tag:theconversation.com,2011:/au/topics/social-psycholog-12036/articlesSocial psycholog – The Conversation2015-04-09T03:41:53Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/389202015-04-09T03:41:53Z2015-04-09T03:41:53ZThe power of public shaming, for good and for ill<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/77416/original/image-20150409-18036-ym6cx8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Shame can hurt, but it can also be used to motivate positive behaviour.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/robbrucker/407842334/in/photolist-C3ijo-9Av6gP-2pUMvb-8csS9q-7omKF8-py27fP-bkt1MN-e31cG-k7EaLe-8P43Rf-kEZhq4-ihuvqD-8q8o7d-gk8JbQ-2BBzC-8whQbi-k7GMPG-4YKysA-pzRQUG-5HPch-NwXPq-4PUN8u-bynUDV-8ifGPs-8BBBF-b9kh22-qcRjvy-9azAuM-fAa1f5-6Vwskr-ihugD1-bynUdt-bkt1wS-bynU5Z-eLueD2-bynUbT-bkt1y3-bo4aQq-9B9FYp-dHw9rS-8spfHr-qJgfZT-qtPVcZ-hn4fAX-8kAauE-8kqHCG-xyNTv-hn2T4J-hYNNG-nYXADE">Rob/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/">CC BY-NC-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>You may not have heard of Justine Sacco but she gained brief infamy online in 2013 when she sent one ill-considered Tweet that subsequently “<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/15/magazine/how-one-stupid-tweet-ruined-justine-saccos-life.html">blew up</a>” her life, all in the time it took her to fly from London to South Africa. The onslaught of online fury cost her job, but this in many ways was only the beginning of the negative consequences of the event on Sacco’s life.</p>
<p>Jon Ronson’s writes about Sacco’s case in his new book, <a href="http://www.panmacmillan.com/book/jonronson/soyouvebeenpubliclyshamed">So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed</a>, which considers the serious consequences of public shaming in the age of Twitter and social media. </p>
<p>From the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scarlet_Letter">scarlet letters</a> and public stocks of the past, public shaming has a long history. In fact, it’s likely we have all been publicly shamed at some point in our lives. Intentionally or unintentionally, others may have called attention to us in such a way as to make us feel we are somehow unacceptable, insufficient or flawed. </p>
<p>While shaming can also serve a positive function in terms of promoting positive and responsible behaviour, sadly it can easily be misused and cause lasting harm to those shamed.</p>
<h2>Close to home</h2>
<p>I remember sitting among a group of mothers recently. One mother commented on my only having a single child, publicly shaming me for my choice. Being a woman often involves acts of public shaming: shaming for our employment or stay-at-home status; for breastfeeding (or not); for parenting choices; “fat shaming”; “skinny shaming”; “slut shaming” and so on. </p>
<p>Of course shaming is not a uniquely female phenomenon. Anyone can be shamed for their clothes, beliefs, politics, sexuality, sexual prowess, race, food choices, possessions and careers (or lack thereof). Many of us would agree that these things are inappropriate (if common) targets of shaming. </p>
<p>But shame is often communicated publicly for a range of more politically acceptable issues: the intake of unhealthy food; prejudice; bullying; smoking; and domestic violence, among other things.</p>
<h2>What is shame?</h2>
<p>Shame is the painful feeling associated with a negative evaluation of the self: that you are bad, flawed, inappropriate, or less than what you ought to be. This is opposed to guilt, where the target of evaluation is one’s actions: that you did a bad thing. </p>
<p>There is research to suggest that shame is associated with <a href="http://www.guilford.com/books/The-Self-Conscious-Emotions/Tracy-Robins-Tangney/9781593854867">poor mental and physical health</a>. Shame is also associated with activation of the hyper-pituitary adrenal (<a href="http://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases_conditions/hic-Overactive-Pituitary-Gland-Hyperpituitarism">HPA</a>) and immune systems, similar to physical threat, which can be unhealthy when prolonged. </p>
<p>But, like other aversive emotions such as fear, shame is <a href="https://pure.uvt.nl/portal/files/1346169/SocPsy_De_Hooge_Zeelenberg_Functionalist_C_E_2011.pdf">functional</a> to the extent that it encourages goal-directed behaviour and survival. There is now substantial psychological evidence – including physiological, cross cultural, social, and evolutionary – to suggest that shame helps us to negotiate group life by alerting us to when our membership of, or <a href="http://ukcatalogue.oup.com/product/9780195114805.do">status</a> within, groups is at risk. </p>
<p>In this way shame may function like a <a href="http://repub.eur.nl/pub/51671/">gauge</a> of threat to our moral-social status. In response to the question “am I a good or valued group member?”, the feeling of shame communicates a painful red alert that we may be falling short. In this way shame can emerge as a result of loss (or anticipated loss) of status, or by violating socially derived norms, values or expectations. Shame ultimately responds to our psychological need for belonging and acceptance.</p>
<p>Shame is associated with the feeling of wanting to avoid, hide or disappear; to minimise the threat to the self in a social context. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=328&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=328&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=328&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=412&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=412&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/77419/original/image-20150409-18075-1yrzx6i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=412&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Shame is an inherently social and public phenomenon.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Anthony Easton/Flickr</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
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</figure>
<h2>Social function</h2>
<p>However, shame can also motivate <a href="http://pss.sagepub.com/content/25/3/799.short">responsibility and repair behaviours</a> when we feel that there is actually <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02699931.2010.516909#.VQ6eafmUeSo">something that we can do</a> to change the cause of our shame. Taking responsibility can then lead to <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0022103113001753">self-forgiveness</a> and resolving our feelings of shame. The red alert can then switch off. </p>
<p>However, when we feel there is nothing we can to do to remedy the situation causing shame – to “fix” ourselves – or when repair seems difficult, risky or costly, shame can lead to more detrimental shame management strategies such as avoidance, withdrawal, self-punishment or defensiveness.</p>
<p>Public shaming thus has several social functions: it communicates group norms, to both the norm violator and onlookers; it punishes the norm violation by lowering the status of the transgressor and the pain of shame; and it elevates the status of others as norm conformers.</p>
<p>The impact of <a href="http://www.cambridge.org/au/academic/subjects/sociology/criminology/shame-management-through-reintegration?format=PB">public shaming can vary</a>. Where public shaming is stigmatising – that is, a person’s behaviour is discussed in such a way as to make them feel that they are incurably flawed – this leads to poor outcomes because there is no pathway to repair. </p>
<p>Stigmatising shaming can lead to unresolved feelings of shame and may effectively disconnect an individual from the moral community. A bully stigmatised for bullying, or an alcoholic stigmatised for drinking, is (counterintuitively) more likely to continue the problematic behaviour. </p>
<h2>Reintegrative shaming</h2>
<p>But shaming can be reintegrative. Where attention is drawn to a wrongdoing, or perceived wrongdoing, in such a way as to communicate respect for the person, by people who love, care and accept the person, it opens up the possibility of repair.</p>
<p>One wonders whether reintegrative shaming can even occur online. Without reciprocity, and an expectation of ongoing cooperation, or personal knowledge contextualising a behaviour within the wider perspective of a person’s life, it is doubtful. Other human tendencies that tend to attribute failures of others to character flaws, that cause <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Group_polarization">group polarisation</a> and <a href="http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s11031-012-9331-4">schadenfreude</a>, may continue to lead to stigmatising digital shaming, as in the case of Justine Sacco. </p>
<p>Of course, raising our voice against inappropriate behaviour, such as bullying, racism and domestic violence is important. But before we do so, if we care about changing others’ behaviour, and we aren’t just trying to be clever and gain status ourselves, perhaps we should pause to think about whether we are marginalising or diminishing another person, insinuating that they are hopeless or flawed. </p>
<p>Or are we communicating respect and opening up a pathway for repair? There is a substantial difference between the two approaches, and whether the shame generated can shape behaviour for the better.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/38920/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lydia Woodyatt does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Public shaming has a long history and has now gone online through social media. But shame can also be a powerful force to encourage positive behavioural change.Lydia Woodyatt, Lecturer, School of Psychology, Flinders UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/334722014-10-30T19:07:25Z2014-10-30T19:07:25ZTrick or treating this Halloween? Know your group behaviour<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63146/original/dvc7njvd-1414558918.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Go with the group on trick or treat this Halloween. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sean Locke Photography</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Halloween is upon us tonight and it’s all just a bit of harmless fun, right? Or is there truly a dark side to Halloween?</p>
<p>What should we make of kids getting together in groups, wearing costumes that hide their identity, and going from house to house asking for treats at the threat of a “trick”?</p>
<p>One dark Halloween night many years ago, <a href="http://psycnet.apa.org/journals/psp/33/2/178/">some researchers</a> decided to find out by hiding in houses throughout suburban Chicago, in the United States, and observing the behaviour of 1,039 children who were trick-or-treating by themselves or with other children (but not with adults).</p>
<p>The aim was to see if the children’s behaviour would be influenced by anonymity and/or the behaviour of the other children they were with (if they were in a group).</p>
<h2>Look who’s knocking</h2>
<p>When the experimenter greeted children at the door, some children were asked their names and where they lived (they were considered “identified”) while others were not (they were considered “anonymous”).</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=453&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=453&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63149/original/zf7dcbpm-1414560261.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=453&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Do you ask who comes knocking on trick or treat?</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/camknows/5137921392">Flickr/camknows</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/">CC BY-NC-SA</a></span>
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</figure>
<p>The front entrance to each house contained a table with a bowl of candy and a bowl of coins. The experimenter told the children they could take one piece of candy each, and then left them unattended.</p>
<p>As you may expect, when children were anonymous they stole more. Children who were by themselves stole 14% more when they were anonymous than those who gave their name and address.</p>
<p>But surprisingly, the anonymous groups of children stole more than twice as much (36%) as the identified groups.</p>
<p>So why were children more likely to steal when they were in an anonymous group compared to when they were anonymous and alone? After all, the children in the groups weren’t anonymous to each other whereas the children who were by themselves weren’t accountable to anyone.</p>
<h2>What causes this?</h2>
<p>The children in groups usually copied the behaviour of the child who acted first. So if the first child to approach the table stole money or candy, most other group members followed suit. Similarly, when the first child didn’t take extra candy or money, most other group members also didn’t. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=237&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=237&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=237&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=298&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=298&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63150/original/kpvxs7nd-1414560581.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=298&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The behaviour of one person can change the behaviours of a group come Halloween – or any other time.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/gigina88/6302770156">Flickr/Gina Sala</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
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<p>The children who made the first move were more likely to steal if they were anonymous or in a group. So it appears that being in a group or being anonymous affected the children who were the first to act which then affected the behaviour of the rest of the group.</p>
<p>This phenomenon, where people’s inhibitions are lowered and they are more likely to violate social norms, this is what psychologists call <a href="http://psych.answers.com/social-psychology/what-is-deindividuation">deindividuation</a>.</p>
<p>A <a href="http://psycnet.apa.org/psycinfo/1998-01884-005">meta-analysis</a> of 60 studies found that deindividuated behaviours tended to occur when the behaviour was considered appropriate in that time and place. People were more likely to go against the wider societal norm if their behaviour was seen as normal within the situation or group.</p>
<p>This shifting of the norm explains why so many children in the Halloween study copied the first child in their group when they chose whether or not to steal the candy.</p>
<p>It’s all about the group’s norms. When the norm is to act violently, then that’s what people will do. But if the norm is to act compassionately, then they will act compassionately, as we see in the next case. </p>
<h2>What about the costumes?</h2>
<p>Costumes may set a standard for how people believe they should act. In one <a href="http://psycnet.apa.org/psycinfo/1981-01225-001">study</a>, participants were instructed to wear either a nurse’s uniform or a Ku Klux Klan uniform, and then administer electric shocks to someone in another room at whatever intensity they felt was appropriate.</p>
<p>All participants were told they were part of a group wearing the same uniforms and administering shocks. They were told the other group members were sitting in separate cubicles. In reality, there were no other group members and there was no one actually receiving shocks.</p>
<p>Half the participants were identifiable to their group; they were told that the “other group members” would see a photo of them and everyone in the group would see the voltages of the shocks everyone delivered.</p>
<p>Participants actually saw fake shock voltages delivered by the “other group members” on their computer screen. The shock voltage could be between -3 and +3 and the fake voltages were programmed so that they eventually averaged out to 0.</p>
<p>The other half of the participants were anonymous to their group; the “other group members” didn’t know who else was in the group and no one in the group could see the voltages delivered.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63155/original/cq88yrbp-1414563314.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Nurses were supposed to be the good guys – blame the Joker for this transformation.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/heathervesta/6126558532">Flickr/Heather Miller</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
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<h2>Dressed to thrill</h2>
<p>Regardless of anonymity, all people dressed as nurses delivered lower intensity shocks compared to those dressed as Ku Klux Klan members. This suggests that people felt more compassionate when they were dressed as nurses.</p>
<p>Interestingly, the anonymous nurses administered the lowest intensity shocks on average.</p>
<p>But why would the people dressed as nurses act nicer when they were anonymous compared to when they could see what their group was doing? Again it comes down to what people perceive the group norm to be.</p>
<p>Participants who were identifiable seemed to choose a shock intensity that was more in line with what they saw the “other group members” giving. Participants who were anonymous to their group had no information on how their group was behaving and had to use other clues to work out what the group norm would be.</p>
<p>Thus, the nurse’s uniform could have created a situational norm (be nice and give lower intensity shocks) which was counter to the general norm (when an experimenter tells you to shock someone, <a href="http://psycnet.apa.org/journals/abn/67/4/371/">you turn up the voltage</a>).</p>
<p>In the meta-analysis mentioned earlier, things such as costumes, anonymity and size of the group were found to only have a weak influence on deindividuated behaviours. </p>
<p>They may make people more likely to act in line with group norms, but they are not the main driving force behind deindividuated behaviours. At the end of the day, the driving force is the need to conform to situational norms.</p>
<h2>The power of the group</h2>
<p>Although the studies described above were carried out many years ago, I’ve found nothing that overturns or contradicts their findings so they still offer us important insights into how deindividuation occurs.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=625&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=625&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=625&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=785&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=785&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63148/original/tdqwvt92-1414559969.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=785&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Don’t be a villain on trick or treat – try being a superhero instead.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/inkyhack/8123983505">Flickr/Patrick Giblin</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Most importantly, if an individual identifies with their group, the group’s norms are likely to be seen as right. </p>
<p>So back to Halloween. For parents who are worried that dressing up their child as a <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/jenlewis/22-amazing-kids-halloween-costumes-that-theyre-too-young-to">villian</a> such as the Joker or some other evil character will make them more likely to behave badly, maybe dress them as a superhero instead.</p>
<p>And for those greeting trick-or-treaters tonight, maybe now is a good time to reduce anonymity by getting to know the kids in your neighbourhood.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/33472/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Zenobia Talati does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Halloween is upon us tonight and it’s all just a bit of harmless fun, right? Or is there truly a dark side to Halloween? What should we make of kids getting together in groups, wearing costumes that hide…Zenobia Talati, Associate lecturer, Murdoch UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/281542014-09-05T03:16:35Z2014-09-05T03:16:35ZEye for an eye? Why punishing the wrongdoer helps us forgive<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/57336/original/jjc38svx-1409020041.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Justice and forgiveness can co-exist so that one may encourage the other.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevec77/107868154">Steve Calcott/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>One of the inevitable things in life is that someone will do or say something to upset and hurt us. While forgiveness is a good way to overcome such hurts, we also don’t want people to get away with what they did. So my colleagues and I set out to <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/ejsp.1964/abstract">test whether it’s possible</a> to forgive <em>and</em> get justice. </p>
<p>Forgiveness is the process in which a victim’s thoughts, feelings and attitudes towards an offender transitions from negative to neutral or positive. Of the many ways people deal with transgressions, forgiveness is particularly effective. <a href="http://www.beyondrevengebook.com/">It restores</a> valued relationships and frees people from the weight of negative feelings associated with being hurt. </p>
<h2>The importance of justice</h2>
<p>Typically, someone is more likely to forgive when the offender makes constructive efforts to mend hurtful behaviour. Or when the victim re-frames their thoughts and feelings about the transgression and the offender (“she didn’t mean to do it”, for example, or “our relationship is more important”). Or, of course, when both happen.</p>
<p>But sometimes offenders are not aware of their hurtful behaviour so they don’t take responsibility, their reparative efforts are inadequate, or re-framing encourages forgiveness but still leaves residual resentment. </p>
<p>So my research group decided to test an alternative pathway to forgiveness. What we tested - and found - was that, in interpersonal relationships, victims who punish their offending partners are subsequently better able to forgive them. Although <a href="http://www.evworthington-forgiveness.com/">our idea wasn’t new</a>, we were the first to test it empirically.</p>
<p>Now, at first glance, this claim may appear counter-intuitive. People tend to think that punishment and forgiveness are opposites. When you punish someone, you hurt them; when you forgive, you are benevolently disposed towards them. </p>
<p>But we found <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/ejsp.1964/abstract">consistent and strong evidence</a> of a positive relation between punishment and forgiveness. Importantly, we also found that punishing provides victims with the sense that justice has been done. </p>
<p>Justice refers to fairness, which is fundamentally important to humans, particularly when we’ve been wronged. <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0065260107000044">Research in the criminal justice system</a> suggests people prefer to punish so that offenders get their just deserts. </p>
<p>But punishment must fit the crime; offenders should be seen to suffer to the same degree as the person they hurt. If this happens, the victim’s suffering is, theoretically at least, cancelled out. </p>
<h2>Fitting the crime</h2>
<p>People tend to feel better when they believe offenders have got their just deserts. And this has the effect of returning relations between victim and offender to an even keel because the former feel more empowered and in control. </p>
<p>The restoration of these valued psychological states is important for encouraging forgiveness. Punishment also sends a deterring message: “I value this relationship, so don’t do it again!”</p>
<p>We must remember that when a person has been hurt by another, they are vulnerable to the states that only justice can restore: feeling demeaned, lacking control and feeling disconnected from the person who hurt them. </p>
<p>Forgiving means being vulnerable again. But by punishing, victims may feel strengthened and sufficiently confident to risk being vulnerable one more time, so they can forgive. </p>
<p>It’s important here to distinguish between punishment and revenge. Revenge effectively means not only making another person suffer, but making them suffer <em>more</em>. Vengeful responses tend to be destructive; they usually lead to a downward spiral of revenge and counter-revenge. </p>
<p>When the point of punishment is to restore fairness, the punishing act should be perceived as roughly equivalent to the original hurt. What constitutes a “fair” punishment usually depends on the nature of the relationship between victim and offender. </p>
<p>According to the participants in our studies, the most effective punishment is achieved through dialogue. This usually means communicating to the offender what he or she has done, explaining why it is so upsetting, and often discussing how the offender will make up for it. </p>
<p>Although victims don’t necessarily set out to make an offender feel bad, guilt is often an outcome, making talking the punishment. When victims think they’ve been heard, that unfair behaviour will be addressed or that the offender is also hurting (or all of these), then they feel justice has been done. And forgiveness is more likely. </p>
<p>Naturally, we wouldn’t advocate pre-emptive punishment. But in situations where victims may need to re-assert themselves, punishment that’s fair seems to be a viable and effective way of enabling forgiveness. </p>
<p>Our research suggests that justice and forgiveness — two responses generally thought to be contradictory — can co-exist, so that one may encourage the other.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/28154/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter Strelan has previously received funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>One of the inevitable things in life is that someone will do or say something to upset and hurt us. While forgiveness is a good way to overcome such hurts, we also don’t want people to get away with what…Peter Strelan, Senior Lecturer, School of Psychology, University of AdelaideLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.