“Prison Forced Labor? Yep, we do that.”

The sewing machines rattle and hum inside a federal prison workshop, their old frames shaking as men in matching uniforms lean over spools of thread. The rancid smell of industrial grease mingles with body odor and disinfectant. They work for $0.23 an hour, some lucky ones for $1.15, plus maybe a modest premium if they’re “exceptional.” It might sound like a setup from the Gilded Age, but this is modern-day America, and the employer in question isn’t a heartless sweatshop boss or a clandestine overseas factory. It’s UNICOR—also known as Federal Prison Industries—a wholly owned subsidiary of the U.S. Government itself.

For decades, UNICOR has marketed itself as the benevolent helper, giving incarcerated people a chance to learn “valuable skills” and earn a little cash while serving time. But talk to nearly any prisoner on the inside, and you’ll hear a common refrain: “Yeah, they pay us better than the other prison jobs. But if you call $0.23 an hour ‘pay,’ maybe that’s the joke.” The real tragedy is, in the land of razor-wire fences, that pitiful wage is still considered prime employment. Meanwhile, private companies and federal agencies revel in the fruits of cut-rate prison labor, hawking everything from ballistic helmets to retail products at a tidy profit—sometimes undercutting legitimate American businesses struggling to compete.

This article is from the author of “Truth & Persuasion: In the Digital Revolution”

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The Birth of a Controversy

UNICOR’s roots date back to 1934. It was created under the star-spangled banner of “rehabilitation,” ostensibly to keep inmates busy and train them for life on the outside. Yet from the start, there were quiet concerns: Could government-owned prison industries unintentionally trample on the free market? Would it violate the Thirteenth Amendment—the one that outlawed slavery but left a gaping loophole for “punishment” if you’ve been convicted of a crime?

For decades, official stories insisted that UNICOR wouldn’t step on the toes of private business, that it would stick to government contracts, that it would not exploit forced labor for profit. But like so many illusions of American exceptionalism, reality told a different story.

So-Called “Slave Wages”

Nearly 12,000 inmates work in UNICOR facilities across the country. Their wages range from $0.23 to $1.15 an hour, with a possible bump of $0.20 for a few “premium” positions—wages that critics call exploitative at best and akin to slave labor at worst. By comparison, other prison jobs often start at a humiliating $5.25 per month—yes, you read that right. Even if you hustle 40 hours a week, you can be looking at monthly pay lower than the cost of a single fast-food combo meal.

Adding insult to injury, private corporations have eagerly latched onto this endless supply of rock-bottom labor. Names you’d recognize—Sears, Target, Macy’s, Dick’s Sporting Goods, and more—have tapped UNICOR workers to assemble or process products for a fraction of real-world labor costs. “Where else can you find a factory staffed by people willing to work for a quarter an hour?” critics lament. It’s a rhetorical question pointing squarely at the heart of the debate: the moral line between “criminal punishment” and exploitation.

Competing with Everyday Americans

When UNICOR flaunts its government backing to land no-bid or “sole-source” contracts, private industry doesn’t just cry foul—it howls. Whether it’s the military awarding 100% of the Marine Corps’ helmet needs to UNICOR or countless other federal product lines that only UNICOR can “legally” bid on, small- and medium-sized businesses end up locked out. While American workers scramble for decently paying jobs, thousands of those positions vanish behind barbed wire, performed instead by men and women who have no real choice but to comply.

Representative Chris Carney famously fumed over these non-competitive contracts, especially during the depths of economic recession:

“At a time when our economy is rebounding, there are other private firms eager and able to take on this important work, which will lead to the creation of crucial jobs in the United States.”

But if you suspected shoddy labor conditions might result in shoddy products, you’d be right.

Dangerous Products and Recalls

One of the biggest public wake-up calls came with UNICOR’s ballistic helmet fiasco. In 2007 and 2008, UNICOR received non-competitive contracts to manufacture helmets for both the Army and the Marine Corps. Within two years, 44,000 helmets out of a massive 600,000-helmet lot were recalled after failing ballistic tests. The Department of Justice opened an investigation, and a prime target was ArmorSource, a private military contractor that subcontracted helmet production straight into UNICOR’s factories.

It got uglier. Representative Carney’s office stated that not only did UNICOR fail “first article testing”—essentially a pass/fail on whether the final product met military standards—but after an entire 18-month delay, they hadn’t delivered a single acceptable helmet. Meanwhile, Brigadier General Pete Fuller aired a more visceral worry:

“They could be on some soldiers’ heads in either Iraq or Afghanistan. They could also be anywhere else in the world.”

By then, the narrative of UNICOR as the plucky, well-intentioned workshop was crumbling. Carney added an amendment to the National Defense Authorization Bill forcing UNICOR to compete for its previously privileged military contracts. UNICOR halted its helmet lines and, for a moment, waived its ‘right of first refusal’—the authority that had let it leapfrog over private bidders for government contracts. Reformers hoped these changes would keep American jobs in American factories, and keep soldiers safer, too.

Government-Owned or Government-for-Hire?

At the same time, a disconcerting pattern of revolving door politics surfaced. Figures like Lee Lofthus, an Assistant Attorney General within the Department of Justice, came under fire for alleged entanglements with UNICOR policy and oversight. In an administration that sets DOJ budgets and prison policy, even the faintest suggestion of personal or professional ties to a profit-driven prison industry rings alarm bells. Critics claim it compromises objectivity and fosters a culture in which an enterprise like UNICOR can exploit cheap labor with minimal blowback.

“When the same people who oversee prison labor policy bounce back and forth between Federal Prison Industries and the DOJ, who’s left to hold the system accountable?” That’s the question rattling around corridors of Capitol Hill, especially among the more progressive or libertarian-minded legislators uneasy about the entire concept of a government-run corporation built on prison labor.

An American Crisis

The upshot is a perfect storm of moral, economic, and legal dilemmas. On one hand, we have a wave of incarcerated individuals working for peanuts, forced into labor under threat of disciplinary action—arguably pushing the boundaries of the Thirteenth Amendment’s “punishment clause.” On the other, we see private companies increasing profits by tapping into that labor pool, outbidding honest businesses who can’t possibly match such minuscule wages. Add to that recalled ballistic helmets, alleged cronyism within the DOJ, and the intangible toll on society from normalizing near-forced labor. It’s a system many believe to be rotten at its core.

Where Do We Go from Here?

Reformers and labor advocates float a set of remedies as obvious as they are controversial:

1. Pay Inmates a Living Wage
   By instituting minimum wage for prison workers, the economic incentive to outsource labor to inmates disappears. It also could let inmates save for reentry or pay restitution, easing the financial burdens of returning to the outside.

2. Eliminate Preferential Treatment
   Stripping UNICOR of its “right of first refusal” means leveling the playing field for private industry. Let prison factories compete, but without inherent advantages.

3. Limit UNICOR to Government Use Only
   Dismantle the labyrinth of subcontracting. If UNICOR is truly for government needs, it shouldn’t be producing goods for private corporate consumption.

4. Strengthen Oversight
   Demand a thorough public record of all UNICOR contracts, wage scales, safety standards, and relevant performance data—complete with independent auditing.

As Carney said, “Our military men and women deserve only the best equipment, and it has become clear that FPI cannot meet the standards required.” You could easily extend that sentiment to, “Our citizens deserve only the best governance.”Americans shouldn’t have to worry whether government agencies are funneling public dollars into a captive workforce or whether those federal contracts undercut small businesses.

Despite pockets of pushback and some reforms in the works, prison labor remains an entrenched pillar of the U.S. incarceration system. And for some locked-up men and women, UNICOR can still look like the best deal in a sea of dismal options—even if that “best” is still basically $0.23 an hour.

References & Further Reading

• Federal Prison Industries (UNICOR) Website:
  https://www.unicor.gov

• Congressional Research Service (CRS) Report: “Federal Prison Industries, Inc. (FPI): Background, Legislation, and Policy Issues.”

• Hale v. Arizona, 993 F.2d 1387 (9th Cir. 1993).

• Gilmore v. California, 220 F.3d 987 (9th Cir. 2000).

• Project on Government Oversight (POGO), ProPublica, The Intercept: Investigative journalism on the prison-industrial complex and federal contracts.

• Quotes and info from Representative Chris Carney’s office, U.S. Marine Corps, and Brigadier General Pete Fuller’s public statements regarding ballistic helmets.