The prison guard with the blind eye

This evening, I watched a documentary about the 1971 Stanford Experiment where average college students were put in the roles of prisoners and guards in a fake jail in the basement of the psychology building. In very short order power was abused and human nature showed its darker side. One “guard” in particular became abusive in the extreme with what can only be described as creative sadism.

Even more disturbing was that the “good” guards, the ones uncomfortable with their peer’s behavior, did nothing. The avoided being around when the abuse was happening and turned a blind eye.

Heros were hard to find in the story. Perhaps only one: the lead psychologist's girlfriend who convinced him that the experiment needed to stop after only six days rather than the planned fourteen. People were suffering and it was within the experimenter’s control to make it stop. Even the experimenter had been caught up with his role as “prison supervisor.”

After this, James and I had a long discussion about the nature of evil, taking responsibility for one's actions and how we cope with bad things that we have done ourselves. Decades later, the worst of the guards in the Stanford Experiment can laugh about his atrocious behaviour, and finds ways to justify it despite knowing that his actions were amoral.

Little did we know that our discussion would be put to an actual test in under an hour. As we were laying down to bed the screaming started. First the man and the woman and then the children too. There were yells of fear, cries of anguish and frustration, and screams of physical pain.

Running though my head is the question: What is going on over there is not okay, but what might happen if he find out it was us who called the police? We live in a neighbourhood where almost all of the residents are rich and influential and clearly this particular resident is violent. I will admit, I am a little scared.

But I am no hero. This is the humiliating part to admit: this is not the first time I have heard the screaming. I just had hoped that it would go away and that I could bury my head in the sand pretending there was no tragedy going on so nearby. I can make all sorts of justifications for my behaviour, but that solves nothing and does nothing.

I decided to not be the guard with the blind eye anymore and picked up the phone. We called the police.