead to a slight tightening of the reins in prison. (CRIV 53 COM 393; 2011–2012)

It is striking that, while the Minister gave nuance to the information in the media, strong claims were still being made about the wish for poorer treatment of imprisoned persons. Similar sentiments were expressed in relation to religious diets. Here too, the statement was made to prevent spending too much of the food budgets on differentiated diets. In short, the question sought to undermine one of the central principles on imprisonment, by introducing a food regime that was lower than the food standards of those in society who struggle to make the ends meet.

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This was a clear example of how penal populism puts imprisoned persons’ rights under pressure. While legal principles were sometimes questioned in debates, other food-related discussions also highlighted the support for reintegrative activities in prison. Previous years, in particular, had witnessed several parliamentary discussions that focused on so-called transitions houses, a kind of halfway house that provides imprisoned persons with greater freedom and autonomy as they prepare for re-entry in society. In these houses, responsibility and autonomy are central and guiding principles to organise daily life. One of the examples of how this is achieved relates to food-related matters, and the purchase, cooking and cleaning that have to be done on a daily basis in a transition house. As a consequence, the symbolic role of food in parliamentary debates is not only linked to debates on less-eligibility, but also to reintegration.

3

Order, Safety and Security

Food, and food utensils, are often the subject of discussion in a prison environment. For many, it remains a security issue. While it is clear that for the consumption of the meals a knife may be necessary, for example, for cutting meat, this according to some, does not outweigh security considerations. Even in parliament, discussions regularly take place on whether, and if, the presence of knives or other kitchen equipment puts security and safety under pressure. Concrete incidents are usually the cause of such concerns. In 2019, a deadly incident between two imprisoned persons who shared a cell led to a parliamentary debate on imprisoned persons’ safety. It soon turned out to be an incident between two people with an internee status who were staying in a psychiatric wing of a regular prison. One used a kitchen knife to kill his cellmate. The parliament debated the need for thorough screening of imprisoned persons and risk assessments of the level of concern they present. The presence of a metal knife was central to this discussion: if this person could use a metal knife, was his risk profile assessed properly? Wouldn’t it be better to introduce plastic knives? The Minister responded that individual assessments are being made before

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deciding whether or not to give individuals plastic cutlery. The use of plastic cutlery thus remains the exception, according to the Minister. Interestingly, central to this discussion was the presence of a metal knife, not the incarceration of persons with an internee status in mainstream prisons. Another peculiar discussion on security concerned the escape of 28 incarcerated persons in 2006. Following the escape of 28 imprisoned persons, a large number of parliamentarians had asked various critical questions about the possibility of escape, and whether existing security measures were sufficient. Parliamentarians had been informed by prison staff of all kinds of questionable practices, which they presented to the Minister. One focused on the use of knives and spoons: The Van Dale [dictionary] mentions that a prison is: “A building in which prisoners are kept in insured custody”. I have my doubts about the insured detention. I heard you said yesterday that there will be new doors and locks. I then read the statement of trade unionists in the newspaper. I quote: “Not only are the locks on the cell doors worn out, but the wooden doors are rotten and must be replaced immediately. Anyone who has not been inside will not believe it. It happens that we lock the cell door and the prisoner taps us on the shoulder immediately afterwards”. These are the words of a guard. I find that distressing. “They open the locks with a spoon or a knife.” (CRIV 51 COM 1047; 2005–2006)

The Minister responded to this, and others about the escape, by stating that an escape of such a high number of people is highly exceptional in Belgium. The Minister stressed that despite some human errors, it was mainly the prison’s outdated infrastructure that had made the escape possible. Indeed, the prison dates from 1863 and had not been sufficiently renovated, she claimed. However, the Minister emphasised that the doors were opened by means of a bar, and therefore not the cutlery. Nevertheless, it shows once again how symbolic events attract the attention of the parliament.

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Hunger Strikes

Imprisoned persons can sometimes use food to make themselves heard, or make a statement. The hunger strike remains to this day as a means of trying to put pressure on policymakers. Some hunger strikes in prison have also made the news, so that parliament could not ignore them and the problems they were trying to raise. Certain problems in Belgian prisons that have already been discussed at length, such as overcrowding, were also at the centre of some recent uprisings organised by imprisoned persons. In 2002, for example, several incarcerated persons in Antwerp prison staged a hunger strike to denounce the overcrowding. At that time, there were 600 people in a prison that was designed for only 450. The Minister confirmed that three people went on a hunger strike, but stressed that he would not force people to eat. He added that their action would not solve the problem of overcrowding (CRIV 50 COM 796; 2001–2002). Other hunger strikes that were discussed in parliament related to criticism of detention conditions and the lack of psychological care for people with a mental illness.

5

Covid-19 and Food

The precarious condition in many overcrowded Belgian prisons, which is compounded by poor hygiene conditions, came under increasing pressure during the COVID-19 lockdown. Under normal circumstances, Belgian prisons are already regarded as a risky environment for the spread of diseases such as TBC. The outbreak of COVID in the free society, and the possible impact on the prisons, caused great concern. This was especially marked at the start of the first COVID-19 wave in March 2020, where the parliament was very concerned about incarcerated persons. In these circumstances, the criticism of the degrading living conditions was even more fierce than usual, with the basic needs of persons in detention once again put under great pressure. One politician put it like this:

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The current prison conditions exacerbate the lack of hygiene. The prisons are enclosed spaces. The lockdown pushes this to the limit. Two to three prisoners are locked up for 23 hours a day in a room of nine square metres, with one meal distribution a day and two showers per week, without any contact. These are shameful conditions. (CRIV 55 COM 143; 2019–2020)

Politicians were worried about how food distribution would be organised, and how the canteen distribution could be guaranteed. This was more pertinent given that people on the outside were hoarding and shop shelves were empty. Some shops could no longer fulfil their contracts with prisons, who in turn were forced to temporarily use other, more expensive, suppliers. Parliamentarians were concerned that many imprisoned persons would lose their jobs in prison, but would be expected to buy even more expensive products because the temporary supply would contain an additional cost. This could further exacerbate tensions in prisons: My colleagues have already mentioned the extremely complicated situation in prisons with a whole series of restrictions, with the cramped conditions which leads us to believe that the spread of the virus is more than likely, with no visits allowed, with the feeling of loneliness that sets in, with the canteens that no longer function, with the nervousness and aggressiveness, leading to the incidents that have occurred in various prisons. (CRIV 55 COM 143; 2019–2020)

A major concern, especially at the beginning of the COVID crisis, was the lack of protective equipment. That which was available had to be handled with extreme caution, since meals in Belgian prisons are usually prepared in a large kitchen, and the kitchen staff were given the necessary protective equipment. In this way, an attempt was made to prevent the spread of the virus via the meals. However, these measures could not prevent the virus from eventually spreading arguably through the necessity to distribute meals. In 2021, the Minister reported on a major outbreak in one Belgian prison: On 2 March 2021, two detainees were placed in medical quarantine on the basis of their symptoms. The following day, on 3 March, they turned out

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to be covid-positive and were transferred to the covid wing in Bruges prison. One of these prisoners worked in the kitchen […]. On 4 March, 24 of the tests were covid-positive. The prison went in lockdown, with restricted internal and external movements. As the infections were spread in prison, a testing strategy was determined. On 5 March, the number of infected prisoners rose to 49. (CRIV 55 COM 415; 2020–2021)

6

Conclusion

The analysis of parliamentary debates shows that food maintains strong symbolic value and can inform us about the trajectory of political debates in relation to the treatment of incarcerated persons. First of all, it is striking that it took the COVID crisis to engender concern over imprisoned persons’ health and the functioning of the prison. It is clear that the minimal requirements of prison conditions are considered important, yet parliamentary discussions also reveal how many politicians believe that prison conditions should not be too luxurious. This is especially marked when parliamentary debates focus on emotive high-profile cases, and religious requirements, where punitive views, accompanied by waves of penal populism, come to the fore. In these instances, extant legal standards of imprisonment, and in particular the idea of normalisation, are easily swept aside in debates where rhetorical flourishes tend to dominate. Food, and in particular eating and cooking utensils, were at times also flagged up as security threats. Finally, hunger strikes in prison were also the subject of parliamentary consideration, although politicians (predictably) did not believe that hunger strikes would result in change. Clearly, and consistent with the conclusion drawn in the previous chapter, legal rights are considered important by politicians in Belgium. At the same time, and in certain situations, especially in the fevered social environment in high-profile cases, populist views can easily emerge. Moreover, the answer of the minister often shows that legal goals conflict with institutional goals, evinced by the tacit admission of a lack of funding. While it is the Minister’s duty to help resolve this problem, financial constraints as well as the complexity of processes to improve the situation are key elements of narratives surrounding prison foodways.

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Bibliography Political Documents CRIV 50 COM 796. (2001–2002). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. CRIV 51 COM 1047. (2005–2006). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. CRIV 53 COM 393. (2011–2012). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. CRIV 54 COM 780. (2017–2018). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. CRIV 55 COM 143. (2019–2020). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. CRIV 55 COM 415. (2020–2021). Notes Commission of Justice, Parliament. Commissie voor Justitie. (2007, januari 9). Notes Commission of Belgian Parliament.

Belgian Belgian Belgian Belgian Belgian Belgian Justice,

Literature CPT/Inf. (2016b). 29. CPT/Inf. (2017). 18. Snacken, S. (2017). Bestraffen als maatschappelijke constructie. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 77–94). Kluwer.

6 Official Food Systems

1

Prison Foodways in Belgium

Historically, the regulations and associated political discussions on prison foodways have been shifting sand in Belgium (cf. Chaps. 3 and 4). Here, I focus on the official prison food system; food inspections; and food preparation and distribution. In this context, the role and experiences of imprisoned chefs are regarded as crucial to Belgian’s industrial prison kitchens. Making sense of these features is the necessary background to understanding food experiences and narratives. As explained in the previous chapters, Belgium currently aims to align its policies with European recommendations. Peter (2013), for example, has analysed imprisoned persons’ food rights in the light of judgments made by the European Court of Human Rights, and visiting reports of the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CPT). Specifically, he discussed how the legal framework associated with rights, such as the right to food and drinking water, for example, has influenced and shaped the recommended energy intake, number of meals, and the levels of hygiene demanded for the distribution and consumption of meals. In Belgium, it © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_6

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is the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 that regulates these elements. The act focuses on the most important internal aspects of imprisonment and also regulates the material conditions in an institution, of which food is considered an aspect. The proposal of the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 (DOC 501076/001, 200–2001) suggested that imprisoned persons have the right to receive: Food that is adequately prepared. The quality and quantity of the food have to conform the standards as stated in modern standards on nutrition and hygiene. The meals should take into account prisoners’ age, medical condition and the nature of their work. (DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001)

The consequent idea was that prison food should respect a person’s human dignity. Moreover, the references to the standards in outside society indicate that the normalisation principle is also reflected, at least with regard to the nutritional standards of food. However, after a discussion in the Chamber of Representatives, the article was scaled back. In 2004, during the discussion of the Prison Act of 2005, Jean Pierre Malmendier from the French-speaking liberal party (MR), argued that taking a person’s medical condition into account should be respected, but the choice of ‘special meals’ should be limited, and not protected by the law. The Minister of Justice Laurette Onkelinx from the French-speaking socialist party responded that the proposal (as described in DOC 501076/001, 200–2001) on food was actually already a common practice in Belgian prisons. She explained that people who indicate that they practise the Jewish or Muslim religion could order a menu without pork, and in Antwerp prison, a city known for its large population of Jewish citizens, kosher meals were already served in the prison. In addition, people had vegetarian options and were able to receive medical diets prescribed by a doctor. Nevertheless, Malmendier insisted on changing and downsizing the provision, and his proposal was accepted. The current and accepted art. 42 of the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 states that: Prisoners receive sufficient food according to standards of modern food hygiene. If necessary, the food should be adapted to their health situation. (Art. 42 Belgian Prison Act of 2005)

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Age, and the nature of a persons’ work are, consequently, not protected by the Act. However, as I will show below, the prison kitchens in this study do pay attention to this, as wider legal protection had, however, strengthened existing rights. What concerns food practices in relation to cultural or religious habits, article 71 of the act protects the right to practise a religion and, consequently, I would argue that by definition it also protects the right to a menu that respects those obligations necessary to follow a religion. Finally, article 91 stresses the importance of food in order to guarantee a person’s health. Clearly, the legal framework mainly provides rights in relation to nutritional and hygienic food standards and indirectly to religious standards. Consequently, these rights ought to be protected, but in reality other principles are also taken into account. Prison practices, for example, are further regulated by internal guidelines, or so-called collective letters (collectieve brieven). Collective letter 107 ensures imprisoned persons receive three meals a day, and if necessary, a diet as prescribed by medical staff. It further clarifies that people’s freedom of religion should be respected by allowing them to eat meals that respect religious norms and also provide for people who wish to switch menus (Daems et al., 2014). Moreover, the central prison administration develops service orders on procedures for food safety and attestations. More recently and under pressure from European prison control bodies, the government proposed a Royal Decree on the food service during prison officers’ strikes. Food distribution during these strikes has been a serious problem, leading to food shortages in prisons and reduced meal sizes (CPT/Inf (2016b), p. 29). The new law states that during strikes imprisoned persons’ food service must ensure that they receive meals in sufficient quantity and quality, whereby one hot meal is served at a fixed time that is in accordance with a person’s health condition (Law 23 March 2019 concerning the Organisation of the Penitentiary Services and the Statute of Prison Staff). Besides the rules developed specifically for prison meals, foodways also have to conform to general rules and guidelines. One of the most important ones is the regulation (EC) no 852/2004 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 29 April 2004 on the hygiene of foodstuffs. This regulation requires food business operators to conform to its principles on the hygiene of foodstuffs. In addition, each Belgian prison has an

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internal auto control system (ACS) that checks the processes of food preparation and distribution. This should enable timely interventions when problems are detected. The preparation of prison meals is further organised on the local level of the prison. This means that each prison organises its own food supply, taking into account the specific prison population, the kitchen’s capacity, overcrowding levels, and importantly, the medical conditions of the population. Prison meals are usually prepared in a central kitchen and staff are responsible for the menu which is constrained by the limited budget of about €3.80 per day per person. Each prison is free to order the ingredients and to develop a menu. In most prisons, the chef (head of the kitchen), and in some the accountant, decide on the weekly menu. The limited budget clearly affects the meals and within those constraints the chef tries to serve a varied and quality menu. In general, prisons serve standard, vegetarian and pork-free menus. If the medical service requires a specific diet for a person, the kitchen should serve it. In collaboration with the Belgian Royal Society for Jewish Welfare, prisons also serve kosher meals. In most prisons, imprisoned persons and staff prepare meals in the central kitchen, from where the food is transported in heated trolleys to the housing tiers, before being distributed to imprisoned persons. While laws and guidelines exist, and imprisoned persons and prison workers try to implement these in a local context, hygiene and nutritional standard remain the subject of debate. In 2014, for example, Philippe Goffin of the French-speaking liberal party MR, questioned the Minister of Justice on prison meal standards. With reference to the Ministry of Justice website guidelines on prison meals, he argued that prison food warrants considerably greater attention in neighbouring countries. Local central prison kitchens prepare the menus, including those for vegetarian and medical diets. They are also required to consider religious convictions which Goffin suggested are not always respected. Some prisons, he argued, only serve a single menu and many do not always distribute sufficient fruit and vegetables, meaning that meals lack nutrients (it is unclear where he retrieved this information). He consequently asked the Minister of Justice to clarify how the penitentiary food system is organised. The Minister agreed that meals are organised on a

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local level, but that people’s basic needs are always respected. The Minister did, however, recognise that old and overcrowded prisons face particular difficulties in serving a variety of menus, on grounds that their kitchens were not adapted to the current high demand. Medical diets prescribed by medical staff are, according to the Minister, always observed. The Minister continued that imprisoned people can refuse institutional meals and buy canteen products at their own expense, and can also complain to officers about official meals. Governors, in turn, discuss complaints with kitchen staff to explore ways of improving the service. Additionally, the Minister claimed that each institution has a meeting between incarcerated persons and governors (gedetineerdenoverleg) during which they can comment on food preparation and distribution. Finally, the Minister added that the prison is responsible for all catering, and that there are no deep-frozen pre-prepared meals served except when central kitchens are being renovated. Clearly, the discussion in relation to food mainly focused on meals’ standards. The symbolic role of food and foodways such as, for example, cooking, did not feature in these debates. Generally, prison catering services are organised internally, although in several of Belgium’s new prisons, catering services are outsourced. Recently, Belgium has increasingly invested in public-private (commercial) collaborations (Nederlandt & Vanhouche, 2020), also in relation to the delivery of prison meals. While these public-private partnerships are subjected to comprehensive debates on prison privatisation, a closer look on the discussion in relation to the privatisation of prison food, provides insights into the arguments of proponents and opponents. One former Minister of Justice, Melchior Wathelet, highlighted in the early 1990s that some aspects of the regime have no effect on the prison in either a penal or criminological sense, and could thus be outsourced (Beyens et al., 1992). The catering service was considered as one of these aspects. To inform the outsourcing of these so-called hotel services, visits were made to public-private prisons in France, where an advisor to the Minister of Justice discussed the outsourcing of meals with a French prison governor. The governor claimed that his discretionary power was reduced by stating that:

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On the one hand it is comfortable for us because we no longer have to interfere. In the old system we had to deal with ordering meat and vegetables, and now everything is being delivered. But it is a tool and an aspect of everyday control. If prisoners were complaining, one could suggest to adapt the amount of fries, but in a contract it is that much grams per person. (Gudders & Daems, 2021)

For the prison governor, and in contrast to claims made about catering services by Wathelet who proceeded to outsource food for new institutions, food possesses important penal and criminological power. In 2013, the first prisons that were built according to this model were opened. The official purpose of the new institutions is the humanisation of detention conditions in co-operation with private caterers on a permanent basis. The Walloon prison Marche-en-Famenne was the first to be opened in November 2013 and a private company was made responsible for food services in the institution—staff from the private caterer and imprisoned persons would prepare the meals in the central prison kitchen. On its website, the private caterer states that it aims to make prison mealtimes a moment to relax. Moreover, the nutritional value of meals is argued to be well-balanced and considerate of daily prison life, which means that it caters to the prison population’s habits, religions and nationalities. The statement continues that in some prisons, such as March-en-Famenne, incarcerated kitchen workers are also trained in food standards guidelines concerning safety and hygiene, and help with meal preparation and distribution. The training in a central kitchen (called Table d’hôtes) and work experience in daily meal preparation, aim to increase people’s chances of successful reintegration. According to Sodexo, the co-operation of incarcerated persons in meal preparation increases the quality of the service experienced by other imprisoned persons.

1.1

Food Inspection

The regulation, control and inspection of prisons are governed by a section of the 1808 Belgian Code of Criminal Procedure. According to art. 613 of this law, the mayor of a commune or city where a prison is situated, is responsible for ensuring that imprisoned persons receive

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sufficient and healthy meals. However, in showing that these regulations are outdated and barely applicable, Smaers (1994) argues that imprisoned persons submit food-related complaints to the prison’s local monitoring board (commissies van toezicht) who then transfer this complaint to the governor. The report from the Belgian Central Monitoring Board summarises the yearly reports produced by the local boards (Centrale Toezichtsraad voor het Gevangeniswezen, 2016). It highlights the important role that imprisoned persons ascribe to prison fare and canteen products. Indicative of this is the high instances of people raising issues over the improvement of meals during prisoner-governor meetings. In 2016, it was stated that some boards received complaints that portion sizes of medical meals were too small. The central board also reported on questions that were asked to the central prison administration about the embezzlement of foods and food budget. The general prison administration responded that the budget is strictly controlled. It is notable that the most recent report (CTRG, 2021) also discusses food practices at length. Several boards report complaints about monotonous, insufficiently varied and unhealthy food received in portions that were too small. They also heard requests for more fruits and vegetables. Poor standards are overwhelmingly related to the small budget. Moreover, the boards recommended the involvement of a dietician, in particular for the preparation of medical diets. The boards also discussed meal distribution, noting how some persons are always served last, meaning that their meals always arrive cold and with trays partly empty. Some people are even forgotten during the meal servings. The boards also support some new initiatives such as a self-catering project in Oudenaarde prison, stimulated by the institutional focus of developing skills for a person’s reintegration. Another particular example in the report concerns the prison of Tongeren, where a prison officer was put in charge of the composition of the menu to align it with the request of the imprisoned population. Thanks to this system, complaints substantially decreased. The CPT also conducts visits to assess prison food services. In 2016, they condemned the state of the kitchen in the prison of Forest, where they discovered food products beyond their expiry dates as well as foods

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partly eaten by rodents. In addition, they found cockroaches and droppings from rodents in the storage room. It was concluded that standards of hygiene were unacceptably low, and the CPT requested that the government take account of previous recommendations to hire a dietician to inspect the quality, quantity and variety of meals. A final complaint concerned officers who do not serve imprisoned persons their full portion size, which the CPT urged the government to address (CPT/Inf (2016a), p. 13). There was also strong condemnation of the situations that arose at the time of the officers’ strikes when food services became disorganised. Amongst many instances of failure, the CPT noted the example of imprisoned persons not even receiving a hot meal (CPT/Inf (2016a), p. 13). In the Spring of 2016, they exceptionally conducted an ad hoc visit to Belgian prisons during the officer’s strike of two months. Once again, it found that three meals were served simultaneously, and that ‘hot’ meals were tepid. Moreover, in one prison, the prison’s entrance was blocked, preventing the bakery from delivering bread (CPT/Inf (2016b), p. 29). Since the preparation of prison meals has to conform to the standards of modern hygiene, the Belgian public control body the Federal Agency for the Safety of the Food Chain (FASFC) also inspects prison kitchens, the meal distributions and storage rooms. While their checklist controls in prisons once received negative results, a substantial improvement has been made in recent years. In 2011, only 25 percent of the checklist controls in prison kitchens obtained a positive evaluation, a substantially lower score than evaluations of industrial kitchens in other institutions. For example, 58 percent of Belgian hospitals received a positive evaluation as did 67.3 percent of schools and 62.8 percent of elderly homes (FASFC, 2014). The situation gradually improved and by 2017, 75 percent of the checklist controls in prison kitchens had obtained a positive evaluation (FASFC, 2018). This was due to several things. First, the prison service invested heavily in educating staff on the use of auto control systems and developing best practice in the distribution of meals. Even the most basic education of prison officers now includes a module on food distribution. Secondly, the central administration invested additional finances to improve

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food safety, and finally, a new Ministerial Decree (22 March 2013) enabled institutions to implement food safety procedures in a more flexible way.

1.2

Food and Health Care

The failure of local health projects to obtain comprehensive insights into imprisoned persons’ health, prompted Vyncke et al. (2015) to conduct a comprehensive quantitative study of behaviour, and other determinant factors that impact upon imprisoned persons’ health, to develop a clearer health policy for Flemish and Brussels prisons. What emerged through the study was the tangible link made by the authors, that food was a major determinant of health. The study concludes that incarcerated persons eat less healthily in comparison with the general Belgian population. Amongst other things, this meant that they ate less fruit and vegetables than the general population, and drink more soda. In total, 43 percent of the incarcerated population eat one or more daily snack(s). Women report eating considerably more snacks compared to men (61 percent versus 41 percent). The majority of the population purchase food products in the canteen (70 percent), as a means of adding to, or replacing, meals distributed by the institution. These meals are criticised by imprisoned persons for a lack of variety (40 percent), being unhealthy (24 percent) and having poor taste (24 percent). Additionally, the wish to eat foods outside the standard fare is mentioned as an important reason for canteen purchases. In some prisons, food supplements can be ordered in the canteen. Fifteen percent of people use these supplements, and more than half of this group (52 percent) use protein powder. Finally, the study is attentive to people’s attitudes towards healthy eating. Seventy-seven percent of the participants consider healthy eating important. Additionally, 56 percent wish they could eat healthier during their detention, 16 percent want to eat healthier after, but not during, their imprisonment, and 28 percent do not feel like changing food habits. The study shows that the desire to eat healthily is higher amongst people who struggle with their weight.

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Kitchen Staff

In Belgian prison kitchens, a professional chef usually collaborates with prison officers and incarcerated workers. In most prisons in this study, the professional chefs are in charge of the kitchen. They are members of the so-called technical staff (technisch personeel), are not trained as prison officers, although they do receive a basic training on how the prison functions. Their task is to set the menus, order the ingredients in collaboration with the accountants, and prepare the meals, taking into account hygiene standards and the budgetary constraints. Chefs are usually accompanied by prison officers, and although some of these may have had work experience in the catering business, it is not mandatory. Depending on the size of the prison, the number of staff members will vary. There is no fixed ratio because the specific prison context, and the additional services that may be required, can demand more or less staff. For example, the central kitchen in one prison I studied, also catered for the education centre for officers. The smallest prison in this study, with a population of 90 imprisoned persons, employed four incarcerated workers, whilst the biggest prison of about 800 people employed 23 incarcerated workers in its kitchen. Incarcerated workers’ jobs in the kitchens vary from washing the dishes and cleaning, to peeling vegetables and cooking. It is usual for them to begin with the washing up; if they perform adequately they can move to what are perceived to be the nicer jobs, such as cooking. Persons who wish to work in the kitchen are added to a waiting list. When the person arrives at the top of the list, the medical service has to approve that his/ her medical state does not prevent him/her from working in the kitchen. This procedure is similar to the one for industrial kitchens in society, and aims to prevent the transmission of disease through food. Besides the medical service, the prison governor, officers and the psychosocial services can also have a say in the approval. Since the kitchen gives persons access to knives, and other objects that might be used as a weapon, these actors focus on imprisoned persons’ behaviour and whether their presence poses a risk.

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Experiences of Imprisoned Chefs

The experiences of incarcerated persons with kitchen jobs provide insight into experiences of prison work; its advantages; shortcomings and also the impact of work on other detention experiences such as the position of prison workers in a prison’s hierarchy.

1.4.1  W  ork in Prison: Job Insecurity and the Absence of an Employment Contract When discussing their kitchen work, imprisoned chefs raised strong criticism of the job insecurity they experienced. These insecurities begin as soon as a person’s name is added to the waiting list for a job in the kitchen. Neither the length of this list nor a person’s place on it is known. This lack of transparency creates insecurities and gossip about how the list is being managed and who might be placed higher than others. When a person finally arrives at the top of the list, he or she must go through a selection and approval process. Besides the lack of transparency, imprisoned chefs also report that the rules for dismissal are unclear. In some prisons, the procedure was standardised; people were automatically dismissed after six months in a kind of rotation system aimed at countering the illegal trade of goods and other illegal activities. Whilst it may be effective in that respect, this measure hampers people in learning and consolidating skills which led to criticism from imprisoned workers. Another rule is that people who regularly call off due to unproven illnesses might lose their job. Many workshops and kitchens struggle with this kind of problem. Kitchens are especially vulnerable because starting early in the morning means some people struggle to arrive on time. An incarcerated chef talked about his experience in Belgian prisons and said he noticed many of his incarcerated colleagues struggled to wake up in the morning: Imprisoned respondent: When you’re sick, you don’t have to work. Officers notice it. But when you just tell them

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‘chief, I have pain in my stomach’ (laughs)…I had many of this kind of people in my cell. Interviewer: And why did they do that? Imprisoned respondent: Because they can’t wake up in the morning. In the afternoon everyone goes to work, but in the morning… it’s hard in the morning. (Imprisoned respondent 1, prison 5, 2015) In two prisons, the official chefs were aware of the criticisms about the lack of transparency concerning the rules for dismissal. Therefore, they decided to describe the rules and expectations in an informal note. This document clarified what incarcerated workers can be dismissed for, and what constitutes a disciplinary mistake, such as for example not informing the officer or cook when they leave the central prison kitchen during work time. In addition, misbehaviour on the wings, that is not related to kitchen work, could also lead to dismissal (see below). These sanctions are part of general disciplinary sanction to guarantee security in the kitchen. Finally, discussion takes place between staff members about the reasons for dismissal, which makes the rules even more unclear for imprisoned staff. In one prison, the chef raised objections about the dismissal of an incarcerated worker who was employed in the kitchen during his pre-­ trial detention. After his conviction, he was suddenly fired. He was convicted in the court of Assize, and the prison authorities argued that his presence in the kitchen posed a significant risk. The chef, however, disagreed and insisted, without success, that the person had already worked for an extended time in the kitchen, had performed excellent work and was trustworthy. These types of disagreements illustrate the lack of consensus about security measures, and the marked dissensus over factors that ought to be taken into account, when deciding whether a person poses certain risks. This shows how kitchen staff, in some prisons, develop a constructive and somewhat exceptional relationship with incarcerated workers. The collaboration between kitchen staff and imprisoned workers allows them to get to know each other in a different, often more constructive way than officers on the wings, or other authorities within the prison that focus on static security. However, the attitude of some officers towards incarcerated workers were also perceived to be characterised by

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disrespect at times. While some are co-operative and supportive, others were reported to get easily frustrated and abreact this frustration on incarcerated workers. One person who had experience with different working conditions in several prisons explained it as follows: Imprisoned respondent: There, in the other prison they say immediately ‘héééééé’[yelling sound] … that is why I quitted my job there. Interviewer: You quitted? Imprisoned respondent: Yes … you know what I said, ‘I quit’. It’s just the way they treat you. You’ve seen it yourself. (Incarcerated respondent 1, prison 5, 2015) This person’s story resonates with what was seen during the observations. Stress in the kitchen is at times overwhelming. The lack of good-­ quality cooking utensils, and with staff and imprisoned workers who sometimes have little or no experience with the preparation of meals (besides the chefs), create at times tense and problematic situations. While these demanding working conditions do not excuse the deprecation of incarcerated workers, they do demonstrate the importance of additional education on cooking, and the need for investment in well-­ functioning cooking utensils. Finally, incarcerated workers’ salaries are often subject to discussion. In some prisons, incarcerated chefs earn more than other workers who perform so-called household tasks (the so-called cleaners), such as food distribution or cleaning the wings. In so doing, the management aims to attract people to kitchens where a chef ’s work can be arduous. In other prisons, the obverse is true, they earn less and so the kitchen jobs are less desired. During this investigation wages fluctuated between 0.70 € and 1.30 € per hour (kitchen workers on the outside received at that time between about 11 € (dishwasher) and 17 € (head of the kitchen) per hour). Some prisons also pay kitchen staff a different wage dependent on the tasks they perform. In one prison, the imprisoned head of the kitchen earned 0.85 €, while other imprisoned kitchen workers earned 0.75 € per hour. For outsiders, this might appear to be ridiculously low, but for imprisoned persons, the close to 10 percent differential was an important

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subject of discussion. People perceived their low wages as a lack of respect, which demonstrated scant recognition for the work they performed. In particular, workers who have to work in big industrial kitchens argue that the job is underpaid for the physically demanding tasks they fulfil. The comment below illustrates how a worker experiences his wage: Imprisoned respondent: But our salary… we need to work for it. Because our salary… Interviewer: Yes, your salary is low right? Imprisoned espondent: Lower than at the workshops and we work more so… But it is known, not only prisoners say it, staff also mention it. We receive little respect. That’s how it is. (Imprisoned respondent 5, prison 3, 2013) The problems and discussions in relation to kitchen work can be understood within a broader criticism of the absence of employment contracts for incarcerated workers (Vanhouche et al., 2017). When the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 was discussed, its preparatory work highlighted the importance of labour contracts for imprisoned workers, and a statute that provided for their social security rights as the only way to effectively implement the normalisation principle, the realisation of the principle of damage limitation and of the principle of accountability and (financial) restoration (DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001), p. 148). However, in 2013 the legislature decided that work performed by incarcerated workers is not the subject of an employment contract (Art. 2 Law of 1 July 2013 Law of 1 July 2013 changing the Prison Act and Legal Position of Prisoners). This placed incarcerated workers in a dire situation when affected by illness, occupational accidents or unemployment. A ministerial circular regulates the allowance for incarcerated workers if they become incapacitated for work due to occupational accidents, as well as an allowance for medical problems acquired during the performance of penitentiary work. However, this allowance offers less protection than the protection of work accident insurances for employees outside prison (Beernaert et al., 2016). Strong criticism has been raised against the absence of this contract since it results in low wage which restricts the possibility to pay off debts, compensation to victims or child support.

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1.4.2  Th  e Vulnerable Position of Prison Chefs in the Prison Community In order to encourage law-abiding behaviour in the central prison kitchens, some prisons place imprisoned chefs in an open-door regime (still within in a closed prison). The idea behind this policy is simple: the more you get, the more you lose when breaking the rules. A prison officer explains: They [imprisoned chefs] have privileges, but these privileges are not only for those who work in the kitchen. I explained earlier that we have a wing with an open regime, so mainly prisoners who work, stay on this wing. Twenty prisoners have their cell’s door open; they have a cell for their own … so for us these are some security measures. Because imagine they make a disciplinary mistake, they lose all their privileges. So it is a form of … how can I call it … a hidden form of discipline. (Prison Officer 1, 2013)

So while this is considered a form of discipline, it also puts imprisoned chefs in a vulnerable position. When a person is threatened, or treated unfairly, physical violence is often an accepted remedy within the prison’s subculture to solve the problem. Nevertheless, in some prisons, all imprisoned people involved in violence are punished. However, since imprisoned chefs have much more to lose (an advantageous regime, their job, and income), the consequence of a fight is much more punitive for them. In their case, the cost of a fight can be too high a price to pay relative to the immediate solution of a dispute. Unfortunately, prison policies barely take into account this particular vulnerability. To hinder exploitation, the segregation of certain workers is considered a way to solve the problem. The following field notes illustrate this: All incarcerated people had received their meal and the cell door closes [an overcrowded cell of six imprisoned persons]. But a few seconds later we hear noise and the movement of furniture. A person starts banging on the door and calls ‘chief, chief!’. At first, the officer does not react and looks through the window of the cell’s door. There is clearly a fight going on. The officers open the door, and one person runs out of the cell. The ‘chief ’ recognises the person, he works in the kitchen. The imprisoned kitchen worker has food all over his body and his hand is heavily bleeding. The cleaner of the wing quickly gets a cloth for his hand because blood is drip-

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ping on the floor. The imprisoned person gets angry and screams that one of his cellmates always causes troubles. He is never at ease in this cell and his cellmate attacks him for nothing. He claims it is even dangerous to fall asleep […] Staff explains that people who work are usually separated on a different wing where it is more quiet. This is done to ensure they have sufficient sleep and can perform at work. This person, who was attacked, worked in the kitchen and insists to see the governor so that the governor can notice he has food all over his body. When other officers arrive, the person gets angry and starts to bang on the wall. They handcuff him and bring him to the isolation cell. Staff members explain he will probably lose his kitchen job due to the incident. (Observation notes 1, prison 4, 2013)

This is a striking example of how a person’s reaction can be self-defence, or simply a reaction to accumulated stress in overcrowded cells, but easily seen by the authorities as a disciplinary mistake which was likely, in this case, to result in the loss of a job. The person’s testimony during our short encounter on the wing shows that despite the problems in overcrowded cells not necessarily being their fault, they can still find themselves punished for it. Nevertheless, this case shows that on balance the categorisation of those who perform kitchen work can have an advantage; being on wings known for their relaxed atmosphere (quiet) and ‘equality’ between imprisoned persons (in the sense that they might all lose privileges). However, kitchen workers also raised objections to being categorised according to the job they held. They spoke about how it limited their social contacts, and how they constantly have to interact with the same people in their leisure time as they do at work. Additionally, for other incarcerated persons who do not work in the kitchen, contact with imprisoned chefs is important to them in ensuring they can trust their meals. As one interviewee puts it: Imprisoned respondent: In prison (2) I have a better view on what is going on in the kitchen. In prison (3), there is a separate wing for the workers, so you only see the food on your wing and that are fatty meals…In prison (2) the kitchen is closer to the wing. In prison (3) it is a separate wing, no one goes there… the men who work in the kitchen stay on a separate wing. You can never talk to them.

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Here, in prison (2) you see the people who work in the kitchen, and you can talk to them so you can discover what’s going on in the kitchen. Interviewer: And the things that you find out concern the use of expired products that you discussed previously? Imprisoned respondent: Yes. (Imprisoned respondent 3, prison 2, 2013) While this respondent noted the positivity of kitchen staff mixing with other incarcerated people, others revealed that they are asked for favours, including smuggling food from the kitchen. For some, these practices are taken as a given, on the basis that one might be expected to support cellmates or other imprisoned persons, but is likely to lead to dismissal if caught. Therefore, some kitchen workers try to avoid taking the food to their cells or only smuggle small portions. One imprisoned person who has a high position in the kitchen explained how this works: Interviewer:

And do kitchen workers take stuff from the kitchen to the wings? Imprisoned respondent: Yes of course. Sometimes I do it too, but I never hide it. But you can never prevent that people do it. … And you may not forget, many of the prisoners are in for drug offences, they all know each other. They know each other from the outside. But I don’t really care as long as they don’t exaggerate. I always tell them: ‘If you want milk, just ask and you will get it.’ That’s no problem. But if you start to ask for milk to distribute, we get trouble. Of course, other prisoners, they ask. Imagine X (name of a prisoner who also participated in the study), he’s a cleaner, he comes in the kitchen, he’s here for years now. He has a job in which staff trusts you. So, in the evening when he comes in the kitchen, and I make fries, why can’t he get some fries? But I won’t give him a plate of fries to take upstairs [to his cell]. (Imprisoned respondent 4, 2013)

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This quote also highlights some favours that kitchen workers could benefit from. Especially because in some prisons, leftovers or small amounts of food could be eaten by the workers.

1.4.3  Respect A third topic often discussed by kitchen workers highlights the respect they receive from others for the job they perform. This contrasts with the feelings of disrespect they felt about their wages. Support and encouraging words from fellow imprisoned persons for serving tasty meals work as an incentive to improve dishes and cooking skills. It is a measure of the importance afforded to food that popular and tasty meals are highly respected, and imprisoned chefs are in some prisons praised for their excellent work. At times, the opposite happens, because meals can sometimes fail. In those instances, complaints also reach the imprisoned chefs. These complaints are a motivation to perform better and avoid these mistakes in the future. An imprisoned chef puts it as follows: Imprisoned respondent: At lunch we see that people are happy. Because in the end, you give them a pleasure, to the prisoners. They tell you ‘ooooh it was tasty’. This gives you satisfaction. We just try to cook as good as possible, so everyone enjoys it. Interviewer: So prisoners come to you and tell how the meals taste? Imprisoned respondent: Oh yes. ‘What did you serve today? It was horrible!’ It happens. Or ‘waw, greatly cooked’. It’s also a personal satisfaction. We invest in this work so in the end we can be happy that what we did wasn’t bad. Or sometimes we say ‘we seriously failed. Did we miss something? Didn’t we bake properly….’ (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013) It might elicit surprise that this respondent appreciates complaints, however, in an environment where autonomy is often denied, this indicates

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that what a person actually does is meaningful, that he performs important work. This contrasts with work that is performed at the workshops which is often perceived as repetitive and unchallenging. A final sign of respect is linked to advantages that come in the form of additional foods and snacks that can be eaten in the kitchen. Having access to these rare and expensive products was felt as an advantage by kitchen workers: That’s an advantage of kitchen work: We get some extras. We get some extra fruit; we get some dessert. We can laugh here. We can drink Spa Reine. So that’s an advantage of working in the kitchen. (Imprisoned respondent 5, prison 3, 2013)

Spa Reine is a mineral water from the city of Spa in Belgium. In Belgium, Spa is considered a good brand, a brand of bottled water with a certain standing. These simple pleasures can make a difference to a person’s experiences at work and during their time in prison. It makes life at times more valuable. A person who left his kitchen job upon release, expressed his gratitude for being able to work in the kitchen in a farewell note for the clients of the staff’s cafeteria where he worked: Dear ‘eaters’, If everything goes according to plan, these are the last moments that I service for you. I personally enjoyed it and it seemed to shorten my stay here. With this letter, I would like to thank you for the humane and even friendly interactions. I will remember these enjoyable moments for a long time. Nevertheless, I wish to end here with ‘hopefully I never see you again’ (I think you understand ). (Prison 2, 2013)

1.4.4  Time, Boredom and Personal Development When asked about the motivation to work in the kitchen, a common answer was ‘to pass the time’. Being alone in a prison cell for a long period of time is a situation most wish to avoid. This type of solitude can make one ruminate. An imprisoned chef explained how cooking helped to pass time:

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Interviewer: And why did you want to work in the kitchen? Imprisoned respondent: Why? Because it’s a job that keeps you busy. First it’s an occupation, when you’re in prison, you need an occupation. If you don’t have an occupation, we ruminate or we do other stuff […] it’s better to do something than to stay passive and let time pass by. Lose your time. It must serve for something. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013) Another imprisoned chef supported this vision. He added that at a certain phase of imprisonment one starts to search for activities to make time pass by: Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent: Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent:

Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent: Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent:

Do you think you’ll work for a long period of time in this kitchen? Yes, yes. Time passes by quickly. Is this the most important to you? Yes, after four years of imprisonment, you’ll start… In the beginning it’s different. You just wait. You hope you’ll be released. And you don’t really think about imprisonment. You think more about the judge and this and that. But when you know you’ll have to stay, you start to search for ways to make time pass by. You stay till the end of your sentence? Yes, they denied my application for conditional release four times. I applied another time, but I don’t go anymore to the court hearings. Okay so now you focus on your life here? Yes. (Incarcerated respondent 1, prison 5, 2015)

While this person regarded the primary aim of kitchen work as a way to ease the passage of time, others considered their kitchen work a purposeful activity for their future, and thought of it as a form of self-­development. The latter seemed to be dependent on the efforts of officers or chefs to invest in imprisoned chefs, and teach them cooking techniques. In some prisons, imprisoned

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chefs have a great deal of responsibility in the process of meal preparation, whilst in others, staff perform the most skilled tasks while imprisoned workers just clean, do the dishes or the physically demanding work, such as the transportation of products and meals. Most workers can change kitchen jobs over time. A person explains how enriching this is for him: It’s interesting because we learn something different. I’m imprisoned for two years now. I used to be a police officer, so my job wasn’t linked to kitchen work. And here I was thinking maybe I should broaden my horizons. It’s interesting to know how to cook. And sometimes it’s very simple while you would think it’s very hard at first sight. Sometimes it’s simple and they just have to teach you the right techniques. I think this is a good opportunity … for later … (Imprisoned respondent 7, 2013)

This person knows he will not be working as a police officer again, and meaningful work experiences in the kitchen provide him with a new perspective for the future.

1.5

The Meal Distribution

After their preparation, meals also have to be distributed on the wings. Meals are usually served three times a day (sometimes four when soup is served separately), but exceptionally, some prisons limit this to two. Food for breakfast is then for example served together with dinner. In most prisons, breakfast is served between 6:30 and 7:00 AM, and usually consists of bread, spread and coffee. Some prisons also serve soup. Usually soup is served around 10:00 AM, and the hot meal is served around 11:30 AM. Finally, dinner is served between 05:00 and 6:30 PM. The organisation and distribution of hot meals is an intensive operation that closely interacts with other regime aspects. When hot meals are served, everyone is locked in their cell, except for the incarcerated cleaners who help with the meal distribution. Together with officers, they pick up the heated trolleys at the central kitchen and bring them to the housing tiers. Once they arrive, the food is immediately distributed to prevent it from cooling down. An officer opens each cell door, and each person has to present themselves with their plate as is shown in the photo. In some prisons the rule is that those who are still in bed and refuse to pick

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up their food, do not receive their meal (except in the case of illness). This is done to encourage people to wake up. The officer is present during the distribution of meals to ensure each person obtains the correct portion, and pieces of meat in particular, are counted. It is said that some cleaners would not distribute it fairly without the presence of an officer (see below) (Photo 6.1). When there are leftovers after the first round, people can ask for more. The cleaner then provides a second serving. In order to prevent the same people always receiving the hottest food, or the leftovers, in some prisons, the distribution starts at a different side of the wings on a daily or weekly basis. This, however, is the official account of meal distributions. The reality is that at times, certain people receive less food, and others mostly receive the leftovers. The nature of meal distribution is also dependent on

Photo 6.1  Meal distribution, prison 2, 2013

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the particular prison’s architecture. In the biggest prison covered by this research, the long distance between the kitchen and the housing tiers, necessitated the use of thermo boxes to keep the meals hot. In that case, a small car drove these thermos boxes to the housing units, which results in a poorer texture to certain meals, such as fries. Equally, overcrowding has a significant impact on the preparation, and in particular the distribution, of meals. A chef explained how he has to serve basic and simple meals without too much side dishes such as sauces. He commented that bigger trolleys are not available when the number of people on the wings increases and, consequently, he believes the only solution is to simplify the meals. The way meals are distributed also depends on the type of meals that are served. When fries are prepared, some chefs wish to serve them crisp, which is only possible when they are served immediately after frying. To achieve this, each cleaner has to pick up his trolley immediately after frying. Consequently, the meal distribution takes longer, and in a strictly organised environment such as a prison, this has to be well managed. Some prisons therefore choose to serve food like fries on a Sunday when generally less time is taken up with activities, and more time is available for the distribution of meals. In most prisons, cleaners make another round to pick up the waste after the meal distribution. This is done to prevent people from flushing their leftovers down the toilet, throwing it out of their window and thus attracting vermin, or leaving it to smell in their cell garbage bin. It became clear that food waste is a considerable problem. This waste is caused due to several reasons: some prisons serve breakfast and dinner in the evening; people therefore take more food than they might need in case they go hungry. This practice is exacerbated by the lack of boxes, or place in the fridges to store food in cells. Therefore, if the meal is not eaten immediately, people throw it away (Photo 6.2).

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Photo 6.2  Food distribution on the housing tiers, prison of 4, 2013

1.6

Meal Consumption

Imprisoned people usually eat meals in their cell, while staff usually eat in a cafeteria. Each cell has one table which is used to eat, write and store possessions. As shown in Photo 6.3, people usually live in one space and their toilet is close to the table where they eat. In some prisons, renovations of the cells include the installation of a curtain to hide the toilet as standard. In particular, people who have to share a cell, experience the separation of the toilet with a curtain as more decent.

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Photo 6.3  Prison cell, prison 2, 2013

The instances of those in limited and pre-trial detention eating are covered in Chap. 4, however, for those in solitary confinement particular provisions are made. The photograph below, taken in prison 2, shows how imprisoned persons in solitary confinement receive their meals and drinks through a hatch in the door. Due to safety considerations, most officers prefer to keep the door closed during meal servings. Meals are served on a plastic plate and have to be eaten with plastic cutlery. While other incarcerated persons can drink tap water in their cell, people in solitary confinement depend on the water that is provided by officers (Photo 6.4).

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Photo 6.4  Water distribution in solitary confinement, prison 2, 2013

1.7

The Prison Canteen

Article 47 of the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 states that imprisoned persons have the right to purchase goods in the canteen shop, in their prison of residence, according to the guidelines stated in the house rules. However, as a disciplinary sanction, people can lose this right, with the exception of toiletries, stamps and paper, for a maximum period of 30 days (Art. 132 Belgian Prison Act of 2005). Daems et al. (2014), argue that the existence of a prison canteen in Belgium, seeks to soften people’s detention by adding variety to the basic products that the prison is required to serve. Moreover, at the time of the purchase, the incarcerated person has to ensure that they have sufficient money in their bank account, or the purchase will be cancelled. When people are transferred, they can take their commissary goods, and will be sent pending items that cannot be cancelled, to their new prison of residence. When it

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concerns perishable foodstuffs, people will be reimbursed if they were not informed about the transfer at the time of the order (Daems et al., 2014). Each prison selects a shop to deliver products to the prison canteen, which are usually placed in a storage room where incarcerated workers and prison workers bag the orders. These bags are later delivered to the purchaser on the housing tiers. The products are ordered from a canteen list on a weekly basis. In general, Belgian prisons do not limit the purchases or the budget that can be spent in the canteen. As explained previously, only exceptionally can the governor impose limits, so people are free to organise their personal purchases and can check their account balance. When someone hands their list, they are sent to accountancy who check if there is sufficient money to pay the order; only then is the order sent to the supplier. The offer of canteen products differs between prisons. Most have a standard canteen list, a ‘fresh’ canteen list for vegetables and fruits (verskantine) and some have a halal canteen list (sometimes only during Ramadan). During this study, some prisons had recently introduced a canteen list for people with a low budget (budgetkantine). This list was introduced on the request of people who found the normal canteen list, which mainly sold branded products, too expensive. The budget canteen provides a clear overview of the cheapest products on offer. Some prisons also have a pastry canteen. Finally, at Christmas time, prisons offer a ‘Christmas’ canteen (kerstkantine) with special products. Some prisons also offer financial support for imprisoned persons who lack the money to buy in the prison canteen (steunfonds). To obtain support they must make a formal application, but to qualify, incarcerated persons are likely to be on the waiting list for a job and consequently have no income, and they will likely have no money transferred to their account from outside. In some prisons, receivers have to repay the money within a month of receiving the funding if, or when, money from the outside is transferred to their account. The money they receive, ranged in this study from 15 € a month to about 20 € a month. For people on a budget, this fund has particular advantages because it enables them to buy necessities such as cigarettes, telephone cards or foods. However, other incarcerated persons are critical of the fund because they suspect that the extra money comes partly from extras that prisons charge on their canteen purchases.

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Cooking Facilities

Most prisons have cooking facilities for imprisoned persons to cook canteen purchases. In some prisons, this is a kitchen on the housing tiers. In other prisons, cooking facilities such as an electric stove, water heater, or microwave are permitted in cells. The picture shows a stove that can be bought in the prison canteen of some prisons. A popular way of using the stoves is by transforming them into an oven. As is shown in the picture below, a closed casserole is placed between two stoves and therefore heated from two opposite sides (Photo 6.5). The appliances that can be used in the cell vary between prisons. In some institutions appliances are rented, in others they are purchased. In most prisons, people are allowed to use a water heater or a microwave, and all the prisons in this study had fridges placed in the cells (for free). The available facilities do not only depend on the regime, and in particular the security level of the regime (see below), but also on the state of the buildings. Some Belgian prisons are very old, and the internal electricity network was not built to handle the number of appliances that people may wish to use nowadays. In order to prevent electricity breakdowns, not everyone can use cooking appliances in the cell.

Photo 6.5  A self-made oven, 2013

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Those not permitted to use cooking facilities often take to creating them illegally. So, while absenting, or limiting, the use of appliances in some prisons is seen as a security measure, it often gives rise to potentially more dangerous construction of apparatus to cook on. Sometimes, the water heater is used by filling an empty crisp bag with vegetables, eggs or meat, and then placing it in the boiling water of the water heater. As is illustrated in photo 18, some people also make small fires in empty cans, or use electric cables and cutlery to heat water (Photo 6.6). Besides the illegal construction of makeshift ‘ovens’ and bain maries, illegal foods were also a popular prison fare. During this study, it was revealed by some people that they made their own alcohol. When people are caught during these illegal activities, they receive a disciplinary punishment; the authorities invariably opt for expulsion from the canteen system for a period of time.

Photo 6.6  A confiscated sardine can filled with oil to make a fire, prison 5, 2013

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Finally, overcrowding can result in the kitchens on the housing tiers being closed. It would be logistically problematic for all imprisoned persons to cook, for no other reason than food purchases could not be stored in the cell fridges, which are too small to store all the food that people would have in overcrowded conditions. Consequently, during winter, imprisoned persons place the products outside the window (see Photo 6.7). Further, some kitchens are too small to open in overcrowded wings, because few incarcerated persons would be able to use them effectively, a

Photo 6.7  Foods and drinks placed outside the cell to keep the products fresh, prison 4, 2013

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rotation system, though sounding possible, would bring with it a workload that staff would struggle to organise.

2

Prison Foodways in the Prison of Tilburg

In seeking to address chronic overcrowding within its prison system, in 2009, Belgium took the radical step of renting a prison from the Netherlands in Tilburg. When it did so, it was decided that Belgian penal law would be applied in the institution. While one might expect this to have resulted in a regime similar to those in Belgian prisons (notwithstanding Belgian prisons vary between one another), incarcerated persons’ encounters with the regime in the Tilburg penitentiary were fundamentally different from the Belgian institutions they had previously experienced. This particularity demands a distinctive analysis of the prison food system in Tilburg prison. I begin with an overview of the legislation and the regime structure in the institution, a consideration of the food system in the Netherlands, and Tilburg prison in particular, and a discussion on the general findings that were revealed concerning the experiences of staff and incarcerated workers within this correctional food system.

2.1

Nova Belgica

The bilateral convention between Belgium and the Netherlands was signed in 2009, implemented in 2010 and mutually dissolved in December 2016. In order to specify the conditions of imprisonment, a co-operation agreement was made. It stated that Belgian penitentiary law (The Belgian Prison Act of 2005) should be applied in Tilburg prison, except for rules concerning health care, the food service, transport of imprisoned persons and the use of force. Prison staff working in Tilburg were Dutch except for governors, staff of the psycho-social service, some of the administrative staff and an officer. In terms of administration, Tilburg prison was temporarily part of the prison of Wortel, located on Belgian territory, approximately 40 km from Tilburg.

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The category of those who would be sent to Tilburg was negotiated between the two countries. In the first instance, both agreed not to place Dutch nationals, or people expelled from the Dutch territory in Tilburg prison. In addition, those posing a high risk of escape, or other extraordinary hazards, were not allowed to be transferred to the Netherlands. In a statement of dissent, the CPT claimed that: … a prisoner who has been sentenced to imprisonment in one state, should not, on the basis of an administrative decision, be forced to serve the sentence in another state. (CPT/Inf (2012)19, p. 10)

The Belgian government, however, disagreed, and when it became clear that few people with characteristics as stated in the co-operation agreement volunteered, incarcerated persons were forced to accept transfers. Selection criteria for these forced transfers shifted to people who were not taking education or training, and who were not under therapeutic care (CPT/Inf (2013)10). As a consequence, mostly people with an irregular migrant status, or people with an unknown legal status, ended up in Tilburg prison. Based on information retrieved from the institution in August 2015, 32 percent of the people had the right to stay in Belgium, 52 percent had no right to stay in Belgium and 16 percent had an unknown legal status. In addition, only 20 percent of the incarcerated persons in Tilburg had a Belgian nationality, and 52 other nationalities were represented among the prison population. This led to an extraordinarily diverse and multicultural prison population which was strongly reflected in the food narratives.

2.2

The Prison Regime in Tilburg Prison

Despite Belgian prison legislation being applied in the institution, daily life was very different to that in most Belgian prisons (Beyens & Boone, 2013). The following considers some of the more important differences that provide the context in which the food experiences in Tilburg prison can be better understood. Of crucial importance was that Dutch officers worked under the auspices of Belgian prison legislation. When Belgium assumed responsibility

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for the prison, all officers received an education on Belgian legislation and prison law. This was not always easy. In some instances, Dutch officers found their powers curtailed by Belgian prison legislation that in some areas was stricter than the Dutch equivalents. For example, it is common practice for officers to take urine samples for drug tests in Dutch prisons. It is, however, prohibited under Belgian legislation in order to protect imprisoned persons’ privacy and dignity. Some officers complained that this had a negative influence on their perceptions of security (see also Beyens & Boone, 2013), whilst the incarcerated persons, felt they were subjected to much stricter controls than they were used to in Belgium. For example, drug detection dogs were used considerably more often in Tilburg than in Belgian prisons. Some Dutch prison customs, not in breach of Belgian legislation, but uncommon in Belgium, were still followed by prison officers. Dutch staff were, for example, used to chatting and having informal contacts with incarcerated individuals. However, imprisoned persons explained that in Belgian institutions, only snitchers engaged in this kind of relationship with staff, so they had to adapt to a new type of prison culture in the Tilburg penitentiary. Moreover, officers encouraged people to participate in activities, and planned these events as part of the daily regime. This helped to create an active prison regime that was, generally speaking, very much enjoyed by the prison population (Beyens & Boone, 2013; Kox et al., 2014). To sum up, differences were experienced between Tilburg and Belgian prisons that many considered unjust, but many were very positive about the regime in Tilburg prison. The helpful approach of prison staff, the good material conditions, and the variety of activities made Tilburg, despite its disadvantages, a relatively appreciated prison.

2.3

The Prison Food System in Tilburg

The food system in Tilburg prison differed markedly from the one in Belgium. In the Co-operation Act it was decided that the Dutch Ministry of Justice (DJI) was responsible for the food, and that it would be organised in line with Dutch prison food policies. Art. 10 of this Co-operation Act stated it as follows:

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The DJI is responsible for a nutritious and balanced diet for prisoners that is in line with those of Dutch norms on nutrition. The ‘management officer’ (beheersfunctionaris) ensures that prisoners receive three meals a day. One of these meals has to be a hot meal. Prisoners have the choice from a variety of meals. Prescriptions by medical staff concerning specific diets are respected.

A quantitative study by Van der Broeck et al. (2011), based on a survey of incarcerated persons concluded that Belgian respondents were very negative about the food in Tilburg prison. Their satisfaction with the food scored lower than those provided by Dutch respondents in other prisons (Van der Broeck et al., 2011, p. 75). This was probably due to the stark contrast between hot meals prepared in Belgian prison kitchens. After visiting Tilburg prison in 2011, CPT reported that: … the delegation received a large number of complaints about the quality and method of preparation of the food served in the establishment. (CPT/ Inf (2012) 19, p. 13)

The study by Beyens and Boone (2013) found that the lack of taste and variety in pre-prepared deep-frozen meals, the absence of freshly made food, and the small portion size, were Tilburg’s biggest weaknesses. Research participants also mentioned some positive aspects concerning the meals: having a microwave in their cells for example, meant that they could heat and eat their meals when they wished, and some commented that in contrast to Belgian prison meals, the food was low in fat. Nevertheless, many chose to buy food in the canteen and prepare their own meals in the kitchens on the housing units.

2.4

Pre-Prepared Ready-Made Meals

In Tilburg prison, a private caterer delivered the daily meals for 3.19 € per person per day (TVA not included). This was the price of the standard menu. For other meals (medical, religious, other special requirements), the price could increase. The company delivered its meals twice a week to the prison. The deep-frozen ready-made meals, bread and spread,

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were stored in two cool chambers in the institution’s kitchen. Since meals were not prepared in the kitchen, fewer kitchen staff were needed compared to kitchens in Belgian institutions. Once a day, the incarcerated persons who worked on the housing units (cleaners) brought the meals from the kitchen to their units. Once on the housing units, the food was distributed in boxes. Each morning, everyone received their box with the daily food supply (Photo 6.8). The meals could then be heated in the microwave at a time most convenient to the incarcerated person. Besides the ready-made meals, people received bread, spread, and fruit and they could order a certain number of products such as sugar, marmalade and chocolate sprinkles for free on a weekly basis. Finally, when people were transferred, a lunch package was provided. When the first people from Belgium arrived in the Tilburg penitentiary, they were outraged about meals that differed markedly from what

Photo 6.8  Deep-frozen ready-made meals in Tilburg prison

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they had experienced in Belgian institutions. This criticism was clearly reflected during prisoner-governor meetings. In one meeting it was reported that imprisoned persons wanted more variety in the menu, but Belgian governors could not intervene on this matter since food was a matter organised by the Dutch authorities, and covered by the agreement between the Dutch government and an external partner. It became clear that this particular aspect of the agreement hampered the possibility to be reflexive with regard to the food system, and to the specific needs of the particular prison population in the institution. One particular consequence of the dissatisfaction with the institutional meals was the desire on behalf of the imprisoned persons to cook for themselves, making the canteen, and the kitchens on the housing units, popular places.

2.5

Cooking Oneself

2.5.1  The Prison Canteen Every week incarcerated persons received a canteen list with all the available products. This was a personalised list, on which their name and account balance were visible, ensuring that they did not exceed their budget. People filled in the form and handed it back to the officers, who in turn handed it over to the administration and the prison shop. The canteen products were stored in the prison, but there was no shop to visit like in outside society; everything was ordered on paper. Canteen products were received twice weekly: Thursdays, when the purchases from the standard canteen were distributed, and Tuesdays, when the ‘fresh canteen’ (fresh fruit and vegetables) were delivered. The canteen products arrived in people’s personal boxes, which were stored in front of the officer’s office, and where each person was responsible for picking it up and confirming that all his purchases were present. Incarcerated persons and prison staff complained that some products were at times sold out in the canteen, meaning people had to wait another week before delivery. Respondents were annoyed by this because they were quite well organised and ordered particular ingredients to prepare specific dishes. When a crucial ingredient was missing, they could not

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prepare their meal, nor were they able to speedily order a product to replace it. Sometimes other delivery problems occurred. It happened for example, that some persons did not even receive their box, as was noted during participant observations: Officers explain that they often notice problems with the delivery of canteen products. Each person receives his purchases in a box. Today, a person’s box was missing. One of the officers called the staff of the shop and asked for the missing box. They claimed it had been sent to the housing unit. When the boxes leave, a paper is signed to confirm that all boxes have left the storage place. Later that day, a staff member of the shop passed by to check the form and said there was nothing he could do since the paper was signed and it mentioned that the box left the storage place. A bit later, the officers suddenly received a phone call from the shop because the box was found in their storage place. Officers explain that these kinds of problems regularly occur. (Observation notes 2, prison 5, 2015)

Clearly, carelessness during the distribution of the canteen boxes annoyed staff and imprisoned persons alike and could increase tensions, especially because it concerned one of the imprisoned persons’ notable distractions and one of their greatest joys. Besides the official meals, the canteen list was a recurring point of tension during the prisoner-governor meetings. The limited products (compared to some Belgian prisons) that were sold by the commissary were strongly condemned. No products could be added to this list, so when imprisoned persons wanted to order new products, some of the available products had to be replaced. Products that were barely ordered therefore disappeared from the list. Another complaint concerned the prices of food in the canteen that were alleged to be more expensive than in the previous institutions incarcerated persons had resided in. For some it was less that products in the canteen were perceived as expensive compared to the outside, but more that people’s wages were so much lower, making the differential appear more unjust. During the observations, a participant explained how he has to work the whole day to buy one bottle of olive oil. He believed this was profoundly unjust (Observation notes 3, prison 5, 2013). However, the prison

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administration discovered that only some products were slightly more expensive, while others were cheaper in comparison to Belgian prisons. Nevertheless, the prices of products in the canteen, compared to other institutions, appeared to have an inflated importance given the rather negative experiences with the processed food served by the institution.

2.5.2  The Prison Kitchen The criticisms of the canteen did not prevent people from purchasing items and preparing tasty meals. In Tilburg prison, each housing unit had a kitchen where people could prepare meals at their own expense. In August 2010, between 31 and 37 percent of the frozen ready-made meals and bread that was served, was thrown away untouched. The continued high food waste, and the reality of people cooking at their own expense, prompted staff to search for alternatives. In 2013, based on the input and requests from imprisoned persons, officers decided to introduce a self-catering project that would be financially supported by the institution. This project was enthusiastically welcomed by incarcerated cooks and was positively evaluated. Officers on one of the group units, asked if imprisoned persons would, with financial support from the institution, be interested in joining a self-catering project. Since most of the people already cooked for themselves, albeit at their own expense, most of them were willing to join. What was considered as one of its biggest weaknesses, and the source of much discontent, was transformed into one of Tilburg prison’s greatest strengths; a progressively introduced self-catering system, that was perceived by staff and imprisoned persons as a positive and meaningful project. The project was later introduced on three group units (about 300 imprisoned persons of the 650 joined). During this cooking activity, several kinds of foods were prepared (Photo 6.9). One group cell per unit, where people stayed upon their arrival, still received ready-made meals to ensure newcomers had a meal. However, within a week, they could join the self-catering project. Joining the project meant that every participant received 12.50 € a week in order to buy food for seven hot meals. Other foods (such as bread, spread, fruit or

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Photo 6.9  Meals cooked by imprisoned persons in the self-catering project, 2015

dessert) were still provided by the institution. The 12.50 € could be spent on a canteen list that was specifically established for the project. First, and in contrast with the other canteen list (where incarcerated persons could still buy products at their own expense), it was the private caterer of hot meals who delivered the ingredients for the self-catering project, since they had a binding contract to deliver the institutional meals. Secondly, staff decided to put limited ingredients (no snacks) on the self-catering list, which meant that the institution’s money could only be used to buy ingredients for meal preparations. The participants in this project had access to the unit’s kitchen for about one hour each day, and every group cell could use four stoves and one oven. The food groups that were present in the previous system continued to exist. In each cell, usually one or two food groups (of two to eight people) were formed. These groups were important for the organisation of the project. There was a reduction in costs when meals were shared,

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because people adapted their dishes to the number of participants in their group and the available facilities in the kitchen. It was, moreover, important that appliances in the kitchen functioned properly, if they didn’t, problems and discussion over who could not use certain facilities that day, occurred between the participants. The authorities quickly replaced poor functioning appliances, and in cases of clear vandalism, those involved had to pay for the damage. When the housing unit’s kitchens became the place where institutional meals were prepared, hygiene inspections had to be introduced. The cleaners of the units often cleaned the whole kitchen at the end or start of the day. However, after every cooking activity, the officers inspected the kitchen and if necessary, insisted that imprisoned persons carried out a proper cleaning. A company (Seiso) regularly inspected the kitchens to ensure the daily control system was implemented and the prison received positive feedback on the hygienic conditions. However, the cleaners who participated in this study regularly complained that the kitchens were often still dirty, and they had to put great effort in the extra cleaning. Additionally, guidelines were established for the use of the kitchen and were distributed in the cells. This was done to make participants aware of simple things that might be missed, such as switching on the kitchen hood to prevent the fire alarm going off.

3

Conclusion

This chapter has shown how the food narratives of imprisoned persons only make sense in the context of the different prison food systems that they inhabit and encounter. The argument is developed that unless a nuanced comprehension of both the detail and thinking behind extant official prison food systems is reached, then one’s grasp of those narratives is likely to be partial and lacking insight. To that end, consideration has been made here of the nature of food inspections, food preparation and distribution, and the lived experiences of imprisoned chefs. The chapter provided a systematic overview of the guidelines and legislation that underpin the organisation of the Belgian prison food system(s). In an environment where most prisons have a large prison kitchen where prison food is prepared, the experiences of imprisoned

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chefs in these kitchens shed critical light on their job insecurity, the vulnerable position they occupy in the prison community, but also the respect they sometimes receive for the tasty meals they prepare. These experiences were also shown in relation to the wider detention experience, and the daily living realities of boredom and prison labour. The realities of meals being served on the landings, and imprisoned persons eating in their prison cell, were discussed in the context of scholarship which shows how many imprisoned persons now consume foods bought in the prison canteen. This was reflected in the discussion of how people clearly longed for self-made meals which sometimes led to creative, albeit illegally constructed, cooking materials. The contrast between the majority of Belgian prison food systems with that which pertained to the prison in Tilburg, located in the Netherlands, was marked. The chapter traces how the system of serving pre-prepared deep-frozen ready-made meals gave way to the introduction of the self-­ catering system on the request of imprisoned persons and officers. This created a clear and substantial shift in prison food experiences. The following chapters take this analysis a stage further with a more comprehensive consideration of the lived experiences with these different prison food systems.

Bibliography Literature Beernaert, M.-A., Mary, P., & Nève, M. (2016). Le guide du prisonnier en Belgique. Editions Lucpire. Beyens, K., & Boone, M. (2013). Zeg Maar Henk tegen de ‘chef ’. Boom-Lemma. Beyens, K., Snacken, S., & Eliaerts, C. (1992). Privatisering van gevangenissen. VUBPRESS. Centrale Toezichtsraad voor het Gevangeniswezen (CTRG). (2016). Jaarverslag 2011–2014. CTRG. Centrale Toezichtsraad voor het Gevangeniswezen (CTRG). (2021). Jaarverslag 2020. CTRG. Online. https://ctrg.belgium.be/wp-­content/uploads//2021/ 09/CTRG_Jaarverslag_2020-­2.pdf

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CPT/Inf. (2012). 19. CPT/Inf. (2013). 10. CPT/Inf. (2016a). 13. CPT/Inf. (2016b). 29. Daems, T., Eechaudt, V., Maes, E., & Vander Beken, T. (2014). De basiswet van 12 januari 2005 betreffende het gevangeniswezen en de rechtspositie van de gedetineerden: een status quaestionis. Tijdschrift voor Strafrecht, 2014(1), 1–45. Federaal Agentschap voor de Voedselveiligheid (FASC). (2014). Activiteitenverslag 2013. Federaal Agentschap voor de veiligheid van de voedselketen. Online. http://www.afsca.be/jaarverslagen/_documents/2014-­07-­09_AV2013NL.pdf Federaal Agentschap voor de Voedselveiligheid. (2018). Activiteitenverslag 2017. Federaal Agentschap voor de veiligheid van de voedselketen. Online. http:// www.afsca.be/activiteitenverslag/2017/ Gudders, D., & Daems, T. (2021). Privatization of Punishment in Belgium. In T. Daems & T. Vander Beken (Eds.). Privatising Punishment in Europe? Routledge. Kox, M., De Ridder, S., Vanhouche, A., Boone, M., & Beyens, K. (2014). Detentiebeleving van strafrechtelijk gedetineerden zonder verblijfsrecht. Tijdschrift voor Criminologie, 56(2), 31–47. Nederlandt, O., & Vanhouche, A.-S. (2020). Les maisons de transition: miroir aux alouettes ou pied dans la porte ? In C. Guillain & D. Scalia (Eds.), Le coût du système pénal (pp. 31–64). La Charte. Peter, O. (2013). Alimentation et droits des personnes détenus. Analyse dans la perspective du droit Européen. Revue trimestrielle des droits de l’homme, 93, 97–121. Smaers, G. (1994). Gedetineerden en mensenrechten: de toepassing van het E.V.R.M. in penitentiaire detentiesituaties door de Europese jurisdicties en haar gevolgen voor de rechtspositie van veroordeelde gedetineerden in België. Maklu. Van der Broeck, T., Molleman, T., Henneken-Hordijk, I., & Mol, G. (2011). Welbevinden van medewerkers en gedetineerden op leefafdelingen van locatie Willem II Tilburg. Den Haag. Vanhouche, A.-S., Bauwens, A., & Snacken, S. (2017). Arbeid en arbeidstoeleiding in de gevangenis. In K. Beyens & S. Snacken (Eds.), Straffen. Een penologisch perspectief (pp. 323–338). Maklu. Vyncke, V., Hanssens, L., Steenberghs, E., & Willems, S. (2015). Onderzoeksrapport ‘Gezondheidsprofiel Gedetineerden’. Universiteit Gent Vakgroep Huisartsgeneeskunde en Eerstelijnszorg. https://biblio.ugent.be/ publication/7068021/file/7243193.pdf

7 Prison Food: Philosophy and Practice

The extant literature shows how prison (food) systems have been affected by penal principles such as less-eligibility (Rusche & Kirchheimer, 1939), normalisation (Minke, 2014) and human dignity. Whilst harm reduction and normalisation are among the dominant penal principles in European prison legislation, the populist idea that ‘doing’ justice demands that people need to suffer more than other people, has always simmered under the surface of public and political debate. Prison foodways often play a role in this debate. In 2016, for example, a Belgian newspaper headline sought to inspire a narrative of less-eligibility under the guise of common sensical notions of justice. It is worth repeating it here: Feast in Belgian prisons: ostrich, venison, and salmon. Those who thought the 11, 000 prisoners in Belgium lived on water and bread are wrong. (Het Laatste Nieuws, 2016)

Decades earlier, Feest (1999), had already noted how less-eligibility rarely lies far beneath the permafrost of normalisation in matters of penal justice. He argued that:

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_7

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in the background what looms large and usually unmentioned is what Melossi calls the ‘basic rule of penology, the principle of less-eligibility. (Feest, 1999, p. 100)

This chapter focuses on narratives of prison foodways through the lens of normalisation and the reduction of detention harm. The detention goal of normalisation is not always easily achieved. It is subject to various processes of institutional reality, that might ease or harden the principle. This chapter considers first how food has both positive and negative outcomes as part of normalisation, and how this is reflected in the lived experiences of the incarcerated respondents. Secondly, it discusses how experiences with normalisation, and rituals of cooking and eating with a similar character to the outside world, encourage a person’s sense of identity. Some systems, such as selfcatering, support incarcerated individuals to develop a more nuanced sense of self that goes beyond their status as ‘prisoner’, precisely because it allows the take up of other social roles. Consequently the argument developed here suggests that the normalisation of prison foodways creates openings for imprisoned persons to regain control over their identity.

1

The Principle of Normalisation

The introduction and acceptance of this principle has been a long, and ongoing, process that is still under threat in Europe. Shea (2005), explains that the shock of the atrocities in the camps during the Second World War constituted a milestone in the development of normalisation in Europe, by engendering a desire to make imprisonment more humane. In Belgium for example, the working conditions for people convicted of war crimes after the Second World War, were developed in the light of what penologists currently define as normalisation. This group of incarcerated persons had to work in collieries, but were protected by social security schemes, and received a normal wage. The purpose in the first instance was to elicit recompense for their wrongdoing to the country, but significantly, it was also believed that labour embodied the idea of self-development. Moreover, a wage and social security protection prevented bitterness and enabled them to take care of their families. In the same period, further examples of normalisation can be identified such as

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the establishment of open prisons in Denmark. However, Smith (2011) suggests that the notion that open prisons were a consequence of embedding the principle of normalisation is misguided. He argues that the immediate postwar penal system was more a question of contingency and accident than liberalisation. Open prisons, he argued, were a: … direct result of the mass incarceration (in Danish terms), which took place immediately after the Second World War and the liberation of Denmark, when more than 40,000 alleged traitors and collaborators were detained, and which for a limited period raised the Danish prison population dramatically. This led to the use of barracks and summer-camp-like facilities, which ultimately revealed that prisons could actually be run with very liberal regimes and very low levels of security. (Smith, 2011, p. 42)

Some practices, commonly framed as part of normalisation, had in fact existed for a long time, and furthermore, the introduction of more progressive prison regimes, was an accident of history where several events combined to produce unintended, but albeit desirable, outcomes. In this case, the turn towards normalisation characterised much postwar penal policy. Normalisation means that instead of lowering standards of imprisonment below that of the poorest element of the population (less-­eligibility), they should be raised to encompass what is commonly perceived as normal and positive in society. Moreover, insofar as negative or exclusive processes are perceived as ‘normal’ in society, they should be counteracted in prison. A prison sentence, then, is reduced to its essential meaning: the loss of liberty. All other disadvantageous elements or detention harm ought to be reduced as far as possible. Nevertheless, the principle remains somewhat vague and additional questions can often be left begging. Snacken (2002) draws attention to two different meanings of normalisation which ought not be confounded: normalisation of the incarcerated person and normalisation of prison life. The concept of normalisation of the imprisoned individual draws on Foucault’s (1975) notion of how pupils conform to norms by the discipline of their corps in the classroom. Foucault argues that accepted norms create the reference point in order to decide whether a pupil’s behaviour is good or bad. To achieve normalisation of a person, norm deviation is punished and norm-abiding behaviour rewarded. This meaning of normalisation, when applied to penal

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policies, imposes a certain lifestyle on imprisoned persons to prevent them from reoffending. This definition of normalisation is still a reality today. Shea (2005), for example, reflects Foucauldian ideas when she refers to the disciplining character of normalisation that is still present today. In her study of the normalisation of labour in French and German prisons, she states that: It is nevertheless true that the aim to inhibit a person with ‘good habits’ through the creation of a work attitude, is rooted in the minds of prison officers. (Shea, 2005, p. 349)

Normalisation of the ‘inmate’ requires that people take responsibility for making the right choices, and live according to accepted norms on the outside. In this sense, normalisation can be experienced as a form of discipline. This led Snacken (2002) to warn that the normalisation of incarcerated persons can exceed the powers of what a legal system is allowed to do. In contrast, the normalisation of prison life is defined in European and Belgian prison rules and laws, and understood in this study as a state whereby life in the institution should, as far as possible, resemble the positive aspects of life in the outside community. The loss of freedom is thus regarded as the punishment and no additional harm should be inflicted. Snacken (2002) adds that this is far from an easy task, not least because normalisation raises questions about what the norm in society actually constitutes. Given that norms are rarely fixed or static in society, she suggests following the position of Feest (1999) who suggested that successful normalisation would require constant reflexion, deliberation and flexibility. For Snacken, normalisation can never be absolute in a prison environment, due to the characteristics of total institutions. Moreover, imprisonment is of itself, a counteracting aspect in the achievement of normalisation. Removing people from society in order to normalise their life in an institution is something of a contradiction. Therefore, normalisation may not be perceived as a solution for the negative effects of imprisonment. In the best case, it only hampers them. Snacken (2002) continues by further distinguishing between two forms of the normalisation of prison life: an individual and collective form.

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Normalisation on the individual level allows imprisoned individuals to maintain social roles. Examples of these roles include maintaining their role as a parent or partner, and all sorts of pro-social aspects to their personality such as being sporty or enjoying reading. Normalisation on a collective level requires services from the community to be accessible to incarcerated persons. Additionally, due to the particularities of a prison environment, Snacken (2002) recommends that additional services be developed. These additional services can support imprisoned persons with specific needs. It is this second definition of individual and collective forms of normalisation of prison life that also plays a central role in current European and Belgian legislation or rules. In the first version of the European Prison Rules (EPR) of 1987, normalisation was mentioned, but not as a basic assumption of imprisonment. Thanks to the European Court of Human Rights, imprisoned person’s rights have been strengthened. This was reflected in the revised European Prison Rules of 2006 (and then later in 2020), where the principle of normalisation was confirmed, becoming a basic principle of the rules in art. 5. The article provides a useful definition for how normalisation is currently defined in Europe. It states that: Life in prison shall approximate as closely as possible the positive aspects of life in the community.

The Council of Europe recognised that life in prison can never be exactly the same as outside. Nevertheless, prison authorities should actively seek to normalise prison life to the highest degree as possible. The Council also insisted on the positive aspects of normalisation so as to avoid inhumane prison conditions created by negative forms of normalisation (such as inequalities). Moreover, in one of its reports, it explicitly linked normalisation to prison food by encouraging self-catering, because it introduces positive aspects of life in the community. The Council insisted, moreover, that self-catering enables people to have at least three meals a day, access to adequate kitchens and nutritious ingredients at their disposal (ICF, 2016).

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The Principle of Normalisation in Belgium

In Belgium, the Royal Decree of 1965 introduced some elements consistent with normalisation by stating that life in prison should have similarities with life on the outside. So, while the introduction of normalisation has been an ongoing process, the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 played a particularly crucial role in securing its legal recognition. The proposal of the Prison Act in 2001 defines normalisation as: An instrumental principle that reduces the negative consequences of imprisonment. In order to limit these negative consequences, life shall be as similar as possible to outside society (except for the deprivation of liberty). This principle of normalisation might have far reaching consequences. (DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001, p. 8)

Moreover, art. 6 of the Prison Act of 2005 states that: The prisoner shall not be subjected to other constraints of his political, civil, social, economic or cultural rights except for those that are inherent to the deprivation of liberty or that are stated in the law. During the execution of the punishment or the deprivation of liberty, detention harm shall be prevented.

Normalisation and respect for a person’s dignity then, affect the Prison Act’s articles on material conditions in Belgian prisons, as a consequence of the strong emphasis on imprisoned persons receiving their elementary needs. Food is a significant element of these material conditions. The act states in art. 42 that: … the prisoner receives sufficient food according to standards of modern food hygiene. If necessary the food should be adapted to his health situation.

This requires that normalisation is reflected in the standard of meals. For example, local authorities can adapt meals to the needs of their specific population, and similar to outside society, people with health

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problems must be able to eat from a menu commensurate with those needs. So, although norms are by definition contestable, and necessarily vague, they also have tangible positives attached to them. So whilst some reference is made to the principle of normalisation in Belgian food standards legislation, it is not fundamentally embedded in prison food policies. The case of Denmark provides a meaningful foreign example of what this might mean (Minke, 2014). In Denmark: inmates of prisons have to do their own shopping at the prison grocery store, cook food and do their own dishes, cleaning and laundry. Inmates of local prisons receive deep-frozen meals. (Prison and Probation Service, 2016, p. 9)

By allowing incarcerated persons to shop, cook and clean, they receive similar freedoms as they would have on the outside. Normalisation and responsibility are central to self-catering systems which were introduced in prisons where sentences are spent. In remand prisons, people receive pre-prepared meals, but this situation is considered far from normal. In some prisons, experiences of normalisation are more nuanced. For example, women who shared a prison kitchen with men highlighted a reluctance to cook with men they considered unhygienic (Minke & Smoyer, 2017). Nevertheless, discussions on normalisation of regimes are not absent in Denmark. Based on Rentzmann’s statements in 1996, one can claim that the focus of the Danish prison food system is on normalisation of imprisonment: If he/she [prisoner] spends the money on fast foods this is his/her own responsibility. On the other hand, the personnel’s duty, including the doctor’s, is to instruct the inmate in the consequences of incorrect nutrition and poor hygiene. (Rentzmann, 1996, p. 62)

In the light of my previous comments (above) on the definition of normalisation, this is an important claim. It is not about making people ‘normal’ but enabling them to live in a context that contains similarities

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with the outside world; significantly, to include the freedom to make one’s own informed choices. Whilst official food standards in Belgium go some way towards symbolic normalisation next to the Danish experience it reflects a narrow view of what normalisation might mean since it denies the symbolic role of food practices in society. This will be discussed below.

1.2

 ormalisation and Prison Practices: Imprisoned N Persons’ Experiences

The limits of normalisation in Belgian prison foodways discussed above are reflected in incarcerated person’s food narratives. During the conversations with imprisoned persons, respondents sometimes linked their food experiences to what they considered normal outside prison. These were often framed in the terms of how they would eat and live at home. First, it was clear that prison food is experienced in a completely different way compared to the outside. What one would normally eat on the outside becomes the exception rather than the rule on the inside, and is therefore a treasured experience. A person illustrates this point: You know when you enter prison, things that appear normal on the outside, routines in life, they take on a totally different form in prison. What I mean is… I will take my case. I made mussels three weeks ago. We made a whole mussels pot. It might seem normal on the outside, but here, we didn’t eat mussels since a long time! That was for nine months… You see, it brings a satisfaction… which is different from the daily life here. Things take on a totally different form here, in prison. That is what I mean. These little joys that make you happy. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013)

Clearly, in prison where people experience little joy and are often confronted with a sense of boredom, the satisfaction of a tasty meal can sharply contrast with the dullness of daily life. Another person argued that opinions on prison meals changed over time. When one first enters prison, and is used to food standards on the outside, it is a struggle to consume the institution’s meals. This respondent’s story indicates how different prison fare is compared to what one would eat on the outside:

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Imprisoned respondent: There is a lot [of food] that is just thrown away. Interviewer: And why is that? Imprisoned respondent: It’s a remand prison. People come from the outside; they’re used to eating better foods. You lose your appetite in prison. I believe that is the problem. In a prison for prisoners convicted to long sentences, you won’t have this kind of problem. I think there you would hear a different story. (Imprisoned respondent 14, prison 2, 2013) So in a remand prison, food experiences contrast strongly with the meals someone would eat on the outside, but respondents also highlighted the stress during this period of time which impacted on their appetite. A study in Denmark similarly concluded that people have difficulties eating during their initial days in pre-trial detention. Sickness, a lack of hygiene and a consequent reduced appetite resulted in food refusal (Minke & Smoyer, 2017). After a conviction, when people have got used to the routines of imprisonment, their experiences are often characterised by boredom and physical inactivity which once again reflected in their food narratives. A respondent, for example, revealed that he ate to break the tedium of being in prison. Unlike his life on the outside, the boredom and lack of activities in prison prompt him to snack. He says: You eat here more than on the outside. Also, because you’re bored, it’s a way to pass time. I eat here more compared to the outside. (Imprisoned respondent 18, prison 4, 2013)

Another person problematised the prison diet in relation to physical inactivity in the penitentiaries: At the start, well, I didn’t think about the food. We have other problems to deal with. But then you gain weight, and you notice you have to change your eating habits, eat differently. If you don’t physically move and you just eat, it’s really bad. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013)

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This person’s story shows that, for him, it was the lack of movement, in combination with a prison diet, which had a negative impact on his health and body. Outside prison, respondents in this study were often used to exercising, or at least moving much more than during their imprisonment. Therefore, whilst in a carceral setting, people felt the need to eat differently to compensate for the unhealthy lifestyle and to prevent disease. The respondent continues to explain this fear: When I arrived here, I had to go to the doctor. I measured 1.87m and weighed 92-93 kilo…in the beginning I didn’t think about my weight, and then you gain weight, if you don’t move and then eat, it’s very bad. And then you end up with all those cardio-vascular diseases such as fat and weight problems. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013)

The fear of becoming ill as a consequence of an abnormal sedentary lifestyle was shared by other respondents. This was in turn linked to experiences with inadequate medical care in prison which contrasted unfavourably with health care on the outside. According to some, healthy food helped people to prevent disease and avoid visits to the doctor. It was a protection to keep them away from medical services. A female respondent reflected this view: Interviewer: Are the prison meals important for you? Imprisoned respondent: Yes, they’re important to stay healthy because I’m scared to become ill. It’s not the same as on the outside, it’s a different doctor here. And it can go very fast. For me it’s important to do the same as on the outside. (Imprisoned respondent 15, prison 4, 2013) This woman also explained in the interview that she was used to eating differently before being imprisoned. She would for example only eat fruit in the morning and a hot dish in the evening. The prison menu, however, did not allow her to follow her personal pattern: Interviewer:

So, at the start, you had to get used to the food?

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Imprisoned respondent: Yes, it was a change to eat a hot meal at lunch because I was used to eat it in the evening. Also, when I arrived, I didn’t have money to buy canteen purchases and I had to eat bread in the morning. At home, I was used to only eat fruit in the morning. But in general I thought the food would be worse than it actually is. (Imprisoned respondent 15, prison 4, 2013) While meals are not perceived as normal, this person expected the meal service to be even worse. This indicates that some respondents’ expectations of prison meals are not inspired by ideas of normalisation, but often by media representations which present a poor regime as the norm (see, e.g. Edame et al., 2021). Besides adaptation to the prison routine, some people also experienced the lack of variety as a painful loss that was characterised by the official prison meals, and contrasted with the variety of foods people could eat on the outside. One person condemned this lack of variety: Imprisoned respondent: […] So I do miss some variety, but the quality of food is good. Interviewer: Okay. And the portions that are distributed, are they very different from what you would eat on the outside? Imprisoned respondent: Yes, because on the outside you can choose it yourself so you get a big plate… then you can also vary a bit, like a salad and tomatoes. You can buy it yourself, cut it and consume it. I can often buy some products in the canteen, so I have some additional vegetables. Because when they serve vegetables, you always get very little. I sometimes believe it is too little. Then I try to compensate with a tomato. (Imprisoned respondent 2, prison 4, 2013)

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As this respondent explains, while he described the quality of meals as decent, he still had to find a way to introduce a healthy variety. In order to deal with the lack of variety of the official meals, purchases in the canteen help to create meals similar to the outside. An imprisoned chef recognised this complaint concerning the lack of vegetables served, and explains how less variety helped to lower the costs of the meals. He clarified his position as follows: If you would make pumpkin purée at home, you would make two-third out of pumpkin and one third out of potatoes. But here we do the opposite. And the pumpkin you will use is rather for the colour. And that is due to the costs. Pumpkin is more expensive than potatoes. (Imprisoned respondent 16, prison 2, 2013)

During the conversations with (incarcerated) kitchen staff, it became clear that these kinds of financial constraints largely impacted upon the official prison foodways. Whilst there was no overt intended policy of reducing standards to align with a less-eligibility principle, the financial constraints sometimes forced kitchen staff to lower standards. Some respondents also argued that the choice of the cheapest products led to the serving of tasteless foods, that resulted in standards lower than what they would eat outside prison. Some even believed the quality of the food is lower than what one would buy in a low budget shop, indicating that the de facto experiences of less-eligibility are evidently present. In one conversation, a person used bread as an example: Prison bread is not the same as the bread on the outside. Yes, it’s a bad bakery. The coarse bread is not really coarse. Even the coarse bread from Aldi is coarser than prison bread. In the ‘Kempen’, we call this coarse bread failed white bread. (Imprisoned respondent 17, prison 2, 2013)

Aldi is a low budget shop, considered by this person as a shop that sells food of a lower quality. In his experience, prison food is sometimes even lower in quality, reflecting experiences of less-eligibility. While this person focused on the bread, another person had a similar opinion about the fruit. He explained how bland fruits resulted in a poor appetite:

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Imprisoned respondent: At home, on the outside, I ate four or five pieces of fruit a day. Here, I maybe eat four pieces a week because they don’t taste good. Interviewer: Ah it’s the taste? Imprisoned respondent: There’s no taste and no variation. I mean, what you get for dessert has to be the cheapest offer. But that’s normal hé. (Imprisoned respondent 16, prison 2, 2013) Interestingly, he believed that choosing the cheapest and tasteless products was a normal practice in prison. This idea was echoed by other respondents who claimed that they did not expect the prison service to distribute prison fare of high quality. This indicates that the quality of prison meals is not only discussed publicly, but also that certain food standards are also taken for granted by some imprisoned persons who still perceived it as part of their punishment. In dealing with prison life, and the prison fare, people searched for ways to introduce ‘normalcy’, and for ways to autonomously choose and prepare their meals as they did on the outside. As explained previously, canteen foods were an important part of normalisation because they provided autonomy and choice over one’s food intake. However, incarcerated persons’ autonomy also depends on their financial status. Only those with sufficient financial resources can buy their own foods, as one respondent illustrated: Those who have money, who have money from the outside, who work, they can purchase from the [canteen] list. And they can cook whatever they wish. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013)

This shows that in some cases autonomy becomes something that imprisoned persons have to buy. Therefore, it was no surprise that the prices of canteen goods were widely and critically discussed. Prisons usually work together with retailers that can deliver their products on site, such as Delhaize or Colruyt. Some respondents explained that they felt these shops to be very expensive and would therefore never shop there on the outside. Moreover, incarcerated consumers felt canteen prices are unjustifiably high relative to their low wages in prison. Consequently,

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they condemned the authorities for choosing these shops and for not understanding their financial situation. A participant commented on the prices: And we have an ‘OCMW wage’ [Public Center for Social Welfare], so you are paid this ‘OCMW’ wage and then you have to buy at commissary ‘Delhaize’. People on the outside with an OCMW wage they go to Aldi and Lidl because you have to make choices in life. And here in prison, this Belgian structure, you don’t have the choice to buy white label products. And then you are released, and you know, you have to pay your victims. But you can’t save any money in prison. (Imprisoned respondent 17, prison 2, 2013)

The lack of choice, coupled with the obligation to buy expensive products and low wages, was felt to be counterproductive in light of the debts many imprisoned persons had to pay off. If there was a choice, this respondent would organise his finances differently to ensure a better financial plan in the light of his reintegration and restoration. In some prisons the canteen list is short, while in others it is a small book with an extensive range of goods. The canteen list can also vary between different regimes. In some prisons, those who behave well, can serve their sentence in an open regime where cooking facilities are available. The purchasers on these wings, or sections, can buy cooking ingredients. For others, these types of ingredients are sometimes prohibited so as to prevent the construction of self-made cooking facilities. In general, the limited offer of the canteen list, was a point of discussion, and therefore, special (temporary) canteen lists, such as the one during Christmas, are usually highly valued. This provides the opportunity, for specific weeks, to buy foods that people in prison long for: Imprisoned respondent: It’s a special ‘Christmas canteen’. Then you can buy ‘Celebrations’ chocolates. And it’s also nice that you can buy alcohol free beer. Those special moments, Christmas, and New Year… Interviewer: Do you buy all these products?

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Imprisoned respondent: Yes, because they are not on sale in the normal canteen…we can only do that during four weeks. (Imprisoned respondent 2, prison 4, 2013) A further point of discussion was the lack of cooking facilities on the wings and in the cells. When people do not have access to kitchens, or cannot buy a stove or microwave oven, they are creative in their search for ways to prepare ‘normal meals’, often in an abnormal and dangerous way. A respondent in Tilburg describes the cell cooking that takes place in Belgian institutions: So there [in his former Belgian prison] you don’t have the right to make your coffee with a coffee machine. They don’t even allow it… so there, we do it with forks and electricity cables, we create. But it’s forbidden so you get punished if they find out. But they are the ones who refuse to give you the material to do it in a normal way. (Imprisoned respondent 13, prison 5, 2013)

As the respondent argues, when canteen purchases are allowed, but cooking utensils are scarce, getting creative is the only solution to eat as one wishes, ‘in a normal way’. These illegal forms of cooking are thus not perceived as normal, but necessary to introduce some sense of normalcy. An imprisoned person with whom I discussed the topics of this book provided the following additional example: In the cell you could make a BBQ with some creativity by using the silver paper plate of a cake (on holidays you get a cake, if you know the cleaner you could get that plate). So we fiddled with this plate outside between the bars on the bluestone of our window, where we put several empty pots of sardines filled with oil. Once you got this on fire you could fry anything on your silver paper plate. One of these times my cellmate and I had extinguished this fire with a t-shirt … some minutes later enjoying our evening (night) meal our eyes started to peck hard, … The T-shirt had started to smoulder and put our cell under the smoke, so we literally did not sleep that night. Poaching an egg in a kettle, or even frying it with a kettle via an empty bag of chips are the classics (if you can get raw eggs from the kitchen

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at least). You can also boil water by cutting open an electric cable and connecting the + and – to a fork and placing it in water. The result is boiling water, but it is also the cause of many electricity break downs in prisons.

One of the external services, De Rode Antraciet, established a project to motivate incarcerated persons to cook with the limited utensils they have in their cell, which allowed them to normalise the meals they consume. The project, ‘Cell’s Kitchen’, invited incarcerated cooks to send in recipes that they regularly prepare in their cell. About 150 people in Flanders and Brussels responded to this call. Forty-five recipes were prepared and photographed. The numerous reactions, and the co-operation in this project, showed the popularity and significance of (illegal) self-catering in Belgian prisons and showed the lengths to which incarcerated individuals would go in searching for ways to eat meals as they would do on the outside. The constructions of cooking facilities, however, are far from normal, but they do indicate that people will engage in illegal activities if authorities do not provide the means to normalise their foodways. So while respondents stressed situations they did not consider as normal foodways, in some specific context, respondents, however, believe the prison authorities do introduce normalisation through meals. It was said by some, that regular meal servings helped people with addiction problems or recovering from substance abuse, adapt to a routine of three meals a day, which helped them get physically stronger. They argued that many struggled with addictions that dominated their lives outside (and not seldom also inside), so food was not a primary concern, and eating three meals a day was not a familiar habit. The routine in prison is consequently mentioned as a means for improvement compared to their lives on the outside (see also Smoyer & Blankenship, 2013 in US prisons). A person, housed in a prison with a drugs free unit, explains: 70 percent of the people here struggle with addictions. Upon their arrival, they’re emaciated. Or they are at least underweight. They can’t eat and stay the whole day in bed. Suddenly, they receive three meals a day. Because how many times do they eat on the outside? Once a day, if they’re capable or hungry. And they don’t have any physical activity. So logically people

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gain weight here, it would be abnormal if they didn’t… So the food is not better but they get it more frequently, regularly. (Imprisoned respondent 5, prison 3, 2013)

This idea was also reflected by the people on the drug free unit. Some of them explained how they regained their appetite while in prison and thanks to the cooking on the wing. To summarise, for some incarcerated people, the lack of variety, of quality foods, and choice sits uneasily with the principle of normalisation. Consequently, they experience the less-eligibility principle was still in place. Other respondents noted that the routine of the food servings is a form of normalisation that can positively improve people’s health, especially for people who barely ate on the outside. Moreover, canteen products partly enabled eating and cooking as one wished. However, the expensive products and the absence of cooking facilities were criticised and prompted inventive people to search for creative, albeit dangerous, solutions. Consequently, a clear tension exists between normalisation and the organisational goals of the institution. Economics and institutional efficiency have a strong influence over the Belgian official food system while normalisation is a marginal factor. The daily budget determines the menus, and food distribution must be carried out efficiently and fast. Consequently, incarcerated persons can often not choose when, where and with whom they eat.

1.3

Experiences with Ready-Made Meals in Tilburg

As explained previously, the food in Belgian prisons was prepared in an industrial kitchen in prison and people received one hot meal a day. In Tilburg prison, experiences with normalisation differed due to the deep-­ frozen ready-made meals. Respondents in Tilburg complained, amongst other things, of the lack of taste and variety in the food. Some also clearly contrasted the deep-frozen ready-made meals they received with what they would eat on the outside. The lack of variety in particular, was experienced as a defining characteristic of the monotony of imprisonment. A

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person explained how he would eat differently after his release by avoiding meals he had consumed too often during his imprisonment: I already told my girlfriend: ‘The day of my release, I don’t want cheese or rice. I don’t want it. The first months you don’t have to buy it because I’ll get pustules.’ There’s no variation in the meals, it’s always the same. After two months, you’ve had everything. (Imprisoned respondent 11, prison 5, 2013)

While this person wished for more variety, another was annoyed by the absence of particular products they were used to eating outside prison. In particular people who love to cook and enjoy eating longed for certain products: There are things that I haven’t eaten for years now. On the outside, I was in the kitchen from the morning till the evening. (Imprisoned respondent 12, prison 5, 2013)

Clearly, for people who were used to preparing their meals, deep-­frozen ready-made prison fare was not perceived as anything approaching normalisation. Many incarcerated persons in Tilburg prison were unfamiliar with ready-made meals and they expressed their dissatisfaction with its daily consumption. Particular criticism was raised about processed foods that made it impossible to discern the ingredients in the meals. Additionally, the size of the frozen meals was fixed, meaning they could not ask for a second serving (at least not regarding the deep-frozen meals). A further complaint concerned the smell of the meals, in particular when fish was served. When fish was heated in the microwave, people argued that a disgusting smell was intolerable and that they consequently lost their appetite. While tasty meals can provide some pleasure in usually drab prison lives, the ready-made meals lacked this potential. One of the respondents explained his disgust with the food and the importance of tasty meal in this way: Interviewer:

You said that you like to cook, what do you think about the cooking here in Tilburg, is it important to you?

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Imprisoned respondent: Yes, it’s very important because we notice that the food is not really…it’s deep frozen. Interviewer: Did you decide from the start that you wouldn’t eat the food? Imprisoned respondent: No, I don’t eat it. It’s deep frozen; it doesn’t have any taste, nothing. It’s to fill your stomach but it’s not for the pleasure of eating. (Imprisoned respondent 11, prison 5, 2013) One respondent was more positive and explained he also ate deep-­ frozen ready-made meals on the outside. He said: My personal opinion is… I rather go to the GB [shop] and buy myself a small meal with bami or whatever, a deep-frozen meal. If you are used to these meals, it is not too bad here. But people here miss the Belgian [prison meals]… therefore they introduced these cooking activities. I almost never cook but other people, they run to it. (Imprisoned respondent 19, prison 5, 2013)

Consequently, personal reference points and habits on the outside also appeared important in the person’s food narratives. Moreover, according to this respondent, the contrast in prison food systems could be understood as differing habits between the two countries. In each system, he recognised positive as well as negative aspects: Many people disapprove of the boxes [ready-made meals]. They say: ‘we don’t have in house catering as we would have in Belgian prisons’. But in the Netherlands, it’s almost everywhere like this. What we also miss for example is the soup. In Belgium, you get freshly made soup every day. Here, we never get soup. But in Belgium you only get dessert three times a week, here you get one every day. This compensates. (Imprisoned respondent 19, prison 5, 2013)

Moreover, eaters in Tilburg prison could heat and eat their meals whenever they desired, and therefore gained more autonomy. However,

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due to the fixed size, and the ingredients in the food box, people also lost control over other food aspects on their plate. Similar to Belgium, and prior to the introduction of self-catering, personal canteen purchases were a way to introduce a form of normalisation. However, one of the respondents experienced the prices in the prison shop as particularly high and claimed that it represented an additional punishment: So, we get more and more the feeling that… yes we are far away from our family so that is an extra punishment. So, you get your punishment but then you get an extra punishment because they place you far from your family. And then there is another kind of punishment because the canteen is more expensive compared to Belgium and we have to accept that. (Imprisoned respondent 11, prison 5, 2013)

Clearly, this person felt that imprisonment in Tilburg becomes an additional punishment due to the distance from his family in Belgium and the prison fare. Consequently, he perceived that this prison harm could be prevented. His experiences contrasted with the aims of normalisation, and he was not the only person who perceived this to be unfair. Due to the high number of complaints about the canteen prices, the local prison governors compared the prices of products in the Tilburg canteen with those of some Belgian penitentiaries. Some products were slightly more expensive, while others were cheaper. Nevertheless, incarcerated persons believed that the low wage for prison labour, and the high prices of products that were sold at the same, or a higher price as on the outside, hampered normalisation. Once again, people’s creativity helped to deal with the problem. Several strategies were proposed or implemented. First, at the prisoner-­ governor meeting the incarcerated representatives asked for the addition of cheap products. This would allow more people to buy their own products. Second, people with limited financial means creatively used some ingredients from the ready-made meals and transformed it into a tastier dish in the unit’s kitchen. Sometimes canteen foods were added to this dish. Another popular practice was to order the vegetarian menu. This menu often offered an additional free fresh vegetable such as a tomato

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served separately from the box. This menu was consequently ordered only to receive the free fresh vegetable while the dish with the processed food was thrown away. A final example concerned the way in which free products were transformed by combining them with other products. For example, if people needed fat for the preparation of a meal they would not order it from the canteen, but would use the margarine that was freely distributed, heat it in the microwave so the fatty part of the margarine would surface. The latter was then separated from the rest of the liquid and used for cooking. This illustrates the creative lengths that incarcerated individuals would go to in searching for ways to pay for cooking the meals in a similar way to those used on the outside. Nevertheless, not all meals could be prepared since certain products were missed, some people fantasised about these missing foods. A particular example was the absence of the allegedly Belgian national dish: fries and mayonnaise. Since there were no deep fryers in the kitchens, imprisoned chefs had to be creative and began to fry their ‘Belgian fries’ with olive oil in a pan to consume tasty fries. Moreover, the absence of certain ingredients led to even more creative cooking. A person explained the difficulties faced when trying to prepare a sauce without certain basic ingredients: They [other incarcerated cooks] are whining because they want ‘Maizena’ to thicken their sauce. We have to be inventive in how we prepare our food, but if you don’t have an ingredient to thicken your sauce… For some other preparations, we know if you mix these ingredients you get a certain taste. Or if you use this and that, you can prepare something else. But we didn’t find an alternative way to thicken our sauce. (Imprisoned respondent 19, prison 5, 2013)

Besides the creative preparation of ‘normal’ meals, people who were transferred for a temporary stay in another prison, would order products that were absent on the canteen list in Tilburg. When these products were still enclosed in their package, they were allowed to bring them to Tilburg. It was not easy to be this organised, but it was an effective solution to break the boredom and eat a wide variety of foods as they would have done in society. During an interview, a respondent explained how it became a popular practice, he said:

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Respondent:

So, when I went to the prison of Jamilioux, I tried to bring back things that are absent here. I bought it there in the prison canteen and I had put it in the box. They can’t take it out because it’s yours. Now the people, now all the people when they are told they’ll be transferred to Tilburg, they bring stuff. Interviewer: Stuff that you can’t buy here? Imprisoned respondent: Indeed. (Imprisoned respondent 12, prison 5, 2013)

Thanks to their creative cooking skills, and the import of products from other prisons, it was possible to introduce variety to their meals so that they were at least somewhat similar to those outside prison. These food memories, and the food desires they instigated.

1.4

Experiences with Self-Catering

The self-catering project that began in 2013 was a success and was soon joined by three units in Tilburg prison (which housed about 300 people). Instead of using personal money for cooking, all participants received a budget next to their salary, increasing levels of equality. The aim of the self-catering project was not only to give responsibility to incarcerated individuals, but also to allow them to cook according to their own customs. In the project description, the proposal was called ‘Multicultural cooking in Tilburg’. This showed the sensitivity to multicultural needs in the institution. Consequently, self-catering allowed prison authorities to respect, to a certain degree, people’s religious and cultural habits. It also permitted participants to cook meals that they were used to eating prior to imprisonment, giving a sense of normalisation to their life in the institution and giving them greater freedom and responsibility. A respondent explained how he experienced this choice: You can make your own choice in what you eat and what you don’t want to eat. Listen, in Belgian prisons they choose what you will eat. And of course, you have to eat what you get on your plate. This is not the case here.

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You can make your own choices. That’s nice. (Imprisoned respondent 20, prison 5, 2015)

When self-catering was introduced in Tilburg prison, food narratives changed and became defined in terms such as ‘nice’. People also reported that to a certain degree, the food system resembled what they experienced on the outside. In their stories, references were made to warm memories of home, showing that positive and normal aspects were introduced. An extract from the field notes shows how this was observed: A person tells that his mother regularly sends him recipes that he can prepare here. Another participant asks to clarify how his squid is prepared. The chef explains that his mother used to prepare it this way, but that it does not work with all kinds of squid. He then asks whether this is Spanish squid. The men continue their conversation and at the end the chef says the first thing he will do upon his release is generously enjoy one of his mother’s meals. (Observation notes 7, prison 5, 2013)

Clearly, these foodways evoked memories of home and the social roles one used to have on the outside. These feelings of being cared for by a mother through the provisioning of tasty meals, or the link to childhood memories, are well-known narratives in relation to food. It is deeply redolent of the moment in ‘A la recherche du temps perdu’ where Proust wonderfully describes how the smell of a madeleine takes him back to his childhood. Such Proustian moments, referred to by many French food scholars, perfectly describes some of the memories of people in prison. However, in prison the cravings elicited by these kinds of taste and smell-­ related memories might intensify with physical and emotional distance from home. However, it should also be stressed that not everyone in this study treasured warm memories about family meals and childhood and such food memories were not necessarily widely shared.

1.5

Sharing Foods During the Visits

Normalisation also aims to support the social roles a person used to have on the outside through visits from family, friends, partner and children. The way visits are organised can influence how they are experienced, and

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which social roles are experienced. The food service during visits can play a central role in this, especially where the eating and sharing of meals is culturally perceived as a significant social activity. Here, I elaborate on different forms of commensality, looking more particularly at how a solitary meal is something often considered to be an exception in society, but is an imposed everyday reality in prison. It is strongly arguable that this does contrast with the way in which conviviality and social bonding are essential facets of meals in outside society. While research shows differences between cultures. In the USA and the UK, for example, eating tends to be more individualised, whilst this is less the case in countries such as France and Italy, where people would not consider eating as ‘real eating’ if it were not a social experience (Fischler, 2011). In this study, it was clear that sharing food, especially during visits, reflected a form of bonding that was not inconsistent with experiences of sharing food on the outside. This contrasted markedly with solitary prison meals consumed in the cell. The remarkable and unusual moments with families in prison can thus become more personal when foods are shared. In outside society, sharing the same foods “bring together again households…sharing foods has been shown to signify or create intimacy” (Fischler, 2011, p. 533). This is even more so in a carceral setting. In prison, this exceptional and intimate experience can, however, be considered a risk for bringing in contraband. In Belgium, incarcerated persons have the right to receive at least three visits a week and at least one private visit every month (a so-called conjugal visit), whilst those on remand have the right to receive daily visits. Usually, visitors present themselves at the entrance of the prison at visiting hours, which is the only time they can enter the building, and only when there is still sufficient space in the visiting room. Whilst some prisons have a queuing system, others work with a reservation system. The visits are often the topic of much discussion since prisons are often located in remote areas, and delays by public transport make it challenging to arrive on time and follow this procedure. The visiting room is usually an area with several tables where the incarcerated person and his or her visitor(s) share a table. For security reasons, imprisoned persons can be separated from their visitors by glass, which hinders physical contact. For conjugal visits, private rooms exist. For children, prisons occasionally

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organise ‘child’ visits. During these, child-friendly activities are organised. In order to provide a pleasant atmosphere and encourage visitors to come over special activities are set up. Food can be an important aspect here, and some prisons allow people to buy snacks or drinks from a vending machine, allowing them to consume snacks together. In some prisons, hot snacks such as waffles and pancakes are sold during visits. In prison 2, a wipe board showed the suggestion of snacks in the visiting area, where sausage bread, mini egg rolls and waffles with ice or whipped cream could be ordered and then served so as time could be spent with visitors in a comfortable and cosy way. Usually, a cleaner is responsible to take orders and serve food and drinks. During the observations in prison, a father ordered a birthday cake for his child that they consumed together, thus allowing them to celebrate birthdays and ensuring that a father could give his child at least some pleasant birthday food experiences. In prison 1, staff explained how incarcerated persons and families used to share hot meals prepared by the family during holidays such as Christmas. However, due to security restrictions, these practices were abolished. This abolition creates an interesting tension between security and normalisation: on the one hand visits should be a social event, yet on the other, they have also engendered the movement toward greater security, which necessarily has an impact upon the enjoyability of contact with the outside world. While visitors are often seen as a threat since they might import contraband, wonderful food narratives exist about the way in which visitors secretly import desired foods that are not served or are unable to be purchased in prison. Visits then become treasured moments to taste the memory of the outside world and sometimes of food prepared by mothers. When writing this book, an incarcerated person, who was not interviewed for the study, but wished to add some of his experiences, wrote the following: Three times a month I had family visits without guards. My mother then always put on a dress with nylon stockings underneath, and every time she would hide something nice in it like sliced steak, bickey burgers fresh from the fryer, cakes and chocolate in a plastic bag. It was a pleasure for my taste buds. She was lucky sometimes, because one of the few times she didn’t

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have any meat with her, she had to stand in line with other visitors when the drug dog searched them. Fortunately, on that day she only had long couques suisses with her. My mother…she’s a good one.

When a mother uses ingenious, albeit illegal, ways to care for her child in prison, it is a perfect illustration of an official infraction being consistent with performing an otherwise justifiable duty of care.  It is clear that steps are taken to encourage contact between incarcerated persons and families, and food plays a role in creating a pleasant atmosphere, however, visits are limited by time, frequency and a lack of privacy. Many incarcerated persons share the area and the tables in the visiting room are placed close to one another. For visitors, entering the prison and being subject to several security controls, can also be experienced as a very pressurised and intense event. For incarcerated persons too, these contacts are certainly not experienced as similar to the outside, due to the level of intrusion which makes it difficult to take up the same social roles. Prison life in Tilburg was governed according to Belgian legislation. Thus, imprisoned persons’ rights to receive visits in line with Belgian rules were respected. Since the visits took place in a Dutch institution, the atmosphere and material conditions of these visits contrasted with those in Belgium. The visiting area was experienced as small and crowded. Imprisoned persons were sitting on one side of a long table, while visitors took places on the opposite side. A plastic partition divided the table into separate parts, and a wooden fence under the table ensured people who received visits and their visitors could not touch each other’s legs, or pass things to each other. Next to these already restrictive points of demarcation, incarcerated individuals were required to wear fluorescent jackets to distinguish them from visitors. Taken together, the control and security measures were experienced as central to the organisation of visits, as opposed to any element of normalisation. The controlled environment was also made visible in the way visitors shared snacks with imprisoned persons. During the visits, only visitors were allowed to stand up and buy snacks in the vending machine. The snack could be opened by the incarcerated person, and he could give it back to the visitors. Later, all exchanges of food were prohibited to avoid

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the transfer of drugs or other contraband. During the observations, I was permitted to attend with the officers who control the visiting room. The cameras on the ceiling were able to impressively zoom into even a cup of coffee in order to check whether contraband was being transferred. Clearly, the regular visits were characterised by control mechanisms that created an abnormal, and for many people, an uncomfortable situation.

2

 ormalisation and Identity Construction N in Prisons

A second topic that is linked to the concept of normalisation and the reduction of detention harm is identity construction in carceral settings. A growing body of literature recognises the importance of incarcerated persons’ autonomy, and how incarcerated individuals search for the freedom to shape, and maintain, a sense of self in the penitentiary. The previous section illustrated how people’s search for ways to prepare meals were adapted to what they consider ‘normal’. Here, I further link normalisation to identity constructions in prisons, through food. It will be argued that self-catering, as a part of the normalisation process, provides incarcerated individuals with the elements of freedom necessary to shape identity. The institutional and personal dynamics that are embedded in foodways, influence their (prison) identities, thus any element of normalisation that enables incarcerated individuals to partly introduce their personal cuisines can only serve to enhance their sense of self. This section shows how prison food narratives link to identity shaping, not only to incarcerated persons’ bodies and physical appearance, but also their perceived ethnicity or cultural background, ‘dangerousness’ and their relationships with other people in the institution.

2.1

Identity Construction Through Food

Following Lupton’s (1996) study on food and identity, identity is considered here as a process of social construction: ‘identity’ is thus neither fixed nor objective, and can change in different contexts, or in relation to other

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human beings. In this study, the subjective meanings that people ascribe to the self, and their self-narratives, are further considered in the light of extensive observation and semi-structured interviews in a prison context. In these narratives, people define themselves in contrast to, or in comparison with, other groups who they also define. As will become clear, some also define themselves based on definitions others attached to them. Consequently, identification is a complex process, influenced not only by the self, but also by others. This finding echoes Jenkins’ (2008) framework on social identity, whereby Jenkins developed distinct ‘orders’, of which some are reflected here. The first frames selfhood as a way to identify the self, based on identification by one’s self, and others. The second element concerns how the person presents the self in relation to others, and is linked to what Goffman (1969) called frontstage and backstage personalities where modes of interaction are central. Finally, there is attention to collective identities, constructed as a consequence of group identification.

2.1.1  Incarcerated Persons’ Identities Previous research has shown that incarcerated individuals’ experiences, and their behaviour, are affected by deprivations and by characteristics that people import from outside (Rowe, 2011). Within this deprivation-­ importation tension, identity construction plays a crucial role. This was also noticed in the pioneering work of Sykes (1958) who … explores the way in which the deprivations and frustrations pose profound threats to the inmate’s personality or sense of self-worth. (Sykes, 1958, p. 64)

Sykes discusses these deprivations by distinguishing five pains of imprisonment in a US prison: the deprivation of liberty, the deprivation of goods and services, the deprivation of heterosexual relationships, the deprivation of autonomy and the deprivation of security. Other researchers further develop these pains based on studies in other countries or periods. Mathiesen (1965), for example, adds the pain of living under

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staff power in Norway. Moreover, Crewe (2011b) has recently elaborated three ‘new pains of imprisonment’, which fit the current UK prison context: the pain of indeterminacy, of self-government and of psychological assessment. Crewe’s third pain of psychological assessment highlights the way a person’s identity is denied, when assessments require imprisoned persons to define themselves within pre-set categories. In addition, these categories are usually linked to risk factors, thus reducing all other of the person’s characteristics to what is important in the light of their potential ‘dangerousness’. Consequently, Crewe’s respondents complained about the fact that their comments are at times taken out of context, in order to shoehorn their character into the stereotype that the system has constructed for them. This inability to control information that is transmitted about the self was already noted by Goffman (1961, 1963) when he explored how identities can be spoiled in institutions for example how imprisoned individuals are stripped from their personal, or ‘carried’, identities when entering an institution. Goffman (1961) referred to this process as the mortification of the self, and exemplifies this stripping of a human’s ‘identity kit’ by focusing on the entry process, in for example, prisons: First, there is the shower officer who forces them to undress, takes their own clothes away, sees to it that they take showers and get their prison clothes, one pair of black oxfords with cuban heels, two pairs of much-­ mended ankle socks, three cotton dresses, two cotton slips, two pairs of panties, and a couple of bras. Practically all the bras are flat and useless. No corsets or girdles are issued. There is not a sadder sight than some of the obese prisoners who, if nothing else, have been managing to keep themselves looking decent on the outside, confronted by the first sight of themselves in prison issue. (J. M. Murtagh and S. Harris in Goffman, 1961, pp. 20–21)

After this entry process, Goffman claims that the person develops a new identity that is influenced by the house rules which ensure rewards for good behaviour and punishments for bad behaviour. However, the intrusiveness and perceived impact of these influences can differ between people and prisons. The study of Cohen and Taylor (1972) recognised

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imprisoned persons’ fear of becoming a different person during long-­ term detention. However, their results do not show an entry process that is as overwhelming and devastating as it appears in Goffman’s work. They ascribe these differences to, for example, a person’s previous experiences with imprisonment. Therefore, similar deprivations can be experienced differently: the same conditions will mean different things to different men and will therefore produce very different reactions. (Cohen & Taylor, 1972, p. 148)

This can be due to characteristics that are imported into prison. Similarly, Irwin and Cressey (1962), have argued that earlier research had put: an emphasis on the notion that internal conditions stimulate inmate behavior of various kinds, and there has been a glossing over the older notion that inmates may bring a culture with them into prison. (Irwin & Cressey, 1962, p. 142)

In their seminal work on ‘thieves, convicts and the inmate culture’ they argued that people’s behaviour in the penitentiary is not typical for prisons, but can rather be explained by a criminal subculture that people import into the institution. Moreover, imprisoned persons import an ideology that influences their behaviour and prison experiences (Cohen & Taylor, 1972). However, most studies notice that both approaches can be recognised and that, besides a thief subculture and ideology, many other aspects of a person’s life can be imported into an institution and are likely to interact with the environment (see, e.g. Philips, 2007). The tension between the wish to import a sense of self in prison, and the impositions of restrictions and deprivations that challenge the importation of certain characteristics, urge incarcerated individuals to search for ways to adjust in a prison environment. Goffman (1961) calls them secondary adjustments:

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… practices that do not directly challenge staff but allow inmates to obtain forbidden satisfactions or to obtain permitted ones by forbidden means. (Goffman, 1961, p. 54)

The aim of these secondary adjustments is to: … provide the inmate with important evidence that he is still his own man, with some control of his environment; sometimes a secondary adjustment becomes almost a kind of lodgement for the self, a churinga in which the soul is felt to reside. (Goffman, 1961, p. 55)

When discussing material sources that imprisoned persons use to employ secondary adjustment, Goffman focuses on how patients with mental problems in hospitals ‘work the system’ by certain techniques applied to food; for example how to flavour meals and make them more edible. Cohen and Taylor (1972) share this view, and agree on the existence of secondary adjustments including, “all the ingenious devices for getting more and better food” (Cohen & Taylor, 1972, p. 134). This is in line with the discussion above on the adaptations made by incarcerated persons in order to normalise their food experience.

2.1.2  Identities in Food Studies The literature on food studies provides further understandings on the reasons concerning why incarcerated persons engage in this kind of behaviour. Lupton (1996) explains that scholars from different disciplines have tackled the topic of food and eating. For a long time, the dominant approach was nutritional, one that perceived food and eating as a means for physiological survival. The role of culture was regarded as secondary to nutrition, and was only considered important in so far as it might hamper the consumption of a healthy diet. According to Lupton (1996), this narrow approach downplayed the complexity of food and eating. She demonstrated the importance of culture in reproducing beliefs and meanings of foods. In this sense, a child learns what to eat, and how to eat, in a culturally specific context where the foods that are

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eaten are part of that culture. Moreover, research suggests that a culture consists of several layers (Trompenaars & Hampden-Turner, 1997). The outer layer consists of clearly observable elements such as language, food and clothing. Therefore, by eating certain foods, a person is included in the culinary system of a culture. Additionally, belonging to a similar food culture signifies that food can also serve as a means to differentiate between groups. Fischler (1988, 1990), calls this identity shaping through food, the principle of incorporation: … to incorporate a food is, in both real and imaginary terms, to incorporate all or some of its properties: we become what we eat… Human beings mark their membership of a culture or a group by asserting specificity of what they eat, or more precisely - but it amounts to the same thing - by defining the otherness. (Fischler, 1988, pp. 279–280)

Accepted ways to express one’s identity often remain on the outside such as clothes, while through the incorporation of food in our body, food becomes part of ourselves, and is therefore an intimate way to shape identity. Eating certain foods make one to become part of a community that shares similar values, meaning and practices. Embedded in this culturally specific food system, disgust and acceptance of certain foods play a crucial role. When rules concerning edible and inedible foods are not respected, group members will often emotionally reject this practice. A speaking example that is often referred to in food studies is the opening scene of the famous movie Pulp Fiction in which two of the American protagonists discuss European (French and Dutch) cuisine. The discussion proceeds as follows: Vincent: But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is? Jules: What? Vincent: It’s the little differences, I mean they got the same shit over there we got here, but just…just there they’re a little different. Jules: Example? […] Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup? Jules: What?

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Vincent: Mayonnaise Jules: Goddamn? Vincent: I’ve seen them doing it man. They fucking drown them in that shit. Jules: Uuuch This disgust sounds somewhat surprising to people in Belgium who love to eat French fries with mayonnaise but who would, however, reject the ‘Dutch’ mayonnaise which is usually considered too sweet in comparison to the mayonnaise made in Belgium. It is these kinds of examples that perfectly capture the notion that meals that appear normal and even appetising in one country or culture are looked upon with disgust in others. Therefore, it is claimed that food should not only be good to eat, but also good to think (Fischler, 1988). This raises the next questions: what exactly is a cuisine? And what does it consist of? In line with previous research, Belasco (2008, based on Rozin, 1982) discusses the main elements of a cuisine. First, each cuisine has its own basic foods. These are derived from simple availability, to palatability, religious or social sanction and ease of production. These are some of the selection criteria that influence the presence of basic foods in a particular culture. Secondly, each cuisine has its own specific ways of preparation. Besides preparation, flavouring and seasoning play a third important role. Finally, each culture has its own ways of serving and eating meals. These main elements of a cuisine and the classifications of what is edible or inedible are of course not static, they change over time, and differ according to the context in which they are eaten. Also people can live in and align with a variety of cultural contexts. The omnivore’s paradox (Fischler, 1988, 1990), provides a meaningful explanation for the change of food classifications or adaptations in any cuisine. This paradox demonstrates how human beings seek to innovate and vary their food intake on the one hand, but recognise on the other hand, that this search carries certain dangers in the sense that unknown food can be dangerous, poisonous or inedible according to a cultural classification. The consumption of food can therefore inflict anxiety and fear on the consumer:

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… the eater’s life and health are at stake whenever the decision is taken to incorporate, but so too are his place in the universe, his essence, his nature, in short his identity. (Fischler, 1988, p. 281)

Consequently, the need to identify and classify foodstuffs becomes crucial: … if one does not know what one is eating, one’s subjectivity is called into question. (Lupton, 1996, p. 17)

This is exemplified by Fischler (1988) when he discusses how a person who sees himself as a Muslim Pakistani ordered a steak that was garnished with beef bone marrow. While the waiter assured the customer that the bone marrow was not some kind of pork, the man still refused to consume it because of its indecipherability. The difficulty in trusting another meal, or more specifically to change one’s own culinary habits, shows the complexities of cultural food preferences, and the central role food plays in this process. These food studies then indicate why prison food might feel like symbolically incorporating the prison system and as something that attacks a person’s dignity. Moreover, the particularly multicultural prison population that receives food catered by Western authorities might struggle to consume this prison fare and search for alternatives.

2.1.3  A Note on the Multicultural Prison Population A common thread throughout this book has been the necessity to understand, and give voice to, the experiences of the multicultural prison population. In comparison to the median of 15 percent in Europe, the percentage of foreign imprisoned persons in Belgium is approximately 43 percent. The number of foreign nationals is the only official information available, but of itself cannot capture the complexities of multiculturalism in prison. It is important to note that Belgium does not use terms in relation to ethnicity in official reports in relation to prison numbers. Just as in several other European countries, ethnicity is not registered (see e.g. Bovenkerk, 2007). Bovenkerk (2007) explains how the fear of registering

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these data has been induced by the registration of certain groups based on, for example, religion or sexual orientation during the Second World War. Whilst this historic objection is understandable, the flipside is that the lack of information makes it difficult to refute racist judgements about crimes committed (Bovenkerk, 2007). Additionally, research on the link between crime and ethnicity has initiated an intense discussion on ethical research requirements in Belgium. As a reaction to a study on the link between ethnicity and crime, a book ‘Mon délit? Mon origine’ (Translation: My crime? My origin) was published to highlight how processes of social exclusion result in an overrepresentation of certain groups in Belgian’s crime statistics and prisons. The living conditions of vulnerable groups, police practices towards them, and selection processes in the judicial system and political discourses, stigmatise and label groups. The result of this long-term process of exclusion has, unsurprisingly, been a higher registration in the official crime figures. Registration of these data, without sufficient attention for processes of exclusion, tends to create the misplaced assumption that people with a specific ethnicity are more engaged in crime, and certain types of crime, than others. This explains why nationality is used throughout the book when referring to official information about the prison population and in personal narratives quotes on self identification are used. Moreover, it is critically important to stress that, it is undeniable that certain discrimination processes in Belgium lead to the overrepresentation of specific groups in prison. As in many other countries, this process of discrimination is not always explicit, rather it is indirect. One example of indirect discrimination relates to the use of pre-trial detention. In 2013, when 58 percent of pre-trial detainees were foreign nationals, De Ridder and Beyens (2012) commented that among European states, Belgium had one of the highest number of people with a foreign nationality in prison, and in particular in remand prisons. In explaining this high number, Van Roeyen and Vander Beken (2014) claim that Belgian investigation judges seek to reduce the likelihood of abscondment to another country by placing people suspected of a crime in pre-trial detention. Increased risk is perceived by investigation judges when a person has no fixed address, or when social or economic ties with Belgium, such as a family, a job or

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friends are absent. Since people with a foreign nationality more often fit this profile, it might provide an explanation for their overrepresentation in pre-trial detention.

2.2

Narratives on Prison Meals and Identity Shaping

The role of food habits when pre-prepared meals are served is highlighted here from a variety of perspectives, including those of incarcerated respondents, officers, chefs and governors. In every sense, the interviewees experienced, and were perceived to experience, the power and control of the prison over food and identity shaping. Moreover, the link will be made to the normalisation debate, which highlights how a normalisation of prison foodways, may facilitate and protect a person’s personal identity work.

2.2.1  The Multicultural Prison Population and Its Cuisines The Authorities’ View First, it is important to note that the negative consequences of imprisonment were also recognised by several authorities in this study. A discussion of power and certain failures of the prison institution were often no taboo in the discussions. This also led to critical reflections on the food provisioning in prison. A governor, for example, revealed how the institution was concerned about imprisoned persons’ choices over their food intake, Yes, I think that a prison takes away a person’s sense of self. Food is really what gets inside you, it’s an element of choice, what one can put in his mouth. (Prison governor 1, prison 5, 2013)

There was a recognition of how food choices align with autonomy and a sense of self, and how prisons can attack these basic human needs. Therefore, it is no surprise that some authorities sought to tackle this

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challenge. When people receive pre-prepared meals, which is the case in Belgium, and partly in Tilburg, authorities sought to introduce routines that respected cultural or religious backgrounds through food. In some places, only limited modifications to the food system were made, while in other places, far-reaching practical measures were taken to cater to a variety of people. One example was the different menus that were served to the imprisoned population in Belgium. In most Belgian prisons, people have the choice between the ‘standard’, ‘no pork’ or ‘vegetarian’ menus. Some prisons also serve ritually slaughtered meat (Halal) in the ‘no pork’ menu. In some prisons, kosher meals were also served. The menus are deliberately defined to be neutral, for example ‘no pork’ is used instead of ‘Muslim’, to clarify the content of the meals, rather than ascribing specific meals to specific groups. However, and as will be discussed below, this culinary variety was not always experienced as aligning with one personal’s preferences. This underlines the limitations of what can be practically achieved in a prison institution to limit mortification processes of the self.

Incarcerated Persons’ Opinions While authorities take steps to improve culturally specific meals, not all incarcerated persons appreciate these efforts, in particular those who felt threatened by a growing multicultural prison population. For example, some people regarded the decreasing importance of what was considered ‘their dominant’, food habits, as the fault of ‘no pork’ menus. And then, we have the problem that there are Muslims in this prison. For them, the kitchen has to prepare other meals because these men can’t eat everything. That’s another thing that makes the food preparation difficult here. I, of course, love the taste of pork, but they prepare it less because then they have to make two different menus… I think, if they [Muslims] are here, they have to adapt and if they don’t like the food, well then, they don’t eat it. (Imprisoned respondent 18, prison 4, 2013)

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Similar to the study of Earle and Philips (2012), some respondents experienced the variety of menus (that sometimes introduce new limitations on the choices of certain other groups) as what Earle and Philips define as ‘a destabilisation of white privilege’ in prison. This is however only noted on the level of food services and personal experiences, it does not refer to a wider move away from privileges for certain groups, on a macro-level. Interestingly, and as will be shown below, this feeling of ‘a destabilisation of white privilege’ was not recognised by non-white incarcerated persons. This was also related to subtler cultural aspects, such as the constitution of the meals, and whether the ingredients were specific to a person’s culture, were crucial to liking or disliking the prison meal. This illustrated the difficulties of respecting a variety of culturally diverse cuisines. One respondent who worked in the kitchen of a Belgian prison explained it as follows: Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent: Interviewer: Imprisoned respondent:

Which kind of food do people like? Flemish food. And everyone likes Flemish food? Let’s say about 90 percent. I’ll explain it differently, with an example. Every once in a while, we serve tagliatelle with salmon and asparagus. They [other prisoners] won’t eat it. They won’t eat it. Personally, I think it’s a very expensive dish because no one eats it. Interviewer: And what’s Flemish food? Imprisoned respondent: Potatoes, vegetables, and meat. That’s it. (Imprisoned respondent 16, prison 2, 2013) Interestingly, in other prisons with a different (cultural) population, the opposite situation was observed. In these places the so-called Flemish menu was the least popular: Interviewer:

Yes, and are there meals that are thrown away more often than others?

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Imprisoned respondent: Yes, Brussels sprouts and red cabbage aren’t popular. Usually the typical Flemish dishes. Celeriac is also disliked. It’s because many people have a different cultural background, and they don’t know these foods. (Imprisoned respondent 2, prison 4, 2013) The different preferences of multicultural populations highlight the difficulty in catering to such a diverse group. Nevertheless, it is not only the variety of menus and ingredients that play a role in respecting people’s cultural food habits, it was also important for the respondents, that the favourite foods of a particular culture or eating culture were present. Respondents in Belgian prisons and Tilburg stressed the importance of having French fries on the menu. According to many respondents, it should be served at least once a week. The importance of this meal was made clear while conducting research in a prison where the deep fryer, in which fries are traditionally made, broke down and engendered much dissatisfaction. When I walked around in that prison for the observations and told people (incarcerate persons and staff) that I was conducting a study on prison food, the broken fryer and the subsequent absence of fries, was one of the most popular food-related concerns that immediately cropped up in conversations. This was because, for many people, it meant they were deprived of their favourite weekly meal. A respondent reported: On Sunday we receive fries, if the deep fryer’s not broken because that problem is going on for a while now. That’s always something… you look forward to it [the fries] because it’s tasty… and fries, that’s ‘heyday’. And if they don’t serve them on that day, people are bad tempered. (Imprisoned respondent 18, prison 4, 2013)

The significant role of fries for the incarcerated population in Tilburg prison was even discussed in the Belgian Senate by the Minister of Justice. The catering in Tilburg prison was carried out according to Dutch guidelines and it soon became clear that Belgian and Dutch penitentiary

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catering services were very different. Fries, for example, so important to imprisoned persons in Belgium, could not be served in a system based on providing deep-frozen ready-made meals. When the Minister of Justice was questioned about imprisoned persons’ strong criticisms of the meals in Tilburg prison, he responded that the food conformed to Dutch standards, but undertook to investigate the possibility of introducing fryers to enable imprisoned cooks to at least make their own fries. The absence of fries in Tilburg prison and the different taste of the mayonnaise (frietsaus) on the Dutch canteen list were also strongly criticised by the respondents to this study. This discussion became symbolic of the need to install a prison regime in line with Belgian customs in Tilburg, in order to legitimate the rent of the prison abroad. Besides the variety of menus and specific favourite meals, special meals are served during holidays. These meals are often prepared to soften the pain of being incarcerated during these days. Moreover, it can be experienced as a way of respecting diverse cultural festivities, and therefore culture in general. Some prisons served a special meal at Christmas, New Year and the Sugar Feast. Moreover, during Ramadan, prison authorities in Belgium served meals in the evening for people who wish to participate in the Islam religion. In some prisons however, food was stored at lunch in heating trolleys to ensure people would receive a hot meal after sunset. These heating trolleys were at times subject to criticism since they did not warm the meals sufficiently and resulted in changes to the meal’s texture. Some prisons also provided additional dates and soup during this period. The meals during holidays were experienced as better, or tastier, and were therefore perceived as a clear benefit and a respectful break from the normal prison meals. Additionally, a special canteen list is supplied to enable people to enjoy exceptional products during the holidays. For some respondents, these special meals or joys are of importance, particularly because they are often deprived from these pleasures during their imprisonment. A participant commented: During the sugar feast, we get our kind of cookies […]. Those cookies are so good. I hadn’t been eating them for so long. Cookies with honey. (Imprisoned respondent 22, prison 5, 2015)

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By stressing his group identity (‘our kind of cookies’), the construction of identity is clearly at work: during certain festivities, the joy of being respected as part of a group who eats a particular cuisine, should not be underestimated.

2.2.2  Distrust and Radicalisation While the authorities made efforts to cater to multicultural prison populations, people still highlighted shortcomings that were largely related to a lack of trust that the meals were prepared properly. As explained in the opening chapter, it is important to know what you eat, if not, a person’s identification can be at stake (Fischler, 1988). In prison, the exact content of a meal is hard to find out. If food was unknown, or distrusted, it was likely to be thrown away by respondents. Therefore, some chefs provide persons who request it, the certificate of the butcher who delivered meat to the prison, to prove that the meat used, was for example halal. This was not always the case in all prisons. Consequently people often chose a different menu. For people who described themselves as practicing Muslims, this sometimes meant that the vegetarian option was chosen so as to ensure no pork, or haram, was present in their meals. However, when this was decided as a course of action, people risked being negatively stereotyped by some staff members. Discussions about the risk of radicalisation had become deeply rooted in the Belgian prison system at the time of the study. The fact that some Muslims choose to eat vegetarian meals instead of the ‘no pork’ menus, was taken by staff as evidence to describe a part of their behaviour as radical: The current disadvantage is that we have a huge number of vegetarians. This has to do with the radicalisation of our prison population. (Staff member 4, 2013)

The negative perceptions of certain food practices in prison were also shared by some Belgian politicians who perceived the presence of ‘halal meals’ (which supposedly refers to the ‘no pork’ menus with ritually

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slaughtered meat) as a form of Islamic proselytisation. Denis Ducarme, from the Wallonian Liberal Party M.R., questioned the Minister of Justice in 2010 about the increase in halal menus in prison: It appears that Belgian prisons increasingly serve halal meals. Prisons are nonetheless public spaces where proselytism is forbidden.

Moreover, in 2010, Van den Eynde from the Flemish extreme right-­ wing party Vlaams Belang, questioned how the Minister of Justice can justify a situation where some prisons only serve halal meals, or produce strictly separate halal meals in an isolated kitchen according to Sharia law. The Minister reacted that due to overpopulation, and poorly equipped kitchens, it was decided in one prison not to serve pork at all. These questions, however, reveal that the efforts of prison authorities and staff to cater to a multicultural prison population, are not always appreciated by politicians and can even lead to negative comments by suggesting that the sole presence of halal meals will lead to the conversion of other imprisoned persons. Asri (2015, p. 50) argues that these comments show that Belgian politicians fear ‘Islamization of prisons through the table’. It moreover shows how gastronationalism and gastrodiscrimination (DeSoucy, 2010) are clearly present in political debates. However, the results of this research strongly suggest that imprisoned persons’ food choices are considerably more complex than hitherto supposed, and that restrictions thereof can have undesirable consequences. Consistent with the food studies on trust discussed above (e.g. Fischler, 1988), the presumptions of politicians and some staff members failed to acknowledge the complexities of cultural food habits, and the hostility and fear towards incorporating culturally distinctive foods. Based on food studies, the choice of a vegetarian meal is more likely to be a normal reaction when offered meals that are unknown and possibly inedible. Moreover, the relationship of distrust that appears to exist between some imprisoned persons and the staff can in itself militate against food trust. As Kjærnes (2006) explains:

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In trusting food, people trust or distrust someone, not something. They trust the provisioning system and the actors and persons inhabiting that system rather than the food items as such. (Kjærnes, 2006, p. 919)

Consequently, general distrust between imprisoned persons and authorities can influence specific elements of trust like food.

2.2.3  ‘Dangerous Persons’ and the Different Other Negative stereotyping, and questions relative to religious identities through food, was not only evident in situations linked to practising religions in prison. Food, and in particular the consumption of meals, is one of the moments when imprisoned people are confronted with a view of their potential threat, and how this ‘dangerousness’ is ascribed to their identity. The dominant idea that people in prison present a prominent danger is expressed in many ways throughout the system. Meal time, in particular the repetitive character of meals, constantly confronts people with what is considered by others as a potential danger. These potential risks are also used to justify degradations in relation to food consumption, leading to frustrations by some of the respondents in this study. A particularly illustrative example related to a Belgian prison, where, after a fight took place in the courtyard with sharpened metal knives, it was decided that everyone, regardless of their profile, would be furnished only with plastic cutlery. While prison staff appeared to perceive this as a taken for granted security measure, imprisoned respondents made many negative comments about this decision. One person illustrated how annoying this measure was for him: Imprisoned respondent: One idiot misbehaves and everyone gets plastic cutlery. I think it’s so annoying this plastic cutlery. That’s pfff (he laughs) this knife is as blunt as can be. Interviewer: But can you ask for a new one if necessary?

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Imprisoned respondent: Yes, you need to hand in the old one and then you get a new one. But they only bring it during lunch. So, if you break it during dinner, you’ll have to wait till the next day. If you ask you will get a new one but it’s just so annoying. It happened to me once that one of the fork’s tines got stuck in my food and I was chewing on it. I didn’t realise. It happened to me and that’s so annoying. (Imprisoned respondent 18, prison 4, 2013) Clearly, imprisoned persons and some staff members share markedly different views on this topic, in particular when people do not perceive themselves as violent, but are nevertheless defined as such due to the behaviour of another whom they distance themselves from. This reflects the problem of institutions in which individuals find it difficult being identified with others from whom they wish to distinguish themselves. This was also recognised in conversations on hygiene and food trust. A further lens to look though, where identity and food coalesce in a prison environment, is to consider the imprisoned persons who are allowed to do kitchen work. When people considered incarcerated kitchen staff as others—people they do not identify with— it was claimed that the food was unhygienic, even contaminated. This is consistent with Kjærnes (2006), who stated that food trust depends on the trust in another person. One respondent explained how disgusted he was to work with, what he defined as, a Belgian co-worker who he perceived as unhygienic: I used to be a prisoner chef in Belgium… I worked with a Portuguese and a Belgian… I don’t think Belgians like to take a shower… I almost had to vomit, he was sweating, and it fell down [in the food] … I said to the officer that we weren’t serving good food. (Imprisoned respondent 12, prison 5, 2013)

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Clearly, those he regarded as ‘different’ were also perceived as being not always clean and consequently should not be employed in the kitchen, because they can contaminate the food. This person’s experiences bear out Goffman’s (1961) findings that people consider institutional food as alien, or polluted, when they connect another ‘unwanted’ person with their food. Goffman additionally argued that life in institutions is often characterised by these unwanted contacts with others. Food consumption was often discussed by respondents and the lack of trust in meals was hotly debated. In particular, many expressed concerns about the hygiene conditions where their food was prepared and distributed. The lack of information about how their meals were prepared encouraged gossip about the kitchen’s food standards. This gossip is largely based on stories from other incarcerated persons, and media coverage of reports from Belgian’s Federal Food Agency. In 2013, The Federal Food Agency reported negatively on the central prison kitchens in penitentiaries. In the absence of any precise knowledge about what the problems were, incarcerated persons made all kinds of assumptions. First, and as discussed above, contact with kitchen workers was crucial with regard to gleaning information about the state of the central kitchen. Consumers wanted to know who worked in the kitchen because this can increase the levels of trust in the food they receive. If these kitchen workers are known to have a clean cell and frequently wash themselves, then most people are happy that these people are engaged in the preparation of meals; suffice to say, the obverse elicits opposite levels of confidence in the hygiene standards. Also, food distribution helps development of food trust. A cleaner who wears gloves during meal servings for example increases trust. Some specific stories or experiences disgust imprisoned persons. One respondent, for example, found a hair in his meal, another heard from the kitchen staff that expired meat was served. Whilst the veracity of these stories is unknown, they certainly influence the incarcerated consumers’ food experience. A respondent explains how the kitchen where he previously worked, started to invest in food safety: It already happened that for example in the ravioli we found the cover of a pot that they just put in the food. It already happened that things like hair

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or small metal pieces from a thin can were found. So that’s hygiene. But they had to rebuild the whole kitchen and they made a new system, with cameras. They need some surveillance for the hygiene, that’s normal. It’s important because, what I want to say is, imagine there’s a prisoner who doesn’t like the others and spits in the food or something like that. It must have happened before. But we just try not to think about these things. (Imprisoned respondent 10, 2013)

Fear of contamination, “imagine there’s a prisoner who doesn’t like the others and spits in the food”, is not only shared by incarcerated persons, but also by staff members, whose meals are also prepared by incarcerated workers. The staff of the psychosocial service in one prison feared that imprisoned chefs might spit in their meals. According to kitchen staff, however, this does not happen. Nevertheless, due to the strong disgust this gossip creates, preventive measures are taken. In some prisons, for example, the imprisoned chefs ate the same meals as those served to staff to ensure confidence that the food had not been contaminated or otherwise tampered with. Due to this gossip, respondents claim that more controls on food safety are needed. However, other voices also exist. Some believe the food inspections are too strict and get in the way of a normal and human cooking process. While workers support hygienic standards in prison kitchens, they think the Federal Food Agency at times exaggerates the claims. A kitchen worker discusses the implications of these strict standards: Interviewer: Are these HACCP rules strict? Imprisoned respondent: It’s exaggerated. You have to check a catering service that prepares meals for the airport for example, you know, these small boxes, that has nothing to do with cooking. That’s a laboratory, it’s just a laboratory. That has nothing to do with it anymore. I mean, a kitchen can’t be dirty, it has to be clean and that’s it. Just clean and that’s it. (Imprisoned respondent 4, 2013)

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Nevertheless, the fear of contamination, and the link between the strangeness of others who come into contact with one’s food, can, create additional pains and worries about one’s food consumption—which is no different in outside society. In a carceral environment, food trust thus becomes embedded in wider discussions about the negotiation of trust, which are not only exceptionally vulnerable to myths and assumptions, but also central to day-to-day interactions. The discussion above suggests that the construction of food trust is similar to that in outside society. However, unlike the outside world, distrust is the dominant discourse in prison: it is reflected in narratives on food trust, and combined with imprisoned persons’ lack of agency and information to create a complex interplay of activities and relations that increase (dis) trust in prison (see also Vanhouche, 2019).

2.2.4  The Healthy Person People often linked food to both health issues and their physical appearance. As Lupton (1996) explains, the link between the body and food serves as an important tool to present the self to others, and to perceive the self in a certain way: In contemporary western societies, individual’s physical appearance is highly important in the way they perceive themselves and how others perceive them. In an age of uncertainty and heightened self-reflexivity, in which bodies are viewed as highly amenable to change, one way of taking control over the body is to exert discipline over eating habits. (Lupton, 1996, p. 15–16)

In prison research, the masculine body is moreover often considered as a form of ‘front management’, a strategy that enables people to physically align with the inmate code and its elements of physical strength, violence, hierarchy and control, that are commonly embedded within a traditional male gender identity. This is often reflected in prison activities such as the gym where muscle training is often central (de Viggiani, 2012). This masculine body posture results, for some, in pride and self-esteem. It can

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moreover install a sense of safety and feelings of being respected (Ugelvik, 2014). Belgian research provides some nuance to this, after all, muscular persons can also be used to perform all kinds of tasks for people who are higher up in the hierarchy (Verhelle et al., 2016). The sporting activity that is often most popular, especially in light of body awareness, is weightlifting (Baumer & Meek, 2018). International research shows that whether or not to allow this activity in a detention context is subject to intense debate. In Belgian prisons, weightlifting is allowed. However, in some Flemish and Brussels prisons there is a limit on the weight that the sportier types are allowed to use, although this is partly to guarantee security. Weightlifting is often discussed in relation to nutritional supplements. In light of a previous study in the Flemish context, visions on weightlifting and food supplements were discussed. In 2016, seven of the 16 Flemish and Brussels prisons sold food supplements; this mainly concerned the institutions where people resided after their conviction. The prisons that put dietary supplements on the canteen list do so based on the idea that canteen lists should be in line with the normalisation principle. Policies on the purchase of the supplements varied. In one prison, for example, permission from the doctor to use dietary supplements had to be obtained. There was also a great variety between the food supplements on the list: proteins, amino acids, creatine, mass gainers, betaburners, tribumax (Verhelle et al., 2016). Besides food supplements, anabolic steroids are also smuggled into, and used in, Belgian prisons. However, given its contraband nature, it is difficult to assess the scope of its presence; unsurprisingly, hardly any data are available on this phenomenon in Belgium. In 2015, a doping control was carried out for the first time at the request of the public prosecutor in one Flemish prison. Eleven incarcerated sporters were tested who regularly worked out, six of them were found to be doping. In this study too, people made pertinent linkages between food, the way it impacts on their body, sports and the presentation of the self. The link was often made between food, their wish to be a healthy person and a healthy lifestyle. Imprisoned respondents and staff specified a number of salient issues. First, incarcerated persons reported that imprisonment is stressful, in particular during pre-trial detention when they are strongly affected by

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their new environment. A respondent explained that he experienced many difficulties during the first months of his imprisonment. His changing body was one of the difficulties he had to deal with: Imprisoned respondent: During the first months of my imprisonment, I barely ate. Interviewer: And was that due to the stress? Imprisoned respondent: Yes of course it was stress, it was the food that didn’t taste well and it doesn’t look appetising either. I wasn’t hungry, but after a while you learn to live with it. (Imprisoned respondent 2, prison 4, 2013) The medical staff recognised this problem. Nurses met incarcerated patients who lost their appetites and suffered from weight loss. In order to improve their health, and in particular to increase calorific intake, some staff members prescribe products such as Fortimel that contain a high volume of nutrients. Prescriptions for these products are rare since they are highly valued in prison for their high amount of protein which facilitates muscle building. Fortimel is an expensive product, and is therefore only accessible when a person’s health is at risk. Nevertheless, some respondents felt that medical services do not intervene appropriately or enough. Patients who receive a medical diet in particular, mentioned unwanted weight loss due to the prison menu. As a respondent who suffered from lactose intolerance explained: Imprisoned respondent: I lost more than 11 kilos since I arrived in prison. It’s a bit due to stress, but also because I don’t get sufficient nutrients. Outside, I eat three times as much as here. (Imprisoned respondent 9, prison 2, 2013) Consistent with Cohen and Taylor’s (1972) study, this research found that participants were afraid of deteriorating in general during their imprisonment. This fear is not only related to their health, but also to their physical appearance. Consequently, people searched for ways to eat differently and do sports, in order to develop a healthy lifestyle while in

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prison. In particular, respondents with long sentences perceived this as important. As one interviewee illustrates: Imprisoned respondent: I order fruit [in the prison canteen] to ensure I eat it every day. I do a lot of sports. I have to, for myself. If not, I will deteriorate and I have to stay for a long time. (Imprisoned respondent 12, prison 2, 2013) Next to canteen orders and sports, people who receive pre-prepared meals sometimes tried to choose the healthiest options. Since the ‘no pork’ menus were known to serve more chicken, and were high in protein but low in fat, people who described themselves as sportive preferred this menu. So, while Muslims at times preferred the vegetarian menu, other people favoured the ‘no pork’ menu, but for other reasons than religion. When imprisoned persons self-cater, choice is even greater and control over their food and body is more easily achieved. In these situations, it is clear that some tried to cook as healthily as possible so they could exercise sufficiently. For other people, this self-defined healthy and sportive lifestyle leads to a strong emphasis on muscle development. In these cases, the focus was on the consumption of proteins, weight lifting and the purchase of food supplements in the canteen. A sports trainer explained her experiences with this kind of behaviour: Staff member: I don’t think they exercise to increase their physical strength; they exercise for the physical appearance. If I ask them to pull themselves up twenty times, they’re not capable of doing it, while they look very strong. Interviewer: And is this also linked to the proteins? Staff member: Yes, they inform each other. Recently, I went to another prison, it was during summer. In the gym, there was a flypaper hanging on the roof with many dead flies. And they were challenging each other to eat those flies because they are filled with proteins. And I was thinking: ‘come on’. But those proteins are important for them. (Sport instructor, prison 3, 2013)

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Her observations are interesting since it is often believed that people train to defend themselves when fights break out. But for some, their appearance is as important, or perhaps even more important, than strength. The physical presentation of the self then can be of crucial importance; some clearly wanted to look physically strong. Consequently, some saw their imprisonment as an opportunity and a time to become what they considered as a strong and healthy person. But some also saw it as a time to improve and recover from an unhealthy lifestyle on the outside. One respondent reported that he eats healthily so he will be in shape when released: Imprisoned respondent: Yes, I eat cold meals. Salads with halal. That’s no problem, we eat healthy. I’ll leave this prison in a healthier condition compared to my arrival. (Imprisoned respondent 23, prison 4, 2013) Some people who struggled with drug addiction, for example, considered their imprisonment as the right time for rehab. As explained in the previous chapters, some respondents described how (drug) addictions are a serious problem in prison that negatively impacts their health. Since drugs are illegally smuggled into prisons, some institutions tried to create a rehab wing, where people can avoid contact with drugs and receive therapy. Imprisoned persons on these wings voluntarily applied for a place, and for many of them, the prison is a place where they can (temporarily) live a healthier life. It was experienced as a place where they could improve themselves, change their lifestyle and deal with the underlying problems of their drug addiction. This is in line with recent research that elaborates on narratives of reinvention in a carceral setting (Crewe & Ievins, 2020a). However, during the participant observations on that wing, it became clear that the success of the wing varies. Some mentioned that they would probably go back to their old habits once released (or even during imprisonment), whilst others felt they had recovered and had a positive view on the future. These wings also provided residents with a kitchen where they cooked self-prepared meals, which played an important role in what they experienced as recovery. During the

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observations on this wing, respondents illustrated how food consumption reflected their healthier lifestyle: The people on the ‘drug free’ unit explain how food was not important for them when they were outside and struggled with addictions. One person says he only ate one of every five meals he received in prison upon his arrival. He did not care about food but was busy with other things. Now that he managed to get his addiction under control, he feels much healthier. First, he gained much weight but now he feels healthy. He eats healthy and sports a lot. Moreover, some people explain how they slowly started to enjoy the tastes of foods again. (Observation notes 11, prison 3, 2013)

To summarise, food is not only a powerful tool in shaping people’s cultural identities, but also to (re)shape bodies, in ways that approximate perceptions of image and status. The prison environment often restricts their (what imprisoned persons perceive as) healthy behaviours in several ways: a lack of appetite when people first arrive in the penitentiary, a lack of exercise and in particular, opportunities for weightlifting and food supplements. Other respondents, who experienced having the means to make healthy choices, concluded on a positive note, stating that imprisonment gave them an opportunity for growth that contrasted with their earlier lifestyles, dominated by drug consumption and addiction.

2.2.5  Cooking for Oneself Many persons in the study argued that the prison system was unable to cater for them in an appropriate way, so they searched for ways to cook their own meals. In prisons where pre-prepared meals were served, cooking facilities were at best limited and at worst unavailable. People explained that in those prisons, they create their own cooking appliances. Previously, it was argued that it was the longing for ‘normal’ meals that underpinned the popularity of illegal cooking. This was not contextualised as resistance, and such narratives were not particularly prominent in the interviews, where a variety of reasons for illegal cooking were highlighted by respondents. For some, the main reason to cook was the fact that they spent so much time in their cells; cooking passes the time. The

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comment below illustrates how a person experienced cell cooking as a form of self-entertainment: Imprisoned respondent: I think preparing food is a way to keep you busy, to kill time while you are in your cell. At least, that is what it is for me… It’s to kill time. When I prepare something, it takes me two to three hours. Interviewer: Yes, that’s indeed long. Imprisoned respondent: But I do it at ease hé. I turn on the music, I cook everything, I clean everything, I cut everything, I prepare everything. (Imprisoned respondent 14, prison 2, 2013) This quote shows that the main goal of cooking was not necessarily to introduce personal habits or identities, but just to stay busy. Next to self-­ entertainment, cooking enables the introduction of cultural habits and practices (Vanhouche et al., 2018). Talking about this issue, one respondent explained how the isolation boxes that are used during Ramadan do not sufficiently protect the food from cooling down. In order to eat a decent meal after sunset, people heated their meals on illegally constructed fires: I was a couple of days in [name of a Belgian prison] during Ramadan, in the [street where the prison is located]. There, we had some ways to heat the food. We are not allowed to do it hé. But you make a fire with oil and it is not allowed but when the door is closed, we heat the meal before we eat it. Because the food is already cold when we can start to eat. (Imprisoned respondent 22, prison 5, 2015)

This way of cooking is not only pertinent to religious practices, but it is also a popular way of cooking in prison. The interviewee explained that illegal cooking also takes place when he does not feel like eating the menu that is served. In these instances, people remove certain ingredients, usually the ingredients that they are accustomed to, and they prepare their own culturally specific dish with it. As he explained, the element of choice played an important role here:

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Yes, some people they open their water heater so that it can keep heating, heating, heating, heating until the food is hot. What they also do is using an empty bag of crisps, they put eggs in the bag and heat it in the boiling water of the water heater. For example, you get potatoes today, but you want to eat something different. For example, you want to eat potatoes with egg. You put it in the crisp bag and place it in the water heater. (Imprisoned respondent 22, prison 5, 2015)

When people had access to kitchens, as was the case in Tilburg prison and in Denmark, and they received financial support, the pleasure of cooking one’s own meal was extensively discussed, in particular by those chefs who previously ate pre-prepared meals and strongly missed food from ‘home’. As one interviewee puts it: I was three months in the Belgian [prison] and then I came here [in Tilburg prison] … and suddenly someone gives you your dish, like I’m Indian. Somebody [one of his Indian cell mates] said: ‘okay this is your Indian dish, from today on you eat this’. I’ll prefer my Indian dish. I don’t know what’s in the box [pre-prepared meals], rice or whatever they make, I don’t know. So, they came to me and said ‘we make this food, from now on you eat this’. I said: ‘Waaaaw this is not like a prison; this is like a hotel’. Then they told me that we could make our food during the activities. (Imprisoned respondent 24, prison 5, 2014)

By expressing his disbelief that the prison system supported them to prepare personal meals, he recognised that prisons are not usually experienced as places where people’s cultural habits can be fully expressed or choices can be made. By comparing self-catering to a hotel service, he moreover regarded this system as a luxury that allowed them to prepare ‘our food’. In other stories, people often highlighted their cultural cuisines when discussing cooking. While analysing the data, a link was discovered with Belasco’s previously described four main elements of a food system. When respondents talked about their own foods, there was a focus on basic foodstuffs, in some cultures this included potatoes, rice, couscous or specific kinds of bread. Moreover, different ways of seasoning were

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extensively discussed. Finally, the topic of food preparation, and the variant ways of consumption, recurred throughout the conversations.

The Basic Foods The first element concerned the basic foods. One example is the preparation of couscous. Many incarcerated persons explained that they are not used to eating potatoes or rice on a daily basis. In particular, people who described themselves as having a Moroccan background, discussed how they missed couscous in the ‘standard’ menus. In the self-catering project in Tilburg, many loved to prepare couscous, in particular after Friday prayers. But the discussions about basic foods also focused on bread. People explained that bread takes on so many different forms and ways of preparation. One respondent extensively talked about his Indian bread and how he missed it when he received the bread that was served in Belgian prisons. He explained how happy he was to prepare and eat his Indian bread in Tilburg prison: Sometimes we eat Indian bread. So, it’s perfect we eat Indian food. Now when I call my family, my mother always asks about it. Before, when I was in a Belgian prison, when she asked I couldn’t say okay I’m happy here, I eat what I want to eat. I was just eating bread or potatoes and she wasn’t happy… when I tell her now: ‘I eat this Indian breakfast or this Indian curry’ or something like that, she’s happy. (Imprisoned respondent 24, prison 5, 2014)

Clearly, not only incarcerated persons worry about food, but family members, many of whom lived in other continents and were probably poorly informed about prison conditions, also expressed concern. Food then, is indicative of detention conditions, and the ability of someone to live according to food standards that are perceived as decent in their country of origin.

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Preparation Methods A cuisine is not just about the presence of these basic foods, it also concerns the way in which the food is prepared, commonly in accordance with the rituals of a culture. The following observation was revealing: Later, I have a conversation with another person. He followed a course in Morocco to become a chef in hot and cold cuisine. He tells me they will prepare couscous tomorrow, after the Friday prayer. When he asks me if I can prepare couscous, I tell him I do and that I think it is easy. Adding boiling water to the couscous and it is ready to serve. He laughs and recommends me to pass by so he can teach me how to prepare a ‘real’ couscous. (Observation notes 13, prison 5, 2015)

On returning to the prison the next day, the chefs demonstrated that they never boil the couscous in water but ‘steam’ it three times in order to get the right taste and texture. They did not have the utensils to steam their couscous properly, so they fixed a plastic bag above the pan, which left the damp inside (see Photo 7.1). Between each steaming session, they distribute the couscous on a table and mix it with butter and oil. This highlights how preparation methods can be important in creating the right tastes.

Seasoning The right taste is obtained thanks to the preparation methods but also thanks to the seasoning. Once again, respondents notice the different ways of seasoning between cultures. As one interviewee says: Pistache and baklava, you maybe know it. They grow in my city. If you buy them in a Turkish shop, it mentions [name of his city of birth], that’s my city… Our cuisine is very spicy. We eat very spicy but not all people like that here. I tried to add the spices after the cooking but that doesn’t taste the same. (Imprisoned respondent 25, prison 5, 2014)

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Photo 7.1  The preparation of couscous in Tilburg prison

This person explained that he is very particular about his spices. When cooking with other incarcerated chefs, he did not like it. He tried to find a way of spicing it after the cooking, but the taste changed substantially, so now he cooks on his own, so he can flavour his meal according to the customs of his city of origin.

Consumption Besides the basic foods, meal preparation, and seasoning, food consumption was another discussed topic. This concerned the utensils available to eat. Indian bread, for example, is used to eat other (liquid) parts of the meal, which made it unnecessary to use cutlery. So, while in some cultures it is looked upon with disgust, even as uncivilised, to touch food with hands, in others it is important to touch the food, seen as good

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manners to feel the texture and heat, to examine it before ingesting. Therefore, the taken-for-granted habit in, for example, Belgian prisons that everyone has to eat with cutlery, was challenged by the ways people in self-­catering projects ate. Clearly, and consistent with other food studies (e.g. Earle & Philips, 2012; Minke, 2014), incarcerated individuals introduced and enjoyed following their cultural habits in the penitentiary. It is therefore no surprise that people who received deep-frozen or ready-made meals, complained that the food was not commensurate with the manner in which they prepare, season or consume their food. Based on their stories it becomes clear that industrial kitchens can never take into account all the different preferences, it was wholly expected that while different menus were being served, these were not perceived as culturally specific.

2.2.6  Commensality Finally, when discussing prison foodways it is not only about what is being eaten, but also about how it is eaten. When discussing food and identity, the role of commensality in this process cannot be overlooked. As Grignon (2001) states: Commensality is one of the techniques by which identity - the feeling of fitting in with both a social and a mental category - can be defined and maintained. (Grignon, 2001, p. 31)

Commensality is perceived by Grignon (2001) as the manifestation of pre-existing groups. The concept, therefore, gives an insight into how groups are formed, internally organised and can be closed for others. Moreover, he recognises different forms of commensality: institutional and domestic commensality, every day and exceptional commensality, and segregative and transgressive commensality. In this research, institutional commensality, which is organised according to the rules of an organisation, provided particular insight into individual’s and group’s status. People eating, or not eating together in an institution, can have an oppositional status, such as incarcerated persons

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and prison officers. Additionally, those who are eating together, as is the case in segregative commensality, stress their group formation and simultaneously reject others. However, at times, these boundaries are transgressed, and become consequently redefined in exceptional situations. Finally, Grignon (2001) differentiates between everyday commensality and exceptional commensality. While exceptional commensality refers to communal dining on special occasions, such as say national or religious holidays, everyday commensality refers to regularity and repetition. The latter form of commensality is rarely researched, but provides in this study an intimate understanding of how daily life in prison evolves. Therefore, this research mainly focuses on everyday institutional commensality, and investigates how segregative and transgressive commensality reflects social relations in the penitentiaries that are embedded within the process of group identifications. The consumption of food thus draws out the theme of commensality and the relational dimension of identities. First, in all the prisons studied where self-catering existed, food groups were formed. Not all incarcerated persons belonged to these groups, but most of them did. Similar to Minke’s (2014) study, these groups were formed along cultural lines. One interviewee discussed for example, segregative and transgressive commensality: In general, Muslims eat together, Europeans eat together. Here in the open section, there are three or four Muslims. They usually cook together and prepare food from their home country. They make couscous, tajines, food from their home country. In general, we do it that way, because it’s easier. I want to eat for example bacon, so I probably eat something they don’t want to eat. It’s not their thing. But there’re also exchanges; we once made a tajine together. (Imprisoned respondent 6, prison 1, 2013)

For some, it was easier to cook and eat with people who wanted to eat similar foods to them; it prevented problems and allowed everyone to eat as they wished. Others however preferred to transgress these boundaries. For them, intercultural exchange was far from being perceived as difficult. For some, it happened on a daily basis, while for others, this food sharing between groups only occurred on special

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occasions in order to celebrate festivals (exceptional commensality), as one interviewee explained: Usually it works like this [in their group cell]: two people eat vegetarian, that’s me and the other guy; two Indians eat separately because they eat cow; and then these Belgians also eat meat… But sometimes it happens that there’s a party, we organise a party. Like last week my brother he got married so I made a party in the cell. We dance, we eat, you know. We enjoy. We make cakes, I also buy juice in the canteen, and I make chicken and frikandel, the vegetarian products, I buy some pizzas… We stay in our cell like a family, I think we have to because we don’t have our parents, we don’t have our brothers here, we’re just the six of us. (Imprisoned person 24, Tilburg prison, 2014)

Belasco’s (2008) work on the key concepts of food stresses this significant role of commensality in the development of social relationships: According to the concept of commensality, sharing food has almost magical properties in its ability to turn self-seeking individuals into a collaborative group. (Belasco, 2008, p. 19)

This idea was regularly expressed during the interviews. People discussed how self-catering improved relationships between each other, and was therefore a constructive element in the creation of a more relaxed atmosphere in prison, where problems were reduced. One interviewee in Tilburg prison explains: It [the cooking] is beneficial for the social relationships here. If you cook and share a kitchen, you’re less isolated. We’re all more relaxed compared to when we were in Belgian prisons. I don’t know if you notice it but here you don’t hear the screaming. In Belgian prisons people constantly hit on their doors. (Imprisoned person 21, prison 5, 2013)

Moreover, chefs also recognised food sharing and food generosity as a significant aspect of their own culture. People practising Islam in prison felt that at times they were stereotyped in derogatory ways. In contrast, their self-narratives highlighted the hospitality—exemplified through

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food sharing in prison—that actually formed a constitutive part of their religion, and used it to illustrate its strengths. While some felt that cooking and eating together was beneficial for social relationships, others commented on the problems that arose. One person said: When there’s too little space, it’s because those foreigners use two or three ovens to bake their bread. And when we want to bake our chicken and there’s one other room that uses an oven, there’s no place left. Then there’s some stress, people start pushing each other but usually officers intervene quite fast, and they insist that every room can use one oven. (Imprisoned respondent 11, prison 5, 2013)

Problems surrounding communal cooking and eating did exist and were often underpinned by negative stereotypes towards other groups. During communal cooking tetchy discussions about the preparation of pork occurred, especially when it was cooked in oil that would spatter around and risked contaminating other people’s meals. Besides communal cooking, the canteen list was also the topic of discussions. At times, the canteen offer was disapproved of for not selling sufficient products that appealed to particular groups or people. In Tilburg prison, this problem was intensified as the products that were sold by the Dutch prison shop were insufficiently ‘Belgian’. As one interviewee explained: Imprisoned respondent: Let’s say we’re Belgians and here [in Tilburg] we have this ‘frietsaus’, the mayonnaise. It’s too sugary… and then also the soup and cookies that they sell are typical for the Netherlands. So actually, it’s a Dutch canteen list for Belgian prisoners. So in my opinion it should be changed. (Imprisoned respondent 11, prison 5, 2013) In another Belgian prison, a person noted how Muslims were the group without sufficient choice:

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They offer some kosher products on the canteen list and some products for Muslims and halal. But actually, it’s very little. For me, personally there should be a bigger offer. I’m not Muslim, but if I was a Muslim, I think I’d want more products. (Imprisoned respondent 2, prison 4, 2013)

The presence of particular menus then tended to give people the impression that the authorities favoured one group over another, and that this group had more power. This feeling was especially expressed when the canteen list was discussed. However, respondents noted that, even if the ingredients on the canteen list were limited, and not always exactly what they needed, they managed to cook creatively in ways consistent with their particular culinary preferences. Nevertheless, even if self-­ catering had its limitations, it was still perceived to be a considerable improvement over the generally less popular pre-prepared (frozen) foods.

3

Conclusion

Prison foodways can serve as a means to normalise daily prison life. The accounts of autonomy and responsibility in self-catering projects show how cooking and eating in prison can reflect food practices in the outside world. Limitations, however, existed in relation to cooking practices and food purchases. When pre-prepared meals were served, people searched for (often illegal) ways to introduce a sense of normalcy. This need for normalisation could also be found in visiting specific areas and in relation to social roles and identities that imprisoned persons sought to construct in their carceral environments. Prison foodways thus hold emotive powers and the potential to realise cultural attachments. In Europe, the language of authenticity that is linked to foods and dishes develops a narrative of geography-based particularities in food consumption (DeSoucy, 2010). This is no different in prison. In a carceral environment this form of gastronationalism can also serve as a vehicle to construct collective national identities that by definition include, and clearly exclude, some people. Food and meals do not only symbolise belonging, but they can also embody the tacit or explicit exclusion of certain meals or canteen products. This can be experienced

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as gastrodiscrimination, especially in a prison environment where personal choice and autonomy are traditionally scarce. Imprisoned persons, then, often struggled to shape and redefine themselves in a prison environment that removes meaningful routines critical to constructing a sense of self. Moreover, institutions tend to identify incarcerated persons according to their legal or penal classifications. In this context, people either adapt or search for ways to develop a sense of self from meanings experienced on an individual, and sometimes group, level. The role of food, which is experienced in society as a way to create identity or sentiments of belonging, takes on a similar and sometimes even more pertinent role in prison.

Bibliography Belgium Preparation of Prison Act 2005: DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001. Online. https:// www.dekamer.be/FLWB/PDF/50/1076/50K1076001.pdf

Literature Asri, F. (2015). An Outline of the Construction of the Islamic Council for Prisons in Belgium. In I. Becci & O. Roy (Eds.), Religious Diversity in European Prisons. Challenges and Implications for Rehabilitation (pp. 47–59). Springer. Baumer, H., & Meek, R. (2018). Sporting Masculinities in Prison. In M. Maycock & K. Hunt (Eds.), New Perspectives on Prison Masculinities (pp. 197–222). Palgrave Macmillan. Belasco, W. (2008). Food. The Key Concepts. Berg. Bovenkerk, F. (2007). Een taboe op de criminologische studie van de etnische achtergronden van misdaad? In A. Soeteman & F. Van Den Born (eds.), Ethiek van empirisch sociaal-wetenschappelijk onderzoek. Online. file:///C:/ Users/avhouche/OneDrive%20-%20Vrije%20Universiteit%20Brussel/ Documenten/Prison%20Food/Doctoraat/Book%20Palgrave/20071008.pdf

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Cohen, S., & Taylor, L. (1972). Psychological Survival: the Experience of Long Term-Imprisonment. Penguin Books. Crewe, B. (2011b). Depth, Weight, Tightness: Revisiting the Pains of Imprisonment. Punishment & Society, 13(5), 509–529. Crewe, B., & Ievins, A. (2020). The Prison as a Reinventive Institution. Theoretical Criminology, 24(4), 568–589. De Ridder, S., & Beyens, K. (2012). Incarcerated by numbers? Wat leren de cijfers ons over ‘vreemdelingen’ in de gevangenis? Panopticon, 33(4), 305–324. de Viggiani, N. (2012). Trying to be Something You Are Not: Masculine Performances within a Prison Setting. Men and Masculinities, 15(3), 271–291. DeSoucy, M. (2010). Gastronationalism: Food Traditions and Authenticity Politics in the European Union. American Sociological Review, 75(3), 432–455. Edame, E., Janssens, G., Vanhouche, A.-S., De Bus, S., Langens, L., & Robberechts, J. (2021). Het leven zoals het is: de gevangenis. Reflecties over mediarepresentaties van criminaliteit en gevangenissen. Fatik, 170, 18–28. Feest, J. (1999). Imprisonment and Prisoners’ Work: Normalization or Less Eligibility? Punishment & Society, 1(1), 99–107. Fischler, C. (1988). Food, Self and Identity. Social Science Information, 27(2), 275–292. Fischler, C. (1990). L’Homnivore. Le goût, la cuisine et le corps. Odile Jacob. Fischler, C. (2011). Commensality, Society and Culture. Social Science Information, 50, 528–548. Foucault, M. (1975). Surveiller et punir. Naissance de la prison. Gallimard. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums. Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates. Anchor Books. Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma. Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. Prentice Hall. Goffman, E. (1969). Strategic Interaction. University of Pennsylvania Press. Grignon, C. (2001). Commensality and Social Morphology. An essay of Typology. In P. Scholliers (Ed.), Food, Drink and Identity: Cooking, Eating and Drinking in Europe Since the Middle Ages. Berg. Het Laatste Nieuws. (2016). Feestmaaltijden in de Belgische gevangenissen: struisvogel, hert en zalm (newspaper article) Online. http://www.hln.be/hln/ nl/4833/Gevangenissen/article/detail/3042472/2016/12/29/Feestmaaltijden-­ in-­de-­Belgische-­gevangenissen-­struisvogel-­hert-­en-­zalm.dhtml ICF Consulting Services Ltd. (2016). Pilot Project Related to the Development of Evidence Based Strategies to Improve the Health of Isolated and Vulnerable Persons.

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Case Study Pilot 2: Danish Model on Food Systems in Correctional Facilities. European Commission. Online. https://ec.europa.eu/health/sites/health/files/ social_determinants/docs/2016_vulnerable_danishprisons_en.pdf Irwin, J., & Cressey, D. (1962). Thieves, Convicts and the Inmate Culture. Social Problems, 10(2), 142–155. Jenkins, R. (2008). Social Identity. Taylor & Francis. Kjærnes, U. (2006). Trust and Distrust: Cognitive Decisions or Social Relations? Journal of Risk Research, 9, 911–932. Lupton, D. (1996). Food, the Body and the Self. Sage Publications. Mathiesen, T. (1965). The Defences of the Weak: A Sociological Study of a Norwegian Correctional Institution. Tavistock. Minke, L. (2014). Cooking in Prison-from Crook to Cook. International Journal of Prisoner Health, 10(4), 228–238. Minke, L., & Smoyer, A. (2017). Prison Food in Denmark: Normal Responsibility or Ethnocentric Imaginations? In P. S. Smith & T. Ugelvik (Eds.), Embraced by the Welfare State? Punishment, Welfare and the Nordic Model. Palgrave Macmillan. Philips, C. (2007). Ethnicity, identity and community cohesion in prison. In M. Wetherell, M. Lafleche, & R. Berkeley (Eds.), Identity, Ethnic Diversity and Community. Sage Publishing. Philips, C. (2012). The Multicultural prison. Ethnicity, Masculinity, and Social Relations among Prisoners. Clarendon Studies in Criminology. Prison and Probation Service. (2016). The Danish Prison and Probation Service in Brief. http://www.prisonstudies.org/sites/default/files/resources/downloads/inbrief_updateddec.2012.pdf Rentzmann, W. (1996). Prison Philosophy and Prison Education. The Journal of Correctional Education, 47(2), 58–63. Rowe, A. (2011). Narratives of Self and Identity in Women’s Prisons: Stigma and Struggle for Self-Definition in Penal Regimes. Punishment and Society, 13(5), 571–591. Rusche, G., & Kirchheimer, O. (1939). Punishment and Social Structure. Columbia University Press. Shea, E. (2005). Les paradoxes de la normalisation du travail pénitentiaire en France et en Allemagne. Déviance et Société, 29, 349–365. Smith, P. S. (2011). A Critical Look at Scandinavian Exceptionalism. Welfare State Theories, Penal Populism, and Prison Conditions in Denmark and Scandinavia. In T. Ugelvik & J. Dullum (Eds.), Penal Exceptionalism? Nordic Prison Policy and Practice (pp. 38–57). Routledge.

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Smoyer, A., & Blankenship, K. (2013). Dealing food: Female Drug Users’ Narratives about Food in a Prison Place and Implications for their Health. International Journal Drug Policy, 25(3), 562–568. Snacken, S. (2002). Normalisation en prison: concept et défis. In O. De Schutter & D. Kaminski (Eds.), L’institution du droit pénitentiaire. Enjeux de la reconnaissance de droits aux détenus (pp. 133–152). Librairie Générale de Droit et de Jurisprudence et Bruylant. Sykes, G. (1958). The Society of Captives. A Study of a Maximum-Security Prison. Princeton University Press. Trompenaars, F., & Hampden-Turner, C. (1997). Riding the Waves of Culture. Nicholas Breasley Publishing. Ugelvik, T. (2014). Power and Resistance in Prison. Palgrave Macmillan. Vanhouche, A.-S. (2019). Food Trust in Low Trust Environments. Negotiating Food Trust in Belgian Prisons. Appetite, 142. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. appet.2019.104385 Vanhouche, A.-S., Smoyer, A., & Minke, L. (2018). Couscous in Tilburg Prison: Food Narratives and the Quality of Prison Life in a Belgian-Dutch Prison. Prison Service Journal, 238, 3–10. Van Roeyen, S., & Vander Beken, T. (2014). Een wet om aan te houden. Het beslissingsproces van onderzoeksrechters in het kader van de voorlopige hechtenis. Panopticon, 35(6), 502–519. Verhelle, H., Vanhouche, A., & Huys, T. (2016). Gewichtheffen, voedingssupplementen en anabole steroïden in detentie. Nieuwe fenomenen binnen de gevangenismuren of weggecijferde moeilijkheden? Fatik, 151, 19–28.

8 Prison Foodways and Prison Order

Interviewer:

So, in Belgium you couldn’t do it [cooking] because it was too dangerous. If you’re allowed to do it here, are there indeed things going wrong? Imprisoned person: No, no. Every evening they gather all these [cooking] knives due to security considerations. But there is enough other stuff in your room, if you sharpen it on a stone; it’s a better weapon than this knife. But I have to say, I’ve been here for two years, and there are four major fights that I know of, with injuries and ambulances coming in. But besides these… people are calmer here. It’s not as stressed and strict as in Belgium. But that is because the regime in Belgium makes people hostile. In Belgium, you have to rebelliously bang the table if you want to achieve something or if you want to keep a distance from certain people. Here, everything goes much smoother, they also talk. So, there are fewer incidents compared to Belgium. (Imprisoned respondent 26, prison 5, 2014) © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_8

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The sentiments of this imprisoned person from the Tilburg penitentiary capture the focus of this chapter. Whilst self-catering is perceived by some prison authorities as a dangerous activity, imprisoned respondents suggested that the reality is a lot more nuanced. They highlight a complex process of interactions that can increase security, even when ‘threatening’ objects are freely available. This chapter considers the myriad ways in which security measures can hamper normalisation, and discusses the levels of discretion that are left to local authorities to decide when security measures justify curtailing normalising activities (Molleman & Van den Hurk, 2012). The fact that in some prisons, cooking utensils like knives are perceived as a threat, whilst in others they are freely available, confirms the lack of consensus over which activities and materials pose a security threat in a prison environment. It seems to depend on a combination of factors such as the local prison context, the views of prison officers and the characteristics of the prison population. Moreover, the support for, and introduction of, dynamic security appears crucial. This concept highlights the importance of an individual approach in the treatment of imprisoned persons, the presence of activities and positive relationships between staff and incarcerated individuals (Dunbar, 1985). The literature on order and dynamic security is considered here to place the discussion of prison foodways and self-catering experiences in the appropriate analytical context: namely, feelings about safety. Further narratives from respondents in Tilburg prison, where self-catering was introduced, are elaborated upon and considered in the context of security. The emphasis fell mainly on this prison, as these respondents were able to compare security systems that, according to them, strongly differed (between Belgium and Tilburg). Moreover, the intensive fieldwork undertaken in this prison provided significantly greater insight into how the complex process of achieving order and dynamic security was secured. In short, this chapter explores different perceptions of safety that arose as a consequence of self-catering and the concrete security measures that were engendered, before considering how these influenced food systems in general, and the food system in Tilburg in particular.

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205

Order in Prisons

In recent decades, a growing body of literature has focused on the creation of order in prisons. One of the most important events that precipitated much of this research was the prison riots in the UK in 1990. Imprisoned persons protested to condemn their miserable living conditions. The famous Woolf report, published after the investigation into the causes of these riots, reported on the importance of a balance between justice, security and control in the penal system (Prison Reform Trust, 1991). The Woolf report found, amongst other things, that disproportionate emphasis on control and security appeared to result in the opposite effect leading to the riots. In the wake of the Woolf report, a considerable volume of studies developed in-depth insights into the causes of order and disorder (see e.g. Sparks et al., 1996; Bottoms, 1999; Liebling, 2004; Tournel & Kennes, 2011). While a variety of definitions of the concept of order have been suggested, this chapter follows the definition of Sparks et al. (1996) who state that an orderly situation in prison is: Any long-standing pattern of social relations characterised by a minimum level of respect for persons in which the expectations that participants have of one another are commonly met, though not necessarily without contestation. Order can also, in part, be defined negatively as the absence of violence, overt conflict or the imminent threat of the chaotic breakdown of social routines. (Sparks et al., 1996, p. 119)

In short, mundane routine practices and activities that have existed for a long period of time constitute an ordered regime. Good illustrations of these repetitive activities are the distribution of food, work and recreational activities. Additionally, order is a dynamic concept that exists in different degrees and forms, and is often contrasted with disorder, defined as: A critical event or sequence of events perceived by staff as sufficiently serious to warrant the imposition of a sanction or special administrative

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­ rocedure in the interests of maintaining their own authority and the stap bility of the prison. (Sparks et al., 1996, p. 119)

More specifically, three main control problems are discovered: (i) interpersonal violence, (ii) the informal prison economy, and (iii) protest, disobedience and abuse. To prevent disorder, two approaches can be integrated (Bennett, 2007): the psychological approach which stresses the personal characteristics of imprisoned persons as the cause of disorder, and the sociological approach, which focuses on the nature of imprisonment as a crucial factor. The former is concerned to articulate a view that people import anti-social behaviour and psychological problems into prison. This approach, however, is largely rejected by the plethora of studies which show how imprisoned persons’ behaviour differs when different prison regimes, and significantly, relationships with staff, are experienced (Sparks et al., 1996). The psychological approach, can thus, only give a partial explanation for disorder, and is underpinned by understandings of events that are necessarily abstracted from institutional and cultural factors. Where the provision, preparation, and consumption of food were concerned, the findings in this study are unequivocal. The structural features of the prison regime and the milieu of different prisons, played the most significant role in shaping prison behaviours. The latter approach employs explanations of disorder that problematise the prison environment, and the way it conditions behaviour. It is often argued that the generally inadequate prison conditions are predisposed to generating problematic behaviour. Currently, it is accepted that both views complement each other—with structural features often playing a critical role in enhancing or denuding diverse patterns of behaviour (Bennett, 2007). Understanding the causes of disorders necessarily demands a discussion of how authorities can react to, and prevent, their occurrence. It is here that dynamic security plays a crucial role. In preventing and reacting to disorder, reactive and proactive control measures are taken (Bennett, 2007). Reactive measures are responses to temporary moments of disorder such as random violent incidents. Restraint and segregation are good examples of these types of measures that are imposed after such an incident. In contrast, proactive measures seek to prevent disorder. Within this proactive approach two complimentary forms of prevention are

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established: situational and social prevention (Bottoms et al., 1990). Situational prevention reduces the opportunities for disorder by focusing on six methods: target hardening, target removal, removal of the means to crime, restrictions on the movements of potential offenders, surveillance and environmental management. In this chapter, two of these methods are considered pertinent to the discussion of order in the context of foodways. The first is simply the removal of a means to commit an offence, such as knives. In prison this often means that materials or utensils that could be used, or manipulated into a weapon, are forbidden. The second method is to restrict the movements of incarcerated persons. Earlier research proved this to be an easy and popular method, since some believe that persons locked in their cells can cause limited trouble. However, one should not be blind to the unintended effects of such a strategy. Incapacitation for a long period of time can increase stress, irritation and has consequently been shown to hamper positive relationships with fellow imprisoned persons and staff (Bottoms et al., 1990). Proactive control measures then, consist not only of situational approaches such as surveillance, the restriction of movement, and the removal of potential weapons, but also social approaches. In the latter sense, order is created through routines, the provision of personal safety, the delivery of basic needs such as acceptable food, fairness, autonomy, legitimacy, fair treatment and dynamic security. This brings the discussion to the central topic of this chapter, the extent to which dynamic security is a social approach of proactive control measures that develops ordered regimes. Dunbar’s (1985) comparative study on prison regimes in different countries, elaborated the concept of dynamic security in the UK and inspired other researchers to also use, and elaborate, on it (see e.g. Sparks et al., 1996). In Dunbar’s work, dynamic security is defined as: Individualism, relationships, and activity come together in the widely-­ shared concept of dynamic security. This approach to security for the public (preventing prison escapes) and security for the prison (internal control) recognises that both are only really possible through the relationship between staff and inmates. Dynamic security is knowing what is going on in a prison establishment, in addition to providing a safe and secure

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b­ ackground against which the whole range of activity making up the life of a prison takes place. (Dunbar, 1985, p. 23)

In short, three elements play a fundamental role in the establishment of dynamic security: individualism, relationships and activities. Individualism focuses on staff and imprisoned persons as individuals with particular needs, while relationships are more attentive to constructive contacts between staff and incarcerated persons, as well as good and open relationships with the outside world. These types of relationship diminish stress and tension. Finally, activities play a crucial role in the sense that: … any prisoner who is left in his cell is a threat to security or control … [Moreover, activities are] fundamental in achieving and maintaining control and security … [and they] had a value in itself because it enhances both the life of the prisoner and the work of the staff. (Dunbar, 1985, p. 22)

This social approach arguably produces regimes that are perceived as more legitimate by imprisoned persons, a factor that is necessary to maintaining ordered regimes (Sparks & Bottoms, 1995). Legitimacy is characterised by fair procedures, consistent outcomes of procedures, staff’s behaviour, and the standards of a prison’s basic regime (conditions, services and activities). A regime can create different degrees of legitimacy that may well change over time. In a basic regime, the food service can play a central role, therefore increasing or undermining legitimacy. Sparks and Bottoms (1995) suggest: there are points that we feel able to state with some certainty. These include that […] every inedible meal, every ignored remark and every futile and inactive period of time is delegitimising. (Sparks & Bottoms, 1995, p. 60)

Importantly, order can only be achieved with a balance of proactive and reactive measures, thus when using proactive measures, equal importance should be given to situational and social approaches. A disproportionate focus on one or other of the measures might have opposite effects. The empirical data in this study show, however, that incarcerated

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individuals felt that there was a disproportionate focus on reactive and situational measures in Belgian institutions. This resulted in their surprise when they experienced dynamic security measures, and the perceived influence this had on their regime and self-catering in the Tilburg penitentiary.

1.1

Order in Belgian Prisons

The preliminary work on the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 discussed its visions and main principles including order (DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001). The Prison Act defines order as: prison conditions in which rules of conduct, that establish or support a safe and humane detention environment, are respected. (Art. 2 §7 Belgian Prison Act, 2005)

Order and security are equally important for staff and imprisoned persons, thus, both groups are responsible for its achievement. In the preliminary work, an explicit reference was made to the work of Sparks et al. (1996), and the balance between passive and active security was emphasised. Passive security refers to what I defined earlier as situational measures, while active security is similar to social measures, in particular dynamic security. Dynamic security in the preliminary work of the act is: high quality contacts, relationships and communication between staff and prisoners together with an active regime and attractive incentives to participate in activities. (DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001, p. 177)

Finally, it is recognised that imprisoned person’s behaviour and prison environments might affect order and security in an institution. Therefore, and in line with Bottoms’ (1999) recommendations, control measures should not solely focus on a person’s character, but also take into account the prison environment, and the interactions between these two. Besides the aforementioned focus on situational and social control measures in Belgian prison legislation, the Prison Act of 2005

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distinguishes between proactive and reactive measures. These proactive approaches are defined as security measures, however, they are deployed as pre-emptive anticipations of threat, such as attempts to escape or outbreaks of violence. Well-known examples are strip searches, exclusion of participation in certain activities, the reduction of ‘dangerous’ objects and visits behind glass. These security measures can be taken before the violation of a prison rule (Art. 129–131 Belgian Prison Act, 2005). Reactive measures are disciplinary sanctions deployed as a punishment after a rule violation. These aim to restore order and security (Art. 122 Belgian Prison Act, 2005). Some examples of disciplinary sanctions are confinement in a segregation cell and a prohibition on buying products in the prison shop. In this respect, the Belgian Prison Act of 2005 clearly reflects several considerations on security and order such as the presence and balance of both proactive and reactive measures, as well as situational and social approaches in Belgian prison law. Whereas the law tends to waver between proactive, reactive, and social and situational control measures, the literature reports that this equilibrium is rarely achieved in Belgian prisons. Belgian research on order in prisons, indicates that the main focus of officers was on incapacitation rather than dynamic security (Tournel & Kennes, 2011). Research on violence in five Belgian prisons showed that several regime aspects influenced violence in these prisons (Snacken, 2005). First, strict regimes limited staff-prisoner contact, and the absence of activities equally appears to increase imprisoned persons’ collective resistance. Secondly, poor living conditions, passive regimes and authoritarian regimes encourage violence. The study also warned that increased social contacts can lead to an increase in arguments between imprisoned persons or between officers and incarcerated persons. However, staff should be trained to monitor indications of latent conflict and to intervene appropriately. Therefore, it is suggested that the central prison authorities should: develop a clear policy based on dynamic security, and to train and encourage prison staff accordingly. (Snacken, 2005, p. 336)

In 2009, Kennes interviewed staff and governors in a Belgian prison about the problem of order. His results suggested that overcrowding in

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Belgian prisons was the major threat to order, with the lack of space and cell sharing being primarily responsible for raising tensions. Moreover, the size of the prison and length of the sentences for most people played a crucial role in the creation of constructive relationships between officers and imprisoned persons. Consequently, the relationships on the remand wings, where negative features are exacerbated, were less positive than those on the wings for convicted persons. Finally, one research project that dealt with the classification of incarcerated persons in different regimes (Devresse et al., 2011), revealed that the element of control over them strongly influences these classifications. Interviews with prison governors showed that prisons with certain routines gave incarcerated individuals some certainty and security. Obviously, contact between staff and imprisoned persons is mentioned, and respectful relations were regarded as significant in limiting misconduct. In addition to these positive relationships, access to, and partaking in, activities were perceived as important as was having an occupation. These two elements indicate that Belgian governors do believe in dynamic security. Furthermore, Devresse et al. (2011), argued that an imbalance, leading to an overuse of passive security might have opposite effects. However, and in line with Snacken’s conclusion of 2005, the authors noted that additional education for officers was required to improve relationships between imprisoned persons and officers, and to enable officers to handle incidents professionally and mediate successfully in case of problems. Similar to Kennes’ (2009) findings, prison overcrowding was perceived as a major problem for this creation of order. These problems have not only been noticed by scholars but also increasingly by policymakers and politicians. In order to support dynamic approaches towards security, and provide additional educational support for officers, a new law was passed in 2019. Consequently, the educational offer for officers will be currently revised and a differentiation between officers with warm and cold security tasks will be introduced. These changes have the potential to begin the process of paying more attention to, and improving relationships between, officers and incarcerated individuals.

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Order in Dutch Prisons

On the basis that the officers in Tilburg prison worked according to Belgian legislation, an extensive overview of the underlying assumptions about order in the Dutch Prison Act (1998) is not considered in detail. Suffice to say, some general remarks concerning officers’ habits that were made in Tilburg prison are pertinent to the findings here. In Dutch institutions, both reactive and proactive control measures can be taken. Prison governors can, for example, exclude a person from activities when his presence is considered to be a threat for order and security. Moreover, they also have the power to request urine samples from imprisoned persons to investigate drug consumption. However, when officers in Tilburg prison had to start working according to Belgian regulations, some of these controls were prohibited. In Belgian prisons, people are not obliged to provide urine samples to the prison authorities. At the outset, these differences created frustration for the officers in Tilburg prison (Beyens & Boone, 2013). The absence of some of their familiar control measures created what they considered an imbalance, and they found it difficult to manage these differences. Nevertheless, imprisoned persons were generally positive about their relationships with staff in Tilburg prison. This is in line with previous studies on the approach of Dutch prison staff. Results show that imprisoned persons felt they were treated positively and supported in a practical and emotional way (Dirkzwager & Kuttschnitt, 2012; Beyens & Boone, 2013). This was visible during small talk, jokes and communal tea times. Nevertheless, some people still preferred a more distant relationship with staff that established the ground rules of where ‘they stood’, commonly to avoid appearing too chummy with officers and being regarded as ‘grass’. Consequently, the inmate code and subculture placed some clear pressures on these relationships and there was a tangible search for a balance between degrees of trust towards officers and established mores.

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 rison Foodways and Order: P Empirical Findings

2.1

 ower and Order in the Distribution P and Consumption of Ready-Made Meals

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An ordered regime then requires respectful social relationships and constructive contacts between staff and imprisoned persons. Studies on prison foodways show, however, that prison officers’ overt power over food (Godderis, 2006b), can be experienced as an intrusive form of control, and an attack on a person’s self-worth. Prison foodways exemplify the vulnerable power dynamics in prison that show subtle, but deep rooted, forms of authority that characterise prison systems. Such forms of authority in Belgium have moved towards a post-authoritarian prison system, defined by Crewe (2011a) as requiring individuals to navigate, self-regulate and reshape into something that fits the risk reduction rhetoric of penal policies. These psychological forms of power are, not necessarily exercised by prison officers, but mainly by psychologists. This is consistent with the subtle forms of ‘soft’ power described by the respondents in this study. However, their discussions focused mainly on the role and psychological power of prison officers. Imprisoned respondents highlighted how this type of power was expressed through food-related matters. Examples of this exemplified how subtle, but nonetheless powerful, decisions still penetrated into, and impacted, on their basic human needs. The first example relates to the disciplinary power that is exercised, and how prison foodways were part of the ‘system of favours’ designed to encourage discipline. Some governors, for example, reward ‘good’ behaviour on a wing with more freedoms (in a closed prison). The idea behind this policy is simple: the more you get, the more you lose when breaking the rules. A prison officer explained: They [imprisoned chefs] have privileges, but these privileges are not only for those who work in the kitchen, it is for all imprisoned workers. I explained earlier that we have a wing with an open regime, so mainly prisoners who work, stay on this wing. Twenty prisoners have their cell’s door

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open, they have a cell for their own … so for us these are some security measures. Because imagine they make a disciplinary mistake, they lose all their privileges. So it is a form of … how can I call it … a hidden form of discipline. (Prison Officer 1, 2013)

This ‘hidden form of discipline’ (which in reality is not so hidden), highlights how food autonomy and self-catering were woven into the tapestry of privileges for those who perform ‘good’ behaviour in prison. It shows how imprisoned persons are encouraged to ensure they govern themselves and know which rules to follow; otherwise they lose these few ‘favours’ which can constitute a meaningful, but rare, form of autonomy. Secondly, officers have great power over the distribution of meals. As noted throughout, the medical diets in most prisons are low in fat and salt. This enables the prison service to serve the same tasteless menu to most of those needing a medical diet. Some officers allowed imprisoned eaters to receive certain parts of the standard menu that did not interfere with their medical diet to improve taste, appetite and joy. Although as one respondent explained, it depended on the officer on duty whether people got additional helpings from the trolley: Interviewer:

So, when you receive your pre-prepared plate, on Thursday, can you ask for additional fries? Incarcerated respondent: Yes, prisoners who receive a medical diet can do that, everyone knows it. Most officers tolerate it but if you have bad luck they will go like: ‘No, you have your plate’. Then the prisoner has a problem. He got his meal and that’s it. (Incarcerated respondent 4, 2013) The perception that the food you get served depends on the officer in charge was also alleged by another person who received a medical diet. He explained how one particular prison officer never serves him baked meat despite being allowed to eat it according to his dietary guidelines:

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“She wants to annoy me because in the visitor’s room she acts exactly the same” (Incarcerated respondent 9, 2013). Feelings of being intentionally annoyed, or that their food intake, and especially meal variety, may differ depending on the whims of an officer on duty, sharply illustrate how mundane decisions can have far-reaching consequences on aspects of the basic regime. While this discretionary power in relation to extra’s is often seen as a favour for imprisoned persons, and not a right, it shows how psychological power is exercised over prison foodways. Feelings of being disrespected, and other frustrations which might impact relationships between staff and imprisoned persons, consequently arise and threaten order in the institution.

2.2

Subcultures

Power relations related to subcultural behaviours and attitudes between imprisoned individuals are also identifiable facets of most prisons, and are visible during all kinds of food-related activities, especially distribution and eating. One example relates to food distribution. During the meal distribution, an officer is always present to guarantee that everyone receives an equal share of food. In reality, the situation is somewhat more contested. Even if staff followed certain rules, there were still several ways to circumvent staff’s control. One person explained how imprisoned persons manage to obtain more food: Interviewer:

And you receive sufficient food? Like fruit for example. Incarcerated respondent: It’s a prisoner who distributes the food so if you know him, you can ask an extra portion. Interviewer: Uhu so… but that’s then when there’re leftovers and they’re distributed or… Incarcerated respondent: Yes of course, when you know the right people. That’s how it works in prison. Interviewer: But does everyone get the chance…?

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Incarcerated respondent: No, some get too little, I see that it happens…When you [researchers] join them [he refers to the observations], everything will be done in the correct way. (Incarcerated respondent 8, 2013) Clearly, cleaners have some power over food rations and food variety and being friends with, or knowing them, can have explicit benefits. Other stories that told of the contamination of meals for people convicted of sex offences similarly illustrate this point. However, this also draws a new layer within the power hierarchies between imprisoned persons.

3

Experiences with Self-Catering

3.1

Self-Catering

You’re imprisoned and you can’t eat. That’s a catastrophe, Miss. We all gonna agree to make huge troubles about it. And what will that bring with it? Problems. (Imprisoned respondent 27, prison 5, 2014)

This person’s experience is an example of the feelings shared by a considerable number of the prison population who participated in the study in Tilburg. The first imprisoned persons from Belgium were transferred in 2010 under the umbrella of extensive media attention. One of the primary concerns of those people was the food service and headlines in newspapers stated that ‘Belgian prisoners do not like Dutch food’ (Het Laatste Nieuws, 2010). Earlier research affirmed that the change from meals prepared on the spot in Belgian prisons, to ready-made meals in the Netherlands, was perceived by many to be an unjust and illegitimate change (Vanhouche, 2015). It was claimed that persons were convicted in Belgium, and so consequently, should be treated according to Belgian standards. Clearly, foodways influence levels of legitimacy, in particular in this transnational prison. Moreover, inedible meals led to the perception that

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the institution did not regard imprisoned persons as human beings (Sparks et al., 1996). As the respondent above explains, whilst food was the starting point for conflict, when the food service was improved, points of conflict decreased and the quality of life for imprisoned persons increased. This was further evinced in 2013 by the partial change to a self-catering food system in Tilburg prison. When three units began the new system, the sense of injustice surrounding food servings largely disappeared. Feelings in relation to legitimacy, order and security were linked to several other aspects. The first was participation. The change to self-­ catering was perceived by the respondents as a more meaningful way to participate in the prison’s food policies. One person argued, for example, that: There were two, three [prisoners] in a room who said, ‘I want different food’. We wrote reports, to clarify and we said, ‘let’s see’. And then, two or three rooms started as well. This challenged [their food system]. (Imprisoned respondent 27, prison 5, 2014)

The perception incarcerated individuals have on their daily participation and autonomy is arguably of crucial importance to their prison experience. All too often, people experience little control over everyday matters, and the prison authorities make decisions over every aspect of their lives. But when imprisoned persons are able to participate in matters that affect them, it has a positive influence on their relationships with other people, and with officers and prison authorities. Consequently, this engenders more dynamic relations which are likely to contribute to the institution’s security (see also Brosens et al., 2016). A second element is how activities, developed in respect to dynamic security, create a more relaxed atmosphere in the institution. A respondent explained how he used to spend almost the whole day in his cell in Belgium. He believed the unsafe situation that this regime created was in sharp contrast to his experience in Tilburg prison: Interviewer:

You can cook here so you have knives and everything in the kitchen. Are there sometimes problems?

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Imprisoned respondent: No, to be honest we feel safe. Because for example like in Belgium… we are fed up, 23 hours we sit in the cell. Only one hour we can go to the ‘wandeling’ [courtyard] and with this kind of weather, now, it is impossible to go out for one hour. So, you just sit in the cell 24 hours. And little things can make big problems. And two people they just fight. And in Belgium…we have more problems there because we are fed up from sitting in the cell 24 hours. (Imprisoned respondent 24, prison 5, 2014) The importance of being able to spend time out of the cell was also stressed by another person. He was pleased to be able to spend time out of his cell, and he moreover perceived cooking as a temporary escape from his problems: Why I say that it is better here? Because I already have my problems […] I go to the recreation [where the kitchens are], I cook. You forget your problems a little bit because you do something. It’s different from when you’re constantly locked up. (Imprisoned respondent 27, prison 5, 2014)

To summarise, for a significant number of people, self-catering was a recognition of, and a solution to, complaints about the deep-frozen ready-made meals. The remedy enabled people to spend time out of their cell, which in turn reduced their solitary induced tensions. Just being able to leave the cel, was thus experienced as an important survival strategy to deal with the deprivations and boredom of imprisonment. Respondents also highlighted additional requirements that ensured tensions did not increase. The material conditions, especially when material had to be shared, appeared another crucial element in preventing disorder or security risks. In Tilburg prison, on the group units, people cooked their own meals on a daily basis, which was facilitated by each cell having a small kitchen with a coffee machine, fridge, microwave, freezer and a kitchen sink. Respondents explained that the presence of big refrigerators in the

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group cells was important in reducing quarrels. This contrasted with their experiences in Belgian prisons, where they often had to share a small fridge with several people, and where not everyone could keep his products fresh. A respondent explained: Interviewer:

Uhu so you stay on the group unit where you share a cell with six other persons. How do you manage to organise that? Imprisoned respondent: It’s simple here. Because in Belgium we also share a cell with three or four prisoners, and we have one television or one fridge. That always leads to problems, always fights. (Imprisoned respondent 13, prison 5, 2013) As a consequence, the material conditions played an important role in the positive experiences with the self-catering project. Each person also had a locker for personal possessions including canteen purchases. Amongst other things, they all owned personal cutlery that was checked each day by officers to ensure these had not been transformed into weapons. Nevertheless, while the available material could reduce tensions, it was sometimes considered a threat. Incidences had arisen where imprisoned persons had transformed their cutlery into weapons. Photo 8.1 shows knives sharpened, a fork transformed into a sticking weapon, and a spoon, which although appears to be normal, has in fact been sharpened at the back end. Moreover, some people fabricated cooking materials into dangerous items. This was striking in Tilburg prison because people had so much cooking material available, nevertheless this mainly occurred when people had just been transferred from Belgium and still had to get used to the Dutch regime and material facilities. Over time, people used the well-equipped kitchens on the units with few problems. Besides material factors, some foods and drinks were also considered a threat to order in the institution. Vivid stories about the distillation of alcohol are well-known examples of the practice. Several stories about this were told in all prisons that participated in this study, so not only in Tilburg prison. Stories like the following, told by an imprisoned person

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Photo 8.1  Confiscated cutlery and cooking materials, Tilburg prison, 2013

when discussing this book, illustrate the lengths imprisoned persons would go to: I didn’t do it myself, but alcohol distilling was also a trick. Some guys made a mixture with water, fruit and sugar in bottles. Through the fermentation process the bottle came under a high pressure so they had to vent it. However, once someone was caught with it and so the bottles were taken away and placed for safekeeping in the office of the head officer. There it went wrong … The bottles came under too much pressure, and they exploded.

So, whilst opportunities for self-catering permit a wider range of foodstuffs to be explored, they do not allow people to prepare whatever they wish. In these cases, creative solutions are often found. Self-catering was also reported to increase self-respect among imprisoned persons. As noted in the previous chapter, several respondents

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explained how self-catering was an indication that officers respected them as individuals, which restored a sense of self, identity and a certain degree of autonomy. In this way, there was a palpable sense that people achieved meaningful levels of freedom over what to eat and when to eat it. Since imprisoned persons were, to some degree, allowed to cook as they would at home, it created a particularly cosy atmosphere that contrasted with the harsh conditions commonly experienced in prisons. This was especially the case for foreign nationals, who are serving time in a country that they already considered far away from home; for them, the homemade food evoked memories of a distant life. Respondents also linked the advantages of a multicultural team of officers to this experience. Officers had different cultural backgrounds, and some respondents claimed that this resulted in officers who had a better understanding of, and respect for, the variety of cultural habits and values amongst the prison population. Imprisoned persons believed this was because officers with foreign roots would have explained to their colleagues the importance of some cultural practices which fostered imprisoned persons’ participation. Consequently, even foreign national imprisoned persons, a group that is often excluded, reported that the efforts that were made in relation to food ensured they felt, at least at that point, respected. Self-catering also resulted in the fact that meals and cooking activities were perfect occasions to discuss and show interest in a fellow person’s culture. Imprisoned respondents and officers both commented on how self-catering sometimes broke down cultural barriers that can be extraordinarily rigid in prison. Nevertheless, breaking barriers might be limited to people cooking together in the same kitchen, without fighting, which according to staff, was a significant achievement in itself for some rival groups. This neatly intersects with the next element in the achievement of dynamic security respondents alluded to: relationships between imprisoned individuals. Most of those on the so-called group units, cooked in groups with their cell mates. They planned together what they would cook, and on which day they would eat it. Each person was responsible for ordering specific ingredients from the canteen list. This type of co-­ operation lowered costs and enabled the financially disadvantaged to participate. Incarcerated participants of the project were in charge of the

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cooking activity and created their own informal rules in the unit’s kitchen. They usually agreed that the cleaners of the unit, whose cell door was open during the whole day, cooked when others were either locked in their cell, or not allowed to go to the kitchen and thus not able to use the unit’s kitchens. Since participants could spend only a small amount of time in the kitchen, they had to be well prepared. Part of the preparation was therefore performed in cell kitchens, where vegetables, meat, or fruit were cut, and sometimes partly cooked, in the microwave. Clearly a good collaboration and planning were key. When this work was done, one person usually prepared the meal in the communal kitchen on the unit. The person who was chosen for this usually loved cooking and generally felt appreciated. A respondent who cooked for others said: What I do… it’s a pleasure when someone asks you to cook for them because they trust you… from all of the prisoners, they choose you. (Imprisoned respondent 12, prison 5, 2013)

This sense of pride was also noticed during the participant observations, where the chefs would proudly offer samples or full plates of their meals, and were keen to provide information and write down and share recipes. Generally speaking, each person in the cell had a specific duty and those who cooked did not have to perform other tasks. However, there were also situations in which tasks were not well divided and people were put under pressure to perform for others. At first glance, this system, might appear to be not that different to the one it replaced, where imprisoned persons also cooked their own meals. However, the fact that the official prison system now financially supported the incarcerated population, was perceived a significant and meaningful change in the minds of imprisoned persons and staff, which was reflected in daily prison life. The greater financial equity that was created had the effect of blurring prior food inequalities, as well as enabling those with limited means to participate. General inequities in the previous system were also reduced as sources of tension. Some respondents, for example, reported that they could on occasions feel coerced into paying for other people’s food, while others felt morally obliged to share their financial resources. One respondent who used to support others explained:

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Imprisoned respondent: Euhm … what was annoying, before we received this 12.50 EURO, there were some prisoners with whom I shared a cell, they just arrived and did not have money on their account. And I was there for a longer time, so I had to financially support them. […] So, these first months, I had to buy my own food and that of others […] I did it voluntary because I cannot sit there and eat my meal in front of them. Interviewer: But now this problem is solved? Imprisoned respondent: Yes, when someone is new, they receive 12.50 EURO on their account. […] Before [when he still had to support fellow cellmates], I spend between 400 and 450 € every month. (Imprisoned respondent 28, prison 5, 2014) Consequently, and for various reasons, the prison’s financial support made people more independent from each other. However, this did not mean that there were no longer any tensions or problems. This is consistent with a remark made by Earle and Philips (2012): Prisoner’s ‘boats’ could contain and mobilize coercive hierarchies and transactions; the distribution of labour, skills and resources in a ‘boat’ could be complex. Meals might be ferried from kitchen to cell, or shared around a table. It would be naïve to conclude these were exclusively benign collective practices; just because we identified only vague, infrequent hints of subordinating behaviour does not mean this did not occur or was uncommon. (Earle & Philips, 2012, p. 147)

Also in Tilburg prison, the budget that people received was fairly limited and not free from criticism. Consequently, there were still financial differences or examples of exploitation, but the stories that were told during the study suggested these negative aspects were less omnipresent than before. This might have reflected efforts to avoid any upset that could

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give the authorities justifiable reasons to threaten the continuance of the self-catering system. Moreover, there were always two staff members during the cooking, and cameras monitored the kitchens. Staff also explained how they used the cooking to stay informed about group dynamics that took place behind the cell doors. When a detainee, who used to be part of a food group, suddenly cooked and ate on his own, staff would intervene and check what was going on. Imprisoned persons were also aware of the instrumental use of this activity, and if they wished to hide group problems from staff, it was better not to expose them during the cooking. One incarcerated person explicitly said during the observations that problems were therefore dealt with behind the cell doors. The fact that officers were always present during cooking, also enabled them to get an insight into what was going on between sections of the prison population, and to intervene appropriately and in good time. Some respondents explained how this resulted in fewer incidents and an increase in feelings of safety. A research participant explained how the system worked: Interviewer:

So, and that means they know more about prisoners? Imprisoned respondent: Yes, they hear everything, they know what is going on. They [officers] stand next to you, play pool with you, they’re social. Okay, and you start joking with officers… so before there is a fire, it’s already extinguished. That’s good. I really feel safe here. I’m barely scared here, although I’m 44 years old. (Imprisoned respondent 29, prison 5, 2015) Further in the interview, this respondent repeated how his experience in other prisons was that younger imprisoned individuals who being generally stronger were able to easily attack the, what he considered, older ones. This was also related to the way that people invested in maintaining a semblance of peace in the prison kitchens to prevent major problems or

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fights. In this respect, some of the respondents regarded the self-catering system as part of a reward structure, and were concerned to ensure it wasn’t taken away. Therefore, peer pressure certainly exerted some influence, and rules were made in order to ensure that these perceived ‘favours’ were remedied. Nevertheless, a couple of months after the participant observations, one of the prison governors revealed that an incident had taken place in the kitchen and an incarcerated person had been violently injured. Consequently, some imprisoned persons also discussed their concerns with staff on tensions between them, and how they felt unsafe in the kitchen because of the utensils that were available. So while the self-catering project initiated a positive atmosphere, it was not a panacea for all problems. Nevertheless, after a while, and without introducing restrictions, peace returned, and the project developed smoothly again. This suggests that at times outbreaks are likely to occur which will lead to temporary feelings of insecurity, but it’s worth emphasising that in Tilburg prison, these episodes rarely occurred in the kitchen. As explained previously, during the observations, another respondent confirmed that violent incidents mainly happened behind closed doors, away from the gaze of officers. Consequently, imprisoned persons also discussed the limits of the Dutch system. Thanks to the staff’s knowledge and insights in group processes, people reported that incidents were reduced. However, officers could never break the inmate code, or totally grasp what was going on behind the cell doors. One respondent, for example, was surprised that everything in Tilburg prison is so controlled except during the night, when group cells, in particular, highlighted the importance of being housed with those they trusted. He tried to convince another person to come to his cell based on the following grounds: Interviewer:

Is there a lot going on behind the doors that is unknown of? Imprisoned respondent: Yes, yes of course, and in particular here. And that is weird because in Belgium, they check every hour [during the night] [later in the interviews he adds that they don’t check every hour but frequently], here between ten in the evening and six in the morning, you can party

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[because officers do not control] … or a young guy has sex with a knife on his throat. It happens and it is known that the doors stay closed during the night so they [officers] will only notice it the next day. If they ask him the next day to play table tennis, but he was raped, he won’t play while he played the whole week. He will be taken back, he has a bruise, so officers notice immediately that something went wrong. But they won’t do much. They’ll take him aside and talk to him in their office ‘ah what happened, you look so sad while yesterday you were laughing. What has happened? You can tell us.’ No, he doesn’t dare of course because he’ll meet them [the perpetrator(s)] again in prison. (Imprisoned person 29, prison 5, 2015) Some respondents testified that, in order to prevent suppression, bullying, or stealing, they still defended themselves from others violently. Some perceived this as an accepted reaction to the threat posed by others. In this study, the use of violence was mainly reported when people felt threatened by others, treated unfairly, as a reaction to feeling unsafe, or to seek order and recognition of their place in the prison hierarchy. In line with this reflection, studies prove that disruptions of order only exist when they are defined as such by staff or imprisoned persons (see e.g. Sparks et al., 1996). Bottoms (1999; while referring to Cohen, 1976), notes that in the prison’s social world, order might be perceived differently by imprisoned persons. While violence is often seen as disorder by outsiders, or prison administrations, according to imprisoned persons violence can positively influence the ordered relationships between imprisoned individuals and can create clarity with regard to positions in the prison hierarchy. This, in turn, leads to a predictable and stable social context. The empirical findings of this research support these reflections

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and is in line with earlier research on order in institutions (Minke, 2014; Nielsen, 2012). Therefore, there was also frustration about the fact that some imprisoned persons could not solve problems as they wished. While the presence of staff could reduce some problems, their attendance also annoyed some people, because it hampered the way in which they would usually solve problems with fellow imprisoned persons. A respondent said: You’ll never notice this in Belgium. When you’re out on the courtyard, no one will notice if you hit another prisoner. But here on the courtyard, if you talk to someone, they observe it. Big brother, big brother is watching you. (Imprisoned respondent 1, prison 5, 2015)

This respondent clarified that all pervasive social contact, and the lack of privacy, can be experienced as intrusive as cameras and other forms of non-human surveillance. Despite this, imprisoned persons in Tilburg actively searched for ways to cope with these relationships. Those who wished to keep a distance acted at times as if they could barely speak one of the languages spoken by the officers in order to keep a distance. Consequently, the language barrier was not always a disadvantage, as some used it in their favour. It did not, however, go unnoticed. One governor noticed how at times some people were suddenly able to understand or speak in these languages whilst in conversation with governors. Thus, the constant presence and interactions from staff in Tilburg prison resulted in the sense of intrusion that Crewe (2011a) defines as soft power. Soft power is less coercive and authoritarian than structured forms of power, because officers on the wings implement the rules, rather than create them. Consequently, the power that dominates people’s lives is discrete rather than overt, and consequently emphasises the responsibility of people to properly organise their own imprisonment. What is defined by properly is a heuristic process, whereby staff play a crucial psychological role of reporting and advising on a person’s categorisation or early release (Crewe, 2011b). Similar findings from Dirkzwager and Kruttschnitt (2012) and Beyens and Boone (2013), also stressed how imprisoned persons were also sceptical about certain practices. Whatever else may have arisen from the practice, Dutch officers framed their

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penchant for close interactions with imprisoned persons, within narratives that emphasised the development of security: they interacted with imprisoned persons to develop intelligence about what is going on. These two goals (security and welfare) created a tension for some imprisoned individuals. Some struggled to understand the Dutch system. On the one hand, officers treated them with respect, but on the other they could just as easily report on their behaviour. For some people, this was difficult to reconcile: they felt that hitherto friendly and well-­meaning officers would stab them in their back when reporting, punishing or searching them. As a consequence, some respondents preferred the approach that clarified where they stood (see also Crewe, 2011b). One respondent spelled out their thoughts as follows: I prefer the treatment of Belgian officers. Here, they think we are analphabets and they beat around the bush. It’s psychology… and they don’t tell you anything. I prefer that they tell me things straight in my face. I do that too, if I have an opinion about you, I’ll tell you straight away. (Imprisoned respondent 1, prison 5, 2015)

Not all imprisoned persons perceived Dutch staff as more decent and humane than Belgian officers, finding that their role appeared to be contradictory. Whilst in the morning respondents might find staff members searching their cells, yet by the afternoon they found themselves in receipt of a pastoral visit to share a cup of coffee. This dual role resulted in what some respondents perceived as an incompatibility, one which pivoted towards an instrumental relationship designed to keep staff informed about matters they could not easily observe. This found some people unable to trust staff, and were reluctant to talk about ‘prison matters’. Others took the view that trust was a reciprocal process: it had to be given in order to be returned. As one respondent explained, as long as this was the prevailing situation, relationships would remain characterised by distrust: I will not discuss my problems with officers. I can’t know if they’ll use it against me. He doesn’t trust me either hé. He doesn’t trust me, so why

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should I trust him? And as long as I don’t give them my trust, they can’t abuse it. (Imprisoned respondent 1, prison 5, 2015)

Some of these interactions were also discussed by officers. A notable example was staff participation in sport activities, or the sharing of meals with imprisoned individuals. Beyens and Boone (2013) strongly supported these kinds of interactions in Tilburg, because it encouraged dynamic security. However, sharing meals was certainly not always taken for granted and participation in sports was refused by some officers because special instructors were in charge of sports. Some of this was exploited by a reluctance to play, say football, for fear of being hit by imprisoned persons. With regard to meals, many officers refused to eat food prepared by imprisoned persons because it was formally forbidden to accept goods from them, for fear that they would be in debt and asked to return the favour. One example that occurred during the observations was an officer’s response to being offered food by an imprisoned person. She explicitly said she did not trust him, or the food he offered since she had no idea what he had put in it. Incarcerated persons were shocked by her reaction to his generosity and later reported that they hated this officer. In short, the notion that all staff members eagerly participated in sports, shared meals and coffee with imprisoned persons, comes with a heavy qualification. Although they did share coffee, it was more often the coffee they made in their office, not one offered by imprisoned persons. This type of nuance, which is unlikely to be overtly exhibited, or offered without a degree of trust, is very important to the imprisoned person’s experience and should not be overlooked. In this respect, staff struggled to find the right balance on a somewhat delicate scale between constructive and professional relationships with imprisoned persons, while not becoming too close. For imprisoned persons, the refusal to share food was a stark reminder of the limited levels of trust officers had in them. While official guidelines prohibited the sharing of meals, in the experience of imprisoned persons, it impacted on their feelings about relationships where trust was a pragmatic instrument used in the creation of order. So while close interactions with staff were not always appreciated, it might have prevented some imprisoned persons from being exploited by

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others during cooking and eating. Whilst respondents spoke about exploitation and oppression during the interviews, they did not link this to their food intake. This makes for an interesting comparison with Denmark where cleaners were openly paid by others for their kitchen work (Minke, 2014); a scenario that was unthinkable in Tilburg. Staff in Tilburg believed it was for prison authorities to organise payments for the work performed by cleaners, and not for imprisoned persons to regulate this between each other. In Tilburg prison, recreational activities were present, but were strictly organised with staff present during each activity (a bit more than one hour of cooking, one hour of gym, and one hour where incarcerated persons’ cell doors were open, and they could walk on the wing). This is one example that shows that it might have been harder for a strong subculture to be established, and an exchange economy to flourish in Tilburg prison kitchens. Nevertheless, it should be stressed that such hierarchies and forms of exchange were not fully absent.

4

Conclusion and Discussion

The question of why self-catering can be developed safely in some prison environments, while in others the mere presence of a metal knife is deemed a threat, is what underpinned the evidence, arguments and analysis throughout this chapter. The underlying theories of how order is obtained in penal institutions (see e.g. Sparks et al., 1996) help to explain how order is a consequence of the fine balance(s) between social and situational measures, and the evidence presented here does not depart far from that well-founded assertion. The wider literature on order in Belgian prisons, suggests that the preference of situational measures will threaten this balance at the expense of social measures such as dynamic security. However, when participants in this study were transferred to Tilburg prison, they reported that officers had a completely different approach: activities were present, relationships were more respectful and this helped to increase dynamic security (see also Beyens & Boone, 2013). Embedded within this regime, I was particular attentive to the self-­ catering project. It is strongly argued here that self-catering reflected constructive treatment of imprisoned persons, and in itself became a positive

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element across actors in prison life, leading to experiences characterised by autonomy, within a framework of mutual respect and legitimate treatment. In large measure, this was due to the fact that imprisoned persons felt that they had a say in the organisation of their imprisonment, and because they felt respected as human beings with distinct cultural needs and habits. Productive and meaningful relationships with staff were thus able to flourish, creating a relatively positive environment in which self-­ catering could prosper. For many respondents, these close contacts with staff made life in prison more bearable. They knew someone would help them with (practical) problems. They also had the feeling that they were respected for who they were, and not judged solely for what they had done: they had a personality that was more than their crime. According to the participants, a laid-back regime was fostered, with fewer incidents and less stress. Moreover, close contact with staff and informal conversations gave staff an insight into group processes and tensions. This enabled them to intervene before potential problems materialised or escalated. However, some respondents raised criticism with the lack of privacy the intimate relationships officers wanted to build would entail. They preferred to keep a distance, to guard against what they felt as an intrusive form of soft power. Moreover, while respondents felt that Dutch officers were more aware of what was going on in the institution and the prison’s kitchens, they also noted that there was still a lot going on behind the cell doors. In exceptional situations, this was also made visible during activities, which explained how the abovementioned incident in the prison kitchen could have occurred. Consequently, close relationships have positive effects on the one hand, because they can reduce tensions, yet on the other, these forms of soft power can be experienced as intrusive and stressful. It is clear that studies on order impose a great deal of caution against employing strategies of dynamic security without appropriate static security measures. This study shows categorically that the measures of dynamic security embedded within self-catering, helped to create the context in which such projects could be developed in a secure way. Cameras were present in prison kitchens, officers followed training courses designed to react appropriately and safely to attacks with knives and cutlery was counted on a daily basis. It was the balance of static and dynamic control measures that shaped a prison environment

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that was experienced as relatively safe, and enabled people to cook for themselves. However, the reactions and reflections of imprisoned respondents on soft power, degrees of trust and instrumental use of relationships also highlight that the characteristics of institutional environments with the central elements of power dynamics also hamper normalisation.

Bibliography Belgium Preparation of Prison Act 2005: DOC 50 1076/001, 200-2001. Online. https:// www.dekamer.be/FLWB/PDF/50/1076/50K1076001.pdf

The Netherlands Wet van 18 juni 1998 tot vaststelling van een Penitentiaire beginselenwet (transl. Dutch Prison Act, published 18 juni 1998)

Literature Bennett, J. (2007). Measuring Order and Control in HM Prison Service. In Y. Jewkes (Ed.), Handbook on Prisons. Willan Publishing. Beyens, K., & Boone, M. (2013). Zeg Maar Henk tegen de ‘chef ’. Boom-Lemma. Bottoms, A. (1999). Interpersonal Violence and Social Order in Prisons. Crime and Justice, 26, 205–281. Bottoms, A., Hay, W., & Sparks, R. (1990). Situational and Social Approaches to the Prevention of Disorder in Long-Term Prisons. The Prison Journal, 70, 83–95. Brosens, D., De Donder, L., Mievis, J., Salhi, F., & Van Roy, L. (2016). Inspraak en participatie van gedetineerden in de gevangenis van Gent. Vrije Universiteit Brussel.

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Crewe, B. (2011a). Soft Power in Prison: Implications for Staff-Prisoner Relationships, Liberty and Legitimacy. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), 455–468. Crewe, B. (2011b). Depth, Weight, Tightness: Revisiting the Pains of Imprisonment. Punishment & Society, 13(5), 509–529. Devresse, M.-S., Robert, L., & Vanneste, C. (2011). Onderzoek inzake de classificatie van en de vraag naar regimes binnen de strafinrichtingen. NICC Collectie van onderzoeksrapporten en onderzoeksnota’s nr. 26. Dirkzwager, A., & Kruttschnitt, C. (2012). Prisoners’ Perceptions of Correctional Officers’ Behavior in English and Dutch Prisons. Journal of Criminal Justice, 40, 404–412. Dunbar, I. (1985). A Sense of Direction. Home Office. Godderis, R. (2006b). Food for Thought. An analysis of Power and Identity in Prison Food Narratives. Berkley Journal of Sociology, 50, 61–75. Het Laatste Nieuws. (2010). Belgische gevangenen lusten Hollandse kost niet (newspaper article) Online. https://www.hln.be/gevangenissen/belgische­gevangenen-­lusten-­hollandse-­kost-­niet~ab38a3d2/ Kennes, P. (2009). Bewaarders van de orde? Een onderzoek naar de ordehandhaving in de gevangenis (Unpublished master’s thesis). Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Brussels. Liebling, A. (2004). Prisons and their Moral Performance: A Study of Values, Quality and Prison Life. Oxford University Press. Minke, L. (2014). Cooking in Prison-from Crook to Cook. International Journal of Prisoner Health, 10(4), 228–238. Molleman, T., & Van den Hurk, A. (2012). Een kwestie van evenwichtskunst: Over doelen en taken van het gevangeniswezen. Delikt & Delinkwent, 42(7), 576–590. Nielsen, M. (2012). To Be and Not to Be: Adaptation, Ambivalence and Ambiguity in a Danish Prison. Advances in Applied Sociology, 2, 135–142. Philips, C. (2012). The Multicultural prison. Ethnicity, Masculinity, and Social Relations among Prisoners. Clarendon Studies in Criminology. Prison Reform Trust. (1991). The Woolf Report. A Summary of the Main Findings and Recommendations of the Inquiry into Prison Disturbances. Prison Reform Trust. Snacken, S. (2005). Forms of Violence and Prison Regimes. Report on a Research in Belgian Prisons. In A. Liebling & S. Maruna (Eds.), The Effects of Imprisonment (pp. 209–231). Willan Publishing.

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Sparks, R., & Bottoms, A. (1995). Legitimacy and Order in Prisons. The British Journal of Sociology, 46, 45–62. Sparks, R., Bottoms, A., & Hay, W. (1996). Prisons and the Problem of Order. Clarendon Press. Tournel, H., & Kennes, P. (2011). De dilemma’s van dynamische veiligheid voor bewaarders. Panopticon, 3, 21–36. Vanhouche, A.-S. (2015). Acceptance or Refusal of Convenience Food in Present-day Prison. Appetite, 94, 47–53.

9 Conclusion and Discussion

The literature on prison foodways has primarily been attentive to Anglo-­ Saxon countries (mainly the UK and the USA) and Nordic countries (Denmark, Sweden and Norway). The net consequence of this has been the dominance of a highly particularistic knowledge base, which to some extent, has conditioned the intellectual trajectories that have been explored. This book presents a different analytical context to complement the extant scholarship. In so doing, it confronts head on the question of whether extant knowledge can be regarded as in any sense generalisable across national, systemic and cultural borders. In this specific respect, the book shows how imprisoned persons’ food experiences in Belgium have differed in several ways from the conclusions hitherto drawn. In so far as arguments for generalisability can be sustained, I argue that they can only do so by overlooking the significant nuance that culturally particular and systemic factors impose on understandings of prison foodways. A simple comparative example provides a case in point. On the one hand, scholarship from Denmark shows how the leading principle of normalisation is reflected in its prison foodways’ practice through the self-catering system. On the other hand, in the Anglo-Saxon world, prison foodways often reflected the rhetoric of penal punitiveness. However, as shown in the consideration of their respective © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1_9

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literature, this is an oversimplification of complex realities that overlook some of the differences between countries and prisons within those specific countries. The provision of pre-prepared meals for people in pre-trial detention in Denmark shows how prison foodways can be experienced as part of the punishment even in a Nordic context—a conclusion at odds with most understandings of Nordic penal systems. The findings from this study add additional layers to the understanding of prison foodways and imprisonment. It starkly illustrates how Belgian laws, despite being framed in the context of some principles central to Nordic countries, still led to imprisoned persons experiencing foodways as though they were an integral part of their punishment—like Anglo-Saxon countries. The structure of the book, that is to say, moving from the general scholarship, specific penological histories and the internal and external legislative environment, to the specific findings and the methodologies employed, serves to draw out the tensions between goals stated in policy discussions and legislation, and the daily living reality of imprisoned persons. Prison foodways is the overarching lens that is used to unpick the lived spaces and experiences that exist between prison law, penal policies and prison experiences. The rich descriptions of how Belgium’s penal policies and laws have evolved, under the influence of, amongst other things, domestic political actors and institutions, European institutions such as the European Court of Human Rights and CPT, have woven a complex tapestry of judicial and other frameworks. Within this, a pattern of central principles become apparent such as basic human rights, human dignity, a reduction of detention harm, normalisation of the detention regime, reintegration and restoration and significantly, the right to decent food. Analysing parliamentary debates shows how food maintains a strong symbolic value. This contextualised, in particular, the trajectory of debates in relation to the implementation of the central principles of prison law, notably the treatment of incarcerated persons and the way they are represented in political narratives. In the latter respect, it is clear that the minimal requirements of prison conditions are considered important, yet parliamentary discussions revealed just how many politicians believed that prison conditions should not be too luxurious. Thus populist views easily emerge and take root ensuring that legal goals often conflict with

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institutional goals, evinced by tacit admissions of ongoing funding shortages. Consequently, local actors willing to implement legislation, are confronted with contexts which make it largely impossible: prison overcrowding; old buildings not fit for purpose; and staff shortages. This results in an official catering system experienced by imprisoned persons, which is far removed from anything they would consider as approaching normalisation. Several examples of prison regimes throughout the book have shown how far they differ from depictions of official prison catering systems, and strongly militate against autonomy or identity construction. Nevertheless, even in these harsh conditions, prison food narratives of imprisoned persons reveal the coping strategies and the creative solutions employed to introduce a sense of humanity through food practices. The self-made cooking materials, cell-made dishes prepared with love and care, served as an illustration of how a sense of self, feelings of self-worth, and a spirit of pride and joy were maintained within brutal prison walls. The study of Tilburg penitentiary provides highly significant cross-­ cultural findings. Here, Belgian prison law took precedence but was enforced in a Dutch context, one that was not held hostage by the contextual limitations in many Belgian prisons. The Tilburg penitentiary did not have to cope with overcrowding, had material conditions of good quality, and was managed by prison staff focusing on static and dynamic security. Based on the experiences shared by respondents, this enabled the implementation of a prison food system based on a self-catering project, which improved their quality of life. They experienced being treated as human beings and a tangible belief that the regime was normalised, giving them increased feelings of autonomy, enabling the construction of a sense of self, identity and safety. These experiences cannot, however, be understood as distinct from the role food plays in wider society. Foodways in Belgium, especially in comparison to the Netherlands, were characterized as more bourgondic whilst the Dutch food standards with their processed deep-frozen ready-made meals were ridiculed, laughed at and at times considered as inhumane. The increased pressure to bring the system more in line with a culture where the pleasure of eating is a central element of the day, lay behind the eventual adoption of the self-catering project. In many ways, a prison

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context magnifies deprivations, making the pains associated with them more sharply felt. Thus, the importance of a tasteful meal adds meaningful flavour, in more ways than one, to a generally drab prison existence; especially when one is used to eating food that coats all the taste buds. However, while experiences with prison foodways improved in the self-catering project, it did not remove all the deprivations and denigrating institutional prison practices. To be sure, the study shows how the prison regime, and the attitudes of prison officers, made the experience in Tilburg penitentiary considerably more survivable than the situations in other institutions. Unpicking the realities of prison foodways in a range of contexts draws attention to the inescapable fact that all forms of imprisonment intrinsically harms and attacks human dignity. The stories of prison foodways in Tilburg prison provides clear examples of how self-­ catering still imposes certain restrictions to what can be ordered and when food can be cooked. Moreover, in absenting family and loved ones from the table, imprisoned persons are deprived of some basic responsibilities and relationships which undermines their identity. For all the manifest improvements over other forms of food regime, self-catering projects are still a striking reminder of how humanity is always under pressure in institutional settings; harmful practices remain present even when imprisoned persons, as well as prison workers, are strongly invested in the improvement of the regime. Put simply, a prison is a prison and remains a prison; it is therefore intrinsically harmful. Improving food systems, often discussed by respondents across prisons, might have a positive influence on one’s quality of life, but it can still be experienced as tinkering around the margins. This book also highlights how a person’s basic needs are least affected in a penitentiary. In this sense, my findings on prison food also caused me to reflect on broader dilemmas related to imprisonment and what, as a society, we aim to achieve with it, and if we regard it as a supportable option, what levels of normalisation and reintegration are feasible. Maybe we ought to ask ourselves if the goals of normalisation and reintegration are little more than an illusion, stories we tell ourselves to legitimate a system that is of itself intrinsically dehumanising? How can this harmful context replace complex and extremely harmful practices, when it is considered an organisational feat simply to introduce ‘normal’ foodways? In this sense, the book

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serves, in my opinion, as a stimulus to sustain arguments which consider imprisonment a last resort; to strive for reductionist policies and ensure that imprisonment, even with improved regimes, is still approached critically. Following the tradition of questioning the efficacy of imprisonment, a Belgian movement called ‘The Houses’ has challenged the notion of incarceration for most people and advocates the use of small houses embedded in the community instead. This idea grew from the experiences of a prison governor, Hans Claus who has spent 30 years in the service of the prison system. His familiarity with the inability of the prison system to meet its own goals, encouraged him to search for alternatives such as houses, and for the abolition of a system that degrades and dehumanises those in its jurisdiction. He eloquently explained his search for a human connection in his daily practices: As I go outside the prison, I pass the new limited detention unit, I pass the former official governor’s residence. Someone has been sick for the second week and the administration thinks there is something wrong. I open the kitchen door and I find the man cooking, dressed in a suit, on slippers, at home. He’s cooking mussels. He gives me glance ‘I fell down some stairs at work’, he says. ‘The doctor says I have to rest’. He can hardly move his head. ‘Has an X-ray been taken yet?’, ‘The doctor says it is not necessary’. A delicious mussel aroma was noticeable. It pleases me to see someone who is serving his sentence without loss of dignity. No 20 cm of steel, no chief [prison officer] pressing buttons to gain access. An ordinary kitchen door, a set table, a different person. It may still be all too little, but we cannot do with anything less without a paradigm shift. A house is only a reflection of this, but it is the image that counts, why not a house instead of a prison; why not a person instead of a prisoner. Isn’t a normal environment necessary to really meet people? To meet honestly. Doesn’t the normalisation of prison life begin with a normal home environment? A man with a pot of mussels. (Speech of prison governor Hans Claus on the Emeritus Ceremony of Sonja Snacken, 17 September 2021).

I wish to conclude with these wonderful words of Hans Claus, reflecting how prison foodways embody much of how imprisonment breaks a person and goes to the heart of daily deprivations in prison. It shows the

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daily human struggles for connections, bounding, kindness and (self ) respect. Prison food practices highlight how people are mortified, infantilised and reduced to an object of risk, but they also show the strength of people to resist and persist and to seek a taste of freedom in detention.



Appendix: Methods

Humans collect information best, and most easily, through the direct employment of their senses: talking to people, observing their activities, reading their documents, assessing the unobtrusive signs they leave behind, responding to their non-verbal cues, and the like. (Guba & Lincoln, 1989, p. 176)

For Guba and Lincoln (1989), the presence of the researcher in the environment that is studied, allows for a more in-depth understanding of situations. The above quote refers to talking, observing, and non-verbal cues; in this study, sharing meals, smelling and tasting food together have been added to their list of research activities. To show how the data have been gathered and the results reached, this chapter discusses the research methodologies used to explore the symbolic roles of prison foodways in Belgium. In answering these questions, a qualitative approach was used, employing the techniques of interview, participant observation and document analysis. In total, 19 interviews with prison workers and 48 interviews with incarcerated persons were conducted. The participant observations were undertaken for a total period of six months, staggered over a longer timescale. The data presented here were gathered in two phases. During © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 A.-S. Vanhouche, Prison Food, Palgrave Studies in Prisons and Penology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-96125-1

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the first phase, general information was gathered and analysed. In the second phase, an in-depth study took place in one particular prison for a longer period of time.

The Research Phases The First Research Phase In providing an answer to the first research question—how are correctional food systems organised in Belgian prisons?—five Belgian prisons were visited where participant observations were conducted for a couple of days in the prison kitchens and during the distribution of meals. Incarcerated persons and staff were interviewed, documents concerning the prison’s food purchases, canteen lists and reports from the Belgian Federal Agency for the Safety of the Food Chain (FASFC) were analysed.

Sampling Strategy Your sampling strategy should be something that evolves over time that emerges through a mutual relationship with desk, field and analytic work. (Rapley, 2013, p. 62)

The sampling strategy in this study changed over time because the data were gathered and analysed in different phases. In the first phase, it was important to develop an insight into how prison food systems are organised. Therefore, the cases were chosen on the basis of characteristics that could provide meaningful information for the purposes of the initial research question. A maximum variation sample was chosen, which provides the broadest scope of information (Guba & Lincoln, 1989), however, practical concerns and authorisation also influenced the choices. The prisons included for this study had different sizes, overcrowding rates, mixed populations (remand and sentenced, housed men, women, and people with a mental illness) and were geographically different (three prisons in Flanders, one Wallonia and one ‘Belgian’ prison in the

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Netherlands). Moreover, incarcerated persons with different eating habits, religions, health conditions and work tasks (in particular kitchen work) were also included. The staff respondents included prison officers, nurses, governors, sport instructors, social services personnel and a religious counsellor. These choices were informed by earlier research that acknowledged these actors as providers of meaningful information concerning food in correctional settings. The focus on this particular group of imprisoned persons was made clear to authorities. Officers often provided access to them.

Overview of the Prisons Prison 1 The first prison, located in Wallonia, is considered a smaller prison by Belgian standards, and was visited in October and November 2013. This prison is officially a remand prison, however, at the time of the study, the population was a mixture of male residents on remand or convicted. Officially there was space for 63 people, but due to overcrowding, the population had expanded to 90 (which meant two persons had to share a cell). The prison was built according to a star-form, reflecting the nineteenth-­century vision of Édouard Ducpétiaux, where each wing consisted of cells built to house only one person. This prison had a ‘progressive’ system, meaning that if people behaved properly, they could be moved to a better regime with an open-door policy and cooking facilities. The following areas of the prison were visited: the prison kitchen; the vegetable garden; the gym; the workshop; the wings and the cells; isolation cells; the courtyard and the visiting room. Four days of participant observations were conducted, and seven interviews with three staff members (the principal cook, one officer and one accountant), and four incarcerated persons (one who worked in the kitchen, one who worked on the wing as a cleaner, one who had to share his cell with another person and one person who received a medical diet).

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Prison 2 The second prison, situated in Flanders, was visited in October 2013. At the time of the study, approximately 423 people were housed in this institution which was designed to accommodate only 311. These included men and women, people with a mental illness, and both accused and convicted persons. Men and women occupied different wings, but could, at times, participate in communal activities. The institution had a separate wing for people with ‘internee’ status (people with a mental illness) but some were housed on the regular wings. There were also some cells for people who work outside the institution but sleep inside the prison (limited detention). This prison was recently renovated, so while the architecture was still based on Ducpétiaux’s prison philosophies, modern and additional communal spaces had been created. In this prison, the central prison kitchen, food distribution on the wings (where men and women were housed) and the communal breakfast for people with an internee status were visited. Additionally, also the prison canteen, where all the products are stored, was visited. In this prison, the study was conducted with a student dietician (see Versele, 2014). We carried out four days of participant observation and had informal conversations with several incarcerated persons and staff members (an accountant, a governor, a prisoner chef, officers who work in the kitchen, the sport instructor and medical staff). Additionally, five recorded interviews were conducted with incarcerated men. The participants were partly chosen by us, while recommendations were made by officers as well as other incarcerated persons. We interviewed one incarcerated chef, one imprisoned person who had been on a hunger strike, two people who received a medical diet and one person who received the ‘no-pork’ diet. Prison 3 A third Flemish prison was visited in October and November 2013. At the time of the research, the prison had an official capacity of 608 people, but was occupied by approximately 800. The prison housed a varied population: male and female incarcerated persons, including imprisoned mothers with children up to three years, people with an internee status and accused and sentenced persons. In addition to this there was a high security unit, a medical centre, a wing for people who work outside the

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institution (limited detention) and a drug free unit. The latter houses people with an addiction who want to rehabilitate. This separated wing is subject to increased control and consequently strives to prevent the illegal trade of drugs reaching this part of the prison. At the time of the study, people on the unit voluntary agreed to checks on their urine samples to ensure no drugs were consumed by people housed on the wing. In Belgium, imprisoned persons are not obliged to provide urine samples, so those in a drug free unit voluntary agree to this. There is also an officers’ educational centre for which the prison’s kitchen caters. The most important places that were visited were related to the prison kitchen and the food distribution on the wings. Moreover, I spent an afternoon on the drug free unit and on the unit where mothers are allowed to stay with their babies. I also participated in a cooking activity with women with an internee status. Finally, the prison canteen was also visited. At the time of the visit, there was also a high security wing, which is currently closed due to increased criticism from control bodies, but I was prohibited from visiting it. In this prison, six days of participant observations were conducted. For safety reasons, I was not permitted to speak to incarcerated respondents in private. I interviewed only one imprisoned respondent with the tape recorder. During this interview, I noticed it was at times somewhat awkward for the interviewee to answer questions in the presence of a staff member. Therefore, the decision was made to focus on informal conversations with incarcerated persons which could take place without an officer being present (however, there was always an officer present on the wing or in the kitchen). The recorded interviews in this prison consisted of one interview with a male incarcerated chef and four recorded interviews with staff members. One interview was conducted with the accountant, one with a sport instructor, one with the head of the nursing staff of the medical centre and one with a nurse who worked with imprisoned persons serving long sentences. Prison 4 This prison was visited in November 2013 and is located in Flanders. At that time, the prison housed remand, convicted, male and female

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incarcerated persons and people with a mental illness. Moreover, there was a separated part for people who worked outside the institution but slept in the prison (limited detention). This prison was also built according to a star form model and is located in one of Flanders’ biggest cities. At the time of the research the prison population consisted of 723 people in an institution that was designed to hold 439. Suffice to say, the institution was vastly overcrowded which made it challenging to organise my visit. I agreed with the authorities to limit my research to two long days (interviews included), and the prison would provide extra staff to ensure I could finish the work. Observations were made of the prison kitchen and the distribution of the meals on the wings. Four recorded interviews were conducted with incarcerated persons: one woman, one man with a mental illness, one male cleaner and one male imprisoned person who worked in the place where personal possessions are stored, and where civil clothes were exchanged for the penal uniform. This place is called ‘the bath’ (het bad). During the interview with the cleaner and the person with a mental illness, a staff member was present. Four staff members were interviewed: one member of the care team (zorgteam) for persons with a disability, one member of the care team for people with a mental illness, one nurse and one accountant.

Prison 5: Tilburg, the Belgian Prison in the Netherlands This ‘Belgian’ prison that was leased from, and located in, the Netherlands was visited in July and August 2013. This penitentiary did not face overcrowding, and housed approximately 650 convicted men serving their sentences. It consisted of different units with, according to Belgian standards, a small courtyard. Some units consisted of group cells which could house up to eight people; others were solo or duo cells. Important places that were visited included, the units, the communal kitchens for informal cooking, the central kitchen where pre-prepared frozen meals were stored, the sports areas and the cells. Before this study on prison foodways, I was a member of another research team that conducted a three-month study in this penitentiary

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(Beyens & Boone, 2013). Therefore, several imprisoned persons and prison staff already knew me and I was familiar with the functioning of the institution. In the first phase of this research, seven days of participant observations were conducted. Six incarcerated persons were interviewed as well as eight staff members: a governor; an accountant; a nurse; an imam; an employee of the private caterer; one officer (penitentiary worker (PIW)) and two heads of prison units (afdelingshoofden). One of the imprisoned persons stayed on a unit where he had a cell for his own, the other five stayed on a unit where dorms were shared with six to eight other persons. The prison also provided reports of the prisoner-governor meetings where food-related problems were often discussed. This offered additional information on people’s food experiences.

The Second Research Phase While the interviews conducted in the first phase already highlighted interesting findings for the second research questions; the second phase allowed further elaboration on the following research questions: what is the role of food in a prison context? How do different foodways influence imprisoned persons’ experiences? How are foodways linked to the institutional and staff approaches towards incarcerated persons? To approach these questions, an in-depth study inside Tilburg prison was undertaken. After the first phase of research was completed, the prison introduced a self-catering project on the units with the group cells. It was a perfect opportunity to observe how it was organised and experienced. Moreover, having already garnered significant insights from interviews during the first research phase, it was possible to use the initial findings to inform aspects of the second phase. In the second research phase, a theoretical sample method was used by introducing the earlier results and conceptual ideas to choose respondents. This sampling method further developed the existing codes (Rapley, 2013). Since people in Tilburg prison had experiences with the Belgian system, the Dutch food system, and since 2013, self-catering, they were ideally placed to comment on their food experiences, and whether their food narratives changed over time. The focus was thus on

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those people who stayed in the group units where self-catering was introduced. Moreover, it was ensured that there were people with a variety of (self-defined) cultural backgrounds in the sample. Importantly, Tilburg prison only housed convicted men, therefore the focus of the study shifted in the second phase to this particular group. The self-catering project was only introduced to the ‘group units’. Here, all people occupied cells with a maximum capacity of six to eight persons. At the time of the study, these units had some particularities which are important to note so that incarcerated persons’ food narratives can be understood. The units were known to accommodate mainly young adult men without Belgian nationality. The officers on these units also noticed that the ‘group’ was a central element in this place, in the sense that the place was very vivid, and that people were constantly together. Additionally, the atmosphere in the ‘group cells’ changed over time. In particular, when the prison functioned at its full capacity (during the first research phase), the place was very vivid, crowded, with officers having few opportunities to move people to other cells when problems occurred. When the self-catering project was introduced, the population slowly started to decrease, and by 2015 some group cells with eight beds only housed four persons. The additional space was experienced as a pleasure and it was easier to place people in a group cell of their choice. It should be noted that the data on self-catering was gathered during this last period when respondents characterised the situation as ‘more relaxed’. In December 2014, the second phase was initiated, and 14 incarcerated persons were interviewed. All those who participated in the second phase had experience with three different official correctional food systems (i.e. hot meals prepared in a central Belgian prison kitchen, deep frozen ready-made meals and self-catering). The respondents who participated spoke French, English or Dutch. Two of them did not give authorisation to record the interview so notes were taken instead. To deepen the conversations we had during the observations, seven additional interviews were conducted with imprisoned persons in July 2015. On the request of one respondent, the interview was not recorded. He told me during the interview that he would have never discussed certain topics (concerning illegal activities) when the recorder was on. The other interviews were recorded, and interviews were transcribed.

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Of the 21 persons that were interviewed during this second research phase, 13 did not have the right to stay in Belgium and would probably be expelled when their sentence was spent, one person had an unclear legal status, seven people had the legal right to stay in Belgium and four had Belgian nationality. Nineteen of the respondents stayed on the three group units where the self-catering project was introduced. Two who had previously stayed on the group unit, but had been removed to a unit for vulnerable prisoners where individual cells were included. In total, I conducted three months of observations during the second phase. In January, February, and July 2015, participant observations were conducted in the group units. Two to three days a week were spent in the prison. A badge and an alarm gave me access to the prison for the whole day, meaning I could organise my days with the officers and incarcerated respondents. The governor agreed that a schedule of planned visits would be sent to her at the beginning of each week. The observations in the second phase began on the prison wings, and during all the activities that were offered (descriptive and focused observations (Flick, 2009)). The recreational activity was the most important since men could cook, play table tennis or pool, make phone calls or watch television. This left more than sufficient room for informal conversations. At times, officers would be joined during their tasks, such as their meetings, physical training or to be helped with the preparation of canteen lists. Moreover, several conversations were arranged with staff members who could provide useful information: a nurse, a member of the psychosocial service, the imam, the officer who started the self-catering project, the person in charge of fire safety in the institution (especially in relation to kitchens and cooking material) and the manager of the private catering company. After getting an overview and a better understanding of these activities and their place in the life of the prison, visits began from the afternoon until the evening—leaving no later than 21:00 when the men were locked up in their cells. The afternoon and evening were the time when most men cooked or ate. During these participant observations, it was possible to cook and eat in the company of incarcerated persons or staff, taste the self-made meals in the kitchen, on occasion in their cells, and at times eating in the staff office (e.g. during breaks or when all the men were

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locked up). It was also permitted to join them during table tennis games that were usually played while their food was cooking or baking in the oven which also led to participation in for example the self-organised tournaments.

The Research Methods The value of ethnographic techniques (participant observation, interview, photographs) in unearthing evidence from everyday situations is well documented; no generic rehearsal of either principles or their operationalisation is necessary. Suffice to say, an account of the methodological particularities and difficulties that were germane to the specific research in this book, is most definitely of value.

Interviews During the first phase of the research, interviews with staff focused on eliciting what experts can usefully provide. To do this room was made to include additional personal information and insight about their experiences and visions—if they deemed this to be important. During interviews with incarcerated persons, the opposite occurred. They often had more time than prison workers and the scope of the conversations broadened with the introduction of other information. They were encouraged to include information that might be considered unimportant at first sight, and this proved to be significant contextual and personal information in their food narrative. This was also pertinent in how I orientated the next research phase. One revealing example included a person’s life story and how he ended up in prison. He spoke extensively about his childhood memories, in particular holidays he had spent in Italy with his family. He explained how they would catch their fish in the sea and eat fresh fish every day. Having deliberately encouraged discussion of all kinds of topics the person considered important, his childhood (food) memories in Italy were pertinently contrasted with his thoughts about prison food. While not directly answering one of the questions, he

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nonetheless provided meaningful information on the correctional food system. Flexibility in the approach, and the allowance of space for conversations to bloom, elicited childhood memories that stirred deep emotions. In the second research phase, a topic list was used during the interviews. The interviews explored experiences around diverse topics such as: self-catering, group formation (inclusion, exclusion and hierarchy), normalisation, reintegration, responsibility and identity formation. The words used during the interviews were gleaned from conversations with respondents, and the discussions were framed around language and terminology that made sense to them. I did not, for example, ask them about the normalisation principle. Instead, I enquired if they thought the prison foodways would be considered normal on the outside. Respondents had the freedom to talk about topics of their choice, and many shared information that on reflection provided important contextual or personal information that deepened my understanding of their lives and food narratives.

Observations The participant observations in all places served to enhance my familiarity with the places, regimes and activities that were referred to in the interviews, thus giving greater resonance to the respondent’s voices. During the participant observations, there was also considerably greater freedom to talk to different people. Observations usually took place in the prison kitchen, during food distribution, on the wings and in some prisons in the person’s cell. Moreover, for some people, it was clearly more comfortable to talk about their food experiences during cooking and eating rather than during an interview in a small office. Field notes were made after each day of observation. This was done in the form of a diary or report on how the day progressed, the conversations that were held and the situations that arose.

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Photographs Photographs were often linked to the stories told by imprisoned persons and staff, or the activities that imprisoned persons wished to demonstrate such as cooking or eating. Images were not taken to represent a perceived reality, but as an additional dimension to the interview or observational moment; it was a means to enrich, rather than explain. Respondents played a role in determining the significance of pictures and what they represented. The images were chosen, with some elements included in the photos and others not, and this choice, by definition, provides a certain viewpoint on the topic. A particular issue when photographing everyday life is that the camera constitutes an unfamiliar intrusion into the environment (Flick, 2009). This was certainly the case in a prison setting where few people enter with a camera, and where the faces of photographed participants are prohibited from being visible.

Data Analysis After the first research phase, interviews were transcribed. When these were finished, a first analysis was made using MAXQDA. The data was analysed after each phase, making the analyses and gathering of data an iterative process. Data are collected and analysed at the same time; it was a parallel process with the aim of refining and deepening constructions during the research. This form of analysis situates itself between induction and abduction. This also allows the outcome to remain open to revision if, and when, new data or new forms of knowledge are introduced. Therefore, continued interaction with respondents was important as the findings may subtly change with each new element of data. It is worth acknowledging here, that this research analysis, or indeed anyone else’s, did not start with a tabula rasa. It may be overstated, but research topics do not choose themselves, and literature reviews are never the final stages of the analysis, rather they are deliberately used because we all have distinct ‘lenses’ with which we choose to look at data.

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Reporting During the reporting, quotations are used to give insight to co-­ constructions as they developed during the research. This provided a challenge worthy of some reflections here, to illustrate the substantive difficulties. First, these quotes do present the primary data, translating them into English creates difficulties. Translations never exactly represent what is said and oftentimes the nuance or intonation can get lost. I recognise this is an unavoidable difficulty; some phrases or slang, can never perfectly reflect the languages spoken during the interviews when the final text is written. Secondly, the quotes used in the study are fragments from a much longer interview. They are torn from a complete interview, that when looked at complete, provides so much more nuance and other meaningful information. The most important contextual information is summarised, but not all meaningful information can be shared, meaning that excerpts can only give a partial view of the story. In particular, while writing the chapter on identity, it was noticeable how people would, for example, define themselves differently depending on the context. In discussing cultural identities, one person labelled themselves variously as Muslim, Moroccan, and Berber, depending on the situation they were explaining, and the other groups involved. Clearly, the identities they referred to could often be split up in smaller subgroups. In the case of quotations, a person’s self-narrative is only shown from a specific part of the interview. Such use of quotations has inevitable shortcomings here, as it only gives an insight to a person’s self-definition that is limited to a contextual and spatial meaning. Moreover, the labels that respondents ascribe to the self or other groups, will be copied. Official classifications, such as nationality, were not employed here because during the fieldwork it became clear that a cultural identity, for example, is much more complex than the information registered by the authorities, notwithstanding that the registered information of imprisoned persons is not always correct. People without a legal permission to stay in Belgium, for example, regularly use fake identities to harden their status and prevent expulsion from Belgian territory (e.g. by stating that they come from war zones)

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(see also De Ridder, 2016). Respondents sometimes explicitly admitted this after the recorder was turned off. Moreover, people did not always recognise themselves in these official classifications (see also Earle & Philips, 2013). In short, the information provided by the people during the interviews is what is used here. Finally, following Sykes (1958), Clemmer (1940) and Bondeson’s (1989) explanations on prison argot, the language and words used not only give an understanding of their situation, but also makes us alive to the problematic relations and sometimes offensive words used within prison institutions. The vocabulary used by respondents here can be perceived as politically incorrect (in particular when identifying others). However, I would argue that the use of these terms reveals how they perceive both the self and each other; it gives us a considerably more realistic insight into how people talk and deal with each other than an otherwise dishonest and unvarnished account.

Feedback Regular feedback on the development of the analysis in its initial and final constructions was shared and discussed with research participants. Incarcerated persons were happy to talk in order for insight into their constructions to be reached, but richer, detailed, and more nuanced responses arose when interventions were made that enabled them to flesh out the content of the conversations, and give life to their constructions. Previously developed constructions were then placed in juxtaposition to other constructions, allowing for narratives to become deeper and more meaningful. While this was certainly achieved by discussing constructions during the interviews and participant observations, there was also a feedback moment after the first phase of the research in which prison staff (usually chefs, but also governors) who wished this, collectively reflected on the existing constructions. However, I was not able to do this with all the participants due to the time-lapse between the data gathering and analysis. This problem is of course intrinsic to conducting qualitative research because it takes time to analyse data properly and unforeseen events can

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have profound effects. In particular, Tilburg prison closed in December 2016, meaning I was unable to discuss the final results with imprisoned persons and staff. In relation to the incarcerated participants, it was difficult to provide feedback when the study was complete. However, the time between the first analysis and the writing of this book, also enabled the checking and discussion of research results in other forums and during courses with interested incarcerated students.

 btaining Authorisation to Conduct O Prison Research In comparison to other countries, it is fairly easy to gain access to Belgian prisons for research purposes. Each year, ample studies are conducted in Belgian prisons by Bachelors, Masters and PhD students. Despite the many problems that prisons in Belgium face, they are generally speaking open and receptive towards academics conducting (critical) studies within institutions. If access is denied, this will commonly relate to practical problems (e.g. overcrowding or staff shortages) rather than a perceived hostility to the field. Official authorisation was easily obtained for this study. The openness to academics could be explained by the absence of a predetermined research agenda from the Belgian government (Beyens et al., 2015). In this case, the prison administration granted access with usual proviso that respondent’s participation was voluntary. In conforming with data security and anonymity standards all participants were aware that (non) participation would have no impact on life in prison and that they could withdraw at any moment. All recordings used for this book were deleted when the research was concluded, and not used for further studies. Respondent’s privacy was paramount, consequently no names or other identifying monikers were used. A similar approach is adopted with regard to quotes from staff members. The Belgian prisons are not named, but the name of the Dutch prison, due to its specificity, is mentioned as it is easily recognisable and closed five years ago. For the

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second research phase in the prison of Tilburg, additional authorisation from the Dutch authorities was requested since the prison food service was organised by the Dutch prison food service.

Informed Consent At the beginning of the study, a written consent form was sent or given to respondents, but many highlighted that they were uneasy with formal documents of this kind, and linked them to official judicial agreements they were frequently required to sign (and often did not read properly). It was stated that their consent and trust had to be gained during the study and interactions, rather than just elicited as a procedural matter. Therefore, the approach taken in this study shifted to what is best defined as a process of informed consent—oral consent. Consistent with scholarship on the ethics of prison research (e.g. Roberts & Indermaur, 2008; & Iphofen & Tolich, 2018), this was characterised by a responsive and reflexive approach, where a balance was reached between ‘procedural ethics’ and ‘ethics in practice’ (‘empirical ethics’). The validity of this process is evinced by the reactions of some respondents after the interviews. The consent to participate was given prior to the interview, but further discussion regularly took place about the research and during the participant observations. It was noticeable that some respondents felt more comfortable after the ‘formal’ conversation, and this encouraged them to ask additional questions about the study, the use of the data and requests to be particularly careful with specific information that was shared. Participant observations posed a somewhat different problem. While on the wing, and talking to imprisoned persons or staff, it was always explained what was happening and why. No one refused to co-operate. However, at times, there was a distinct impression that some people wanted to keep their distance (e.g. in the courtyard), either physically or by deliberately ignoring any initiated conversation. That reticence was respected, and those who had no desire to participate and/or clearly indicated this, were left alone. This was sometimes difficult, in particular when people were together in large groups and a big part of the group was chatting with the researcher. Consequently, it is arguable that at some

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level, participant observations can pose a risk of including people in the study that have not given their active consent to co-operate, and this is especially marked in a prison environment where one simply cannot walk away.

 ow I Enjoyed Prison Food Research. H A Personal Note The information I obtained through interviews or participant observations could differ strongly. It was palpably clear that most people were more open and talkative during the observations. This might have been due to the particular combination of activities and research questions: food-related matters are easier to talk about when one is cooking and eating, for example. Sitting in a separate room, with a recorder on the table, might well have been less conducive to discussing personal food habits. At times, respondents found it a bit peculiar that I was keenly interested in the non-sensitive topic of prison foodways, rather than more traditional topics in relation to the crimes they had committed. In particular, the frame of self-catering enabled people to discuss their prison life, and identities, within a framework where deviance and dangerousness were not omnipresent. It was shown during the vivid exchanges and discussions, that imprisoned persons enjoyed cooking, and took pride in improving their creativity and cooking skills. One might never taste so many different cuisines simultaneously, nor be invited so easily to taste, and join in with dinner or lunch, as with the groups of incarcerated persons. Consequently, the study was also about imprisoned persons as chefs, who deliberately and warmly shared meals and enjoyed them immensely, and were also willing to teach and share how to make their cuisines. It moved away almost, from traditional restrictions and stories of criminal lifestyles, to a situation in which they freely discussed who they were, and where they came from through their food narratives. For me, as a prison researcher, this was a particularly pleasant angle, but it also enabled the respondents to display a narrative of the self that was far removed from the traditional ways they were approached in prison. So

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while the first research phase focused on general aspects and experiences, the focus on self-catering in the second phase, shifted to a more appreciative approach which is highly rewarding in a penitentiary context (see also, Liebling, 1999) because it: … challenges the common preoccupation with negative elements, by placing emphasis on human encounters and forces of inclusion that are experienced positively by target individuals and that can promote crime desistance. (Ronel & Elisha, 2011, p. 1389)

It is also important to keep in mind that prisons are low trust environments (Liebling, 2004). The leap of faith required by imprisoned persons to come to you in a private room (where they also meet their lawyers) where they are asked to discuss aspects of their prison life that is tape recorded, should not be taken for granted. Even if they know the researchers, the study is thoroughly explained, and they are given firm assurances that the data will be anonymised, it can be very challenging for them. I found that it was easier to build up relationships of trust with respondents during observations, as the atmosphere was more relaxed and perceived to be less official. The conviviality during the cooking and eating together created a particularly constructive research context (see also King & McDermot, 1995; Minke, 2014). This experience influenced the choice to focus on participant observations in the last research phase when food was deliberately smelled and tasted. In line with new insights on prison research, sensory factors, including smell and taste are important sources of information which helped the respondents to explain, and me to understand, their narratives (Herrity et al., 2021). A variety of meals were eaten together with research participants: self-made food prepared in cells, self-­ made meals prepared in the kitchens on the wings, dishes prepared in the central prison kitchens or ready-made meals served by the institution. The meals that I could consume varied from institution to institution; in some I could only eat the meals prepared by the institutions (for staff) while in others, self-made meals could be eaten. Respondents, however, pointed out that these meals could only serve as one of several sources of information. For example, in some institutions, meals for staff were prepared in a separate part of the kitchen, making it impossible to always

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taste the meals that were served to incarcerated persons. Moreover, most people did not eat the food immediately after it was prepared, but only after it had travelled a, sometimes long, way from the central kitchen to the wings, and cooled down giving it a different texture—especially apparent in the case of fried fries. In addition, I never ate the food alone in a cell, or for a long consecutive period of time, which—according to many respondents—was important for understanding how boredom in general, but certainly in relation to the meals, characterises their eating experiences in detention. So, while experiences with official meals could serve as the basis of a discussion about tastes and smells in relation to meals, it was not sufficient to fully grasp prison foodways in the same way as the respondents. In my opinion, this neatly symbolises the insider-outsider debate in prison research literature. The sharing of meals provided opportunities for a deeper understanding of the food narratives, but at the same time, the respondents’ comments starkly show how it was impossible to become an insider. It was, for example, impossible to experience the boredom of their meals on a daily basis simply by sharing three of four sittings with them. Our food discussions affirmed how the situated experience of those spending time in prison is indeed very different from those serving time (Earle, 2018). The same nuance can be discerned with regard to self-made meals. However, these communal dishes had additional value and added an interesting layer of trust between the participants and myself. Although eating ‘home-cooked’ meals with incarcerated respondents was seen as logical in relation to the research, it led to reflections afterwards in relation to the development of trust in a prison context. After all, eating together within prison walls is not a simple matter. In fact, the official guidelines prevented staff from eating the meals that incarcerated persons had prepared themselves (see elsewhere in the study). The fact that I was able to eat these meals, served as a reminder that researchers enjoy a different, more independent, status. These observations are borne out by the extant research which shows that the act of eating together is an expression of a form of trust in the other. It was during a conference I attended after the fieldwork which was called ‘trusting the hands that feed you’ that I became acutely aware of the importance of eating together,

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especially the activity of eating meals prepared by persons who are all too easily defined as ‘untrustworthy’. So, while the warm encounters around a communal meal were felt during the study, it was the theoretical reflections that grew later which enabled me to understand why this situation was experienced as particularly significant. The communal meals also created a context to discuss, and think, in a very informal and relaxed environment. Discussions about food preparation and consumption easily led to the transcendence of the difference between incarcerated persons and researchers, and helped with the location of shared interests and a communal fascination for food. This was especially apparent in Tilburg prison, where we (the incarcerated persons and I) deliberately laughed at the Dutch ways of cooking and eating, and how this differed from ‘our’ habits; in which the ‘our’ mostly referred to the more Bourgondisch style of Belgians. However, this does not mean that differences could be ignored. For example, the men in Tilburg knew I regularly returned to Brussels, a place where some of them used to live. During our conversations we would discuss nice places to eat in the capital, but at the same time it could not be denied that the places and areas we knew differed and highlighted socio-demographic differences. Thus, while we definitely found a common base and understanding during our conversations, it is important to recognise, as Earle (2014) did that: Being ‘in’ and even being accepted does not mean that the social and cultural distance between researchers and research subjects can be ignored or eliminated.

Nevertheless, and although it was not an explicit research strategy, eating home-cooked meals together created a bond that reflected trust, as will be shown in the next chapter. This is in line with current psychological research on food consumption which indicates that eating similar foods increases trust and cooperation between strangers (Woolley & Fischbach, 2016). This is even more the case when food is eaten from the same platter (Woolley & Fischbach, 2019). Consequently, sharing meals can be considered a particularly important aspect of participant observations in this study. It added an additional layer to the sensory experiences of imprisonment, and to the trust relations built between the researcher

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and the participants. In this way, I experienced how prisons were also stimulating places for reflection, discussion, knowledge building and valuable and constructive social interactions (see also Jewkes, 2012). The study was consequently characterised by many rewarding and warm human memories in environments that at the same time so cruelly attack the dignity of us all.

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