Reviewed by: Silent Cells: The Secret Drugging of Captive America by Anthony Ryan Hatch Carolyn Sufrin Anthony Ryan Hatch. Silent Cells: The Secret Drugging of Captive America. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2019. viii + 176 pp. Ill. $19.95 (978-1-5179-0744-0). It is no secret that institutions of incarceration in the United States remain some of the most opaque establishments in our society. Anthony Ryan Hatch delves into the logics and consequential harms of such secrecy in Silent Cells: The Secret Drugging of Captive America, exploring the deployment of psychotropics in the U.S. carceral apparatus. Just as important to his analysis of how psychoactive pharmaceuticals are used in carceral institutions is his epistemological excavation of the absence of knowledge about such activities. Silent Cells offers a compelling analysis that is both nuanced and clear, affirming in newly harrowing ways the unchecked mechanisms through which the United States' particular form of carceral violence inflicts psychic and physical suffering, both through direct action on people and through data elisions about these processes. Using publicly available archives, statistical reports, government audits, media accounts, pharmacy databases, prison records, corporate accounting, and court cases, Hatch shows how knowledge about mental illness management in the broader carceral state is produced and concealed. In Chapter 1, Hatch dissects the surveys through which federal agencies codify demographic and health data about people in prison, a venture he deems "prison pharmacoepidemiology." Government institutions, perhaps not surprisingly, document only limited information about the use of psychotropic medications in prisons, and this partial presentation of data not only precludes further questions, but enables abuses to flourish. Indeed, the same could be said of any health-related phenomenon in prison, as they all remain under-documented and partially construed. Chapter 2 reviews the results of thirty-one publicly available prison pharmacy audits from 2001–2015. Cost data, prescription logs, and auditors' comments on [End Page 174] missing data demonstrate the dysfunctional management of prison pharmacies. Some are managed by for-profit companies, which connects to Hatch's political economic analysis of the pharmaceutical industry's long-standing and profitable prisoner experimental apparatus in Chapter 3. The racist foundations of prisoner experimentation are complex, with under- and over-representation of black subjects being difficult to confidently know, and both with racist implications. Chapter 4 broadens the mechanics of psychotropic secrecy to other nonprison, total institutions like nursing homes, the military, and foster care to illustrate how similar controlling processes and epistemic elisions operate in the so-called free-world—reaffirming that the punitive, subjugating, controlling logics of incarceration sustain our entire, late-capitalist society. Hatch, in Chapter 5, uses contemporary instances of the role of psychotropics in prosecuting racially motivated gun violence, deporting unauthorized immigrants, CIA interrogations, and with sex offenders to show the expanse of how drugs are weaponized. He concludes with liberatory intimations, the contradictions of the anti-psychiatry movement; ultimately Hatch's intervention is to show that lack of knowledge is power—which opens space to rectify the gaps. Prisons and prison officials are notoriously difficult for researchers to access; for Hatch, this methodological fact was brilliantly central to his analysis of secrecy in prisons; that is, he wanted to document what can be known about these state institutions through public records. Yet ethnographers have entered prisons to study their everyday workings, and national correctional health accrediting organizations' standards and reports also delineate service delivery realities, and these data are not described. The omission of such on-the-ground information to contextualize Hatch's archival research is curious (especially since it contradicts Hatch's over-generalization that "most medications are administered by correctional officers" [p. 61]), given his formidable efforts to document what we do and do not know about prison psychiatric care. Hatch reviews several theoretical concepts on the workings of power on bodies and souls—Michel Foucault's "biopower," Achille Mbembe's "necropower," and Giorgio Agamben's "state of emergency." The applicability of these theories to U.S. carceral institutions is unquestionable. However, Hatch's data and arguments are cogent and sophisticated enough without needing to invoke these well-worn theories that appear mostly as accessory bookends. These are minor limitations to a thoughtful...
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