Having been tried and convicted for rape, 48-year-old William Coleman has gone on a hunger strike in protest of what he believes to be an erroneous conviction. With that imposition of hunger comes more than 100 pounds of weight loss for the man and a whirlwind of bioethical controversy for the civil authorities responsible for carrying out Coleman’s eight-year prison sentence. At its core, the force-feeding debate is a dilemma of physical autonomy. On one hand, the prisoner’s body belongs to no one but Coleman; on the other hand, we, as a society, have an obligation to preserve life.

Since Roe v. Wade, legal precedent has pointed to absolute autonomy over one’s own body. More recently, these long-established legal precedents have come under increased scrutiny, especially in terms of patient-assisted suicide. With the exceptions of Oregon and Washington, no state legally allows patient-assisted suicide, even in cases of extreme physical or mental anguish. The rationale here is that one’s right to life is fundamental to all other rights. Indeed, Coleman’s right to his body is a derivative of his right to life. What is more, the preservation of life is an obligation; that is, it is a right made duty. In this way, the idea of contractual consent is transcended by the more basic theme of inherent human dignity.

Prison authorities desire to keep Coleman alive by way of intravenous nutrition while Coleman desires to continue his hunger strike. On the surface, it appears that no contract can be reached because Coleman does not consent to the medical treatment being imposed upon him by court order. Coleman is engaging in the hunger strike in order to protest the court’s conviction. Intravenous nutrition does not subvert this protest; in fact, it quite nearly galvanizes it- Coleman is so set in his quest for justice that only forced intake of food can make him eat. Conversely, it is clear that the court order that mandated the force-feeding did so not in an attempt to undermine Coleman’s protest, but simply to keep him alive;Coleman’s 100-pound weight loss will not be erased by intravenous nutrition.

Coleman’s refusal of intravenous nutrition does not stand up to the criteria germane to violation of social contract. Legally, a contract is set by the consent of two competent parties over some issue. Of course, all social contracts must exist within the parameters established by the rule of law of the given society. Prostitution, for example, involves the mutual consent of two competent adults to exchange sex for money. Yet, where prostitution is illegal, this technical contract is invalidated by existing outside of the parameters established by the rule of law. Prisoners, by definition, exist outside of the rule of law and so do not retain the same contractual rights as those citizens who exist within the law. In this case, it is obvious that Coleman’s refusal to consent to intravenous nutrition is not consistent with the consent (court order) of civil authorities. But, because Coleman is a prisoner, the normal rules of contracts are inapplicable. To treat the contracts of prisoners by the same standards as those of non-prisoners would be to subvert the entire legal system.

The crux of Coleman’s protest lies in his extreme weight loss; only a man deeply convinced of his innocence would put his body through such torture. Intravenous nutrition would work only to keep Coleman alive and not gain weight. Intravenous feeding involves the daily injection of essential vitamins, fats, proteins, and carbohydrates. Intravenous nutrition resembles food only in the sense that it provides the sustenance necessary for human life. In a way, such a procedure would perpetuate Coleman’s protest as he cannot very well protest his conviction from the grave. Even as a means to an end, the hunger strike is immoral and unjustifiable. Coleman does not want to die but only to draw attention to the alleged injustice of his current circumstance. Self-inflicted hunger and pain is an inherent evil that remains independent of any nobility that may or may not exist in the ultimate goal of freedom. This is not to say that Coleman, as a prisoner with few rights, does not have the right to protest what he believes to be an unfair decision; in fact, protest of the court decision is one of the few rights Coleman does have. The rub lies in the means by which Coleman is allowed to exercise this right. An anarchist can verbally protest the abuses of government all day, but he or she should be sent to jail if the protest becomes violent. What is more, it is wrong to equate force-feeding with an attempt to curb Coleman’s right to protest.

Historically, it has been a given for prison’s to remove any objects that an inmate could use to inflict harm on himself or others. Having committed an apparently heinous slight against the established rule of law, prisoners transfer, to civil authorities, bodily autonomy. For instance, inmates on death row are on a constant, state-sponsored suicide watch to ensure they do not take their own lives before the state has the chance. The rationale here is that the inmate, through his or her actions, has waived certain rights inherent to law abiding citizens. Drawing an association to Coleman’s scenario, it is clear that such extreme weight loss paired with a dogged commitment to continue the hunger strike is tantamount to suicide.

Assuming that he is innocent as he says, William Coleman is conducting his hunger strike under the pretense that civil authorities will have been responsible for the unjust imprisonment of an innocent man. At its base, this puts an idea of justice ahead of the well being of a person. Ideology kills people all over the world every day, and, as an ideologue, Coleman should not be ignored. His protest is important only as far as his innocence and no farther.