Professor Zimbardo replies:

My reply to the [above] three critical letters regarding my ideas and me starts with an apology for the distress and justifiable concerns of alums Frederick Mendelsohn and Rick Blumsack, about the inappropriate example I used in my interview regarding systemic forces. I also welcome Charles Nedoff’s thoughtful analysis of the sociological foundations of the Stanford Prison Experiment, notably the differences between formal and informal-stealth organizations. His analysis of the vital role of heroes is mirrored in the final chapter of my recent book, The Lucifer Effect. There I develop the new concept of the “banality of heroism,” which defines how ordinary, everyday people come to take heroic actions on behalf of others. I shall be less felicitous in dealing with the ad hominem attack by John Mark (Letters, July/August) wherein he describes me as “Our Rumsfeld.”

How could someone who has been both pro-Israel and pro-Jewish all his life make a statement that can be reasonably construed as “anti-Semitic”? The simple dispositional explanation would be that I am an anti-Semite. Not! The situational explanation is a bit more complex and more valid. Prior to the telephone interview at my home with STANFORD’s Marina Krakovsky, I had been reading an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about the pressures being faced by new Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. The article focused on how some of her recent positions, such as ending support for the war in Iraq, were coming under fire from various lobbying groups. I don’t recall if the article mentioned as an example ‘lobbyists for Israel’ or ‘from Israel,’ but I am sure it was one of them. When I was then asked to give an example of how even people in power were subject to systemic forces, that lobbyist example and Nancy Pelosi, being highly available in my memory, was too readily on my tongue. In retrospect, it was insensitive to offer that example, when there are so many others that are more on target and much less contentious. I am pleased that these critics supplied the necessary corrective information and did not rush to the dispositional labeling, as is too often the case when someone’s actions are offensive. Doing so would have weakened the force of their persuasive arguments for the need to be mindful of the unintended judgmental nature of our utterances.

The major contribution of the Stanford Prison Experiment, and its first full depiction in The Lucifer Effect (TLE), is the demonstration of the extent to which human behavior can be brought under the control of situational mechanisms and systemic forces, in addition to whatever personal tendencies exist in the actors. Given the individualistic orientation in our culture, we typically overestimate the influence of dispositions, genes, traits and character, as we simultaneously underestimate the external influences of environmental, social-situational factors.

John Mark was a “good guard,” but apparently a bad student. He makes pronouncements without having read the text, which would have offered the corrective needed to be more circumspect in his groundless accusations. He might have understood better what was going on around him, and in him. Had he actually read any of the 11 full chapters devoted to a detailed narrative of our prison study (based entirely on the objective evidence from typescripts of 10 hours of videotapes, interviews, guard/prisoner questionnaires and diaries), Mark would realize that his 35-year-old recall is as accurate as that of the characters in the Japanese movie Rashômon.

Mark, aka “Guard Markus,” was indeed one of a few guards prisoners described as good guards, by doing little favors and not being as abusive as the others. In his letter to this magazine, Mark indicates he never witnessed any abuses on his day shift. Apparently, he did not see or hear the almost constant devastating intellectual abuse meted out against prisoners by the leader of his shift, “Guard Arnett.” Arnett was the second most abusive of all the guards. TLE qualifies the meaning of ‘good guard’:

One mode of inaction that characterized the good guards was their total reluctance to ever challenge the abusive actions of the bad guards on their shift. Not only did they never face up to them while on the Yard, neither Geoff Loftus nor Markus ever did so in private when they were in the guard quarters, as far as we were able to determine. We will consider later on that their failure to intervene as bystanders to abuse constitutes an ‘evil of inaction.’

Moreover, I make clear repeatedly in TLE that I was indeed responsible for creating the system that gave guards mighty power and prisoners none. Initially, we researchers (Craig Haney, Curt Banks and me) were interested in how prisoners would adjust to this psychology of imprisonment, and so guards and administrative prison staff were aligned against the inmates. It was only when we realized that variations in guard behaviors as they became socialized into their roles were also interesting, that we focused our analysis on them as well. Did student John Mark ever really become ‘Guard Markus’? Consider this instance of embracing that unfamiliar role, in one of his shift reports. “This prisoner’s behavior and respect for authority have been steadily deteriorating from the early days when he was in the model cell #3 . . . his behavior now is characterized by his new wise cracks, especially during counts. All of his behaviors have the sole purpose to undermine prison authority.”

Finally, before alleging the conclusions of the Stanford Prison Experiment to be “suspect,” I would urge Mark and the readers of this magazine to read the full account of this infamous experiment in TLE, check out the associated web sites (www.prisonexp.org and www.lucifereffect.com) for much supplementary material, and then decide whether to cast another stone against it.

The following letters did not appear in the print edition of STANFORD.

Also Starring

I enjoyed reading “Stanford in Hollywood” (July/August) but was surprised that you overlooked one of Stanford’s best-known presences [there]. As far as I know, she has not worked in front of the lens or behind it. However, she knows everyone and everyone knows her. Aljean Levin Harmetz, ’51, is a Hollywood journalist and film historian. She has written about film for many publications, including the New York Times. She is also the author of popular books including The Making of the Wizard of Oz and Round Up the Usual Suspects: The Making of Casablanca—Bogart, Bergman, and World War II.

Lance Lawson, ’72
San Jose, California

The section on Stanford in Hollywood was of particular interest to me as a Stanford graduate and resident of Southern California. However, I missed the names of two of the Farm’s notables who distinguished themselves in Hollywood. Members of the classes of 1933 and 1934, Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston became two of Walt Disney’s “nine old men,” as the key animators at the Disney Studio were called. For more than 43 years they created scenes and characters for all of the classic Disney animated features, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to The Fox and the Hound.

They were part of a team that pioneered a form of cinema that has touched the entire globe. Frank and Ollie met at Stanford, and then stimulated and influenced each other throughout their careers. Whether it was the Dwarfs grieving at Snow White’s bier or Pinocchio’s nose growing while lying to the Blue Fairy, Lady and the Tramp sharing love’s first kiss or Baloo teaching Mowgli the bare necessities of life, Frank and Ollie were responsible for many of the most iconic images in animated film.

Frank died in 2004, and was honored during the in memoriam segment of the Academy Awards broadcast the following year. Ollie is now 94, and living near his sons in Port Angeles, Wash. I am familiar with this because Frank and I were married for 58 years.

I am the wife of Matthew Irving, ’93, and I was disappointed to see that he was not included. In case he is under your radar, Matt is a brilliant cinematographer who has shot 15 features to date. His current film, Waitress, starring Keri Russell, Nathan Fillion, Cheryl Hines and Andy Griffith, was No. 4 at the box office its opening weekend.  I think you may have even screened it at Flicks a few weeks ago.  He also shot Lions Gate’s hit comedy Waiting (starring Ryan Reynolds, Anna Faris and Dane Cook).

I am very glad that you made the effort to recognize alums who have succeeded in the performing arts. I think they have taken risks that most of us have not, and they work much harder than most people realize.

It struck me that some performing artists were influenced by, or even produced by, the Stanford community in ways that may not be so obvious (such as simply being an alum), but who could not be worked into the piece as you planned it. As a good example, you noted the passing of Professor Albert Vinicio Baez, but made no mention of his daughter other than her name. It is ironic that his obituary should come up in this particular issue devoted to performing artists and writers. Were I him, I would have considered raising such a daughter and artist a major personal accomplishment, and I would have liked a little more mention of her in my obituary. In my opinion, she is one of the most talented and universally known and admired performing artists Palo Alto ever produced. I do not know if Joan Baez ever attended Stanford, but she grew up in Palo Alto and was married for several years to David Harris, the student body president in 1966 and a well-known antiwar activist. Because it was well known that her father was a Stanford professor, I have always thought of her as an artistic product of Stanford. In a similar, but less direct, way other artists were around who either influenced or were influenced by students. For example, Ken Kesey (a writer in residence) had lots of Stanford contacts in the ’60s, and Jerry Garcia, who worked at a music store in Palo Alto and hung out with the Ken Kesey crowd and generally seemed to absorb something from the Stanford penumbra. I am sure there were many more.

There may be other actor alums you have missed as well, but Richard Boone was a well-known actor on the small and large screens in the ’50s and a Stanford graduate.

Dennis J. White, ’66
Berkeley, California

Tennis Court Irony

Like Billie Jean King (“Now Little Girls Can Dream,” Farm Report, July/August), I “grew up playing on public courts in Long Beach, Calif.”—but not on Long Beach’s Billie Jean King Courts, which cost money to play on. (Okay, I admit it: we snuck in a couple of times.) It seems ironic that the daughter of a local firefighter who had to save “$8.29 in a Mason jar for her first racquet” would have her eponymous, hometown courts be ones that shut out the exact type of kid she was growing up.

Jason Wacha, ’85
San Carlos, California

I suspect, because there was no mention of it in the caption, that you may be unaware of the identities of the two people sitting in the background in the photo that accompanied Barbara Wyman’s reminiscences about Harold Schmidt (“An Everlasting Voice,” Unforgettable Teacher, July/August). They are the French composer Darius Milhaud and his wife, Madeleine. The Milhauds were friends of my parents, because M. Milhaud and my father were closely involved in the Aspen Music Festival and School—Milhaud as a composer in residence and my father as the chairman of the festival’s board of trustees. My father was also a fluent French speaker, so he got on with the Milhauds famously. Milhaud hated Brahms, and once when a Brahms piece was being performed at a festival concert, he doodled a cartoon of himself on the back of the program with the caption, “For Courtie [my father], a souvenir of no more Brahms.”

Milhaud spent alternating winters in France and in Oakland, where he taught at Mills College. His appointment at Mills came about when he had to flee the Nazi invasion of France. The Milhauds traveled from their house in Provence to Portugal. At some point in the journey, Mills College provided Milhaud with a faculty appointment, and he spent the war years in Oakland. After the war, he gave every other year of his life to Mills until he could no longer make the journey.

You will note in the photo that Milhaud is in a wheelchair. This is because he suffered from rheumatoid arthritis from his 20s. Mme. Milhaud cared for him completely. You can imagine the difficulty of getting Milhaud out of France in the chaos of 1940.

While he was in the United States, Milhaud taught Burt Bacharach and Dave Brubeck. The latter named one of his sons Darius Milhaud Brubeck, with whom I became acquainted when he studied at the Aspen Music School at the age of about 16.

I played clarinet in the Stanford Wind Ensemble for two years under Arthur P. Barnes (no relation), and we prepared and performed Milhaud’s Suite Française. It was a treat to play a piece written by someone I knew. The first movement is eerily similar to the melodies in [Bacharach’s] “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” and [Brubeck’s] “Blue Rondo à la Turk.” 

McKim N. Barnes, ’68
Chicago, Illinois

I am surprised by [Marilynne Rose’s] ability to judge all homeschool parents by the one couple she knows (“Homeschool Skeptic,” Letters, July/August). I don’t doubt that such parents may exist; self-absorbed people exist in all areas of life. However, in 17 years of homeschooling my sons (one of whom is now a Stanford graduate), I never came across such parents. Those I knew homeschooled for a variety of reasons—religious, academic, special needs not being met by the school, the wish for individualized learning. However, their overwhelming concern was doing what was best for their children. And this is attested to by the successes of homeschoolers as they graduate and go on to college and employment.

Susan Maas, ’73
Gresham, Oregon

I was disappointed that no one voiced the connection between Philip Zimbardo’s position on the situation and the system’s influence over behavior in the Abu Ghraib case and Richard Wright’s similar argument regarding his protagonist in Native Son (“Zimbardo Unbound,” May/June).

Granted, one was presented as a work of fiction and the other as a deduction based on an actual case study, but surely the concepts of guilt and shame as stated by Professor Zimbardo mirror quite closely the closing arguments of the attorney defending Bigger Thomas in Wright’s work. In that case, too, it was argued that certainly Bigger should be held responsible for his actions. However, the level of the punishment should take into account the extent to which Bigger was a product of his environment and how a system of racial prejudice had led him to make the decisions that brought him before the court. So, too, the system that encouraged  “softening” of the prisoners at Abu Ghraib contributed to the inhumane treatment displayed by the guards.

These are not new ideas, but they are important and I am glad that Professor Zimbardo has brought them forth into our national dialogue once again.

Michele Hudak
Cambridge, Massachusetts

“Horrendous conditions”; “sadistic treatment.” These terms fit well the treatment of Nazi concentration camp victims, where children had brutal medical experiments performed on them, and millions of adults were starved, beaten, tortured and ultimately gassed to death. Your recent story on Philip Zimbardo was full of hyperbole about the “atrocities” of Abu Ghraib prison, so I did some googling to see what was really behind all the over-the-top adjectives.  I saw pictures of naked men stacked up, a hooded guy with dangling wires attached to his body (though not attached to any electrical device), and shots showing U.S. servicemen posing as triumphant trophy hunters amid humiliated inmates. Still, nothing compared to post-WWII images from death camps such as Dachau and Auschwitz. And nothing compared to the slow sawing off of Nicholas Berg’s head by the Abu Ghraib inmates’ compatriots.

In fact, humiliating treatment comparable to that meted out at Abu Ghraib happens to hundreds, if not thousands, of football players, fraternity initiates and service academy freshmen every year in America. Young men are hog-tied, blindfolded, have their genitals shaved, and are humiliated in all manner of ways as part of the ritual and tradition of these organizations. Not pretty, but not deadly either.

On the other hand, nearly all the prisoners at Abu Ghraib were there because they had tried or succeeded in killing American GIs. The prisoners’ associates are now drilling holes in innocent Iraqi citizens’ heads, cutting out tongues and slicing off the faces of others with piano wire. These nefarious activities don’t garner news headlines nearly as extreme as the ones applied to the photo-scandal at Abu Ghraib.

Perhaps an alternative psychology experiment would be prove interesting to Professor Zimbardo: take a group of academics who only associate with other academics of the same political persuasion, make sure that they only read information sources written by like-minded journalists and authors. If they would be comfortable saying, “I don’t know anyone who voted for Bush,” you’ve got a good test cohort. Then, see how easy it is to brainwash them.

Steve Mims, ’92, MS ’93
Palo Alto, California

Invasive Species

I read with interest the May/June story “Field Work” about Earth Sciences dean Pamela Matson’s efforts to reconcile farming with preservation of the environment. Since agriculture takes up such a large chunk of the planet’s surface, and it’s not a pursuit we can easily abandon, farming in a way that creates space for biodiversity and helps to clean up waterways—rather than destroys wildlife and pollutes—is an essential part of sustainable living.

It’s ironic that even as interest in the study of sustainable agriculture grows, a model of sustainable farming on campus is threatened. The Stanford Community Organic Farm, a one-acre plot of fruit trees and vegetable beds on the west side of campus that has been used by students and faculty for decades, and was revived in 1997 as a place for students to learn about organic gardening, has been engulfed by a new golf course. Hopefully, the University can find a way to preserve this small remnant of agricultural ecosystem amidst the spread of invasive golf links monoculture.

Brian Halweil, ’97
Sag Harbor, New York

As an alumnus of the Stanford Biomotion Laboratory, I was very excited to see Cynthia Haven’s article on the new shoes being developed to help people suffering from or destined for osteoarthritis (“A Step in the Right Direction”, May/June). The story of these shoes is indeed a very interesting one, and this project will be a great one to start with for the Center for Longevity. However, by mentioning only the MBA students who are now working to commercialize the product, Haven has done a grave injustice to the thousands of doctoral students at Stanford who work night and day for years on end to conduct the research behind these shoes and innumerable other devices, products and knowledge. In the 10 years I have known Dr. Andriacchi, he has always been one of the most gracious people I have ever met in giving proper credit to his graduate students, so I am confident that he would never ignore them during an interview. Two of his PhD students, David Fisher, PhD ’05, and Jennifer Erhart (current) have worked extremely hard on this project both to develop these shoes and to prove their worth scientifically. But in ignoring their contributions, Haven has disrespected and trivialized them and all of the other doctoral students at Stanford. Sure, it’s fun and cool that Stanford GSB students are working on the project too, but she should have at least acknowledged the contributions that Fisher and Erhart have made. PhD students are the engine that drives the Stanford research enterprise, and they deserve much better.

Ajit M.W. Chaudhari, ’95, MS ’97, PhD ’03
Columbus, Ohio

Wrong Department

According to “Search for Tomorrow” (Farm Report, May/June), a hiring committee for the English department sought, inter alia, a specialist in “Israeli-Palestinian literature.” Surely, almost all the relevant literary works were not penned in English, and students can read them only in translation. This is the bailiwick of the comparative literature department, or the Jewish studies department, or the Asian languages department, or even the political science department, but not of the English department. And if there are a few English-language literary works on Israeli-Palestinian relations, these should be treated in a broader survey course, without need for the services of a specialist. Has the Israeli-Palestinian situation become such an obsession that ordinary protocols for defining academic disciplines are suspended? Perhaps we will soon see the hiring of specialists in Israeli-Palestinian microbiology in the Medical School, and of Israeli-Palestinian tensile strength in engineering.

Robert Jancu, ’88, MA ’90
Forest Hills, New York

Last night I picked up the May/June issue. It fell open to page 79, where John Lodato, ’41, MA ’59, stated that Stanford, “often referred to as a rich man’s school,” was “good to a poor boy” (“If I Were a Rich Kid,” Time Capsule). I also was a poor boy, and Stanford was good to me. I attended law school from 1949 to 1952 and received scholarship assistance throughout those years.

Like John Lodato, I worked for Walt Heinecke, pumping gas and greasing cars. Walt was an All-American center at Stanford in his student days. Monte Pfyl, MA ’50, whom John Lodato identifies as John’s roommate in the spring of 1941, was Walt’s station manager. He had a profit-sharing arrangement with Walt. I didn’t know the details.

I worked as many hours as I could during my first year. Because of the hours I worked and because at the end of the day I often accompanied Walt to a favorite watering hole for a boilermaker or two, my grades suffered.

The following year, Dick Balch, who was one of the University deans, gave me a job as an RA at Toyon. Bill Rehnquist, ’48, MA ’48, JD ’52, was an RA at Encino, across the road. I didn’t work as nearly as many hours for Walt, and I didn’t down nearly as many boilermakers. My grades improved. I made Law Review.

My third year, I worked for Dick Balch and for Anastasia Doyle, who was the University’s business manager, as manager of Crothers Hall, the law dorm. John O’Connor, JD ’53, who later married Sandra Day, ’50, JD ’52, was one of the Crothers’ “inmates.”

Stanford was good to me during my entire stay.

Thanks for putting out a good magazine.

Ted R. Frame, ’50, JD ’52
Coalinga, California

Not Need-Blind

I am also inspired by the Stanfords’ commitment to offer a University education to all deserving students regardless of their ability to pay (“Keeping Stanford’s Doors Open to All,” President’s Column, May/June). But unlike President Hennessy, I do not believe Stanford can claim to offer a need-blind admissions policy when it specifically excludes international applicants as well as non-U.S. permanent residents and prominently states that financial ability to pay tuition will be a factor considered in their admission. Moreover, I believe such application of this financial aid program counters the University’s Statement of Nondiscriminatory Policy, which explicitly prohibits discrimination against students on the basis of national and ethnic origin for its admissions policies, scholarships and loan programs.

Stanford’s admissions policy effectively discourages applications from middle-class international students in emerging markets, where the cost of an (often bilingual) education that can prepare one for the academic rigor of Stanford is prohibitive to most. Yet it is these students who are likely to benefit the most from the social mobility that institutions like Stanford can provide to its alumni.

I commend Stanford’s recent increases in financial aid, particularly those that enhance the packages available for U.S. middle- and low-income families, especially as the University’s endowment has grown to be the third-largest in the United States. I am also heartened that The Stanford Challenge, the University’s multibillion dollar fund-raising campaign, specifically mentions extending need-blind admissions to international students. But currently only Harvard, Princeton, MIT, Yale, Williams College and (arguably) Pomona can claim to offer a genuine need-blind admissions policy. Until Stanford joins their ranks, I would prefer that the University’s administration does not laud a need-blind admissions policy that in fact discerns the financials of specific applicants. Only then should the University be able to claim that a Stanford education is available to the world’s best and brightest students, not just the richest.

Unforgettable Aunt

What a beautiful surprise I received when I discovered the tribute to Professor Gertrude Schuelke by Elena S. Danielson (“My Guide to the Ancient Texts,” Unforgettable Teacher, May/June). This is a real gift to me because Gertrude Schuelke was my aunt, and had a big influence on me as I was growing up and beyond. Among many other things, she taught me to read—and to love reading—and to appreciate the subtleties and nuances in all sorts of things. She had a knack for making the smallest event special. One time she planted special, interesting small rocks and fossils—things she had collected during her travels—around her backyard, then guided my young children along her flower beds, helping them discover their new treasures. She was generous to and supportive of countless people and was always a source of strength and kindness, often mixed with a dose of gentle, wry wit. She was extraordinary and truly good person and I’m grateful to now have a personal account of what her classes were like. Thank you, Elena Danielson and STANFORD.

Ann Sjoberg Rogers, ’73
Westerville, Ohio