The Bystander Affect: Why Some Good People Don’t Do the Right Thing
- Kris J. Simpson
- Apr 1
- 13 min read
My grandparent’s neighbours screamed as they scrambled around the apartment building in a panic. There was a fire just outside the building, and it threatened to engulf all of the apartments in the wooden complex.
My brother and I sat at the kitchen table inside my grandparent’s apartment building. My heart was racing as I sat frozen in fear. I wasn’t afraid that there was a fire which could potentially destroy my grandparents’ home and endanger all of the residents — I was scared because I started the fire.
I was nicknamed “Pyro,” but thankfully, they omitted the word “maniac.” But who else but a maniac would attempt to set their grandparents’ home on fire? I had a fascination with fire throughout my early youth. Trying to control such a dangerous element compelled me to light fires. I felt a thrilling mix of danger and excitement that summer day.
It was summer vacation, and my family was visiting my grandparents for the weekend. My mania had returned, prompting me to steal some matches in the apartment. I brought my brother outside with me, and there I started lighting small mounds of dry grass on fire, always waiting until it looked like it was getting out of control before I would quickly put it out. Then, I would repeat to get the same exhilaration I craved.
One fire became so big that it was too scary to even look at. So, I did the only thing I could do. I turned my back on it and pretended it didn’t exist. I returned upstairs with my brother and vowed him to secrecy as we sat at the kitchen table and waited for the event to unfold.
My father was the first to take action. He rushed downstairs and around the side of the building, where the fire had spread. Fortunately, there was a garden hose located on that side, which he used to extinguish the flames. My father became a hero as he battled the fire until it finally extinguished and began to smoulder.
He then began the fire investigation and found the evidence he was looking for: A small pack of matches beside the house. They were the cause of the fire, but who started it? He was no stranger to his son’s fascination with fire, so he came upstairs for the interrogation. I wasn’t going to take responsibility for the fire, as I attempted to save my butt, so I denied any involvement whatsoever, and my loyal accomplice stayed silent too.
My father was very intimidating, as all good interrogators should be, so it didn’t take long for me to make my confession. I can’t recall the sentencing I received for the damages I had caused and the disregard for other human lives, but years later, this story would come full circle in a very serendipitous way.
Many years later, now an adult, I didn’t have the same fascination for fires. In fact, in an ironic twist, as many adults would understand, I spent most of my days putting out fires.
That’s when I heard the same word being screamed again — Fire!
Mandy screamed as she ran in through the front door of our home. “There’s a fire next door!”. It was early morning, and I was completing my morning rituals, which included sitting on the “throne” in a relaxed state. It had been a challenging week because I had shoulder surgery to reattach my rotator cuff just days prior. I was in a sling with my arm immobilized, and it wasn’t going to be of any use to me for the next month as it healed. I had taken time off work because I couldn’t drive, and since I couldn’t lay down, I was trying to get sleep whenever possible.
I was shocked off of my “throne” when I heard Mandy screaming. Now, I had to somehow get my pants back on with one arm — as fast as possible. As I stumbled out of the washroom, I followed Mandy out our front door. What I saw next put me into another state: Panic. My neighbours from the house just next to us were displaced and standing on their front lawn. The grandfather was holding a one-year-old baby and looked like he had just seen a ghost.
Beside him was his daughter’s boyfriend, standing in his underwear with the same look on his face. They were both looking at the front of their home, which had toxic black smoke pouring out of the front door. Then his daughter ran out without any clothes on, screaming, “Where is my son!” A neighbour had just seconds before seen the son on the street with only his diapers on and, since it was a cold early spring morning, had taken the child inside his home to keep him safe and warm.
Her son alerted the rest of the family of the fire and was the first to run out of the house. As the rest of his family awoke, they, too, ran out as fast as they could to save themselves from a fire that had started in the kitchen but now had engulfed most of the home. Other neighbours had arrived, and I asked them if someone had called 911. They all looked at me with blank faces. I screamed at them, “Has anyone called the fire department!” They all looked at me but were unresponsive.
Then Mandy called 911. I asked the family if there was anyone inside. The daughter was sobbing in hysterics and said her sister was trapped upstairs. I turned towards the house and made my way to the front door. I could hear the screams for help coming from upstairs.
The home was a duplex, and there was one dwelling on each of the two floors. The family’s youngest daughter was trapped on the second floor because she hadn’t made it out in time. Now, the smoke was so thick and toxic that she couldn’t see or breathe. She was paralyzed with fear and remained on the floor.
As I looked inside the home and could only see smoke and flames, I felt the cold chill of fear run through my body. Also, there was another type of trepidation as I felt the terror of an inevitable tragedy that was about to unfold for the young lady trapped upstairs.
With a split-second decision, I walked into the foyer and made my way up the stairs. The smoke blinded me, and I couldn’t breathe. Halfway up the stairs, I had to admit defeat and retreated.
When I stumbled outside to catch my breath, the fire trucks still hadn’t arrived. The girl upstairs was screaming for help, but I knew the reality: I couldn’t help her the way a hero would. I couldn’t fight the flames and smoke and carry her out with one arm. So, I had to think of another way because the dread that this young woman would lose her life is something that I wouldn’t be able to live with.
I later learned that some 50–80% of fire deaths are the result of smoke inhalation injuries, including burns to the respiratory system. The hot smoke injures or kills by thermal damage and poisoning from the toxic gasses.
As a health & lifesyle coach, I was trained to have people help themselves and that you “can only lead the horse to the water.” So, I began coaching her to come down the stairs so she could save her own life, although I believe my tone may have been slightly different from the tone I use with most of my clients.
As I was talking, or shall I say yelling, her down the stairs, I also realized that if I got on the floor and underneath the smoke, I could meet her halfway. I learned that you need two arms for crawling, so I didn’t make much progress, but I could hear her voice getting closer. Around the halfway point of the stairs, I saw something I will never forget. It was like seeing an apparition, and it took my breath away.
There it was, her foot draped in a blanket, slowly stepping down the stairs in front of me. I immediately stood up and, with my available arm, navigated her outside to safety and to be rejoined by her family and boyfriend. Mandy’s maternal instinct had kicked in, and the family members were all draped in blankets. Minutes later, the fire department and ambulances arrived. Mandy escorted the young lady to the ambulance, and she was then brought to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation.
It was a four-alarm fire which brought 28 firefighters to the scene with a fire that was so hot that it melted one of the firefighter’s helmets who had to evacuate the house because of the extreme heat and smoke.
When the smoke cleared, the woman’s mother thanked me for “saving her daughter’s life,” and the fire department awarded me with a citation of bravery presented by the Mayor of Vaughan.
The following year, the Royal Canadian Humane Association awarded me the silver medal of bravery, and Mandy was given an honorary testimonial certificate, which the Lieutenant Governor presented. They said I wouldn’t want to go for Gold in this case, as this would mean I would be a hero who had lost his life.
In the year after the fire and rescue, I wrestled with the meaning of it all. Although it felt good to be recognized for what I had done, I was confused as to why they were making such a big deal about it. I thought that I did what would have been expected and that I was just at the right place at the right time.
One thing that stuck out for Mandy and me about that morning was the reaction, or no action, from the other people involved. They were bystanders in that they were standing by in an emergency which required action. I found this to be strange behaviour because I believe that we are altruistic beings who are inherently humane.
However, in this crisis, many people looked on and didn’t stand up or step in; in fact, they didn’t even speak up at all. I later learned that this is known as “The Bystander Effect.” That term was coined by social psychologists John Darley and Bibb Latane, who were teaching in NYC in the 1960s when the now infamous Kitty Genovese murder occurred there.
In 1964, in Queens, NY, when Catherine Genovese was entering her apartment building in the early hours of the morning, she was stabbed twice in the back by Winston Moseley, a heavy machine operator, who later explained that he “just wanted to kill a woman.” Genovese screamed, “Oh, my God! He stabbed me! Help me!” and collapsed.
Several neighbours in surrounding buildings reported hearing her voice but decided it was probably just a drunken brawl or lovers’ spat. One man shouted from his window, “Let that girl alone!” which scared Moseley away. This neighbour was sure to have seen Genovese crawling across the street, under a streetlight, to her apartment but did nothing to help her.
Witnesses saw Moseley drive away and then return about 10 minutes later. He found her prone at the rear of the building, where the door was locked. She could not get in. Moseley proceeded to stab her to death, inflicting multiple wounds on her hands and forearms, indicating that she tried to fight him off. She finally succumbed, and he raped her as she lay dying. He then stole around $50 from her and fled.
The whole incident spanned 30 minutes. Despite her screams for help to ward off her assailant, none of the many residents in her large apartment complex came to Kitty’s aid.
This story was later reviewed and found to be exaggerated by the journalist, who claimed that 38 people witnessed the crime and did nothing to help the victim. Upon further investigation, some believed the actual number of witnesses may have been closer to 13. It was also reported that a seventy-year-old woman did come to the victim’s aid after the attack and held her until the ambulance arrived, but unfortunately, she died en route to the hospital.
The situation sparked numerous inquiries among various individuals, including social scientists, leading them to question why people often refuse to help others. This case is perhaps the most well-known instance that inspired extensive research into what we now refer to as “the bystander effect.” However, there are many other stories that arrive at the same conclusion.
One of the most significant examples of the Bystander Effect since the turn of the nineteenth century is the Holocaust. During this period, unimaginable atrocities were inflicted upon human beings, often justified by the perpetrators with the phrase, “We were just following orders.” Additionally, many German citizens chose to turn a blind eye to these horrific events.
In more recent times, an incident took place in New Bedford, MA, in 1983 when several men raped a woman on a pool table in front of several witnesses in a bar. The 1988 film “The Accused” depicted this incident, and Jodie Foster went on to earn an Academy Award for her performance as the rape victim.
In 2005, a 22-year-old college student died from water intoxication when four of his fraternity brothers failed to intervene during a deadly hazing incident.
In 2009, while the Richmond High School in San Francisco Homecoming Dance was taking place inside the gymnasium, approximately ten men gang-raped a 15-year-old student, beating her savagely the whole time, all the while ten others stood around laughing and taking pictures with their cell phones.
I had read a similar story like this in 2011, which impacted me deeply. Four teenage boys gang-raped a 17-year-old girl from Nova Scotia while two other girls took pictures, which they later posted on social media. She had been bullied for years in school, and after the incident, she was humiliated and bullied even further. After the boys were acquitted of rape, the girl committed suicide.
These are examples of the Bystander Effect, but why does it happen?
There are a few reasons.
The simplest explanation is that fear is a big de-motivator, and our sympathetic nervous system initiates a “freeze” state during danger. Freezing is what happens when neither fight nor flight is a viable option.
The other two reasons are social. A psychologist named Melissa Burkley explains using this example:
Imagine you are at the community pool and see a child splashing wildly in the water. Your first instinct might be to look around and see how others are reacting. If those nearby seem shocked and are yelling for help, you may conclude that the child is drowning and decide to dive in to assist.
On the other hand, if people are ignoring the child or laughing, you might assume the child is just playing. To avoid looking foolish, you would likely continue watching and may fail to intervene.
This approach seems reasonable and often prevents us from appearing foolish. However, the problem with this tendency to look to others for guidance is that it can be influenced by a phenomenon known as pluralistic ignorance.
Therein is another social problem because the more bystanders there are, the less responsible each feels. When you are the only eyewitness present, 100% of the responsibility for providing help rests on your shoulders. But if there are five eyewitnesses, only 20% of the responsibility is yours. The responsibility becomes defused or dispersed among the group members.
In these situations, people may assume that someone else will help or that someone else is better qualified to assist. However, if everyone believes this, then no one will intervene. This is called “diffusion of responsibility” and is the other reason why we may not assist others in need.
What is more interesting is that there are many stories where the “bystander effect” wasn’t witnessed; in fact, quite the opposite.
One example was United Airlines Flight 93, which crashed into a field in Pennsylvania on September 11th, 2001. There were 44 people on board, including four terrorists from the Al-Qaeda. Within 45 minutes into the flight, the terrorists stormed the cockpit and diverted the plane to Washington, D.C.
The passengers were moved to the back of the plane and informed that there was a bomb on board. They were being taken back to the airport to address their demands. One passenger, Tom Burnett, called his wife, who told him about the attacks on the World Trade Center. He ended his last call by saying, “Don’t worry, we’re going to do something.”
We are not sure exactly what they did, but we do know that there were some heroes on the plane who did something, and it was their actions that saved many lives by diverting the plane from the intended target.
Another heroic story that you might not be familiar with is what could be called the most horrifying event in the Vietnam War. It was named the My Lai Massacre. A brigade of American soldiers went into an undefended village full of civilians and killed between 350 and 500 of them, mass-raped women and children, and mutilated bodies.
But Hugh Thompson was the man who stopped the My Lai Massacre. He was piloting a helicopter gunship, landed there, got out and saw American soldiers shooting babies and old women. He then took his helicopter and did something that was the complete opposite of how the army had conditioned him. He landed his helicopter, pointed his machine guns at his fellow Americans, and said, “If you don’t stop the killing, I will mow you down.”
In the biblical parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus tells a story to an expert of the law who stood up to test him by asking, “Who is my neighbour?” In reply, Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So, too, another man, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.
But a Samaritan, as he travelled, came where the man was, and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. Then Jesus asked the man, “Which of these three do you think was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” So Jesus told him, “Go, and do likewise.”
I have a question: If it is in our nature to be bystanders, is there any hope for us to change? If the answer is yes, then how can we do it?
The simple answer is this: To avoid being a bystander, we need to stand up, speak out, and take action when necessary.
But is it really that simple?
I believe that everyone has a hero inside them. Deep down, we all have a natural inclination to be humane and to show care and compassion for one another. However, courage is not something we are born with; it is a learned behaviour. The more we practice being brave, the easier it becomes to summon that bravery when we need it the most.
Heroes aren’t born; they are just people who have learned to be brave by acting courageously. It can be as easy as stepping up when you know someone requires help or speaking up when you believe something is wrong.
It doesn’t require you to dive into a pool or run into a burning house to save someone.
It just requires you to do something — instead of nothing.
Because there’s a hero in each and every one of us.
Sources:
Kommentare