In the second part of his article on Scandinavian exceptionalism, John Pratt identified certain developments that might undermine the exceptional status of Scandinavian prisons and penal culture. A major problem looming on the horizon, according to Pratt, was the effects of globalization on Scandinavian societies. Since then, scholars have claimed that a bifurcation is emerging in the Norwegian correctional system, with humane and inclusive punishments reserved for nationals, while a more exclusionary alternative system is being developed to respond to the perceived challenge represented by foreign nationals. The opening of Norway's first all-foreign prison in 2013 has been seen as part of this trend. In this article, we describe three pains of imprisonment experienced by foreign national prisoners: those of (1) discrimination; (2) long-distance relationships; and (3) deportability. We argue that these are all specifically tied to the prison's status as an allforeign prison.

According to official statistics, about half of the male prisoners in Norwegian prisons are fathers. At the same time, just over three prisoners in 10 are foreign nationals. Based on ethnographic fieldwork in a Norwegian remand prison, this article will discuss some of the problems imprisoned ethnic minority fathers are facing, and detail some of the solutions they employ. I will focus particularly on two narrative problem-solving strategies. One is the promotion of parental values based on a strong (paternalistic) version of the pater familias combined with narratives about the sorry state of Norwegian parenting. The other is a form of symbolic resistance through narratives about violent revenge taken on responsible state agents. Finally, I will show how the imprisoned ethnic minority fathers reposition themselves as both real men and good fathers in the process.

In many countries, immigrating detention is a controversial issue. Immigration detention centres are frequently seen as concrete symbols of the most problematic side of state immigration control. Immigration detention is often seen as illegitimate by external (immigration law activists) and internal (detainees) critics. Detention centres, in short, frequently operate with a significant legitimacy deficit. This deficit creates problems for detention centre officers who want to feel good about themselves and the work they do. The professional role of the immigration detention officer can be personally challenging and emotionally demanding. Detention centre officers need to address the legitimacy deficit and somehow reconstruct themselves and the institution they work in as legitimate. This paper describes the narrative self-legitimation work that goes on when detention centre officers at the Police Aliens Holding Centre at Trandum, Norway share stories over lunch or a cup of coffee.

Denial of the victim' is one of the five classic techniques described by Sykes and Matza in their seminal work on techniques of neutralization. Based on ethnographic field work in a Norwegian remand prison, this article explores this particular technique as it is employed by prisoners in their narratives about how they came to be imprisoned. I will argue that this particular technique of neutralization, understood by Sykes and Matza as part of the etiology of crime, might fruitfully be re-conceptualized as a Foucauldian technique of the self tailored to the specific context of the prison. As both moral space and rehabilitation technology, a prison positions its prisoners as 'immoral others' who should confess and repent. This ascription of low morality may in fact be seen as one of the pains of imprisonment. Given this, victims represent problems for prisoners, as 'having' a victim equals being someone who has hurt another. I will show the narrative strategies prisoners employ when they reconstruct themselves as moral subjects in relation to their victims.

How can prisoners’ blatant aversion for the official prison food be understood? And what can we make of the various covert practices of illegal or semi-legal alternative food making that goes on behind closed cell doors? Are prisoners picky and difficult people, or is the food truly as horrible as they claim? Or could this best be understood on levels other than that of individual taste? The article will argue that prisoners experience the official prison food as a continuation of the more general attacks on their identity that imprisonment entails, denying them status as a person with competence and agency and forcefully removing them from family, friends and positioning them on the margins of the larger community outside. The daily meals thus serve as painful bodily manifestations of the power the institution holds over the individual. As Foucault reminds us, however, power may be conceptualized as a fluctuating relationship of forces, not a property of powerful groups or individuals. In such a perspective, the prison food also works as arena for prisoner identity work through practices of hidden resistance.