Victims of the Holmesburg prison experiment criticize Penn’s role and demand restorative justice

Content Warning: This article contains mentions of abuse and suicide that may be disturbing and/or triggering to some readers.

The University of Pennsylvania Carey Law School and several student groups organized a panel calling for restorative justice in the wake of the harmful medical experiments conducted by the late Penn dermatologist Albert Kligman.

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The panel explored Professor Albert’s legacy in dermatology at Penn Kligmanwho performed medical experiments on incarcerated individuals at the now-decommissioned Holmesburg Prison without their informed consent. Some victims and their relatives talked about how the experiments changed their lives and called on Penn to apologize and reiterated demands for the university to provide financial compensation and other forms of restorative justice.

Between 1951 and 1974, Kligman tested viruses, fungi and chemicals, including asbestos, on hundreds of incarcerated individuals – most of whom were black – at the prison, which was located in Northeast Philadelphia. According to journalist Allen Hornblum’s 1998 book, many of the prisoners suffered lifelong side effects, including permanent scars, recurring rashes and mental health problems. “Acres of skin,” in which Kligman’s medical experiments on the prisoners came to light.

The event was a collaboration between groups including the Black Law Students Association and UMOJA – the umbrella organization for Black student groups on campus – and Penn Carey Law. Penn professor Dorothy Roberts moderated the panel and highlighted Penn’s unique position to lead “restorative justice efforts” in examining past university-sponsored and sanctioned violence against marginalized communities.

“Penn’s tangible restitution for the Holmesburg Prison Experiments, which we hope will ultimately come from this event, should be a model,” Roberts told attendees. “That’s what Penn should strive for. We should be the model university, with the highest values.”

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Herbert Rice, an 80-year-old survivor of the experiments, said he began participating in experiments at age 24 as a way to make money while in prison. Rice said he first took part in the “milkshake test,” which involved eating a milkshake and waffle three meals a day, and three weeks later decided to increase his involvement in the studies.

Rice described increasingly disturbing experiments, including a metabolic study that required him to take pills containing “foreign organisms.” Rice said he experienced severe psychological changes as a result of taking these pills, which caused him to unintentionally lash out at a guard — landing him in solitary confinement for three days.

“He kept me there for three days, and I thought I was there for three years,” Rice said. ‘… You got one meal a day. That one meal was breakfast, lunch and dinner on that plate, and they gave it to you, and it fell apart, so you had to eat off the floor,” Rice said.

He also described vivid nightmares he would have about the experiments, which he said fundamentally changed the way he lived his life — even after he was no longer incarcerated. He reflected on how his baggage affected his family life and led him down a path to substance abuse.

“I brought all this stuff back to my house, to my wife, to my kids, to my community, and I was just a damn fool,” Rice said.

Rice also recalled that two of the friends he made in Holmesburg later died by suicide, pointing to Kligman’s experiments as a contributing factor.

‘Kligman, I call him a murderer without a gun. Not (for) what he did to me, but what he did to my friends,” he said.

Rice’s grandson, Ja’Ir Rice, pointed out the generational impact of the research on his family, noting that his grandfather and father were no longer in touch. He also expressed disdain for what he described as corporate-driven institutions like Penn that divided his family.

“There are now certain parts of my family that are dysfunctional because of (the experiments), because of something he had no control over, and it’s heartbreaking,” Ja’Ir said, “I hope (things) can be improved .” changed while my grandfather is still here.”

Adrianne Jones-Alston, the daughter of survivor Leodus Jones, echoed these sentiments, reflecting on her father’s participation in the experiments and the “abuse” he brought back to her family. She said her parents’ subsequent divorce led to her running away from home and experiencing homelessness, violence and eventually substance abuse.

“I can’t blame everything on the experiments, but I bet it gave me a head start on the downward spiral in my life,” she said.

Jones-Alston outlined seven demands for the university in an effort to provide restorative justice to the survivors and their families due to the generational effects of the experiments. Those demands included financial compensation in the form of general assistance, health care funding, and community and youth program funding for programs in downtown Philadelphia.

“They made some money, we’re talking billions of dollars — and my dad’s skin is in those pots,” she said. “Share the wealth – you know, they paid the price after all.”

The demands Jones-Alston outlined also include a sincere and “personal” apology, transparency about how much money Penn made during the experiments and their byproducts, and extensive ethics training at all schools, including a section addressing Penn’s legacy in Kligman’s experiments .

“Penn needs to take action and take care of this because it’s not going away. My father is gone, but I am here,” she said.

Hornblum, the book’s author, noted Penn’s position as a “powerhouse” in the widespread phenomenon of prison experimentation that gripped the US in the 20th century.

“(Penn) had become the Macy’s of human experimentation, and anything anyone wanted could be done here,” he said. “Why? Because I understand the purpose of Dr.’s surgery. Kligman would advocate: trade, trade, trade.”

Hornblum decried the lack of intervention from city officials at the time. Several panelists criticized what is now being characterized as an insincere and belated apology from the city and university.

“It’s the city of brotherly abuse or the city of brotherly indifference, because (the experiments) basically lasted a quarter of a century in the post-war period, and no one of note is raising their hand and pointing out that maybe this shouldn’t be the case . happen,” said Hornblum.