It was a brand-new game show with a simple set of rules: If your partner gets an answer wrong, give him an electric shock. That was enough for 65 contestants to torture their partners to death.
It wasn’t a science fiction film, it was a social experiment by way of a reality television show on France’s “Le Jeu de la Mort,” — which translates to “The Game of Death” — last Wednesday. Contestants didn’t kill anyone; their randomly selected partners were actors, and so were the audience members. But the contestants didn’t know that, and they tortured their partners anyway.
The set-up was part of a documentary by French filmmaker Thomas Bornot, who borrowed heavily from a series of social psychology experiments conducted by Yale University researcher Stanley Milgram in the ’60s.
In Milgram’s study, participants were asked to join a research project, where they would be paired with another “participant” — who was actually an undercover actor. Participants were told to read questions over an intercom and administer electric shocks for every wrong answer they received, up to 450 volts.
At a certain point, the actor would scream and demand it to stop. If the participant tried to stop, the head of the study would give one of four pre-arranged verbal prods that urged them to continue.
The result: 65 percent of students administered the maximum voltage, enough to kill the person in the other room. The experiment was repeated in different cities and different environments, but the results remained remarkably constant. On “The Game of Death,” in which this experiment was replicated with a beautiful host and a cheering audience, the number soared even higher: Only 16 out of 80 contestants didn’t kill their “partner.” Milgram’s — and now, Bornot’s — revelation about human nature is that most of us, when ordered to do something, will do it.
Claude Halmos, a psychologist interviewed by BBC about the game show, said while we must teach children to obey, “We must also teach them how to disobey.” This means taking the time to explain rules to kids, rather than asking them to blindly follow them. If children have the freedom to question authority figures in their young lives — such as parents and teachers — then they will grow up to be adults who question authority.
This is not the same as raising a generation of armed revolutionaries. The ability to stop and think when confronted with an order is not an invitation to set a car on fire or burn down a police station — in fact, these kinds of behaviors often occur in situations in which the crowd is the authority, such as in riots. Teaching ourselves to examine our impulses toward order and chaos would bring us a safer, more sane world.
But while the prescription for our species’ future may be useful, it doesn’t help us with the generation of yes-men that are already here. If 65 percent of people would torture someone to death on camera for a chance to “win” a game, and almost all would torture the person for a bit before their conscience got the best of them, then we are a race of closet sociopaths.
Protection from abuses of power is clearly essential. It was the logic behind the trials of Nazis at Nuremberg: By setting the precedent that you would be judged for the orders you give and for the orders you follow, the Allied Forces were trying to create a sense of a higher authority for subordinates to fear. But clearly, it doesn’t work.
No authority, even the fear of God, could stop those shocks. Humans, no matter what they believe in, are hardwired to defer to authority and to lose our sense of responsibility when told what to do.
Is our species hopeless? Not if we begin to condition ourselves to critically analyze every order we take for granted. If there has ever been a practical case for philosophy and ethics classes, it is this one: The ability to stop and examine our actions is becoming an obsolete talent.
Eryk Salvaggio is a senior journalism and new media student.












