Yanwen’s blog

Yesterday, I wrote about Philip G. Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). He later expanded on this research in his well-known book, The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil (2007). 

In the book, Zimbardo delves into the psychological mechanisms that can lead otherwise "good" individuals to commit harmful acts, particularly when placed in environments marked by power imbalances, stress, or pressure.

The title itself, The Lucifer Effect, is symbolic—it refers to the transformation of Lucifer, once a bringer of light, into Satan, illustrating the shift from good to evil. This metaphor serves as a powerful reminder of how situational forces can profoundly influence human behavior.

Beyond the experiment, Zimbardo's contributions to psychology highlight two key lessons:

First, never underestimate the influence of the environment—it can sometimes determine who you are. Situational forces such as external circumstances, peer pressure, and cultural contexts can shape our thoughts, actions, and identity. The SPE itself revealed how individuals quickly adapted to the assigned roles and expectations imposed by their environment.

Second, never underestimate your own influence over yourself—don't let others decide or define who you are. This lesson emphasizes individual autonomy and the belief that, despite external pressures, we have the power to define our own identity and actions. It speaks to the importance of willpower, inner strength, and resilience, encouraging people to actively shape their destinies rather than passively accepting societal labels.

If we were entirely subject to external forces without free will, the outlook would be overly pessimistic. That’s why the second principle serves as a counterbalance to the first—while our surroundings can shape us, we also have the ability to resist, interpret, and choose how we respond to these influences.

Zimbardo's message is clear and powerful: do not allow others to de-individualize you. Don’t let anyone categorize or box you in, reducing you to an object or a stereotype. Hold on to your individuality and politely assert your identity—let people know who you are, loudly and clearly, so that your uniqueness remains intact.

Zimbardo’s work reminds us that while our environment is powerful, we hold the ultimate power to define who we are. By maintaining our individuality and refusing to be boxed in by others, we can rise above external pressures and chart our own path. The choice is ours.

On October 14, 2024, the world saw the passing of Philip G. Zimbardo, an American psychologist and professor at Stanford University, best known for his work on the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). This controversial experiment remains one of the most debated episodes in modern psychology, offering disturbing insights into how stress and situational factors affect human behavior.

In 1971, Zimbardo conducted the SPE at Stanford University, aiming to explore how individuals adapt to roles of authority and submission within a simulated prison environment. Twenty-four male college students were randomly assigned the roles of either "guards" or "prisoners." Though initially planned to last two weeks, the experiment was abruptly halted after just six days due to the extreme and unethical behaviors that emerged.

Almost immediately after the roles were assigned, the "guards" began to exhibit authoritarian and abusive behaviors, while the "prisoners" displayed signs of extreme stress, helplessness, and emotional breakdowns. The rapid descent into psychological abuse and torment highlighted how ordinary people, when placed in environments with unequal power dynamics, can engage in destructive and harmful actions.

The SPE has since become infamous as a prime example of how situational factors, rather than individual personality traits, can drive people to unethical behavior. The blurred boundaries between researcher and participant—researcher himself played the role of prison superintendent—also raised significant ethical concerns. This lack of objectivity and the psychological distress experienced by participants have led to much stronger ethical guidelines in psychological research today.

Despite its ethical concerns, the SPE is frequently cited today as evidence of the "power of the situation" in shaping behavior. It revealed how quickly and mindlessly individuals conform to the assigned roles and expectations, particularly in environments where power is unchecked. This research has even been used to help understand behavior in historical atrocities, such as under the Nazi regime, the happening in Gaza today, and in some authoritarian political movements.

A Chinese saying 权力使人腐败 (quán lì shǐ rén fǔ bài) means "Power corrupts people." It captures the essence of how power and authority can lead to unethical behavior, echoing the experiment's findings that ordinary individuals can commit harmful acts when placed in positions of unchecked power.

The legacy of the Stanford Prison Experiment serves as a reminder of the profound impact that situational forces can have on human behavior. It also challenges us to reflect on our moral responsibilities and the potential for both good and evil within each of us. 

Finally, as we navigate systems of power and authority in our own lives, whether in parenting, education, or governance, it is crucial to remain vigilant and aware of how these dynamics can shape our actions and decisions. Ultimately, understanding the fragility of human ethics in the face of authority can help us foster environments that promote empathy, integrity, and accountability, steering us away from the darker impulses revealed by this landmark study.

Last Friday, we visited the United Nations again.

Inside the United Nations Headquarters, I couldn’t help but feel a profound irony as I stood in front of the bust of Count Folke Bernadotte, the Swedish nobleman and diplomat. 

In 1945, Bernadotte was credited with rescuing 15,000 people from Nazi concentration camps. Later, he was appointed as the UN Security Council's mediator in the Arab-Israeli conflict of 1947-1948. Tragically, he was assassinated in Jerusalem in 1948 by the paramilitary Zionist group, Lehi. The bust, gifted by the Swiss government to the United Nations in 1998, marks the 50th anniversary of his assassination, honoring his dedication to peace.

The irony lies in the fact that the United Nations was established during World War II with the mission to prevent wars, promote peace, and uphold human rights. Yet, since its inception, the UN has often been unable to prevent major conflicts, from the Korean War and Vietnam War to the Gulf War, and more recently, the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and today’s conflict in the Middle East.

The Security Council, tasked with maintaining international peace and security, includes five permanent members— the U.S., Russia, China, France, and the UK— each wielding veto power. This has often led to gridlock when these powers' interests clash, as seen in Gaza, where vetoes have repeatedly blocked resolutions for peace.

Competing national interests make it difficult for the UN to prioritize global peace over the agendas of its most powerful member states. Countries often use the organization as a tool to further their own political, economic, or strategic objectives. For example, in 2003, the UN did not authorize the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, but it occurred regardless, undermining the UN’s authority.

One of the UN’s greatest limitations is its lack of enforcement mechanisms. Even when resolutions are passed or ceasefires are called for, the UN often lacks the means to enforce them. It relies on the military and financial support of its member states, and without full backing, it struggles to intervene effectively.

However, there is a brighter side to the UN’s work. Despite its failures in preventing all wars, the UN has achieved significant successes in peacekeeping and conflict resolution in certain regions. It has also played a crucial role in providing humanitarian aid in conflict zones, including in Gaza today, helping to alleviate the human suffering caused by war.

A Chinese saying best describes the United Nations, particularly in light of its aspirations and limitations, “心有余而力不足” (xīn yǒu yú ér lì bù zú) "One wants to do it but lacks the energy or resource to do it."

Despite the UN's noble intentions and efforts to promote peace and prevent conflict, it often lacks the necessary power or resources to fully achieve its goals. There is a gap between the UN's desire to fulfill its mission and the practical challenges that hinder its effectiveness.

Standing before Folke Bernadotte's bust, I reflected on the United Nations' enduring struggle. While it has often fallen short in preventing conflict, the UN remains a vital platform for diplomacy and humanitarian aid. The sacrifices of its peacekeepers remind us that the pursuit of peace, though fraught with challenges, is a noble endeavor worth pursuing. Perhaps this is the very purpose of the UN's openness to the public: to inspire collective cooperation and dialogue, holding the promise of a brighter future for all.

A few days ago, I made an offhand comment to my youngest sister: “The three of us all take after Mom with our quick tempers. How come none of us inherited Dad's side?” My youngest brother-in-law chimed in thoughtfully, “Well, Dad was always calm and smiling when he spoke to us. Maybe it’s because of his position—he was always in charge, always thinking about setting an example. That’s different from Mom’s role, which was more hands-on and immediate.”

I’m not entirely convinced. Was his even temper a result of his leadership position, or did his natural temperament lead him to that role? Curious, I asked my 93-year-old mother, “Did Dad have a quick temper before he got promoted?” She shook her head. “No, he was always mellow. We never quarreled before.”

Her answer left me wondering. Was my father’s calmness innate, or was it shaped by his responsibilities over time? It’s still something I try to understand—and something I aspire to emulate. It looks like I didn’t inherit my father’s innate calmness.

A Chinese saying 静水流深 (Jìng shuǐ liú shēn) means "Still waters run deep." It suggests that people who are calm and composed often have deeper inner strength and wisdom beneath the surface.  

Reflecting on it now, I realize that perhaps it’s no coincidence that people with my father’s calm demeanor often end up in leadership roles. Still waters run deep. The ability to remain composed, even in difficult situations, might be precisely what elevates someone to a position of authority. It’s a quality I continue to work on, even though it sometimes feels just out of reach.