The Missing Puzzle Piece
In 1971, a scientist namely, Philip Zimbardo conducted a psychological experiment known as the Stanford Prison Experiment. The experiment took paid participants and assigned them as either a prisoner or guard. While it was a revolutionary breakthrough then, the entire experiment reeks of mistreatment & inhumanity. The guards took the prisoners’ beds, stripped a rebel prisoner, chained them, harassed and humiliated them. They were locked in, punished for “rebelling” and only allowed to quit after experiencing severe emotional distress.
One of the participants, prisoner #8612 began suffering from acute emotional disturbance, rage, uncontrollable crying & disorganized thinking. All these in less than 36 hours. Prisoners started losing their identity and started introducing themselves by their ID numbers rather than names. Of course, the whole point of the experiment was to determine how people will readily conform to the social roles they are expected to play, especially if the roles are strongly stereotyped. Zimbardo predicted the situation made people act the way they do rather than their personality.
Well then, why am I telling you about it?
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I was on a call with a friend of mine a few days back. Let’s call this friend, Lisa. Lisa and I are pretty updated with each others’ lives. She knows most of my struggles — even though I talk about it less than a minute or two. Why is this important? We’ll get to it in a bit.
Lisa is your typical cheerleader friend — upbeat, perky, excited & fun. I have known her for almost 6 years now, and she has never once left her optimism. Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I was on a call with her a few days ago. Lisa has an endearing habit of keeping everyone comfortable and ensuring everybody has fun. She’s the kind of girl that keeps the conversation going with questions.
Let’s get back to the call. As usual, we updated each other about things that mattered, and those that didn’t. Pretty average call, but it didn’t feel the same. She laughed a little less, talked a little less, and listened more. Oh okay, maybe she is having a rough day. Everyone has that, or so I thought.
You see, the more I called her, the more I realised that she is missing a part of herself. Lisa, the giggly fun-loving friend of mine became attentive and responsible. People grow up, they have more commitments. I understand that.
Now, don’t get it all twisted. She was still chattier than me — but it wasn’t the same. I loved how she radiated positive energy and lifted me whenever I needed her. She seemed distracted, even though nothing was going on. Just a few days ago, I called her again. Lisa admitted to being a little off.
“I am so excited to see you believe me, but I feel like something’s missing.”
Instinctively, I agreed. Something is missing. It bugged me — and eventually, I realised we lost sanity; slowly. Just like the experiment, we lost our identity. We are committed to our roles — as an employee, child, parent but we have lost our personality; a sense of individuality. The rebels get punished, and the rest of us are just — surviving. The authorities make decisions because they are expected to and subsequently, became a little too drunk with power. We are moving as a group, and while it shows great strength to unite; we have deindividualized. Deep emotions rose, and the authorities heard us.
There’s no way of sugar-coating this, we will take some time to recover. Your identity is not entirely lost; it just needs a little redirection and rediscovery. Heal and find yourself.
