Doctor Philip Zimbardo is something of the Stan Lee of modern psychology. And like the famed Marvel Comics Editor-in-Chief turned mascot, that vibe has met mixed reviews. The two share an undeniable charisma and enthusiasm that tends to butt up against a frequently characterized slippery grasp of historical truths. As a former Marvel.com freelancer and therapist on hiatus, both have loomed large in my professional career. I made my piece and staked out my position on Lee some time ago. Zimbardo has proven a more complicated case. It is a struggle The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth seems to share. One that it largely fails to resolve.
Before going further, it’s crucial to acknowledge Zimbardo’s death less than a month ago at 91 years old. Near as I can tell, The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth had been scheduled to air this week for some time. There was no move made to capitalize on the doctor’s demise. Additionally, Zimbardo does appear in the documentary to speak on his own behalf and appears hale and hearty. There’s no sign of mental decline in the doctor’s words or body language. There isn’t a hint of an attempt by director Juliette Eisner or the Muck Media team led by Alex Braverman to make a hit piece about Zimbardo. The timing is unfortunate, perhaps, but it does not seem the product of ill intent.
As a work of structure and pacing, Unlocking the Truth is an impressive work. Divided into three segments, each ends on a sort of academic cliffhanger, compelling viewers into the next episode. Roughly speaking, part 1 is the history as most know it. This installment is skippable for those who attended grad school for anything related to psychology. Honestly, that goes for anyone who took more than two psych courses in undergrad, too. However, for the only vaguely familiar or truly unfamiliar, the episode lays out details quickly and compellingly. It’s easy to see why the Stanford Prison Experiment has become such a sticky part of psychology’s legacy. It’s fascinating and disconcerting, presenting its case in a way that flatters that “of course, I knew it!” backward reasoning.
Episode one concludes with a “yes, but what if it was all lies!” stinger that drags viewers into episode two. There’s something irresistible about an “everything you thought you knew is wrong”—ask any conspiracy theorist. The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth isn’t afraid to strum that particular string. That said, it never goes too far. While some initial language might be a bit sensationalistic, the episode quickly shows itself earnest and honest in its questions. The deep dive into the flaws and counternarratives that have arisen in the over 50 years since the experiment, led by Thibault Le Texier, is grounded in serious scholarship. That doesn’t mean it is “right” necessarily, but this is no “jet fuel can’t melt steel beams” exercise in questioning established facts.
Then, episode three brings the man himself on camera to relate his version of events and answer several of the questions raised by the previous establishment. As noted above, Zimbardo appears engaged and more than capable of defending his motivations and where the study has taken him since its completion. This doesn’t make what he says “true” either, but he engages in the discussion, neither dismissing it out of hand nor becoming screamingly defensive.
Depending on one’s capacity for ambiguity, The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth’s “letting everyone speak their piece” without drawing conclusions is either a merit or a failing. As someone very familiar with the experiment, the doc’s unwillingness to take a viewpoint became increasingly frustrating. Given how important the study inside of psychology and as a means of popularizing the field to the larger world, it seems almost irresponsible not to issue some closing thoughts from an outsider perspective. Perhaps the truth does, in fact, dwell in the middle, but the show never even offers that kind of platitude.
Still, as a work of fact-gathering and presentation, Unlocking the Truth is thoughtful and well-made. It doesn’t talk down to the audience. On the other hand, it also doesn’t indulge in a bunch of academic jargon that reduces it to people already in the field. It is eminently approachable without condescension.
What proves most compelling when the dust settles is uncovered by talking to a handful of the original participants. While the device of bringing them to a soundstage to oversee actor re-enactments of the experiment is a lot of work for little payoff, their individual and group interviews uncover something neither the series nor Zimbardo seems to have much interest in wrestling with. Regardless of how “true” or “instructive” the experiment was, it marked its participants.
Some still dwell on small moments, guilty at their feet of clay or their flashes of anger. Others have spent decades building explanations for what they did that reject the scenario had any power over them. Still others have stoked a distaste for Zimbardo that has increased, not dimmed, over the subsequent years. Regardless of anything else that can be said of the experiment, it clearly sent a group of young men into the world with burdens they did not have when they signed up.
Moreover, there’s little in the doc series to suggest much effort at a debriefing that might’ve addressed those lingering confusions and traumas. Yes, there was a standard individual meeting between each participant and Dr. Zimbardo, a personal reflection essay, and a later check-in shortly after. But since? Save for a few, they never heard from Stanford or Zimbardo again.
That’s what sticks with me at the end of The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth. Those participants who have spent over 50 years in the world referred to time and again as evidence of man’s inherent capacity for evil and submission. What’s the calculation of that human cost?
The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth starts its deep dive on National Geographic on November 13. It will be available to stream the next day on Hulu.