When Silence Becomes Torture: The Constitutional Implications of Ashker v. California

In the realm of constitutional justice, the landmark class-action court case Ashker v. Governor of California (2015) sets a controversial legal precedent in prison reform, as it questions the limitations of indefinite and prolonged solitary confinement. Although often used interchangeably in public discourse, “indefinite” confinement refers to isolation without a set end date or clear criteria for release, while “prolonged” confinement denotes a far broader spectrum of sustained isolation. Ashker challenged not only the ethics of solitary confinement but also its constitutionality, arguing that the absence of meaningful overview in such cases, without due process, imposes egregious psychological torment as a disciplinary tool—a breach of the Eighth Amendment. As such, the 2015 settlement agreement reached in Ashker v. California, ending the use of indeterminate solitary confinement in California’s Restricted Housing Units (RHU), speaks to a far broader statement: that indefinite and prolonged solitary confinement fundamentally violates the U.S. Constitution’s promise to uphold human dignity and protect against cruel and unusual punishment.

To understand Ashker’s significance, one must first grasp what solitary confinement entails—not just in theory, but in practice. California’s use of RHUs, established under the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR), operates under policies detailed in the California Code of Regulations (CCR), Title 15. These rules and regulations implicitly sanction solitary confinement, yet the legal code fails to address or specify clear criteria or meaningful review processes for indefinite isolation—leaving prisoners vulnerable to prolonged confinement without oversight or recourse. The plaintiffs in the case, including Todd Ashker, endured confinement for over a decade in Pelican Bay State Prison’s Security Housing Unit (SHU)—trapped in windowless cells with virtually no human contact. Their placement in prolonged isolation often stemmed from alleged gang affiliation—an accusation rarely supported by any tangible evidence, fair hearing, or clear path to release. Furthermore, these inmates often faced only one real option for liberation: to “debrief”, which required prisoners to provide incriminating information about alleged gang members—a perilous and coercive demand. Therefore, this carceral system essentially served not to merely punish, but rather to exert control—disregarding rehabilitation and the severe psychological toll prolonged solitary confinement may inflict. 

This retributive system, however, was not without precedent. A similar case, Madrid v. Gomez (1995), exposed the adverse conditions of Pelican Bay State Prison, acknowledging the infliction of psychological torment. The court recognized that solitary confinement could constitute cruel and unusual punishment—but only for mentally ill prisoners. Conversely, for others the practice remained largely intact and unquestioned, bringing to light a troubling precedent: the constitutionality of solitary imprisonment appeared contingent on an inmate’s mental health status—making its legality a matter of identity rather than principle. In contrast to Madrid, Ashker sought to directly address the broader legal foundation of long-term solitary confinement—challenging a system rooted in suspicion, lacking concrete evidence, and devoid of meaningful review. As a result, the selective judicial concern for prisoners’ well-being created a dangerous legal structure—one that Ashker v. California would later seek to dismantle. Beyond precedent, Ashker raises an imperative constitutional inquiry. The Eighth Amendment guarantees protection against cruel and unusual punishment, yet it permits prolonged psychological degradation of inmates: locked away, unseen, and unheard of. Legal standards define whether something is permissible, but they cannot negate the indisputable reality of human suffering.

Psychologists have long documented this suffering, supported by decades of empirical evidence and clinical observation. Dr. Craig Haney, a leading researcher on the subject, describes solitary confinement as a “living death,” an environment so unnatural that it dismantles the human psyche. In Haney’s expert declaration for Alex A. v. Edwards, Haney emphasized that solitary confinement worsens pre-existing mental conditions and violates basic psychological care standards—findings that reflect broad professional consensus. Studies report that prisoners in solitary develop severe symptoms, such as hallucinations, paranoia, chronic depression, and an increased risk of self-harm. Additionally, a 2022 report in the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law,  referencing Clark v. Coupe found that prisoners like Angelo Clark, who had a prior medical record of mental illness, were “incarcerated under conditions posing a substantial risk of serious harm”—corroborated through the lack of proper care and mental oversight during Clark’s prolonged stay in a SHU. Proponents of solitary confinement argue that it remains a necessary catalyst for maintaining security in prisons housing violent offenders—casting it as a regrettable but unavoidable “last resort” in a system stretched thin—yet they fail to acknowledge how such incarceration is often used as a default disciplinary measure, rather than a true last resort.

As U.S. courts begin to acknowledge the detriment of solitary confinement, looking beyond U.S. borders reveals more viable models; international standards offer a clear representation of how humane imprisonment practices can coexist with public safety. Take Germany for instance, offering a compelling model of a correctional system rooted in human dignity (Menschenwürde), as denoted in Article 1 of its Basic Law. Essentially, solitary confinement in Germany is employed sparingly, strictly regulated, and subject to judicial oversight. The Federal Prison Act mandates that solitary is permissible only when necessary to prevent significant threats, with regular assessments to ensure its continuous justification. Moreover, more recent reforms reflect this commitment. In 2024, the Bavarian Ministry of Justice established an independent commission to scrutinize and refine the use of secured prison cells, reinforcing the protection of individual rights. Germany’s approach exemplifies that effective prison management and security can be maintained without resorting to practices that compromise fundamental constitutional rights.

Studies indicate that alternative approaches, such as step-down programs and rehabilitative interventions are not only more humane, but also more effective in reducing violence and recidivism. If institutional security is the central concern, it is crucial to question the persistent reliance on a practice that has been empirically portrayed to exacerbate—instead of alleviate—instability within correctional systems. In recognition of such disarray, policymakers in some states have begun reevaluating their approach, and in the wake of Ashker, California agreed to a landmark settlement—effectively ending indefinite solitary confinement in SHUs and releasing thousands of inmates into less restrictive conditions. 

Despite legal progress, the broader ethical dilemma remains unresolved. While the United States prides itself on being a global leader in constitutional rights, it remains an outlier by holding on to a practice of confinement condemned internationally for decades. The United Nations’ Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, primarily known as the Mandela Rules, define prolonged solitary confinement as lasting more than 15 consecutive days (Rule 44) and explicitly prohibit it under Rule 43, labeling it as “cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment.” While the Mandela Rules are not necessarily binding the U.S. law, they reflect a widely accepted international consensus. As exemplary, countries like Germany have drastically reduced the use of solitary confinement, instead emphasizing rehabilitation, mental health care, and social reintegration.

The legacy of Ashker v. California calls for a moral reckoning by exposing how indefinite and prolonged solitary confinement, rather than serving a purely judicial function, operates as a mechanism of institutional power—maintained not through necessity, but through legal loopholes, policy inertia, and control. To remain aligned with both constitutional protections under the Eighth Amendment and evolving global norms, the U.S. must move beyond partial reforms of prolonged and indefinite solitary confinement toward categorical abolition. Reform is not only a legal necessity, for it is an unequivocally moral imperative. The law is not static; it evolves alongside societal values, responding to the moral consciousness of time when prevailing practices violate core principles of constitutional ethics. The U.S. Constitution embodies a moral framework designed to protect individual rights, as it was founded on core principles of justice and human morals—ending indefinite and prolonged confinement is salient not only to uphold our constitution, but to reaffirm that the justice it guarantees remains meaningful and grounded in respect for human dignity.