Shoot First, Ask Questions Later

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of the bottom-of-the-TV-crawl with breaking news of a mass shooting on a college campus. Quick–what's your first thought? Lonely male student frustrated by perceived social slights? Perhaps a revenge killing based on unrequited romantic interest?

Neither of these knee-jerk reactions to the recent campus shooting in Alabama were accurate, of course. No, the perpetrator in this instance was neither male nor a student. She was a female faculty member, about whom each day seems to bring another surprise revelation. First, we learned that she was reportedly upset over not having received tenure. Then, we heard about her suspicious role in the shooting death of her brother decades ago. Now, today, reports have surfaced regarding a mail bombing incident involving her former research supervisor–an unsolved crime for which authorities were, at least temporarily, interested in her as a suspect.

There are plenty of psychological issues to be raised in the wake of this tragedy. On the one hand, some will be tempted to indict the intense environment that the academic tenure-track can be (just search for news on this story via Google and see how many times the phrase "academic pressure-cooker" comes up). On the other hand, many people (particularly those of us who are academics) too easily lose sight of the fact that even having an opportunity for a tenured position in today's uncertain economic environment is a pressure-cooker that many workers in other fields would gladly endure.

Furthermore, though this blog typically champions the influence of context on human behavior, the Alabama story's new developments certainly make a compelling case for the shooter being an individual with an idiosyncratically (and potentially diagnosably) problematic profile. Forget all the innuendo surrounding her mysterious past–the mere fact that she would resort to workplace violence of this sort certainly lends unfortunate post-hoc support to any concerns her department previously may have had regarding her interpersonal tendencies inside and outside the classroom.

But in this story, I also see a more general point worthy of consideration, namely one involving our tendency to jump to conclusions. As alluded to in the opening of this post, we form an immediate impression upon hearing news reports like this one. Even for matters as important (and life-and-death) as crime, our view of the world is colored by stereotypes.

Just consider the self-reported thought processes of a faculty colleague of the Alabama shooter, as quoted in various media outlets:

• "I'm thinking, ‘Wow, who could this be?' My thinking was some student went crackers and shot up a bunch of people for various reasons."

• "Then they said it was a female, and I'm thinking it's a female student who shot a bunch of people because of a lover's triangle."

• "Then they say a female staff member, and I'm thinking, ‘Who could that be?'"

With each new bit of information, a new conclusion. And the colleague of the shooter isn't alone: For most of us, each revelation activates a new stereotype, allowing us to start all over again in the effort to make at least some sense of the otherwise unfathomable.

It's this same impact of stereotyping that leads us to more easily associate certain crimes with certain groups of people, a conclusion with obvious implications when it comes to prosecutors, judges, and jurors. For that matter, our very stereotypes about criminal behavior more generally are what make this story stand out in the first place. Simply put, this isn't the "type of person" we usually expect to commit such acts–whether because of gender, education level, or other demographic–and it's not the setting we expect for such a tragedy either.

So don't let anyone try to convince you that stereotypes don't rear their ugly head when it comes to really important matters of life and death. Or that stereotypes are always true. Or that they should be celebrated as cutting-edge crime-fighting tools.

As she left police headquarters after being questioned, reports quoted Amy Bishop, the Alabama shooter, as saying, "It didn't happen. There's no way.... They're still alive." The remark seems to reveal an individual unable to process the reality of her own actions or their consequences–someone who opted to shoot first and ask questions later.

Though the stakes are dramatically lower, we do the same thing when hear about criminal behavior. Cognitively speaking, we fire off towards an immediate conclusion based on preconceived notion and expectation. We quickly pull the figurative trigger, and only later do we get around to asking questions.