Here, Put On This Uniform
I keep thinking about that Stanford Prison Experiment. I learned about it in college back in the '70s. The goal was to determine how external factors might affect the actions of an Average Joe. University researchers recruited community members, then randomly assigned them the roles of either 'guard' or 'prisoner' in a two-week simulation/cosplay in a faux jail.
The findings weren't pretty.
An imbalance of power, peer pressure, group-identification and dehumanization quickly devolved into terrible 'prison' conditions. Authoritarianism flourished. Abuse occurred.
The results were so traumatic the study had to be terminated early. The wildly disturbing impact would go on to alter the way institutions for higher learning could undertake psych research. Which is good.
But the thing is--
to me anyway
though criticized for its lack of rigor (including directorial bias and arguable conclusions), the study still illustrated how arbitrary social titles and roles do appear to fundamentally affect behavior -- in a uniform-makes-the-man type of way. Give a nice guy a purpose, a higher calling, a them vs us mentality and all sorts of bad shit can ensue. In other words the 'just doing my job' rationale provides a lot of cover.
When an upright citizen is tasked with performing what would in other circumstances be an abhorrent act, the wildly uncomfortable cognitive dissonance is rationalized away. ('I may have put a bag over that 'prisoner's' head, but he wasn't being respectful. Therefore, I'm not a bad person.') Self-perception is assuaged.
And when you throw in being part of A Cause --say for instance, protecting the borders-- the ante of indecency can be seriously upped. ('So what if when I arrest the guy he doesn't get due process before being sent away for life and orphaning his children? He's here illegally.')
Then, of course, whole new groups of enemies are created. Payback is a thing.
Back in the day when napalm was being used on children in Viet Nam, I attended a peaceful antiwar protest, and my lower leg was run over
(slowly, but still)
by a cop on a mini-bike. He'd just been instructed via bullhorn to 'get the juveniles.' Though my feelings hurt far more than my extremity, I could easily see how someone might have reacted in an adrenalin-fueled-bar-fight kind of way. I mean the dude
ran
me
over.
Which is exactly what the naked emperor of the current social experiment is engineering. Who is going to stop this one?
Right on Erika!!! Keep up the good work.