It would be easy to laugh off the lawsuit filed by inmates at the New Jersey State Prison in Trenton, charging that the conditions of their confinement are unsafe, degrading, inhumane, unhealthy and unsanitary.
As a rule, prison inmates are not the most reputable of plaintiffs — nor, if their case ever comes to trial, will they likely make for the most credible of witnesses. After all, many of them continue to deny that they committed the crimes that put them behind bars to begin with. It seems improbable that their incarceration has turned them into model citizens committed to telling the truth, and nothing but the truth, in any subsequent legal proceedings.
The lead plaintiff in this case is a 29-year-old convicted murderer. He and his six fellow felons contend, among other things, that they are forced to drink contaminated tap water (while prison employees drink only bottled water); that educational and religious programs have been cut; that rodents and insects infest the prison; that food is inadequate; and that some prisoners are confined to 5-by-7-foot cells, which are meant to be used only for sleeping, for as much as 23 hours a day.
They also contend that a dispute over pay between corrections officers and the Department of Corrections, which runs the prison, has worsened conditions. They claim the officers have gone so far as to smuggle in contraband, giving them the pretext to conduct time-consuming searches — which, in turn, has boosted their overtime pay.
The DOC, its commissioner and the governor, all of whom are named as defendants, have declined comment on the lawsuit. But the executive vice president of the Police Benevolent Association local that represents the corrections officers dismissed the smuggling charge as a “false allegation.” Then, he added: “I don’t believe the corrections officers have anything to do with the conditions inside the institution.”
Which raises an intriguing question: What kind of “conditions” are we talking about here? Might they in fact be, as the inmates allege, unsafe, degrading, inhumane, unhealthy and unsanitary?
This is a prison, it is worth noting, that opened in 1836 — and was roundly criticized just six years later by a visiting dignitary who knew something about inhumane prison conditions: Charles Dickens. More than a few visitors in the intervening century and a half have termed the institution “Dickensian,” and state officials responsible for running it have sought over the years to convert it from what it looks like — a medieval fortress — into what it should be: a modern correctional facility.
This lawsuit may be an appropriate vehicle for determining how successful this effort has been. It may also compel us, as a society, to shed our out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality about prisons and prisoners, and start thinking seriously about how our correctional institutions should function. Ask the people who run prisons what truly worries them, and they will all tell you the same thing: Institutions that simply warehouse prisoners in unpleasant conditions or worse are breeding grounds for unrest, offering little hope either to inmates or those who guard them that their lives will ever improve.
Condemning convicts to live in squalor may satisfy you-did-the-crime, you-do-the-time politicians, but it gives corrections professionals nightmares. They know that providing safe and sanitary conditions, decent food, educational programs and rehabilitative services offers both the prisoners and the society to which they will someday return a far greater chance of a positive outcome.
So let’s not prejudge this lawsuit solely on the past record of those who have filed it. The institution in question doesn’t exactly boast an untarnished history itself — and a thorough airing of how well, or how poorly, this 19th-century facility is equipped for 21st-century corrections policy would appear to be very much in order.