The Prison-Identity Complex: Unravelling Labour and Law in Identity-Based Prison Worklines

Abstract

This article explores identity-based prison worklines, described as the organisation of prison labour around prisoners’ identities such as race, sex, disability, and age. These worklines often impact prisoners’ pay, working conditions, and post-release opportunities. By examining this phenomenon primarily in the United Kingdom, as well as across Europe and the US, the article discusses the co-constitutive relationship between prison labour and the identity of prisoner-labourers. To analyse this relationship, the article develops a theoretical model of Incarcerated Working Identities (IWI), drawing insights from six distinct theoretical fields: prison studies, labour studies, identity studies, and their intersecting sub-fields. Placing identity-based prison worklines within the IWI theoretical framework exposes two tiers of harm: (1) discrimination and (2) identity re/construction. Together, these harms illustrate how identity-based prison worklines infringe on prisoners’ right to equality while also constraining their identity in ways that clash with their rights to liberty, autonomy, and dignity. These harms, this article concludes, violate human rights law. Incarcerated individuals could therefore utilise the IWI framework to challenge their current work assignments and conditions.

1. Introduction

Work is a core facet of incarceration and punishment.1 Historically, hard labour was conceived as an integral component of convicts’ punishment. While this is generally not the case today, prison labour, nevertheless, remains a mechanism for maintaining discipline and exerting social control (Foucault 1995; Melossi and Pavarini 2018; Reich 2024).2 The coercive terrain of prison labour has been well-mapped. However, one frontier remains fairly unexplored: the co-constitutive relationship between prison labour and the identity of prisoners-labourers.

Identities shape—and are shaped by—prison labour. Incarcerated peoples’ work assignments, pay, conditions of work, and where it takes place are all heavily influenced by their identities, i.e., their race, sex, class, dis/ability, etc.3 Simultaneously, these same identities are negotiated, confined, and re/constructed through prison labour. Examining data from both Europe and the United States, this article demonstrates how, in certain instances, work in prison has been organised around prisoners’ identities. We term this phenomenon ‘identity-based prison worklines’.

To analyse these worklines, this article offers a theoretical model of Incarcerated Working Identities (IWI). The IWI model, which draws insights from prison, labour, and identity studies, as well as their intersecting sub-fields, illuminates critical dynamics within the carceral labour system. The model reveals two levels of harm caused by identity-based prison worklines. The first is discrimination, a problem only partially recognised by scholars and courts. The second, less obvious harm is identity re/construction, occurring when prison worklines shape and/or cement the meaning of prisoners’ identities, hindering their ability to redefine themselves. These harms, we argue, could be challenged by utilising existing human rights law, which aims to protect prisoners’ rights to equality, autonomy, and dignity.

The article proceeds in four parts. Part I provides an overview of identity-based prison worklines. Drawing on empirical research from various sources and localities, with a specific focus on the United Kingdom, it exposes these worklines as a widespread phenomenon. Part II introduces the IWI model, portraying its three components: (1) its dual meta research question; (2) its unique approach to identity; and (3) its theoretical methodology. Part III then applies the IWI model to illuminate two harms caused by identity-based prison worklines: discrimination and identity re/construction. This part explores the legal and ethical implications of these harms, drawing on critical identity theories and labour market analyses. Finally, part IV examines existing legal frameworks, particularly within human rights law, which could be leveraged to address the harms recognised in part III.

Before we begin, three preliminary remarks. First, while this article’s main contribution is theoretical, it nevertheless preliminarily explores doctrinal avenues for reform. Any attempt to offer a way to better carceral conditions and institutions ought to acknowledge the abolitionist critique regarding the risks these efforts entail.4 Abolitionist movements and theorists have long cautioned against prison reform initiatives, arguing that such measures ultimately legitimise and entrench the carceral apparatus (Rodriguez 2019, p. 1604). We acknowledge that in proposing legal remedies for discrimination and identity re/construction, our analysis could be viewed as providing tools for systemic improvement, thus potentially reinforcing and validating the very institutions we critique. Nevertheless, as Daniel Harawa aptly notes, the theoretical tension between abolition and reform unfolds “in the shadow of suffering” (Harawa 2024). While remaining conscious of broader systemic critiques, this article prioritizes the plight of prisoners incarcerated in the system today, insisting on not leaving them behind in the pursuit of more ambitious—albeit no doubt justified—goals.5 To navigate this tension, we adopt Dorothy Roberts’ framework of “non-reformist reforms” (Roberts 2019). This approach advocates for interventions that meet three critical criteria: (1) Shrink the state’s capacity to wield violence, rather than strengthen it; (2) Increase the prospect of freedom;6 and (3) reduce the negative impacts caused by carceral punishment.

Second, and following this abolitionist critique, we acknowledge the longstanding debate concerning the desirability of work within prisons. On the one hand, as noted, prison labour has been criticised for its coercive effects on prisoners, with some theorising incarceration as a form of slavery (Goodwin 2019). Others highlight the way it is understood as unfairly competing with “free” market work (McLennan 2008). Conversely, some scholars insist that most prisoners prefer to work, highlighting prison labour’s positive effects on post-release prospects, rehabilitation, as well as its ability to alleviate boredom and provide monetary remuneration (Garvey 1998; Laine et al. 2025). This article does not seek to resolve this debate. Instead, it focuses on examining the ethical and legal implications of identity-based worklines within the existing landscape of prison labour.

Third, one of the primary contributions—and vulnerabilities—of this article lies in the way it fosters an interdisciplinary conversation between distinct fields, each with its own terminology and writing traditions. Delving deeply into each scholarly tradition is beyond the scope of this article. Our aim is to initiate a conversation, which would hopefully open avenues for future research that deepens these discussions.

The argument advanced herein examines the complex interplay between prison, labour, and identity to contribute to a more nuanced understanding of the carceral experience. It challenges us to reconsider how prison work structures can either reinforce or transform identities, bringing prisoners closer or farther apart, and the implications of these structures for prisoners’ rights.

2. Identifying the Problem: Identity-Based Prison Worklines

Work in prisons moves along identitarian lines. Both historically and today, the work prisoners are assigned to in prison is influenced by their identities.7 This, in turn, has additional ramifications on their pay, conditions of work, and where it takes place.

For instance, women have traditionally been assigned more ‘feminine’ types of work in prisons, such as sewing and other domestic tasks (Morash et al. 1994). Conversely, men have been assigned to traditionally ‘masculine’ occupations, including operating heavy machinery, woodwork, and electrical work.8 Research has also unveiled racial prison worklines, with Black and Brown prisoners being assigned to lower-ranking jobs with lesser pay and benefits compared to their white counterparts (Genders and Player 1989; Gibson-Light 2022). Other identity axes are less researched, but nevertheless affect the trajectory of prisoners’ work. Prisoners with disabilities are sometimes fully excluded from work in prisons, unable to access work facilities, or offered a limited range of lower-paying jobs. The interplay between other identity categories—such as religious and national identity, sexual orientation and gender identification—and the work performed within prisons remains significantly underexplored.

The existence of distinct work regimes for various categories of prisoners is hardly surprising. Segregation—both in the context of work and more generally—is at the core of penal ideology. Removing convicts from the general population is a key logic behind prisons (Foucault 1995; Simon 2016). Segregation is, in fact, the primary mechanism through which prisons achieve and understand security. Penal facilities follow that logic, partitioning incarcerated people into different wings, facilities, and rehabilitative programs, to reduce violence, and to tailor various programs to the alleged needs of different groups. This segregative principle can be similarly found in international rules aimed at promoting prisoners’ rights. The Nelson Mandela Rules (United Nations 2015), for instance, require the gender segregation of prisoners, to ensure female prisoners’ security and protection.

While not surprising, the phenomenon of identity-based worklines in prison remains understudied for various reasons. First, existing discussions on identity worklines remain mostly parcelled vis-à-vis identity axes. Excluding some intersectional analyses discussed below, much of the existing knowledge is fragmented, addressing individual identity markers in isolation. Second, such worklines are often considered natural, aligned with stereotypical expectations from, or assumed needs of various identity groups. Other times, the dynamics which lead to it occur under the radar, leaving little evidence for prisoners to issue a complaint. Finally, from a legal perspective, the impact on prisoners is often not recognised as discriminatory (Mubarek 2017). Accordingly, these identity-based worklines receive insufficient scholarly attention, and are rarely legally challenged.

To demonstrate how entrenched identity-based worklines in prison are, this part analyses and reviews data collected from a wide range of sources. It builds upon existing empirical research and scholarly materials, including official governmental reports, investigations conducted by human rights NGOs and international bodies, as well as legal cases. Examined together, these sources paint a broad picture of identity worklines in prisons as a multifaceted dynamic, i.e., one that transcends one identity category or another, as well as stretches throughout various countries and time periods. To prioritise depth over breadth, we will focus more closely on the UK, complementing the picture with relevant data from other European countries and the US. While fully documenting the vast landscape of prison worklines as a global phenomenon extends beyond the scope of this article, the following section serves merely to illustrate its existence and to highlight its widespread and multifaceted nature.

Notably, while the article is normatively grounded in UK and European legal frameworks, we nevertheless include examples derived from the US, as it offers a uniquely visible and data-rich carceral landscape in which identity-based worklines are both documented and institutionalised at scale. This empirical abundance allows for the IWI model to be developed with sharper theoretical granularity. Importantly, these examples function analytically rather than prescriptively: they are deployed not to suggest legal transplants between Europe and the US, but to illuminate the mechanisms through which prison labour regimes both reflect and reinforce social hierarchies, mechanisms that, while differing in form, are structurally resonant across jurisdictions.

2.1. Gender Worklines in Prison

Prison labour is starkly gendered. This division mirrors the gender-segregated structure of carceral facilities. Accordingly, it often enjoys a guise of neutrality. As the UN Handbook on Women and Imprisonment states, “[p]rogrammes that women may have access to typically comprise activities deemed suitable for the female gender, such as sewing and cleaning” (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime 2014).

In the US, for instance, the origin of distinct lines of ‘women’s work’ in prisons is found in early women’s reformatories, where rehabilitation was envisioned as tightly linked to domesticity. Accordingly, incarcerated women were trained to cook, sew, and serve food as part of their sentence (Morash et al. 1994; Crittenden et al. 2016; Grana 2010). This tendency has persisted throughout the years. Research from the 1980s through the 2010s has consistently shown that men were typically assigned tasks such as farming, forestry, maintenance, and repair work, while women were given more traditionally feminine roles (Crittenden et al. 2016; Rafter 1990).

This gendered divide, some scholars have noted, has also been intersectional. Historically, US Black women prisoners were given different jobs compared to white women or Black men. While white women were given domestic chores within the home or plantation, Black women were worked in the fields, as well as in mining, blacksmithing, and machine operation (Crittenden et al. 2016). As Crittenden and her colleagues have found, the intersection of race and gender also affects current US prison worklines. Examining a nationwide dataset, they discovered, for instance, that Black men embodied the highest percentage of men working in agriculture and other facility services assignment, whereas white men were more likely to be employed in public works and prison industries (ibid, p. 374).

The history of UK prison labour is highly gendered as well. In a report on English prisons from 1920, we are offered a glimpse into the way prison labour has been affected by prisoners’ gender. Historically, we learn, women were exempt from hard labour sentences, assigned instead to tasks such as “laundry work, sewing (by hand and machine), knitting and repairing socks, making post-office bags, cleaning the prison and the officers’ quarters or rooms,” etc. (Prison System Enquiry Committee 1922, pp. 341–42). Notably, the report further highlights not only the way in which stereotypes regarding “appropriate work” for men and women have determined job allocation in prisons, but also how logics of gender hierarchy shaped prison regime in instances where stereotypes and hierarchy clashed. In prisons where both men and women were housed together in separate wings, the report mentions, “it is customary for the cooking to be done on the men’s side and the food sent over on hand-trolleys to the women’s, an arrangement which does not conduce to it being served hot.” (ibid, p. 342; see also Vagg and Smartt 1999).

This historical gendered perceptions of women’s work in UK prisons have lingered. First, it seems women are still offered fewer opportunities to work while incarcerated. A “shortage of alternatives”, one scholar writes in 2004, is a “distinctive feature of women’s prisons” (Carlen 2004).

A recent report from 2022–2023 on “Women in Prison” by the House of Commons Justice Committee is demonstrative of the persistence of this feature (House of Commons Committee 2022), as well as how gendered stereotypes obscure it. Shortly after recognising that historically, training for incarcerated women “has been driven by stereotypes about ‘suitable’ employment,” (ibid, p. 60) the committee states positively that during its visit to HMP Downview, they encountered “first-hand the importance of training,” via a workshop run by the London College of Fashion. As BBC coverage of this workshop, titled “The prisoners swapping crime for dressmaking”, indicates, the work conducted in it revolves mostly around sewing (Walker 2024).9 As this example shows, the committee’s positive reception of this workshop suggests that despite acknowledging the problem, the link between women and traditionally feminine occupations remains entrenched in the prison system.

The gendered nature of prison labour can be found in other European countries. The European Parliament recently recognised this dynamic in 2017, stating that women are “often held in unsuitable prisons, with limited if any access to vocational and educational activities, to work, or to healthcare adapted to their needs” (European Parliament 2017). In Germany, women’s working opportunities are often limited and stereotypical in nature. In one specific prison, the only work assignment available to women was cooking (Flömer 2020). Similar findings were observed in Sweden, where a recent study noted that women are systematically offered fewer employment opportunities in prison than men, with fewer working hours reported for them. Examining the period of 2010 to 2014, the study uncovered that a higher percentage of male inmates participated in construction training programs, whereas a larger percentage of female inmates engaged in restaurant and garden training programs (Brå 2015).

There is very limited information about access to work for transgender prisoners. In many countries, the policy regarding such prisoners involves housing them in separation and even isolation, preventing them from accessing work. In the UK, the Ministry of Justice’s official policy regarding care and management of transgender prisoners (The Ministry of Justice 2019), assumes an inherent risk of transgender prisoners to other inmates,10 which, it states, prison authorities ought to assess more closely than they would for other prisoners. Accordingly, transgender prisoners are separated from the main regime of the general population, following instead a “personalised regime” designed in accordance with the “significant risks” they present.11 Under this personalised regime, many transgender prisoners do not seem to enjoy full access to work and other programming opportunities.

2.2. Racial and Ethnic Worklines in Prison

In the context of race, similar patterns of identity worklines are trackable.

The UK has a long-documented history of racial differentiation in prison work assignments. In one well-known study from the late 1980s (Genders and Player 1989), Genders and Player examined race’s impact on prison labour in UK prisons. Relying on inmates’ own assessment regarding what are the ‘best’ and ‘worst’ jobs available (ibid, p. 125),12 they found discriminatory patterns in job allocation (ibid, p. 121). In one of the prisons studied, a significantly higher percentage of black prisoners compared to white prisoners were either unemployed or worked in less desirable jobs. In another prison, 14 percent of black prisoners, but 45 percent of white prisoners, held jobs considered the best by prisoner standards (ibid, pp. 71–72).

A decade after Genders and Player’s study, and in response to reports of racism within a specific facility, the Commission for Racial Equality launched a formal investigation into HM Prison Service in 2000 (Commission for Racial Equality 2003; Phillips 2007). In its 2003 report, the commission specifically mentioned a failure of prison establishment in fostering equal access to work. It states that “[a]ccess to work has been one of the most consistent, long standing grievances raised over the years by black prisoners.” (ibid, p. 132). Such grievances—corroborated by data collected from various prisons—encompassed several issues, including the opportunity to secure work in prison, as well as the specific areas of work offered to Black prisoners. The report mentioned the lack of a clear system of work allocations, and the high levels of discretion individual officers have in making work assignment decisions, as possible reasons for the racial disparities reported.

Two years later, in 2005 the Chief Inspector of Prisons issued a thematic report which quoted Black prisoners describing negative differential treatment, including in how long they waited for favourable jobs (Mubarek 2017). Further evidence of this inequality emerged in subsequent reports. White women and younger individuals were found to have greater access to skill-building employment opportunities, while Black and other ethnic minority prisoners were disproportionately assigned to contract workshops within the prison system.13

Despite governmental attention to the problem, minority prisoners continue to experience racial differences in job allocation. In 2017 the Zahid Mubarak Trust published its investigation into the treatment of more than 610 prisoners’ discrimination claims, filed in eight different prisons during 2014 (Mubarek 2017). Their report found that around 115 of the complaints revolved around “difficulties in gaining access to positive aspects of the regime,” including jobs (ibid, p. 6). Following one prisoner’s claim that he was unable to secure a job in prison due to racism, the report states that “[t]he investigator acknowledged that there was evidence in the prison of an ethnic imbalance in jobs.” (ibid).14 The 2017 Lammy Review also noted that Black, Asian and minority ethnic prisoners were significantly less likely to report holding a prison job than white prisoners (46% vs. 56%) (Lammy 2017). Likewise, HM Inspectorate of Prisons found in 2020 that only 40% of racial and ethnic minority prisoners said it was easy to get a job in their prison, compared to 53% of white inmates (HM Inspectorate of Prisons 2020, p. 29). This report also highlighted minority prisoners’ feel discriminated against in job allocations. As one of the prisoners’ interviewed stated: “A lot of time you put in for something and won’t get it, but someone who has just arrived will get it and the only difference is that they are not Pakistani.” (ibid, p. 30).15 Similar claims repeat in a 2022 HM Inspectorate of Prisons thematic review (HM Inspectorate of Prisons 2022), with Black prisoners claiming they are “less likely to feel encouraged to attend education, training or work by staff (54% compared with 59%).” (ibid, p. 36). Finally, a follow-up unannounced inspection by the Chief Inspector in a young offender facility in 2023 revealed similar complaints by Black prisoners finding it “harder to get work” (HM Chief Inspector of Prisons 2023).

In the US, similar patterns of racial and ethnic worklines can be discerned. A study examining data from 2004–2005 found race to be an important factor in deciding the nature of work incarcerated people perform in prison (Crittenden et al. 2016; Many Horses v. Racicot 1993). Recent ethnographic work by Gibson-Light has likewise shown how work assignments in US prisons are often allocated along racial lines. He shows, for example, how shoe-shining is a work that white prisoners do not perform, seeing it as degrading, whereas putting up fences in and around the prison is a job reserved exclusively for incarcerated Mexican nationals (Gibson-Light 2022, pp. 77–80). A recent 2022 report by the ACLU echoes these findings, stating how such race-based allocation often perpetuates racial inequalities (ACLU and GHRC 2022).16

2.3. Disability and Age Worklines in Prison

Another example of identity-based prison worklines that has garnered some attention involves elderly prisoners and those with disabilities, who are often excluded from work opportunities.17

One primary reason for this exclusion is accessibility. Prisoners with disabilities, and sometimes elderly prisoners, are often housed in designated wings, where they are not similarly incorporated into the regular prison regime, in ways that echo the treatment of transgender prisoners discussed above. An HM Inspectorate’s report from 2009 indicated that some prisoners in the UK who identify as having a disability reported less access to work opportunities (HM Inspectorate of Prisons 2009a, p. 43). As Crawley and Sparks note, in many prison facilities workshops are extremely inaccessible, making them unavailable for elderly, disabled and chronically ill prisoners (Crawley and Sparks 2005). This fact, they add, has led many of these prisoners to experience fear of “physical and mental deterioration.” (ibid).18

A recent case from the UK may illustrate this problem. Mr. H. was a prisoner who suffered a stroke that left him confined to a wheelchair, without the ability to move one side of his body. This shift in his abilities led to his transfer to the healthcare wing within the prison. As a result, he was “completely isolated”, unable to fit his wheelchair through his cell door, “spending all of his time on the wing, and, as such, only with those who were sick or dying” (Burrows and Crowley 2019). Only after persistent advocacy efforts and a legal challenge, he was transferred to another prison with a designated “social care” unit. While the information available on this case is limited,19 it nevertheless highlights how accessibility issues often prevent prisoners with disabilities from participating in prison work regimes.

Limited access to prison employment occurs even when prisoners are not housed in isolation or segregation. A Howard League Reform’s report on deaf prisoners, for example, highlights that many of them reported difficulties in obtaining prison jobs. Some stated losing employment opportunities due to having no vibrating alarm clock, meaning they were unable to wake up on time. Others reported being told they cannot be employed as relevant adaptations to work settings have not been made (Howard League for Penal Reform 2013).

This section has presented identity-based worklines as a multidimensional dynamic, extending beyond analyses focused on single identity categories. It has uncovered the historical origins and present-day manifestations of identity’s role in shaping prison labour systems—both reflecting and perpetuating societal biases. Delineating the nature of identity-based worklines in prisons reveals a pervasive phenomenon deeply entrenched in penal systems.

3. Incarcerated Working Identities (IWI): A New Theoretical Model

As this part will show, the phenomenon of identity-based prison worklines often escapes scrutiny. One primary reason for this scholarly gap is this phenomenon’s unique positionality, sitting at the intersection of prison, labour, and identity studies. While there is an ample body of work that intersects two out of three of these disciplines, discussions that amalgamate all three are scarce. To address this scholarly gap, we present a theoretical model, we coin Incarcerated Working Identities (IWI) which embraces a tripartite framework that interweaves three scholarly fields (see Figure 1 below): (1) prison, (2) labour, and (3) identity, as well as those at their intersection: (4) prison labour, (5) incarcerated identities, and (6) working identities. While scholars have thoroughly canvased each field and sub-field, it is only through cross-referencing insights from all six conversations that we can fully grasp the complexity of identity-based prison worklines and evaluate their ramifications.

In what follows we explore the scholarly gap this project addresses and present the IWI theoretical model.

3.1. Minding the (Scholarly) Gap

Scholars have long recognised some intersections between prison, labour, and identity studies. Accordingly, the meeting point of Prison studies and Labour studies has long been explored. The study of prison labour originally emerged as a subset of penological scholarship. This body of work often examines labour’s impact on recidivism, rehabilitation, the objectives of punishment, the maintenance of carceral order (Garvey 1998; Hatton 2021), as well as the interaction between labour markets and penological transformations (Weiss 2001; Wacquant 2009). Within legal studies, one key objective of prison labour scholarship has been to advocate against carceral involuntary servitude and coerced prison labour (VanderVelde 2022; Pope 2019; Mantouvalou 2023; Noorda 2024). This predominant focus on the issue of forced labour in prisons has resulted in considerably less attention to the right to work, and even less to the conditions under which such work is performed. To the extent that legal scholars did address the need to improve prisoners’ working conditions, their focus was on issues such as their legal status as employees with corresponding labour rights, and the rights of prisoners’ unions to organise and engage in collective bargaining.20 To this end, scholars have developed various legal paradigms to advance “free world law” within carceral settings, or analysed international human rights instruments to promote prisoners’ rights (Littman 2021; Fenwick 2005; Mantouvalou 2023; Blackett and Duquesnoy 2021). Despite the importance of such scholarship, one crucial aspect—namely, the interplay between identity and prison labour—has largely eluded scholarly attention.

A central argument of this article is that a comprehensive understanding of identity is essential to fully grasp the regulation and practical realities of prison labour. Without this understanding, we argue, it is impossible to adequately address prison work. One way to grasp the importance of identity to prison labour studies is to examine the role it plays in prisons as well as labour markets, when those are examined separately.

Prison scholarship has long underscored the centrality of identity within carceral regulatory frameworks. Scholars have explored the overrepresentation of ethnic minorities and racial groups within the criminal justice system (Alexander 2012; Roberts 2019; Goodman and Ruggiero 2008). Other scholars have examined the influence of identity on rehabilitative policies, prisoner placement decisions, and security considerations (Rubin 2019; Dodge 2002; Muhammad 2019; Wacquant 2009; Dolovich 2011). For instance, the literature has addressed the gender segregation of prisons and other types of identity-based divisions, such as citizenship status (Rafter 1990; Ward and Kassebaum 1965; Kaufman 2018). Further research has explored prisons as institutions of identity production. Studies have shown that prisoners negotiate their identities through various means.21 Inmates’ racial, gender, and other identities, studies have found, are negotiated and formed in distinct and rigid ways (Dolovich 2011; Maguire 2019; Walker 2016; Morey and Crewe 2018). Other attributes such as age and disability have also been studied (McShane and Williams 1990; Ben-Moshe 2020). However, the significance of the work conducted in prisons to the study of identity within prison has generally remained underexplored. No doubt, ample critical research has been dedicated to exposing US Prison labour’s direct ties to slavery and its aftermath (Wilson 1965; Oshinsky 1997; Goodwin 2019). Later trends of mass incarceration described as “the new Jim Crow” continued this legacy (Alexander 2012). This line of writing, however, places its theoretical emphasis on the overrepresentation of African Americans in US prisons (and, accordingly, in performing prison labour), rather than on how identity shapes worklines within the prison itself.

Identity has also played a central role in work and employment scholarship. Scholars have recognised that to fully understand labour dynamics, one must reckon with how they shape and are shaped by questions of identity. It is almost a given that workers’ identity traits significantly impact their opportunities, worker status, hours of work, earning potential, and overall experiences within the workforce (Schouten 2019; Frymer 2007; Siegel 1993; Fredman and Fudge 2013). At the same time, the literature further explored how workers’ identities are, in turn, constructed by labour. Workplaces often require minority workers to perform their identities in specific ways, influencing how they perceive themselves and their peers (Yoshino 2007; Carbado and Gulati 1999). Workplace harassment, for instance, has been described as a mechanism of subordination, where workers’ sexual, racial, and other identities are produced through acts of surveillance and discipline (MacKinnon 1982; Franke 1997).

However, despite the extensive examination of identity within labour and prison contexts, there remains a significant gap in understanding how these dynamics operate within the unique environment of prison labour.

3.2. Towards IWI: The Junction of Prison, Labour, and Identity

Identity-based prison worklines, we claim, can be most comprehensively addressed by employing the IWI framework. The IWI model consists of three key components: (1) two primary meta research questions, investigating the interplay between identity and prison labour; (2) an approach to identity that is synergistic and transformative; and (3) a theoretical methodology focused on identifying shared themes that cut across the six theoretical fields comprising the model (see Figure 1), revealing insights illuminated through these themes’ juxtaposition.

3.2.1. The Model’s Investigative Focus

The IWI model centres on two primary meta-questions, exploring the interplay between identity (both internal and external)22 and prison labour:

• How do prisoners’ identities affect the site of prison labour? This question zones in on the way in which legal and institutional apparatuses of prison labour are divided, structured and re-structured in ways that respond to the identity categories of prisoners-labourers, as well as the ethical and legal implications of that divide. It investigates, for instance, what are the legal ramifications of the segmentation of work within specific facilities and the way in which different work regimes and conditions attach to these divisions.
• How does prison labour affect prisoners’ identities? This question focuses on the myriad ways in which identities are negotiated through prison labour. It explores, for instance, the legal and institutional structures that transform, entrench, or loosen prisoners’ attachment to various identity categories via the mechanism of the work they conduct as prisoners. It inquires how prison labour affects the meaning attached to certain identities and the power various actors in the wider network of prison and prison labour have in shaping this meaning. Finally, it examines the legal and ethical implications of these effects.

3.2.2. A Synergistic and Transformative Approach to Identity

A second foundational aspect of the IWI model is its unique approach to identity. First, the IWI adopts a synergistic approach to identity. As demonstrated in this article, the phenomenon of identity-based prison worklines is multidimensional, engaging more than just one or two identity categories. It is influenced by, while also shaping, a broad range of identity markers simultaneously. Therefore, it demands an approach that examines these categories in synergy. Such a framework allows for a deeper understanding of the interplay between different identity markers and their legal ramifications, facilitating the transfer of insights across various identity axes.23 For example, a synergistic analysis of racial and gender divisions within prison work programmes enables us to apply the critical scrutiny typically reserved for racial disparities to gendered allocations, which are often misconstrued as neutral, stemming from prisoners’ preferences or physical capabilities. By analysing these axes synergistically, we can identify both the commonalities and the distinctions in the dynamics of prison labour and observe how these processes manifest within carceral environments.24

Second, the model adopts a transformative approach to identity. It holds the normative position that enabling both temporality and fluidity in how people experience their identity is merited. The IWI theoretical framework thus incorporates insights from critical identity studies, which challenge traditional, rigid and fixed notions of identity. Traditional accounts of identity categories emphasise how identities are formed and the relational contexts that endow them with societal relevance (Jenkins 2008; Lamont 2002). Critical identity studies, in contrast, complexify the ontological commitment to identity, challenge the role of identities in our lives, law, and politics, and highlight the regulatory powers that prevent us from transgressing them (Brown 1995; Fraser 1995; Halley 2002; Katri 2024). These theories propose that our identities are not innate or fixed, but instead are continually enacted through cultural practices and social norms. Under this view, identity is not something we are, but instead something we do (Butler 2006; Thomas 1993). Identity formation and cultural norms are both intertwined and mutually reinforcing: we often enact our identities in alignment with social expectations, and these performances in turn validate these norms as natural and neutral.

One major theme of critical identity studies the IWI embraces is that the institutionalisation of identity risks locking it in place, confining people into pre-conceived and rigid identitarian lines. Consequently, the IWI model perpetually seeks the potential for change, transformation, and movement along identity axes and, correspondingly, examines the mechanisms that impede or prevent such transitions. This transformative approach to identity therefore allows for a nuanced examination of the legal structures and social constructs that either facilitate or hinder identity fluidity within the prison labour context. For instance, in numerous jurisdictions, transgender individuals are subjected to segregation or isolation conditions that effectively preclude their access to penal labour opportunities. An examination of this phenomenon through the lens of the proposed IWI model illuminates two significant aspects: first, how such policies construct the prison labour space as homogeneous in terms of gender normativity, and second, how this practice effectively penalises inmates for gender transgression by pushing them not only towards segregation, but away from work opportunities. Utilising the synergistic approach of the model could also prompt a comparative analysis of these policies vis-à-vis movement along other, often understudied identity axes (e.g., religious conversion) and its interplay with prison labour. Such comparison may yield substantive insights into both contexts.

3.2.3. The Model’s Theoretical Methodology

The model’s theoretical methodology is rooted in intersecting the various scholarly fields (1)–(6) (see Figure 1) to better understand and analyse dynamics situated at their meeting point. One central methodological tool we utilise for this purpose is the identification of themes separately discussed in the aforementioned scholarly fields, analysing them through an integrative lens. To demonstrate how this looks like, this part will specifically examine three such themes: (1) coercion; (2) segregation; and (3) rehabilitation. These themes were selected for their centrality in many of the fields comprising the model, as well as for their relevance for our analysis of prison worklines. Examining them jointly raises new, oft-ignored questions, which in turn enable a new discursive framework. This new way of thinking about these themes, which emerges from their integrated examination will prove useful in the second half of this article. Future research engaging the IWI model could explore additional themes.

Coercion: Prison scholars have long acknowledged the theme of coercion as central to the understanding of prisons, stressing the coercive and disciplinary aspects of prisons as “total institutions” (Foucault 1995; Goffman 1961; Sykes 2007). Employment too has been theorised as a site of power and domination. Scholars highlight the immense control employers possess as part of their prerogative, a dynamic bolstered by recent technological developments (Anderson 2017; Racabi 2022; Dubal 2023; Hariharan and Noorda 2024). Scholars have likewise importantly stressed the coercive nature of prison labour, even in instances where it is not legally mandated (Noorda 2024). Writers within critical identity studies have similarly insisted on identity’s coercive effects, framing identities as a societal or self-imposed prison: pushing certain people out and forcing others in, policing them into a way of being (Fraser 1995; Butler 2006). Echoing our discussions on the centrality of identity to both prison and labour studies highlights how both dynamics amplify this aspect. Examining these scholarly conversations in unison underscores how the totality of prisons, combined with the totality of carceral work intensify the element of identity production in the context of prison labour.

Importantly, in a recent article, Adam Reich explores inequalities in prison labour allocations, theorising a crucial aspect of this dynamic (Reich 2024). By creating hierarchy in the system of prison labour, he explains, the meaning of work shifts, “seen as a privilege rather than a punishment; and those who occupy the highest positions in the hierarchy of prison labour are seen, and see themselves, as more deserving than those below” (ibid, p. 133). Through this shift, prison labour fulfils its role not merely to create profit, but also to produce discipline and control of the prisoner population. Reading Reich’s insights through the IWI model further illustrates how prison officials exploit preexisting identity-based hierarchies to reshape the meaning of work, masking—and thereby reinforcing—its coercive aspects.

Segregation: Segregation is another common thread interwoven throughout all theoretical frameworks. Labour scholars have long grappled with issues of divisions and segregation characterising labour markets (Linder 1987; Dubal 2017). Often, these divisions are justified as being preference-based. Identity scholars have also stressed the dividing aspect of identity formation, demarking a boundary between “us” and “others” (Jenkins 2008, p. 102; Lamont 2002). Prison studies, as noted, similarly highlighted the removal and segregation of convicts as a core facet of prisons’ modus operandi.

The IWI model brings to the forefront segregative dynamics in the context of prison labour. It calls for legal attention to the way prison work assignments reflect the inequalities prevalent in the general labour market. However, contrary to the general labour market, prison worklines often seem to flow naturally from carceral geography which itself rests on segregation.25 Thus, one site’s segregative tendencies serve to legitimise the other ones.26 Examining the theme of segregation from the IWI lens enhances our critical perspective towards separations in prison labour, enabling us to see beyond the mechanisms designed to obscure it.

Rehabilitation: Finally, rehabilitation (understood broadly as the ability of one to transform) emerges as a recurring theme across relevant disciplines. Researchers in these fields consistently highlight the contrast between personal development processes imposed from outside sources and those driven by internal motivation. Prison scholars extensively visit the rehabilitative principle and its critiques, highlighting how it often operates to deepen and consolidate the total power of the prison (Simon 2007; Garland 2001; Carlen 2008).27 Similar discussions captured the difference between labour as a site for personal growth and development (Sen 1999),28 versus the problematic tendency of some workplaces to transform individuals into the “ideal workers” (Hochschild 2012). Labour scholars have likewise exposed the harm in forced “rehabilitative” work programs, meant to transform the poor into responsible workers through the conditioning of welfare (Mantouvalou 2020; Paz-Fuchs 2008). Recent discourse on prison labour has revitalised conversations that conceptualise work as rehabilitation. However, within this framework, rehabilitation is often narrowly framed as the capacity for ‘employability.’ This formulation too has been criticised as reductive and instrumentalist (Wacquant 2009; LeBaron 2012; Zatz 2008). Finally, in the context of identity, there is a strong pushback against forced transformation, for instance in the context of “conversion therapy” or forced religious conversions, contrasted against positive processes of self-realisation.29

The IWI framework reveals how traditional approaches to rehabilitation neglect identity-based considerations, creating gaps in our understanding. For instance, offering feminine types of work to incarcerated women could be motivated by a desire to reflect market gendered divisions. However, as the IWI lens illuminates, this is not without costs.30 At the same time, as we later show, the lack of attention and legitimacy to identity-based transformations within prison walls could subvert genuine efforts to achieve rehabilitation as employability and reintegration.

Our proposed model endeavours to reimagine rehabilitation from a perspective that accentuates autonomy rather than its disciplinary aspects.31 Thus, rehabilitation is reconceptualised as a potentially transformative mechanism through which prisoners should be allowed to forge new paths for themselves. Accordingly, the model reclaims the principle of rehabilitation to explore the possibility of developing a duty for prison authorities to enable rehabilitation in its broad, autonomous sense.

Through the lens of the IWI model, therefore, we begin to recognise that identity worklines in prison are uniquely coercive, exhibit segregative elements that cannot simply be framed as preference-based, and ultimately, are non-rehabilitative in nature. The next chapter will translate these newly identified issues into legal terms, building on existing doctrines as well as developing legal frameworks to tackle previously unrecognised types of harm.

4. Applying the IWI Model to Scrutinise Identity-Based Prison Worklines

Examining identity-based prison worklines through the IWI theoretical model exposes two levels of harm: discrimination and identity re/construction. In broad brush strokes, the first level focuses on identities’ impact on prison labour, while the second level examines how prison labour affects identities.

4.1. Discrimination

The IWI lens exposes identity-based prison worklines as a form of discrimination. This perspective challenges the assumption that it is natural for work structures to maintain divisions based on the identity categories of prisoner-labourers. In other words, when labour between and within different prison facilities is segmented, leading to varying work regimes and conditions tied to these divisions, these structures should be scrutinised as potentially discriminatory.

Recent scholarship has begun theorising prison worklines in that direction. However, this theorisation primarily focused on race. Judicial recognition of discrimination has also been limited to the most egregious cases of clear discriminatory intent. One such case is the 1988 Alexander case, filed in the UK.32 The plaintiff, a Black prisoner at Parkhurst Prison, brought an action in the County Court alleging that he had been refused a job in the prison kitchen on grounds of his race. The treatment he received from prison officials was well documented, and clearly racist. The initial assessment of the plaintiff, who was black and of West Indian descent, contained the comments: “He displays the usual traits associated with people of his ethnic background being arrogant, suspicious of staff, anti-authority, devious and possessing a very large chip on his shoulder.” Upon transferring to another prison, the prison induction officer, relying on that assessment, stated: “He shows the anti-authoritarian arrogance that seems to be common in most coloured inmates.” (ibid). It was therefore not a heavy burden to show that he had indeed been refused a job in the kitchen on grounds of his race.33

However, cases like this are the exception, leaving many discriminatory dynamics uncovered. Our model seeks to expand the understanding of discrimination to encompass a broader range of prison labour practices. Specifically, it redefines the channelling of inmates into stereotypical work tracks as suspect, rather than protective or natural. Furthermore, the model highlights the link between carceral geography (such as housing prisoners in separate wings, units, or facilities based on identity) and access to work, advocating for greater attention to these systemic issues.

To develop a legal analysis of identity-based worklines, we begin by considering how labour market divisions are analysed when they occur outside prison walls. Labour scholars have long recognised identity-based occupational segregation within “free” labour markets as a pervasive global phenomenon, transcending levels of economic development, political and social systems, as well as geographical regions (Anker 1997).

Within scholarship on occupational segregation and discrimination, two fundamental questions usually arise. First, whether every type of segregation generates harm. Second, whether this harm may be attributed to a discriminatory wrong.

Regarding the first question, the research identifies two types of occupational segregation: horizontal and hierarchical (vertical). Horizontal segregation refers to the identity-based separation between professions resulting in a division between occupations of comparable value, pay, and working conditions.34 Hierarchical segregation, conversely, occurs when identity-based distinctions between professions or work sites generate disparities in wages or working conditions. Under this distinction, some argue that horizontal segregation does not necessarily produce harm. In reality, however, this distinction is often theoretical, as empirical studies demonstrate that horizontal segregation frequently leads to or is associated with vertical segregation. For instance, empirical research from the 80–90s of the 20th century has shown that one-third of the female-male pay differentiation in the US was attributed to occupational segregation by sex (Anker 1997, p. 332). Evidence from the UK likewise reveals that most female employees are concentrated in a narrow range of lower-paying professions, often referred to as “the five Cs”: caregiving, cashiering, catering, cleaning, and clerical work.35 Other studies from England and Wales similarly show that ethnic or racial segregation is associated with inequality (Blackwell and Guinea-Martin 2005). In the context of prison labour, this correlation was clearly elucidated in the first chapter, which illustrated how segregation based on identity almost invariably resulted in diminished pay, conditions, opportunities, and post-release prospects.36 No doubt, horizontal and hierarchical segregation do not always overlap and there are definitely instances of occupational segregation—in and outside prison—that maintain similar working conditions and pay.37 Without definitively ruling on all cases, and for the sake of our argument, this chapter will focus on illuminating dynamics of discrimination in contexts that can be characterised as hierarchical. The following section, which details the harm of identity re/construction, will cover both types of segregation, including instances where it is purely horizontal.

Second, once segregation-based harm is identified, scholars often move to discuss the question of whether this harm should be regarded as an injustice, or rather as “mere misfortune,” to use a term borrowed from the philosopher Judith Shklar. According to Shklar, while injustice constitute a moral wrong by one party (A) towards another (B), thereby generating a moral duty for A to aid B and mitigate the negative consequences, mere misfortune involve harm to B without any responsibility for A to remedy it (Shklar 1990).

Is occupational segregation outside of prison considered an injustice or merely a misfortune? Scholarship on labour markets offers a range of perspectives that answer this question in different ways.

On one end of the spectrum are neo-classical approaches and human capital theory. These offer complementary, yet limited, perspectives on understanding segregated labour market dynamics and wage disparities. Neo-classical approaches assume a direct correlation between employees’ skills and their compensation. Accordingly, the market rewards workers in a manner that reflects their “pre-market” disparities. Human capital theory similarly emphasises the importance of education and work experience in determining individuals’ employment opportunities. Both theories posit a strong connection between one’s skills and their occupational status (see Wright 2016, pp. 20–21). While they do acknowledge the influence of tracking processes on career choices, their analysis mostly overlooks socio-economic influences as potential sources of occupational stratification. Under this view, occupational segregation is generally seen as a ‘mere unfortune’ rather than an ‘injustice’.

A different set of theories, namely, Institutional and dual labour market theories focus on structural inequalities within the labour market (Piore 2001). Institutional theories highlight the distinction between “primary” and “secondary” jobs within what is a hierarchical market structure. Accordingly, they posit that social institutions play a pivotal role in shaping identity-specific occupational roles, which in turn reinforce and maintain the stereotypical divisions that the system inherently creates. These theories incorporate elements of social inequality, recognising that labour market segmentation is not merely a result of individual choices or skills.

At the opposite end of the theoretical spectrum, critical frameworks—particularly those grounded in feminist and critical race theories—conceptualise such segregation as a manifestation of entrenched patriarchal and racist power structures. A pivotal focus of these theories is how identity-based stereotypes and societal expectations significantly influence—and often constrain—occupational choices. Feminist scholarship, for instance, complexifies the interplay between paid employment and unpaid domestic labour, scrutinising how women’s disproportionate burden of familial responsibilities impacts their participation and trajectory in the formal labour market. This perspective challenges more traditional economic analyses by emphasising the structural and historical factors that shape occupational segregation, and views it as discriminatory and unjust.

Broadly speaking, one way to distinguish between these approaches hinges on the distinct way in which they conceptualise choice, both workers’ and employers’.

From the workers’ perspective, this involves examining the extent to which job segregation can be attributed to variations in career aspirations and preferences between minority and majority groups. For instance, human capital theory and neo-classical literature hold that women’s preferences contribute to the concentration of women in flexible jobs due to their familial responsibilities. Under this view, preference-based segregation—whether by occupation type, sector, or job flexibility—may be considered justifiable under certain circumstances (Becker 1985; Polachek 1981). More critical approaches question the idea of choice in this context, highlighting how personal preferences and child rearing responsibilities are socially configured. From the employers’ standpoint, critical approaches delegitimise employers’ right to express identity-based preferences in hiring and promoting decisions, highlighting its potential to lead to discriminatory outcomes. Human capital and neo-classical approaches, however, legitimise employers’ preferences to hire and promote employees with a perceived higher human capital and better productivity as an expression of their free choice, even when it results in identity-based segregation.38

Examining the harm of identity-based prison worklines via the IWI model illuminates how even under the most conservative approaches, this harm amounts to an injustice with clear wrongdoers. Choice, we have shown, holds little meaning in the coercive environment of prison facilities. Indeed, most incarcerated people have no choice regarding whether to work or not39 and their ability to influence the type of jobs they perform, or their work conditions is constrained.40

These systemic constraints manifest in various forms of occupational control, both overt and subtle. Prisoners who contest their labour assignments may find themselves subject to a spectrum of punitive measures, formal and informal. For instance, prisoners who refuse their job assignment can be subjected to retribution from prison officials, as well as find themselves without any work assignment. Such exclusion, in turn, carries various consequences, potentially jeopardising eligibility for early release programs and access to other work-contingent privileges. It is thus evident that the concept of choice in prison is heavily circumscribed by institutional power dynamics.41

Notably, we do not argue that prisoners have no choice on the type of work they perform. Power in prison is at times negotiated between prisoners and prison officials (Goodman 2008; Bloch and Olivares-Pelayo 2021). Gibson-Light provides an example of this dynamic vis-à-vis fence-building around one US prison. As one prisoner he interviewed explained:

We’re not gonna build up the walls and fences and the razor wire that keeps us in. The white boys and the blacks and the, uh, Chicano Mexicans—the Mexican Americans—we won’t do it. Only the Paisas—the Mexican nationals—will do it cause they don’t give a fuck. They do their own thing (Gibson-Light 2022, p. 79).

This quote highlights how, in some instances, prisoners’ preferences indeed play a role in shaping identity worklines in prison.

However, these negotiations occur within a strict organisational hierarchy. Accordingly, their scope is always already limited to the confines set by prison officials. To illustrate, we can ask: what would have happened if no group agreed to build the fences? We can only assume that in that instance prisoners’ preference to avoid fence building would not have been accepted.

Building on Reich, we can offer the following interpretation to prison officials’ agreement to respect prisoners’ preferences in this case, as well as in others. One could posit that the selective accommodation of prisoners’ preferences (i.e., allowing prisoners to arrange the work according to racial/national hierarchies) should not be construed as mere catering to inmates’ appeals, but rather as a strategic choice by prison management. Notably, as Reich suggests, the correlation between ethnic hierarchies and work stratification in prison serves to camouflage the coercive nature of prison labour, ultimately benefiting the institution’s disciplinary objectives.

Moreover, the correlation between ethnic identity and job quality, with non-citizen Mexican inmates occupying the lowest echelons of the labour hierarchy, precludes a simplistic interpretation of two groups each ‘desiring’ different outcomes. The apparent ‘preference’ of Mexican inmates for fence construction work is more accurately understood as a constrained choice within a limited set of options. To comprehend fully the nature of these constraints, we must synthesise the unique limitations rooted in labour, incarceration, and identity. First, the carceral environment itself severely restricts these Mexican nationals’ capacity for autonomous decision-making. Second, the narrow spectrum of work available to prisoners, coupled with the consequences of remaining without a job assignment, curtails their ability to engage in other types of less demeaning jobs. Finally, their distinctly vulnerable position within the prison’s racial hierarchy compels them to accept employment widely regarded as the least desirable. This exacerbation of constraints can thus offer a magnified view of how preferences are shaped by power relations rather than emerging from unfettered free choice. In other words, the prison, as a heightened social microcosm, renders visible the power dynamics that often remain obscured in the ostensibly ‘free’ society. This insight, in turn, emphasises the pitfalls of neo-classical and human capital approaches regarding labour market dynamics outside the prison context.

Given the pervasive nature of coercion in the prison environment, as described above, the element of workers’ market preferences become extremely limited. There is nothing natural, we argue, in channelling inmates to stereotypical work tracks. It is also hard to argue that identity-based prison worklines reflect their free, authentic choice. Accordingly, the IWI model underlines how identity-based segregation in the context of prisons should be conceptualised not as a “mere misfortune”, but as a type of injustice. This injustice, as we have shown, is intrinsically linked to differentiation in pay, opportunities, and working conditions. In instances where the institutional design of prison work programs contributes to inequality, we argue, it should be rigorously scrutinised as potentially discriminatory.

4.2. Identity Re/Construction

The previous chapter discussed instances of hierarchical segregation, and utilised the IWI model to show how the institutional context of prison labour prompts us to recognise this phenomenon as inherently discriminatory. This chapter exposes a second tier of harm, one which encompasses even those instances where the segregation is “purely” horizontal. Echoing the two meta questions at the core of the IWI model, we now turn to examine not only how identity influences labour, but also how prison labour reciprocally shapes identity.

Building on the model’s critical engagement with identity, we argue that alongside discrimination, identity-based worklines in prison lead to an additional harm we term identity re/construction. They can lock prisoners’ identity in place, preventing them from negotiating and evolving their identity freely, processes that are fundamental to their liberty, autonomy, and dignity. Further, this confinement clashes with transformative values we see as rooted in the ideal of rehabilitation.

What do we mean by identity re/construction? As we discussed earlier, work and prison are two institutions with direct ties to identity formation. Prisons function as sites of identity production, where inmates’ self-perceptions and social relationships are shaped by institutional contexts and power structures (Dolovich 2011; Maguire 2019; Crewe 2009; Morey and Crewe 2018). Similarly, as we have demonstrated above, scholars focusing on the workplace have likewise shown how workers’ identities are formed in the context of work (Yoshino 2007; Carbado and Gulati 1999; MacKinnon 1982; Franke 1997).

The intersection of both institutional contexts intensifies the coercive powers operating on prisoners, limiting the space they have to negotiate their identities and those identities’ meaning. Recognising these instances echoes the distinction central to the theme of rehabilitation, between internally motivated rehabilitation and that imposed by external forces. We argue that when prisoners’ capacity for identity formation is diminished, and prison labour frameworks confine individuals to their pre-existing, externally perceived identities, a specific form of harm occurs.

One striking example of this dynamic can be found in Goodman’s work within a male facility in California. Goodman describes what he saw during a tour at one dormitory housing unit:

Along the wall were three small metal boxes, none bigger than a small residential mailbox. Below each box was carefully printed: ‘Black Barber,’ ‘White Barber’ and ‘Hispanic Barber.’ I asked about these boxes, and the lieutenant who was leading our tour informed me that inmates refuse to use hair clippers that have been used by someone of another ‘race.’ According to this lieutenant, when an inmate wants a haircut, he puts a request in the appropriate box and will then get his hair cut by an inmate barber of ‘his own’ ‘race’ and using tools that have not been used on someone of a different ‘race’ (Goodman 2008, p. 746).

This anecdote illustrates how the work conducted in prison has the potential to cement the meaning of prisoners’ identities. The structure of three “equal” lines of work (a result of the way prisoners’ identity was negotiated by the inmates themselves and reaffirmed and approved by prison authorities) has had a key part in determining the meaning of race within the prison.42 It accentuated the place race holds in prisoners’ self-identification and the way they perceive others. Additionally, in this context, the biologisation of race (seeing it as ‘contaminating’, passing on to others with the mere touch of scissors), entrenched via the institution of prison labour, rigidifies racial identities as fixed and immutable.43 It prevents prisoners from experiencing their race in ways that allow transformation of what their racial identities mean to them, channelling instead ideas of racial purity that are threatened by any form of “mixing”.

The IWI model allows us to recognise the harm that occurs from these worklines as a harm of identity re/construction. It prevents prisoners from expressing and experiencing their identity beyond their immutable traits, thus infringing on prisoners’ rights to liberty, dignity, and autonomy.

The harm we associate with identity re/construction finds resonance in Sophia Moreau’s examination of how stereotyped workplaces infringe upon what she coins workers’ “deliberative freedom” (Moreau 2017). Moreau recognises how such dynamics prevent workers from deciding for themselves the types of work they wish to perform, forcing them to engage in constant deliberation regarding their identity, as its meaning and grip intensify in their day-to-day life. It places on workers “the burdens of always having to consider certain facts, and artfully side-step or try to avoid certain misperceptions about [them]selves.” (ibid, p. 169). The existence of prison worklines indeed exacerbates this problem. When prisoners with disabilities, for instance, are excluded from the prison’s work regime, or when women are offered only “feminine” types of work, they are forced to regard their identity as a key factor of their lives, as well as battle misconception about said identity on an ongoing basis. Likewise, when Mexican nationals prison-labourers are tracked specifically towards fence building as Gibson-Light has found, their identity as Mexicans becomes much more salient in their lives, overshadowing other parts and characteristics.

Identity-based worklines affect more than prisoners’ deliberative freedom. The IWI model expands upon Moreau’s theoretical framework, building on the model’s commitment to transformability. This extension reveals how prison worklines violate another fundamental normative pillar: human dignity, particularly through its inextricable connection to personal autonomy (Dupré 2016; Ploch 2012). Under this pillar, one additional problem with prison worklines is that they lock prisoners in place vis-à-vis their identity. These structures effectively solidify prisoners’ identities: both how they are externally perceived and how they experience themselves internally, preventing possibilities for evolution or fundamental identity transformations.44 Prisoners’ right to make autonomous decisions regarding who they are, we argue, should be protected even while incarcerated.45 Creating a system that forces them to perform their identities along pre-conceived, stereotypical lines clashes with their autonomy as well as their dignity.46

An example of the way this harm manifests in prisoners’ narratives could be found when considering Morey and Crewe’s work on prison masculinities in UK prisons (Morey and Crewe 2018).47 Interviewing male prisoners, Crewe developed a typology of prisoner masculinities, recognising two primary types: tradesmen and entrepreneurs. Tradesmen, Crewe found, “generally experienced traditional working-class or lower middle-class upbringing”, growing up in more traditional homes, where the fathers worked in more masculine jobs, while their mothers performed more traditional feminine work. Prior to their imprisonment, they worked in “overwhelmingly male workplaces”. (ibid, p. 24).48 Conversely, entrepreneurs were younger and more ethnically diverse, many of them raised in a single-parent (read: mother) homes. As Morey and Crewe state, “[t]he rise of service sector employment provides the context for entrepreneurs’ attitudes towards work: business and service work were preferential; ‘soft skills’ and emotional labour were prized; and creativity, innovation and business were central to their identities and positive self-perceptions.” (ibid, p. 27). Further, they explain, these men held relatively progressive views on gender equality, at least with regard to employment, a stance that may be explained by the fact many were raised by single mothers who were the sole provider.

As Morey and Crewe found, these two types of masculinities manifested in distinct attitudes towards prison labour. Tradesmen were “extremely compliant and willing to undertake most forms of work” (ibid, p. 30), even the least favourite jobs, as they were relatively similar to their outside working environment. Further, they “frequently referenced homosocial bonding with colleagues as one of the highlights of their job, demonstrating the continued significance of work environments that were predominantly male.” (ibid, p. 24). Unlike the tradesmen, the entrepreneurs were “more likely than other prisoners to reject workshop work and question the legitimacy of prison labour and its associated wages.” Prison work was often rejected also because “manual labour was at odds” with their specific type of masculine identity. As one of the prisoners interviewed stated: “[workshop work is] exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid my whole life, the monotony of it…it’s the most boring, most monotonous, most soul-destroying thing I’ve ever done’ (Harvey).” (ibid, p. 33).

The different attitudes to gendered prison labour exemplified in Morey and Crewe’s research provide a glimpse into the harm of identity re/construction as it plays out in prisoner-labourer narratives. While prisoners who aligned more naturally with gendered labour were more compliant and willing to participate in it, those whose masculinity diverged from more traditional modes struggled. The monotonous acts of performing manual labour were at odds with the way they perceived themselves, who they are and who they wish to be, and the result was “soul-destroying”. Analysing these narratives through the IWI model highlights how the gendered nature of prison labour forced men whose identity transgressed traditional masculinity to fit in. This, in turn, led to resentment. As one prisoner stated:

“The jobs that they give you kind of put you in a mindset that that’s all you’re going to be good for. In the sense they’ve got, like, bricklaying, plastering, [warehouse], bike shop, and they’re all like…stereotypical to a man…there are people that can draw and can do other things. (Connor)”.

(ibid, p. 33).

Connor’s narrative illustrates how gendered prison worklines operate as a mechanism of identity re/construction, putting people in “a mindset” that restricts them to stereotypical identitarian version of who they can be and what they are “good for”. It also highlights how these worklines operate to oppress not only minority workers but also majority ones. Thus, while existing research on gendered prison labour, for instance, mainly focuses on the way it harms incarcerated women, the harm of identity re/construction allows us to consider how it also harms men. This bilateral understanding of identity-based harm transcends traditional analyses of discrimination, revealing how systems of occupational segregation ultimately constrain and diminish the human potential of all participants. Such an analytical framework enables a more nuanced comprehension of how carceral labour practices can reinforce hegemonic masculinity, restricting it to its most reductive and limiting forms.

Further, while the harm imposed on men who perform less conventional modes of masculinity is more apparent, we believe the reifying nature of identity re/construction is present even in the context of tradesmen and other men who have lived their lives within the confines of traditional masculinity. For them, gender-based work in prison has the potential effect of cementing even further their inability to ‘think outside the box’ or envision a different path going forward. The all-male workplaces they experience within prison situate them once again in an environment where no women are present and where the atmosphere encourages banter which some of them acknowledge would push women away (ibid, p. 24). This, in turn, limits their chances of future employability.

Utilising the synergistic approach of the IWI model, the insights developed here in the context of gender may travel to other axes of identity. Accordingly, we may ask: how do all-white (or, predominantly white) workspaces look like in prison? What is the type of white identity they form, and do they intensify racial animus within carceral spaces?49

In addition, the harm of identity re/construction conflicts with expansive understandings of rehabilitation. In her analysis of the relationship between prison labour and rehabilitation, Pandeli demonstrates how the nature of work typically assigned to prisoners—often characterised as non-economic, “invisible labour”—fails to fulfil its purported rehabilitative function (Pandeli et al. 2019). Rehabilitation’s potential is maximised, she argues, when prisoners are able to “reframe their relationship with employment” through the work they do in prison (ibid, p. 599). Pandeli discusses how the type of work offered in prison does not truly allow prisoners to imagine themselves through the lens of rehabilitation.

Building on Pandeli as well as Morey and Crewe, the IWI model opens a path to reconfigure rehabilitation beyond the scope of employability. It theorises rehabilitation through the language of critical identity studies, aligning it with the moral framework of human dignity. This approach conceptualises rehabilitation as a process that empowers prisoners to actively shape their own identities, breaking free from restrictive societal norms and exploring more flexible and authentic expressions of self.

5. Human Rights Law and Identity-Based Prison Worklines

Could human rights law be utilised to challenge the harms of identity-based prison worklines? This chapter answers affirmatively, examining existing legal frameworks available for this task.

As we have mentioned, attempts to better carceral conditions ought to seriously grapple with abolitionist critiques on prison reform. To mitigate this risk, we utilise Roberts’ framework of ‘non-reformist reforms’ i.e., reforms that (1) shrink the state’s capacity to wield violence; (2) increase the prospect of prisoners’ freedom; and (3) reduce the negative impacts of carceral punishment (Roberts 2019). The reforms offered in this chapter follow these guidelines.

First, eradicating identity-based prison worklines directly undermines the state’s carceral capacity to discipline and control. As Reich has persuasively argued, prison labour regimes operate not merely as tools of economic extraction, but as instruments for manufacturing hierarchies, reconceptualising punishment as privilege. Within this system, access to desirable work is rationed through racialised, gendered, and other identity-based logics. By conditioning work on conformity to predetermined identity scripts, prison authorities reinforce carceral authority and deepen institutional compliance. Legal interventions that challenge this structure subvert its internal logic. They call into question the premise that work is a reward, reveal its disciplinary scaffolding, and create avenues for resistance. In doing so, such interventions shrink the state’s capacity to maintain obedience through coercive differentiation, following Roberts first requirement.

Second, dismantling identity-based labour assignments expands prisoners’ prospect of freedom in multiple registers. In the most literal sense, it destabilises the structural constraints that limit prisoners’ mobility within carceral institutions. But more profoundly, it challenges the ideological architecture that defines who prisoners are permitted to become. The very structure of prison worklines imposes an ontological closure on incarcerated individuals. Contesting these assignments reopens the space for identity to be negotiated, refused, or transformed. Challenging identity-based worklines does not merely improve working conditions; it destabilises the broader normative order that legitimises carceral control over prisoners’ identity. In addition, developing doctrinal frameworks that prisoners can invoke autonomously, bottom-up, also enhances prisoners’ prospect of freedom. The ability to initiate legal claims—to decide when, how, and on what grounds to contest injustice—is a fundamental dimension of prisoners’ procedural freedom. Enabling prisoners to litigate identity-based harms on their own terms transfers power from prison authorities or policy makers to incarcerated individuals. It affirms their capacity to deliberate, assess risk, and pursue justice, even under carceral constraint (Dangaran 2021). Moreover, legal strategies shaped by prisoners themselves are more likely to reflect situated understandings of harm, and remain accountable to those most affected.50

Third, our proposals meet the framework’s final criterion: reducing the harms inflicted by carceral punishment, both those caused by discrimination, and those caused by identity re/construction. Identity-based worklines magnify the pains of imprisonment by entwining institutional confinement with rigid, stereotypical performances of self, as well as limit access to material benefits and better working conditions within prison.

Taken together, the legal interventions proposed here qualify as non-reformist reforms: they diminish, rather than reinforce, the power of the carceral state.

We now turn to examine how human rights law—both international and domestic—offers relevant legal mechanisms to address the aforementioned harms.51 In alignment with our initial scope, the following examination of legal instruments will be mostly relevant to the European and United Kingdom contexts. Future research could complement the picture by reviewing other relevant legal tools.52

5.1. Protections Against Discrimination

Anti-discrimination rules secure prisoners’ right to be free from discrimination, both generally, and more specifically in the context of prison labour.

Article 14 of the European Convention on Human Rights prohibits discrimination. This protection extends to prisoners and covers discrimination on grounds of race, colour, language, religion, national origin, and other statuses. Likewise, article 13 of the European Prison Rules (EPR), developed by the Council of Europe, explicitly addresses non-discrimination, stating that the various protections granted by these rules shall be applied impartially, without discrimination on grounds such as sex, race, colour, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status.53 Finally, additional normative guidelines further stress the importance of non-discriminatory treatment of prisoners. Rule 2 of the Mandela Rules, for instance, forbids the discrimination of prisoners on various grounds, highlighting the importance of securing prisoners’ right to equality particularly in the context of prisoners from vulnerable groups. Rule 5.2 requires prison administration to make “all reasonable accommodation and adjustments to ensure that prisoners with physical, mental or other disabilities have full and effective access to prison life on an equitable basis”.

These general rules provide a normative foundation according to which all policies pertaining to prisoners should be administered. The European Court of Human Rights (The Court) applying these rules, determined that prisoners do not lose Convention protection on the sole basis of being incarcerated. Any differential treatment of prisoners is therefore subject to judicial review.54

In addition to international and regional laws and standards, national legislation in many countries further entrenches anti-discrimination obligations. For instance, in the UK, the Race Relations Act and later the Equality Act identify and prohibit discrimination within carceral facilities. In France, a recent reform from 2021–2022 included an anti-discrimination protection for working prisoners (Robin-Olivier 2024, p. 479).

Alongside general protections against discrimination, several rules and standards focus specifically on discrimination in the context of employment in prison. For instance, article 1e of The International Labour Organization (ILO) Convention for the Abolition of Forced Labour (No. 105) stipulates that there will be no use of “any form of forced or compulsory labour as a means of racial, social, national or religious discrimination”.55 The EPR are perhaps the most tailored to address discrimination that stems from identity-based prison worklines. Rule 26.4 directly forbids gender-based discrimination in the type of work provided for prisoners. This rule is uniquely tailored to address the specific harm that revolves around work assignments within prisons. However, contrary to the IWI synergistic perspective, it provides a limited protection, focusing solely on gender while ignoring other identity axes. An IWI-inspired reform of this rule would expand this protection.56

Given that discrimination often results in vulnerable groups of prisoners being assigned work that provides less vocational opportunities post-release, additional EPR rules could be invoked. Rules 26.2 and 26.3 state that prison authorities should provide prisoners with “sufficient work of a useful nature” in a way which maintains or increases “prisoners’ ability to earn a living after release.” Consequently, when carceral labour systems channel prisoners into occupations of diminished vocational utility, such practices may constitute a violation of the EPR.

Finally, prisoners could also challenge their working conditions via rule 26.7 of the EPR and rule 5.1 of the Mandela Rules, which state that work within prison facilities must resemble “as closely as possible” similar working conditions outside of prison, to prepare incarcerated individuals to normal occupational life. While we recognise that “normal occupation life,”, i.e., “free world” work is often characterised by discrimination along gender, racial, class, and other lines, the uniquely segregated nature of prison labour, which is institutionally enforced and spatially cemented, might be nevertheless subject to scrutiny in light of these aforementioned rules. This interpretation underscores the potential for leveraging these regulations to challenge identity-based occupational segregation that undermines rehabilitative objectives.

In sum, human rights law establishes a plethora of legal tools that allows prisoners to argue against identity-based discrimination in the context of prison labour.

5.2. Protections Against Identity Re/Construction

While rules protecting prisoners from discrimination are readily apparent, at first glance, the specific issue of identity re/construction may seem unaddressed. However, this section shows that existing rules are nevertheless available.

First, identity re/construction can be theorised in and of itself as a type of discrimination. Sophia Moreau, whom we discussed above, is helpful here. Moreau recognises the harm to minority groups, even in instances of horizontal segregation, as discrimination. As she writes, for many members of minority groups, stereotypical segregation into similarly situated tracks harms their basic interest in freedom, an injustice which is “as much a part of the wrongness of discrimination… [as is] the denial of equal standing” (Moreau 2017, p. 166). Under Moreau’s formulation, as extended by our model, prisoners who suffer from horizontal segregation could utilise the anti-discrimination rules detailed in the previous section.57

Outside the realm of anti-discrimination, additional potential avenues to challenge the harm of identity re/construction are available.

First, both Rule 26.6 of the EPR and Rule 98.3 of the Mandela Rules underscore prison officials’ duty to allow prisoners, within reasonable limits, to choose their preferred type of work. These provisions safeguard prisoners’ (limited) freedom and autonomy in shaping their work experiences during incarceration. We argue that such protections are intrinsically linked to mitigating the harm of identity re/construction. By enabling prisoners to select their occupational roles, these rules shield them from being confined to worklines based on their identity.

A second doctrinal avenue may be found in prison administration’s rehabilitative duties. As mentioned, we are mindful of the problematic legacies of rehabilitation in penal discourse, particularly its role in justifying paternalistic and coercive interventions aimed at transforming prisoners ‘for their own good’ to prevent recidivism and enhance post-release employability. Rather than embracing rehabilitation in its traditional, disciplinary form, our model seeks to reconstruct this ideal through a lens that prioritises dignity and autonomy. We advocate a version of rehabilitation that centers not on externally imposed correction, but on the prisoner’s capacity to engage in self-directed identity transformation, should they desire it.

Under this reclaimed vision, recognising the connection between identity transformation and rehabilitation allows us to use prisons’ rehabilitative duty as a tool to address identity re/construction. An expansive reading of rehabilitation extends beyond (important) questions of recidivism and employability. It adds a crucial element which centres prisoners’ ability to rewrite their own stories regarding who they are, breaking free from stereotypical patterns and notions about themselves. In the context of gender, for instance, allowing men to ease the limiting grip of masculinity has already been understood as part of rehabilitation. Accordingly, many correctional programs now focus on introducing alternative models of masculinity (Morse and Wright 2019; Karp 2010). However, within these alternative correctional programs, prison worklines, which still promote rigid and traditional forms of masculinity, are often left unaddressed.

Importantly, courts have recognised the strong link between dignity and rehabilitation, expanding the protections afforded to prisoners. In Dickson v the UK, the Court recognised access to both marriage and artificial insemination as key elements of the principle of rehabilitation, highlighting the importance of providing prisoners with opportunities for development as well as engagement in transforming, “rehabilitative” relationships.58 Further, courts have repeatedly stressed that failing to consider the principle of rehabilitation when designing prison policies is in violation of prisoners’ convention rights.59

Notably, courts have also wielded the concept of rehabilitation in coercive ways.60 As Rebecca Lawrence recently showed, courts have been interpreting the principle of rehabilitation in ways that limit prisoners’ rights and interests, e.g., preventing them from accessing ‘inappropriate’ reading materials and forcing them to cut ties with family and friends who are deemed a threat to law-abiding life (Lawrence 2024). Our reading of the concept of rehabilitation, however, suggests imagining it as a right at the hands of prisoners rather than a tool for prison administrators.61

National rules could also be invoked to establish prisoners’ right to dignity and autonomy, in the context of rehabilitation and outside of it. The UK Prison Rules, for instance, stress prisoners’ right to self-respect (rule 6.3) as well as prison authorities’ obligation to consider the prisoner’s future throughout their sentence (rule 5). These rules could potentially be interpreted to secure prisoners’ right to autonomy and self-realisation in the context of their work. In Germany, the right to resocialisation was judicially developed through a combination of the fundamental rights to human dignity and the right to “general freedom of action in the broad sense” (Azinović 2023). The German Federal Constitutional Court (FCC) has further extended this protection in the context of prison labour.62 This recent development solidifies the connection between rehabilitation and human dignity. While the FCC has primarily utilised this connection to review remuneration rates, the right to resocialisation may now be invoked to challenge the harm of identity re/construction, which also conflicts with prisoners’ dignity and autonomy.

In conclusion, human rights law, through both international conventions and domestic legislation, provides a framework to challenge identity-based discrimination and identity re/construction, offering prisoners legal recourse to protect their rights to equality, dignity, and personal development within the carceral system.

6. Conclusions

This article has focused on the hidden architecture of prison labour, revealing how the scaffolding of identity shapes—and is shaped by—the work prisoners perform. By juxtaposing prison, labour, and identity studies, as well as their intersecting sub-fields, this article has exposed a gap in our understanding of carceral dynamics. The Incarcerated Working Identities model, introduced in this article, serves as a bridge across this gap.

Applying the model to analyse identity-based prison worklines, this article revealed two distinct tiers of harm: discrimination and identity re/construction. These harms infringe upon prisoners’ fundamental rights to equality, dignity, and autonomy. By exposing these harms, we challenge the notion that prison work is a neutral tool of rehabilitation. Instead, we see how it can become a site in which identities are not merely reflected, but forged and constrained. By reframing rehabilitation through the lens of critical identity studies and human dignity, we propose a more expansive understanding that emphasises prisoners’ autonomy and capacity for self-transformation.

Turning to human rights law can offer a grammar of resistance. Acknowledging the tension between reform efforts and abolitionist critiques, this article centred a nuanced approach that prioritises prisoners’ agency and the reduction of suffering. Accordingly, the article delineated existing human rights frameworks and rules that offer potential avenues for addressing the harms of identity-based worklines and mitigating the pains of incarceration.

Ultimately, this article calls for a reimagining of prison labour practices that respects the fluid, transformative nature of identity. In doing so, we reassert the right of all individuals, regardless of their carceral status, to be authors of their own narratives, crafting identities that transcend the confines of both prison walls and societal expectations.