Why Ordinary People Do Terrible Things

In April 1961, Adolf Eichmann sat in a glass booth in a Jerusalem courtroom and told the world he was just following orders. He had organized the deportation of millions of Jewish people to concentration camps. He had managed the logistics of industrialized murder. And his defense was that he was doing what he was told by legitimate authority.

Three months later, a young psychologist named Stanley Milgram sat in his office at Yale University and asked a question that would define his career: was Eichmann special, or would anyone do what he did?

Milgram believed the answer would be reassuring. He told his colleagues and students before running the experiment that he expected only a small, pathological minority to go all the way. He predicted that most people would refuse long before the shocks became dangerous. He was confident that ordinary Americans, unlike the Germans who had participated in the Holocaust, would stop when their conscience told them to.

He was wrong.

The Experiment Nobody Expected

The basic design of Milgram’s experiment is now famous. A volunteer sits in front of a shock machine. A man in a gray lab coat, holding a clipboard, stands behind them. In a separate room, another person, secretly an actor, answers questions. Every wrong answer means a shock. Every shock is higher than the last. The machine goes from 15 volts to 450 volts. The labels escalate from “Slight Shock” to “Danger: Severe Shock” to a final red label that simply reads “XXX.”

At 150 volts the actor begins screaming. At 300 volts he pounds on the wall and begs to be released. After 330 volts he falls silent. The volunteer does not know whether the man in the other room is unconscious or dead. The lab coat stands behind them and says four things, always in the same order, always calmly: “Please continue.” “The experiment requires that you continue.” “It is absolutely essential that you continue.” “You have no other choice. You must go on.”

65% of participants went all the way to 450 volts. Every single participant went to at least 300 volts. These were not sadists or sociopaths. They were ordinary people recruited through a newspaper ad in New Haven, Connecticut. Teachers. Salesmen. Engineers. Postal workers. And two out of three of them delivered what they believed was a lethal electric shock to a stranger because a man in a lab coat told them to.

Milgram published his initial findings in the Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology in 1963. In his 1974 book, Obedience to Authority, he introduced the concept that explained what he had witnessed. He called it the agentic state: the psychological shift that occurs when a person stops seeing themselves as responsible for their own actions and begins seeing themselves as an agent carrying out someone else’s will. The moral weight transfers upward, from the person doing the harm to the authority giving the order. And once that transfer happens, the person is capable of things they would never do on their own.

What the Variations Revealed

The original experiment told Milgram what he did not want to know: most people will obey. But Milgram did not stop there. He ran 18 variations of the experiment with 636 total participants, and the variations revealed something far more useful. They showed what breaks obedience.

When the man in the lab coat left the room and gave instructions by telephone, obedience dropped sharply. Physical distance from the authority weakened its hold. When the experiment was moved from the prestigious campus of Yale University to a set of run-down offices in Bridgeport, Connecticut, obedience dropped to 47.5%. The authority’s institutional credibility mattered. When the lab coat was removed and replaced with an ordinary person in street clothes, obedience dropped to 20%. The appearance of authority, not its substance, was doing much of the work.