Officials in a number of states, desperate to cut budget deficits, have begun reducing the amount or quality of food served to prison inmates.
These new food plans involve either reducing the number of calories provided each day or eliminating a meal on weekends and holidays by serving two meals instead of three.
| Virginia,
North Carolina, Minnesota, Iowa, Texas and Arizona [have
cut prisoners' food].
Other states, including Massachusetts, are beginning to experiment with the reduced diets in individual prisons. Mindfully.org
note: |
So far, officials in the states that have cut prisoners' food say that inmates have not complained, and that the nutritional value of the meals being served still meets national standards. Among these states are Virginia, North Carolina, Minnesota, Iowa, Texas and Arizona; other states, including Massachusetts, are beginning to experiment with the reduced diets in individual prisons.
But experts on prisons say food is a very small portion of the overall cost of running a prison system — about 80 percent of prison budgets go for guards' salaries — so that any saving achieved by reducing inmates' food will be minimal and is largely symbolic.
"This kind of stuff never gets you very much money," said Michael Jacobson, a professor of criminology at John Jay College in Manhattan and a former commissioner of corrections for New York City. "It is always incredibly marginal, and it shows a lack of political will to take on the larger issues, like releasing some nonviolent offenders to get real savings."
Moreover, some advocates for prisoners and prisoners' families say the new reduced diets are causing health problems.
Joan Covici, president of the Dallas chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, said she received hundreds of letters a month complaining about the new prison diet in Texas, where the Department of Criminal Justice says the number of calories a day fed to the 148,000 inmates has been reduced to 2,500 from 2,800.
Ms. Covici said she had received a letter from the mother of a 20-year-old inmate who is 6-foot-4 and normally weighs about 190 pounds; his weight, she said, has dropped to 168 pounds with the reduced diet, and he is still losing weight.
Ms. Covici, who asked that the inmate be identified by only his first name, Chris, said his mother believed his sharp drop in weight since the diet was introduced in May had resulted in "deteriorated mental health" and had precipitated an episode of mania.
In a letter to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, his mother wrote, "I would think that the incremental cost of a few hundred extra calories would be less expensive than the extra health care cost from poor health."
Larry Todd, a spokesman for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, said, "We have not reduced the amount of food, only the calories, and we are still serving nutritious meals that follow the food pyramid recommended by the Department of Agriculture."
The reduction in daily calories was a result of a bill passed by the Texas Legislature that required the Department of Criminal Justice to reduce its budget by 5 percent, or $230 million, this year, with about $6 million of that coming from reduced spending on food, Mr. Todd said.
Ray Allen, a Republican state representative and chairman of the Texas House Corrections Committee, said, "It was not our first choice to cut their food, but we had a $9.9 billion shortfall."
"Since we can't cut a single corrections officer, and their salaries are 80 percent of prison costs, there isn't much else left to cut," he said.
In practice, some of the savings is coming from more careful attention to standardizing portions, said Janie Thomas, director for laundry, food service and supply for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
"We emphasize portion control; it is a good cost control," Ms. Thomas said. "Where in the past an inmate might have been served two biscuits, now he gets one."
As another example, Ms. Thomas said prisons that in past years might have served a chicken patty with macaroni and cheese have now cut out the macaroni and cheese.
Cheaper cuts of meat have also been substituted for better grades, even when the meat is raised on the prison's own farm. The more expensive cuts are now being sold commercially, she said.
In other cases, powdered milk has been substituted for whole milk and a juicelike drink for real juice.
Mr. Allen, the state representative, said he was not worried about prisoner protests over the new policy.
"Inmate protests are not well received in Texas," he said. "If inmates want to act out violently about their food, we have other places to put them."
Neither is he worried about lawsuits, he said, noting that while federal courts have intervened in cases involving prison medical care, they have so far not taken up suits about food, which is harder to measure.
North Carolina has followed a plan similar to Texas's, reducing the number of calories served to inmates to 2,700 a day from 3,300, said Keith Acree, a spokesman for the North Carolina Department of Corrections. This has enabled the state to cut the amount spent on feeding an inmate to $709 a year from $943 in 1998.
In Virginia, the prison system in January went to a brunch plan on Saturdays, Sundays and holidays, eliminating breakfast and serving only two meals a day.
"It was our own idea," said Michael Leininger, a spokesman for the Virginia Department of Corrections. "There was so much waste on weekends, because the inmates didn't like getting up early and were skipping breakfast."
Cleveland Davis, an inmate at Deerfield Correctional Facility in Virginia, confirmed that he and many other inmates did skip breakfast on weekends, because it was served at 4:30 a.m. and they preferred to sleep in.
The real problem, Mr. Davis said, is the lack of fresh vegetables and fruit and a reliance on cheaper processed meats and starches.
Only in Minnesota has there been a public debate about the cuts in prison food. A Republican state representative, Marty Seifert, set off a controversy when he suggested that if prisoners objected to his proposal to end deserts as a way to cut the state budget, they could "eat a tablespoon of lard."
But Robert Ellis, a prison guard, dared Mr. Seifert to come to the prison where he works and meet inmates whose diet he was trying to cut. "You appear to taunt them from the relative security of your legislative bunker," Mr. Ellis said. "Remember, we work with these folks."
Mr. Seifert now says his comment was meant as a joke.
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