BUT FOR
I opened the door and walked into the back room of
the mess hall where I saw a shocking sight. A group of my shipmates, mostly
average, normal fellows but led by a sailor that had a reputation as a troublemaker,
chortled like children on a playground. They had an elderly, Vietnamese man in
black silks spread with his feet on a chair and this hands on the floor, making
him try to do pushups as some form of punishment.
His crime? He had tried to steal six oranges from
a garbage can in the kitchen of a mess hall in Camp Tien Sha, near Da Nang. He
was one of a group of locals allowed to work on the base and oranges were a
highly prized item for a people starved of its nutrients.
Mentally citing the “I have no authority. I only
came in to see what the commotion was about.” excuse, I muttered something to
the effect of “You guys are going to get in big trouble,” and left.
It was an act of cowardice equal to running away
in battle or abandoning a wounded comrade. I have regretted each day since, the
only faint solace being that I learned from it. At least I hope I did.
I thought of the incident as I continued to peruse
the question of why people I once regarded as “normal shipmates,” so to speak,
now post slogans and perform acts that would have made Joseph Goebbels nod in
approval.
In the last chapter, we looked at the Milgram
experiments at Yale University indicating that ordinary people, if encouraged
by an authority figure, were willing to shock their fellow-citizens with what
they believed to be painful and potentially lethal levels of electricity.
Less than a decade later, another university experiment,
this one on the opposite shores of America shocked the academic, in fact the
whole, world. Called the “Stanford Prison Experiment,” it was a social
psychology study funded by the U.S. office of Naval Research. In it, college
students became prisoners or guards in a simulated prison environment conducted
in the basement of a building on the Stanford campus. As described in
Britannica:[i]
“The experiment, … took place at Stanford
University in August 1971. It was intended to measure the effect of
role-playing, labeling, and social expectations on behavior over a period of
two weeks. However, mistreatment of prisoners escalated so alarmingly that
principal investigator Philip G. Zimbardo terminated the experiment after only
six days.”
It seems that things got out of hand, even in a simulated
experience. The prisoners became unruly and the guards became sadistic. All were
college students paid a stipend of (I seem to remember) $15.00 for their
participation. They had completed a questionnaire concerning their background, physical/mental
conditions, and other factors testing for normalcy. A simple coin toss determined
their roles as either guard or prisoner in the experience.
Let’s just say that things went “hugely” awry. The
behavior of all participants was so extreme that the supervisors terminated the
experience, as noted, after six days of turmoil.
Much time has passed since the experiment became a
source of public examination. As with the Milgram experience, opinions abound. Interested
readers can find a fairly precise non-academic report here.
At any rate, the Stanford Experience initiated
much thinking as to how the granting of too much power can transform normal
individuals into sadistic monsters, or, as we choose to term it, converting the
terrifyingly normal into the efficiently evil.
Some understanding of the study’s meaning occurred
in 2003. That is when details of “enhanced interrogation” techniques employed by
average military personnel began seeping into the press from Abu Ghraib prison.
This was an American-run prison complex in Abu Ghraib, Iraq, located some 20
miles west of Baghdad. There, prisoners detained as a result of America’s
invasion of Iraq awaited resolution.
Photographs snuck from the facility showed troopers—who
looked as if they may have been in one’s next-door back yard practicing basketball
a year before—performing acts on prisoners that would have made Tomás de
Torquemada smile. According to a report issued by U.S. Maj. Gen. Antonio Taguba
to Lt. Gen. Ricardo Sanchez, these acts included:
- Punching, slapping and kicking detainees;
jumping on their naked feet.
- Videotaping and photographing naked male and
female detainees.
- Forcibly arranging detainees in various sexually
explicit positions for photographing.
- Forcing detainees to remove their clothing and
keeping them naked for several days at a time.
- Forcing naked male detainees to wear women’s
underwear.
- Forcing groups of male detainees to masturbate
themselves while being photographed and videotaped.
- Arranging naked male detainees in a pile and
then jumping on them.
- Positioning a naked detainee on a box, with a
sandbag on his head, and attaching wires to his fingers, toes, and penis to
simulate electric torture.
- Writing “I am a Rapest (sic)” on the leg of a
detainee accused of rape, and then photographing him naked.
- Placing a dog chain or strap around a naked
detainee’s neck and having a female soldier pose for a picture.
- A male MP guard having sex with a female
detainee.
- Using military working dogs (without muzzles) to
intimidate and frighten detainees, and in at least one case biting and severely
injuring a detainee.
- Taking photographs of dead Iraqi detainees.
Heated debates still surround the issue. Many of
the prisoners, to be sure, harbored evil intentions not only against America in
particular, but against the non-Muslim world in general. Some no doubt harbored
information that, if disclosed, could save lives and prevent destruction.
Many, though, suffered for undisclosed and
unproven claims. As with the Spanish Inquisition, rivals and seekers of gain did
not disdain from seeking to have their fellow citizens detained.
Opinions have become diametrically opposed.
Opponents say, “America is better than this.”
Proponents say, “Torturing one to save thousands
is not only justified, but imperative.”
We are left to say, “What is normal and what is
not?”
We might conclude that power is a societal gift
best granted with care, caution, and contemplation.
[i]
Britannica, T. Editors of Encyclopaedia (2020, May 5). Stanford Prison
Experiment. Encyclopedia Britannica.
https://www.britannica.com/event/Stanford-Prison-Experiment
