I'm teaching an advanced social psychology class this semester. The main theme of the course is social influence or how other people or groups (including formal groups, like the government, and informal groups, such as cliques) try to change our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. Social influence is about getting people to do things other people (sometimes those "other people" are us) want them to do. Think advertising and the lobbying activities of special interests (and, ok, the subtle coercions of parents and other appropriate authority figures). Some forms of social influence are benign (e.g., getting a friend to go for a cup of coffee), others are socially constructive (e.g., encouraging charitable gifts, motivating people to consider signing up for organ donation), and some, alas, are quite sinister (e.g., getting a friend to help you cheat on an exam or--in the spirit of April--your taxes).
We began the semester by reading and discussing classic demonstrations in social influence, including Solomon Asch's relatively mild studies on conformity and Stanley Milgram's dramatic research on obedience to authority. These rich demonstrations of lab-based social pressure give my students an opportunity to discuss the impact of the situations we find ourselves in on behavior, as well as the ethics of knowingly distressing research participants (i.e., in the Milgram work, leading an individual to believe he is delivering a powerful electric shock to another person who failed to recall a word paring in study on punishment and learning). Each time I teach these war horses of undergraduate psychology I am struck by how they encourage reflection, debate, and sometimes a bit of outrage (whether at social psychology or the human condition). Although they are established works, their insights are always fresh and new to some students.
This semester I also assigned Phil Zimbardo's book The Lucifer Effect, which describes his famous demonstration of social influence gone awry--the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). In the late summer of 1971, Zimbardo and his students explored the impact of a mock prison on behavior. A normal group of college-aged males were randomly assigned to roles of "guards" or "prisoners" in the "Stanford County Jail" (the basement of the psychology building on Stanford's campus). What was to be a two week exploration of prison-life quickly devolved-it had to be cancelled after only six-days (and what a stressful six days they were). Why was the experiment ended so soon? The quite ordinary and healthy students were transformed into abusive, even sadistic, guards while the so-called prisoners, some of whom were initially rebellious, quickly became docile, withdrawn, and emotionally unstable.
Recounting the drama of the mock prison in The Lucifer Effect, Zimbardo argues that "bad" people are not the cause of violence, depravity, or anti-social acts, rather that the power of social settings-the situation, again-and particular social systems can elicit "bad" behavior. The power of the situation to guide and shape our acts, of course, is one of social psychology's most important lessons. To paraphrase Zimbardo, social life is not corrupted by "bad apples" per se but by "bad barrels" housing different varieties of "apples." As "apples," anyone of us is subject to spoilage if we fall into the wrong barrel.
Produce metaphors notwithstanding, my students were intrigued by what they read about the SPE, but even the best prose cannot always capture the impact of a social psychology experiment-sometimes, it can still seem to be something of an abstraction or maybe just a bit of past history ("People wouldn't act that way today, Dr. Dunn"). Fortunately, many classic social psychology studies, including the SPE, are available on film. In general, I am not a big fan of using films in the class room, as I don't think they are good substitutes for discussion and all too often videos simply fill time. But I make (and made) an exception for the SPE film. Having my 18 to 22 year old students watch their counterparts from 1971 (bellbottoms, long hair, and epic sideburns very much in evidence) filling the roles of guards and prisoners in Zimbardo's faux jail is much more powerful than reading about it. Seeing the actual role players in the experiment, as well as Zimbardo (as warden), his graduate students, and various consultants (including a former prison chaplain) become wrapped up in the power of the situation is still-almost 40 years later--surprising and not a little disturbing. The students' naiveté and the researchers' dispassion quickly gives way to powerful demands of their respective roles and the accompanying loss of perspective brought on by the role play (Which is more important-studying psychological processes as they unfold or punishing rebellious inmates who are questioning authority?!).
So, to borrow from Shakespeare, sometimes "The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king" (Hamlet, Act II, scene II). Or, in my case, seeing the drama of real people in real situations can catch the hearts and minds of students who are often all too jaded by the confusing times they live in and the reality television they routinely watch. They "get it" when they see how normal people can quickly veer into chaos with just a bit of staging, suggestion, and happenstance. And as Zimbardo and other researchers have observed, understanding and explaining events in our recent history--the shameful acts at Abu Ghraib Prison come to mind--make sense when we appeal to the double whammy of roles and situations.