THE BYSTANDERS DILEMMA

The Banality
of HEROISM

Circumstances can force almost anyone to be a bystander to evil,

but they can also bring out our own inner hero. Zeno Franco and
Philip Zimbardo show how were all capable of everyday heroism.
thirty-five years ago, one of us
(Philip Zimbardo) launched what is known
as the Stanford Prison Experiment. Twenty-four young men, who had responded to
a newspaper ad calling for participants in
a study, were randomly assigned roles as
prisoners or guards in a simulated jail in
Stanford Universitys psychology department. The prisoners were arrested at their
homes by real police ofcers, booked, and
brought to the jail. Everything from the
deliberately humiliating prison uniforms to
the cell numbers on the laboratory doors to
the mandatory strip searches and delousing
were designed to replicate the depersonalizing experience of being in a real prison.
The men who were assigned to be guards
were given khaki uniforms, mirrored
glasses, and billy clubs.
The idea was to study the psychology
of imprisonmentto see what happens
when you put good people in a dehumanizing place. But within a matter of hours,
what had been intended as a controlled
experiment in human behavior took on a
disturbing life of its own. After a prisoner
rebellion on the second day of the experiment, the guards began using increasingly
degrading forms of punishment, and the
prisoners became more and more passive.
Each group rapidly took on the behaviors
associated with their role, not because
of any particular internal predisposition
or instructions from the experimenters,
but rather because the situation itself so
powerfully called for the two groups to
assume their new identities. Interestingly,
even the experimenters were so caught up
in the drama that they lost objectivity, only
terminating the out-of-control study when
an objective outsider stepped in, reminding
them of their duty to treat the participants
humanely and ethically. The experiment,
30 Greater Good Fall / Winter 2006-07

scheduled to last two weeks, ended abruptly after six days.

As we have come to understand the
psychology of evil, we have realized that
such transformations of human character
are not as rare as we would like to believe.
Historical inquiry and behavioral science
have demonstrated the banality of evil
that is, under certain conditions and
social pressures, ordinary people can commit acts that would otherwise be unthinkable. In addition to the Stanford Prison
Experiment, studies conducted in the 1960s
by Stanley Milgram at Yale University also
revealed the banality of evil. The Milgram
experiments asked participants to play the
role of a teacher, who was responsible for
administering electric shocks to a learner
when the learner failed to answer test questions correctly. The participants were not
aware that the learner was working with
the experimenters and did not actually
receive any shocks. As the learners failed
more and more, the teachers were instructed to increase the voltage intensity of the
shockseven when the learners started
screaming, pleading to have the shocks
stop, and eventually stopped responding
altogether. Pressed by the experimentersserious looking men in lab coats,
who said theyd assume responsibility for
the consequencesmost participants did
not stop administering shocks until they
reached 300 volts or abovealready in the
lethal range. The majority of teachers delivered the maximum shock of 450 volts.
We all like to think that the line between
good and evil is impermeablethat people
who do terrible things, such as commit
murder, treason, or kidnapping, are on the
evil side of this line, and the rest of us could
never cross it. But the Stanford Prison Experiment and the Milgram studies revealed

the permeability of that line. Some people

are on the good side only because situations have never coerced or seduced them
to cross over.
This is true not only for perpetrators
of torture and other horrible acts, but for
people who commit a more common kind
of wrongthe wrong of taking no action
when action is called for. Whether we consider Nazi Germany or Abu Ghraib prison,
there were many people who observed
what was happening and said nothing. At
Abu Ghraib, one photo shows two soldiers
smiling before a pyramid of naked prisoners while a dozen other soldiers stand
around watching passively. If you observe
such abuses and dont say, This is wrong!
Stop it! you give tacit approval to continue. You are part of the silent majority that
makes evil deeds more acceptable.
In the Stanford Prison Experiment, for
instance, there were the good guards who
maintained the prison. Good guards, on
the shifts when the worst abuses occurred,
never did anything bad to the prisoners,
but not once over the whole week did
they confront the other guards and say,
What are you doing? We get paid the
same money without knocking ourselves
out. Or, Hey, remember those are college
students, not prisoners. No good guard
ever intervened to stop the activities of the
bad guards. No good guard ever arrived a
minute late, left a minute early, or publicly
complained. In a sense, then, its the good
guard who allowed such abuses to happen.
The situation dictated their inaction, and
their inaction facilitated evil.
But because evil is so fascinating, we
have been obsessed with focusing upon and
analyzing evildoers. Perhaps because of
the tragic experiences of the Second World
War, we have neglected to consider the ip

believe it has become necessary to revisit

the historical meanings of the word, and
to make it come alive in modern terms. By
concentrating more on this high watermark
of human behavior, it is possible to foster
what we term heroic imagination, or the
development of a personal heroic ideal.
This heroic ideal can help guide a persons
behavior in times of trouble or moral
uncertainty.

What is heroism?

Brad Aldridge

side of the banality of evil: Is it also possible

that heroic acts are something that anyone
can perform, given the right mind-set and
conditions? Could there also be a banality
of heroism?
The banality of heroism concept suggests that we are all potential heroes waiting for a moment in life to perform a heroic
deed. The decision to act heroically is a
choice that many of us will be called upon
to make at some point in time. By conceiving of heroism as a universal attribute
of human nature, not as a rare feature of
the few heroic elect, heroism becomes
something that seems in the range of possibilities for every person, perhaps inspiring
more of us to answer that call.
Even people who have led less than
exemplary lives can be heroic in a particular moment. For example, during Hurricane
Katrina, a young man named Jabar Gibson,
who had a history of felony arrests, did
something many people in Louisiana considered heroic: He commandeered a bus,
loaded it with residents of his poor New
Orleans neighborhood, and drove them to
safety in Houston. Gibsons renegade bus
arrived at a relief site in Houston before any
government sanctioned evacuation efforts.
The idea of the banality of heroism
debunks the myth of the heroic elect,
a myth that reinforces two basic human

tendencies. The rst is to ascribe very rare

personal characteristics to people who
do something specialto see them as
superhuman, practically beyond comparison to the rest of us. The second is the
trap of inactionsometimes known as the
bystander effect. Research has shown
that the bystander effect is often motivated
by diffusion of responsibility, when different people witnessing an emergency all
assume someone else will help. Like the
good guards, we fall into the trap of inaction when we assume its someone elses
responsibility to act the hero.
In search of an alternative to this inaction and complicity with evil, we have been
investigating the banality of heroism. Our
initial research has allowed us to review
example after example of people who have
done something truly heroic, from individuals who enjoy international fame to
those whose names have never even graced
the headlines in a local newspaper. This
has led us to think more critically about the
denition of heroism, and to consider the
situational and personal characteristics that
encourage or facilitate heroic behavior.
Heroism is an idea as old as humanity
itself, and some of its subtleties are becoming lost or transmuted by popular culture.
Being a hero is not simply being a good
role model or a popular sports gure. We

Frank De Martini was an architect who

had restored his own Brooklyn brownstone. He enjoyed old cars, motorcycles,
sailing, and spending time with his wife,
Nicole, and their two children.
After the hijacked planes struck the
World Trade Center on September 11, 2001,
De Martini, a Port Authority construction manager at the Center, painstakingly
searched the upper oors of the North
Tower to help victims trapped by the attack.
De Martini was joined by three colleagues:
Pablo Ortiz, Carlos DaCosta, and Pete
Negron. Authors Jim Dwyer and Kevin
Flynn piece together the movements of De
Martini and his colleagues in their book,
102 Minutes: The Untold Story of the Fight to
Survive Inside the Twin Towers. The evidence
suggests that these four men were able to
save 70 lives, moving from problem to problem, using just crowbars and ashlightsthe
only tools available. There are indications
that De Martini was becoming increasingly
concerned about the structural integrity of
the building, yet he and his men continued
to work to save others rather than evacuating when they had the chance. All four men
died in the collapse of the tower.
These were not men who were known
previously as larger-than-life heroes, but
surely, most of us would call their actions
on September 11 heroic. But just what is
heroism?
Heroism is different than altruism.
Where altruism emphasizes seless acts
that assist others, heroism entails the
potential for deeper personal sacrice.
The core of heroism revolves around
the individuals commitment to a noble
purpose and the willingness to accept the
consequences of ghting for that purpose.
Historically, heroism has been most
closely associated with military service;
however, social heroism also deserves
close examination. While Achilles is held
up as the archetypal war hero, Socrates
willingness to die for his values was also a
heroic deed. Heroism in service to a noble
idea is usually not as dramatic as heroism
Fall / Winter 2006-07 Greater Good 31

All Stanford Prison Experiment photos: Philip G. Zimbardo, Inc.

THE BYSTANDERS DILEMMA

that involves immediate physical peril. Yet

social heroism is costly in its own way,
often involving loss of nancial stability,
lowered social status, loss of credibility,
arrest, torture, risks to family members,
and, in some cases, death.
These different ways of engaging with
the heroic ideal suggest a deeper, more
intricate denition of heroism. Based on
our own analysis of many acts that we
deem heroic, we believe that heroism
is made up of at least four independent
dimensions.
First, heroism involves some type of
quest, which may range from the preservation of life (Frank De Martinis efforts at
the World Trade Center) to the preservation of an ideal (Dr. Martin Luther King,
Jr.s pursuit of equal rights for African
Americans).
Second, heroism must have some form
of actual or anticipated sacrice or risk.
This can be either some form of physical
32 Greater Good Fall / Winter 2006-07

peril or a profound social sacrice. The

physical risks that reghters take in the
line of duty are clearly heroic in nature.
Social sacrices are more subtle. For example, in 2002, Dr. Tom Cahill, a researcher at
the University of California, Davis, risked
his credibility as a career scientist by calling a press conference to openly challenge
the EPAs ndings that the air near Ground
Zero was safe to breathe in the aftermath
of the September 11 attacks. His willingness to go public was challenged by the
government and by some fellow scientists.
Like Cahill, whistleblowers in government
and business often face ostracism, physical
threat, and the loss of their jobs.
Third, the heroic act can either be passive or active. We often think of heroics as
a valiant activity, something that is clearly
observable. But some forms of heroism
involve passive resistance or an unwillingness to be moved. Consider Revolutionary
War ofcer Nathan Hales actions before

his execution by the British army. There

was nothing to be done in that moment
except to decide how he submitted to
deathwith fortitude or with fear. The
words he uttered in his nal moments
(borrowed from Joseph Addisons play
Cato), I regret that I have but one life to
give for my country, are remembered
more than two centuries later as a symbol
of strength.
Finally, heroism can be a sudden, one
time act, or something that persists over a
longer period of time. This could mean that
heroism may be an almost instantaneous
reaction to a situation, such as when a selfdescribed average guy named Dale Sayler
pulled an unconscious driver from a vehicle
about to be hit by an oncoming train.
Alternatively, it may be a well thought-out
series of actions taking place over days,
months, or a lifetime. For instance, in 1940,
a Japanese consul ofcial in Lithuania,
Chiune Sugihara, signed more than 2,000

Many of the guards in the Stanford Prison Experiment didnt speak

out when they witnessed disturbing abuse by their fellow guards;
nearly 30 years later, guards at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq acted in
nearly the same way.

Under certain
conditions
and social
pressures,
ordinary
people can
commit acts
that would
otherwise be

unthinkable.

visas for Jews hoping to escape the Nazi

invasion, despite his governments direct
orders not to do so. Every morning when
Sugihara got up and made the same decision to help, every time he signed a visa, he
acted heroically and increased the likelihood of dire consequences for himself and
his family. At the end of the war he was
unceremoniously red from the Japanese
civil service.

What makes a hero?

Our efforts to catalogue and categorize

heroic activity have led us to explore the
factors that come together to create heroes.
It must be emphasized that this is initial,
exploratory work; at best, it allows us to
propose a few speculations that warrant
further investigation.
We have been able to learn from a body
of prior research how certain situations can
induce the bystander effect, which we mentioned earlier. But just as they can create

bystanders, situations also have immense

power to bring out heroic actions in people
who never would have considered themselves heroes. In fact, the rst response of
many people who are called heroes is to
deny their own uniqueness with statements
such as, I am not a hero; anyone in the
same situation would have done what I
did, or, I just did what needed to be done.
Immediate life and death situations, such
as when people are stranded in a burning
house or a car wreck, are clear examples
of situations that galvanize people into
heroic action. But other situationssuch as
being witness to discrimination, corporate
corruption, government malfeasance, or
military atrocitiesnot only bring out the
worst in people; they sometimes bring
out the best. We believe that these situations create a bright-line ethical test that
pushes some individuals toward action in
an attempt to stop the evil being perpetrated. But why are some people able to

see this line while others are blind to it?

Why do some people take responsibility
for a situation when others succumb to the
bystander effect?
Just as in the Stanford Prison Experiment and the Milgram studies, the situation
and the personal characteristics of each
person caught up in the situation interact in
unique ways. We remain unsure how these
personal characteristics combine with the
situation to generate heroic action, but we
have some preliminary ideas. The case of
Sugiharas intervention on behalf of the
Jews is particularly instructive.
Accounts of Sugiharas life show us that
his efforts to save Jewish refugees was a
dramatic nale to a long list of smaller
efforts, each of which demonstrated a
willingness to occasionally defy the strict
social constraints of Japanese society in
the early 20th century. For example, he
did not follow his fathers instructions to
become a doctor, pursuing language study
and civil service instead; his rst wife was
not Japanese; and in the 1930s, Sugihara
resigned from a prestigious civil service
position to protest the Japanese militarys
treatment of the Chinese during the
occupation of Manchuria. These incidents
suggest that Sugihara already possessed
the internal strength and self-assurance
necessary to be guided by his own moral
compass in uncertain situations. We can
speculate that Sugihara was more willing
to assert his individual view than others
around him who preferred to go along to
get along.
Also, Sugihara was bound to two different codes: He was a sworn representative
of the Japanese government, but he was
raised in a rural Samurai family. Should he
obey his governments order to not help
Jews (and, by extension, comply with his
cultures age-old mor not to bring shame
on his family by disobeying authority)? Or
should he follow the Samurai adage that
haunted him, Even a hunter cannot kill a
bird which ies to him for refuge? When
the Japanese government denied repeated
requests he made for permission to assist
the refugees, Sugihara may have realized
that these two codes of behavior were in
conict and that he faced a bright-line ethical test.
Interestingly, Sugihara did not act
impulsively or spontaneously; instead, he
carefully weighed the decision with his
wife and family. In situations that auger
for social heroism, the problem may create a moral tickle that the person can
not ignorea sort of positive rumination,
Fall / Winter 2006-07 Greater Good 33

where we cant stop thinking about something because it does not sit right with us.
Yet this still leaves the question, What
prompts people to take action? Many
people in similar positions recognize the
ethical problems associated with the situation and are deeply disturbed, but simply
decide to ignore it. What characterizes the
nal step toward heroic action? Are those
who do act more conscientious? Or are
they simply less risk averse?
We dont know the answer to these vital
questionssocial science hasnt resolved
them yet. However, we believe that an
important factor that may encourage heroic
action is the stimulation of heroic imaginationthe capacity to imagine facing physically or socially risky situations, to struggle
with the hypothetical problems these
situations generate, and to consider ones
actions and the consequences. By considering these issues in advance, the individual
becomes more prepared to act when and
if a moment that calls for heroism arises.
Strengthening the heroic imagination may
help to make people more aware of the
ethical tests embedded in complex situations, while allowing the individual to have
already considered, and to some degree
transcended, the cost of their heroic action.
Seeing ones self as capable of the resolve
necessary for heroism may be the rst step
toward a heroic outcome.

How to nurture the

heroic imagination
Over the last century, we have witnessed
the subtle diminution of the word hero.
This title was once reserved only for those
who did great things at great personal risk.
Gradually, as we have moved toward mechanized combat, especially during and after
the Second World War, the original ideals
of military heroism became more remote.
At the same time, our view of social heroism has also been slowly watered down.
We hold up inventors, athletes, actors,
politicians, and scientists as examples of
heroes. These individuals are clearly role
models, embodying important qualities we
would all like to see in our childrencuriosity, persistence, physical strength, being a
Good Samaritanbut they do not demonstrate courage or fortitude. By diminishing
the ideal of heroism, our society makes
two mistakes. First, we dilute the important contribution of true heroes, whether
they are luminary gures like Abraham
Lincoln or the hero next door. Second, we
keep ourselves from confronting the older,
34 Greater Good Fall / Winter 2006-07

Sylvia Wright/UC Davis News Service

THE BYSTANDERS DILEMMA

Two everyday heroes: Researcher Tom Cahill (above) and New Orleans resident Jabar Gibson (opposite
page) both acted to help others when they witnessed a crisis.
more demanding forms of this ideal. We
do not have to challenge ourselves to see if,
when faced with a situation that called for
courage, we would meet that test. In prior
generations, words like bravery, fortitude,
gallantry, and valor stirred our souls. Children read of the exploits of great warriors
and explorers and would set out to follow
in those footsteps. But we spend little time
thinking about the deep meanings these
words once carried, and focus less on
trying to encourage ourselves to consider
how we might engage in bravery in the
social sphere, where most of us will have
an opportunity to be heroic at one time or
another. As our society dumbs down heroism, we fail to foster heroic imagination.
There are several concrete steps we can
take to foster the heroic imagination. We
can start by remaining mindful, carefully
and critically evaluating each situation we
encounter so that we dont gloss over an
emergency requiring our action. We should
try to develop our discontinuity detectoran awareness of things that dont t,
are out of place, or dont make sense in a
setting. This means asking questions to get
the information we need to take responsible action.
Second, it is important not to fear interpersonal conict, and to develop the personal hardiness necessary to stand rm for
principles we cherish. In fact, we shouldnt
think of difcult interactions as conicts
but rather as attempts to challenge other
people to support their own principles and
ideology.

Third, we must remain aware of an

extended time-horizon, not just the present
moment. We should be engaged in the
current situation, yet also be able to detach
part of our analytical focus to imagine
alternative future scenarios that might
play out, depending on different actions or
failures to act that we take in the present.
In addition, we should keep part of our
minds on the past, as that may help us
recall values and teachings instilled in us
long ago, which may inform our actions in
the current situation.
Fourth, we have to resist the urge to
rationalize inaction and to develop justications that recast evil deeds as acceptable
means to supposedly righteous ends.
Finally, we must try to transcend anticipating negative consequence associated
with some forms of heroism, such as being
socially ostracized. If our course is just,
we must trust that others will eventually
recognize the value of our heroic actions.
But beyond these basic steps, our society
needs to consider ways of fostering heroic
imagination in all of its citizens, most
particularly in our young. The ancient
Greeks and Anglo Saxon tribes venerated
their heroes in epic poems such as the Iliad
and Beowulf. It is easy to see these stories
as antiquated, but their instructions for the
hero still hold up.
In these stories, the protagonist often
encounters a mystical gure who attempts
to seduce the hero away from his path.
In our own lives, we must also avoid the
seduction of evil, and we must recognize

A STORY OF HEROISM

The Prison Guards Dilemma

BY JASON MARSH

Photo: Houston Chronicle

that the seduction will probably be quite

ordinaryan unethical friend or coworker,
for instance. By passing a series of smaller
tests of our mettle, we can cultivate a personal habit of heroism.
Epic poems also often tell of the hero
visiting the underworld. This metaphorical encounter with death represents an
acceptance and transcendence of ones own
mortality. To this day, some forms of heroism require paying the ultimate price. But
we can also understand this as a heros willingness to accept any of the consequences
of heroic actionwhether the sacrices are
physical or social.
Finally, from the primeval war stories of
Achilles to Sugiharas compelling kindness toward the Jewish refugees in World
War Two, a code of conduct served as
the framework from which heroic action
emerged. In this code, the hero follows a
set of rules that serves as a reminder, sometimes even when he would prefer to forget,
that something is wrong and that he must
attempt to set it right. Today, it seems as
if we are drifting further and further away
from maintaining a set of teachings that
serve as a litmus test for right and wrong.
But in a digital world, how do we connect ourselves and our children to what
were once oral traditions? Hollywood has
accomplished some of these tasks. The
recent screen version of J.R.R. Tolkiens
The Lord of the Rings brought us a classic
story that is based on the epic tradition. Yet
how many of us have stopped and talked
with our children about the deeper meanings of this tale? As the sophistication of

video gaming grows, can the power of this

entertainment form be used to educate children about the pitfalls of following a herd
mentality? Could these games help children
develop their own internal compass in morally ambiguous situations? Or perhaps even
help them think about their own ability
to act heroically? And as we plow ahead
in the digital era, how can the fundamental teachings of a code of honor remain
relevant to human interactions?
If we lose the ability to imagine ourselves as heroes, and to understand the
meaning of true heroism, our society will
be poorer for it. But if we can reconnect
with these ancient ideals, and make them
fresh again, we can create a connection
with the hero in ourselves. It is this vital,
internal conduit between the modern worka-day world and the mythic world that
can prepare an ordinary person to be an
everyday hero.
Zeno Franco is a Ph.D. candidate in clinical psychology at Pacic Graduate School
of Psychology in Palo Alto, California. He
recently completed a three year U.S. Department of Homeland Security Fellowship. Philip
Zimbardo, Ph.D., is a professor emeritus of
psychology at Stanford University, a two-time
past president of the Western Psychological
Association, and a past president of the
American Psychological Association. The
idea of the banality of heroism was rst
presented in an essay he wrote for Edge
(www.edge.org), where he was one of many
scholars who replied to the question, What
idea is dangerous to you?

hirty years after the Stanford Prison

Experiment ended abruptly, its ndings
resonated in the photos that escaped from
Abu Ghraib prison: prisoners with hoods over
their heads, put in humiliating positions;
young guards pandering to the camera as they
abused their subjects. The soldiers at Abu
Ghraib were ordinary young men and women
thrown into an environment in which abusive
and degrading behavior became the norm.
But if Abu Ghraib revealed the banality of
evil, it also exposed the banality of heroism.
While the culture of the prison persuaded
everyone else to perform or accept prisoner
abuse, Sergeant Joseph Darby, a 24-year-old
Army reservist, saw what his fellow soldiers
were doing, and he acted to stop it.
Another soldier gave Darby a CD with
photos of the abuses on them. It was amusing at rst, he said in a recent interview with
ABC News. [But] after Id looked at all the
pictures, I realized I had a decision to make.
Darby decided to turn in the CD to a
superior. The military initiated an investigation but didnt disclose who at Abu Ghraib had
reported the abuses. For a month and a half,
Darby lived in a perpetual state of fear, hoping
his identity as the whistle blower wouldnt be
revealed, sleeping with a gun under his pillow.
But he remained convinced that he had done
his duty as a solider.
[The abuse] violated everything I personally believed in and all Id been taught about
the rules of war, he said during a pretrial
hearing for one of the perpetrators. It was
more of a moral call.
In the two years since the photos rst came
to light, eight soldiers have been punished for
their role in the abuses, and Darby has been
hailed as a hero. He has also been vilied
by people in and out of the military. Vandalism and threats against his wife and mother
forced them to move from their Pennsylvania
home; Darby went into protective custody, and
now lives in hiding. Still, he has expressed
no regrets about blowing the whistle on Abu
Ghraib.
It had to be done, he told ABC News.

Fall / Winter 2006-07 Greater Good 35