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Personality and Social Psychology Review (in press)
When prisoners take over the prison:
A social psychology of resistance
S. Alexander Haslam^1 and Stephen Reicher^2
Abstract There is a general tendency for social psychologists to focus on processes of oppression rather than resistance. This is exemplified and entrenched by the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). Consequently, researchers and commentators have come to see domination, tyranny, and abuse as natural or inevitable in the world at large. Challenging this view, research suggests that where members of low-status groups are bound together by a sense of shared social identity this can be the basis for effective leadership and organization that allows them to counteract stress, secure support, challenge authority, and promote social change in even the most extreme of situations. This view is supported by a review of experimental research — notably the SPE and the BBC Prison Study — and case studies of rebellion against carceral regimes in Northern Ireland, South Africa, and Nazi Germany. This evidence is used to develop a Social Identity Model of Resistance Dynamics. Keywords social identity, self-categorization, prison, resistance, leadership In what kind of prisons are prisoners in charge? How could such an eventuality become manifest? (Zimbardo, 2006, p.49) The inmates seemed to be running the prison not the authorities. (Mandela, 1994, p.536) Introduction: Conformity Bias and the Dominance of Domination A number of commentators have observed that, as it has evolved as a discipline, social psychology has become preoccupied with the psychology of oppression (Montenegro, 2004; Turner, 2006). There are good reasons for this, of course. Not the least of these is the fact that the last century was scarred by brutal systems of tyranny and repression that loom large in our collective consciousness (e.g., Hobsbawm, 1995) — the largest probably being that of the Holocaust. Nevertheless, to fixate on processes of exploitation and abuse can risk losing sight of countervailing processes. It can lead to the dehumanization of those who suffered as mere victims, and it can imply blame of those who supposedly went meekly as lambs to slaughter. More seriously perhaps, to deny the possibility of resistance is to put the topic beyond the realm of scientific imagination. And, as we will see, this in turn may militate against the political ability of people to challenge their oppressors. It is important, then, to recover and to analyze an alternative history of resistance which can be found in even the most oppressive and tyrannical of circumstances (Einwohner, 2007; Langbein, 1994). 12 The process of focusing on oppression rather than resistance can be seen as one particularly vivid example of what Moscovici (1976) referred to as social psychology’s conformity bias — the tendency to generate theories and data which show only how the status quo is reproduced. Moscovici’s specific interest was in the way that dominant models of social influence imply that the only possible outcome of influence processes is a consolidation of existing power structures in society. If this were the case, then innovation, creativity and progress would never occur. This is (^1) University of Exeter Correspondence: School of Psychology, University of Exeter, Exeter, Devon, EX4 4QG, UK. e-mail: a.haslam@exeter.ac.uk (^2) University of St. Andrews Correspondence: School of Psychology, University of St. Andrews, St. Andrews, Fife, KY16 9JU, UK. e-mail: sdr@st- andrews.ac.uk
2 Personality and Social Psychology Review plainly absurd, and Moscovici’s own work on minority influence (e.g., Moscovici, Lage & Naffrechoux, 1969) was designed to show when and how a coherent and consistent group can, over time, transform dominant social beliefs. Consistent with Foucault’s (1990, p.94) assertion that “where there is [coercive] power there is resistance”, Moscovici shows that power and influence do not only flow in one direction but instead are distributed in complex ways throughout any social system. In setting out on the task of developing a social psychology of resistance, it is important to recognize from the outset that this term describes a very diverse range of behaviors, and hence has many different meanings in the social scientific literature. Nevertheless, we follow Hollander and Einwohner’s (2004) comprehensive review (primarily of work in sociology, anthropology, and political science), which identifies action and opposition as core elements in previous treatments of this issue. More formally, we define resistance as the process and action of challenging one’s subordinated position in a given social system. We start our examination of this topic by examining the nature of conformity bias, using as an example the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE). As one of social psychology’s ‘classic studies’, this has played a dual role in framing psychological understandings of why people act hostilely and oppressively towards others. In the first instance, it has helped shift the analysis of oppression from the level of individual personality to the level of contextual (and, more specifically, group) influences. This is a shift that we strongly endorse. At the same time, though, the study has become synonymous with a negative view of groups in which people are seen to conform blindly to collective pressures that (almost) inevitably lead to oppression. This is a stance that we reject. Following this, in the paper’s second section we outline an alternative perspective on these issues derived from work in the social identity tradition. This rejects the association between group process and oppression by drawing attention to the fact that resistance and social change also have a collective basis. We also review evidence from another prison experiment — the BBC Prison Study (BPS; Reicher & Haslam, 2006a) — which provides empirical support for the predictions of the social identity approach. This indicates that even in a prison-like setting (which can be seen as an extreme metaphor for the inequalities that are characteristic of many, if not most, institutions) prisoners can resist and even subvert the authority of their guards. Yet as indicated by the quotation at the start of this paper, the BPS has elicited a strong reaction from the chief architect of the SPE — Philip Zimbardo. In particular, he asks how one can take seriously a study in which prisoners take over the prison: how could such events occur “in any real prison anywhere in the known universe” (2006, p.49)? In the paper’s third section, we take this question seriously. Can we find prison settings in which inmates gain power over those who imprison them and, if so, can we identify any common patterns that explain such an outcome? We do this principally through three case studies: the Maze Prison in Northern Ireland; Robben Island in South Africa; and the Nazi extermination camp, Sobibor. The point of this examination, however, is not simply to learn about prisons. Rather, as implied in the reference to prison studies as ‘an extreme metaphor’, we seek to make the point that, if resistance is possible even in the most unfavorable and unequal of circumstances, then it should be possible anywhere. Moreover, the processes that make resistance possible in such circumstances should also prove capable of stimulating resistance in more favorable settings. In the paper’s fourth and final section we then pull together evidence from these various prison studies in order to elaborate a psychological model of resistance and to determine the conditions under which people are motivated to challenge their oppressors and thereby promote social change. We conclude that, however quiescent people might seem, the possibility of resistance is ever present. Yet rather than naturalizing resistance (in the way that psychologists have previously naturalized conformity) our scientific focus seeks instead to explore the factors which determine whether this (or conformity) predominates in any given social context.
1. Power and Resistance in the Stanford Prison Experiment In February 1971 nine college students were arrested by members of the Palo Alto Police Department in California — five for burglary, four for armed robbery. They were then imprisoned in a simulated prison that had been created in the basement of the Stanford Psychology Department. The prisoners had not actually committed any offences but had volunteered to take part in a psychological study that came to be known as the
4 Personality and Social Psychology Review who stands out — an individual who, because of his swagger and drawl is dubbed ‘John Wayne’. Yet even in this case, it is apparent that the guard is no mere cipher who acts automatically (Haslam & Reicher, 2007b). In an interaction with one of his victims after the study (which appears in the film of the SPE, Quiet Rage , Zimbardo, 2007), the latter thus reproaches him primarily for the creative ways in which he tormented those in his charge. When ‘John Wayne’ asks the prisoner what he would have done had he been a guard, the prisoner replies “I don’t know. But I don’t think I would have been so inventive. I don’t think I would have applied as much imagination to what I was doing.” Given that ‘John Wayne’ is in the minority, one might ask why other guards appear to have condoned, or at least not challenged, his behavior. Again, one answer is provided by examination of Zimbardo’s own actions — since he can be seen to have established norms that legitimated brutality (Banyard, 2007). Thus, although Zimbardo (2004, p.39) states that participants in the study received no training in their roles, it is apparent that, when briefing his guards, he gave rather strong indications as to how they should behave: We can create in the prisoners feelings of boredom, a sense of fear to some degree, we can create a notion of arbitrariness that their life is totally controlled by us, by the system, you, me .... they’ll have no freedom of action, they can do nothing, or say nothing that we don’t permit, we’re going to take away their individuality in various ways. In general what all this leads to is a sense of powerlessness. (Zimbardo, 2007, p.55) To the extent that there is conformity to group norms, then, it is hard to ignore the role of Zimbardo’s leadership in establishing and policing those norms. Moreover, this provides additional cause to doubt the claim that people adapted ‘naturally’ to role requirements (Reicher & Haslam, 2006a). In the SPE, it thus appears that a one-sided emphasis on conformity and oppression provides only a very partial view of proceedings (Krueger & Funder, 2004). What is more, a theoretical stance that portrays conformity as inevitable stops us probing more deeply to inquire when people accept the status quo and when they challenge it. Moreover, while Zimbardo’s analysis blames the descent into tyranny on people’s membership of social groups (and the conformity to role that these induce), the SPE also provides evidence that collectivity is as important in challenging oppression as in generating it. In one sense of course, there is nothing particularly surprising in all this, especially if one looks to the world outside psychology. After all, the idea that the power of the powerless comes through their combination is a commonplace of many social movements. But that still leaves us in need of an understanding of the antecedents and consequences of group action. For that, we turn to social identity theory.
2. Social Identity, Collective Resistance, and the BBC Prison Study Social identity theory Social identity theory is informed by two general assumptions (Tajfel & Turner, 1979). The first is that people can define themselves, and act, either as individuals (in terms of personal identity; Turner, 1982) or as members of social groups (in terms of social identity). The second is that, however they define themselves, people are motivated to have a positive and distinct self- concept. Putting these points together, the theory posits that, when a given social identity is salient, people strive to see their ingroup as different from, and superior to, other relevant outgroups. Yet however much we may wish to define ingroups as superior, it is evident that we live in a world where many (possibly most) people belong to groups that are defined as inferior. Women have to live in a sexist world, black people in a racist world, gay people in a homophobic world, older adults in an ageist world, and so on. A key issue, then, is how people deal with such realities. When do they work individually to accommodate to existing conditions and when do they act together to alter those conditions? In other words, how do psychological processes of differentiation play out in an unequal world (Israel & Tajfel, 1972)? In contrast to many accounts, then, social identity theory is ultimately oriented to the conditions collective action and social change. Although Tajfel died in 1982, shortly after developing this focus — and while, as a result, the theory cannot be considered a finished account of change dynamics — it does point to two sets of factors that are critical to understanding how subordinate group members react to their position (Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; see Figure 1 for a schematic representation of the model). The first relates to individuals’ beliefs about their ability to improve their status despite their group membership (i.e., the perceived permeability of category boundaries).
Haslam and Reicher 5 Figure 1. Schematic representation of the relationship between perceived social structure, strategies for self- enhancement and preferred coping strategies for members of low-status groups, as predicted by social identity theory (Tajfel & Turner, 1979) and the Integrated Social Identity Model of Stress (ISIS; Haslam & Reicher, 2006, p.1039) A belief that such improvement is possible (because boundaries are permeable) encourages strategies of individual mobility (i.e., those that advance personal identity), but a belief that such movement is impossible (because boundaries are impermeable) encourages people to perceive themselves, and act, as group members in terms of a shared social identity (Tajfel, 1972). Even if boundaries are seen to be impermeable, though, whether or not individuals work together to challenge inequality is still contingent upon a second factor: the perceived security of intergroup relations. This itself is comprised of two further elements: the perceived legitimacy of intergroup inequalities and their perceived stability. When relations are perceived to be insecure individuals are aware of cognitive alternatives to the status quo and hence can envisage specific ways in which it could be changed. Accordingly, it is predicted that individuals will be most inclined to work together to resist domination when they share the view that inequality is both illegitimate and unstable and these views generate an envisaged set of cognitive alternatives. This theoretical framework clearly endorses and extends the turn to a group-level explanation of oppression and conflict encouraged by the SPE (e.g., Zimbardo, 2007). However, it departs from standard interpretations of this study in two fundamental ways. First, it challenges the notion that people accept social positions and roles automatically, unthinkingly, and helplessly. There is, then, a critical difference between the social categories assumed by an observer or imposed by an outsider and the social self-categories through which participants understand themselves (Turner, 1982; Turner, Hogg, Oakes, Reicher, & Wetherell, 1987; Turner, Oakes, Haslam, & McGarty, 1994). It is one thing, for instance, to label someone a woman (or a black person, or a Catholic, or whatever) and quite another for that someone to think of herself, and act, in terms of her gender. A Perceived permeability of group boundaries Perceived security of group relations (legitimacy and stability) Strategy for achieving positive social identity Course of action resulting from strategy Implications of strategy for high-status outgroup and status quo Preferred coping strategy permeable group boundaries individual mobility attempt to join high- status group accepts outgroup’s superiority individual avoidance impermeable group boundaries social creativity change (a) meaning of identity (b) comparison groups, or (c) comparison dimensions redefines but avoids directly challenging outgroup’s superiority individual or collective denial social competition engage in conflict, open hostility, antagonism directly challenges outgroup’s superiority secure relations insecure relations collective resistance Level of shared social identification low high
Haslam and Reicher 7 Uncomfortable with their task, the guards disagreed amongst each other about how this role should be interpreted and, as a result, they never developed a shared sense of social identity. This in turn led to a lack of organization amongst the guards and meant that they became increasingly incapable of maintaining order. It also led them to become increasingly despondent, stressed, and burnt-out (see Haslam & Reicher, 2006a, 2006b; Reicher & Haslam, 2006a). Set against this, the behavior of prisoners was highly consistent with predictions, but again quite different from that observed in the SPE. Specifically, when boundaries between the groups were permeable, the prisoners adopted individual strategies for dealing with the guards and with the privations associated with their low status. These were experienced most keenly in their cramped living space, restriction of movement, poor quality food, and lack of privileges (most particularly, being unable to smoke). This meant that some prisoners were hostile, some adopted a stance of detached indifference, and some worked hard to improve their situation in the hope of gaining promotion. However, once boundaries were rendered impermeable and as prisoners became aware of cognitive alternatives to the status quo, they came to define themselves more in terms of a shared social identity and began to develop collective strategies for undermining and challenging the guards — working together to exploit the cracks that were emerging in their regime. Moreover, as it developed, this shared identity among the prisoners led to predicted improvements in their organization, effectiveness and mental well-being (Haslam & Reicher, 2006a, 2006b; Reicher & Haslam, 2006a). Yet the most dramatic departure from the SPE came as these distinct trajectories of guards and prisoners co-evolved. Rather than the scenes of guard brutality witnessed in Stanford, the prisoners began to mock, challenge, and undermine the guards. The divided and incoherent response of the guards to these acts (several of whom were reluctant to impose their authority) only emboldened the prisoners to escalate their challenges. This came to a head on the Day 6 of the study when the prisoners of one cell organized a breakout that led to an occupation of the guards’ quarters. The prisoners’ refusal to leave then precipitated the collapse of the prisoner–guard structure. Significantly, then, there was no descent into tyranny in this first phase of the study since (a) the guards did not identify with their roles, (b) a lack of shared identity meant that the guards’ position had become neither consensual nor extreme, and (c) there was no leadership on the part of experimenters that might legitimate oppression. Instead, it was the prisoners who gained the upper hand because (a) changes to the social structure led them to define themselves in terms of shared identity, (b) their position of defiance was strengthened through group-based interaction, and (c) an emergent leadership served to promote and justify acts which challenged the guards’ regime and ultimately led to its downfall (see Haslam & Reicher, 2007b, for details). The importance of these factors was further illustrated by what happened after the guards’ regime collapsed. At this point a group of former prisoners and guards set about the process of reinstating the guard–prisoner regime along more authoritarian lines, in a manner much closer to that which was witnessed in the SPE. However, in contrast to the earlier guard administration, this authoritarian turn only came about once (a) events had led the “new guards” to identify highly with their role, (b) the will of the new guards had been galvanized through social interaction, and (c) the case for a new leadership had been made stronger by the collapse of the self-governing “Commune” that had been created in the wake of the earlier prisoner revolt (see Haslam & Reicher 2007b; Reicher & Haslam, 2006a). Thus in contrast to the idea that tyranny is a ‘natural’ outcome of situations in which normal people are assigned to roles which give them power over others, findings from the BPS (and other related work; e.g., see Turner, 2006), suggest a very different analysis. First, they suggest that individuals will only move towards tyranny when they identify with their roles. Second, they suggest that this sense of identification needs to be developed and shared with other ingroup members, and reinforced through group interaction. Third, they suggest that the case for tyranny needs to be promoted by means of active leadership which is grounded in shared identity and which promotes a particular vision of the way in which interests associated with that identity need to be advanced in context (Reicher et al., 2005). Significantly, though, the BPS makes it clear that the very same processes that allow those in positions of responsibility to oppress others can also be the means whereby those in subordinate positions engage in activities that challenge (and have the potential to change) the prevailing power structure (Turner, 2005; see also Simon & Oakes, 2006). In short, shared social identity can be a
8 Personality and Social Psychology Review basis for tyranny, but it can also be a basis for resistance — a point that accords with a large body of research into different forms of protest behavior (e.g., Kelly & Kelly, 1991, 1994; Kelly & Breinlinger, 1996; Reicher, 1984; 2004; Simon & Klandermans, 2001 ; Reynolds, Oakes, Haslam, Nolan, & Dolnik, 2000; Veenstra & Haslam, 2000). In his commentary on the study, Turner (2006) summarizes the contrast between this conclusion and the conformity bias perspective: Instead of a picture in which a universal human nature seems to be at work — ‘provide the role identity and they will conform’ — a much more interesting theoretical question emerges …. under what conditions and how do groups with apparently little authority, power, resources or status come to redefine their position as illegitimate and create from nothing the social and political power that allows them to exert their collective will and change the system? (p.42). Social identity processes and prison realities As the extract at the start of this paper indicates, Zimbardo’s response to the BPS has been unenthusiastic. In particular, he contends that the BPS failed to create prison-like conditions and that these deficiencies of operationalization not only explain why its findings were different from those of the SPE but also render the study pointless. In one sense, this criticism is well-founded. Of course our study did not recreate a real prison (and, as several commentators have pointed out, neither did the SPE; e.g., see Banuazizi & Movahedi, 1975; Saletan, 2004). People do not volunteer to go to prisons, prisoners do not get promoted to guards, and they cannot leave simply because they want to. However, in setting up the BPS our intention was not to create a real prison. Instead, the aim was to use the physical structure of a prison in order to establish and make salient a situation of meaningful inequality between groups. Our ambition was then to use this in order to gain conceptual understanding of how people respond to such inequalities. It is therefore at this conceptual level that we would then seek to generalize our findings (Calder, Phillips & Tybout, 1983; Haslam & McGarty, 2004; Turner, 1981). Our analysis of process, if valid, should then be applicable to all situations of inequality, whether in civil society, in the work place, or anywhere else (Haslam & Reicher, 2006c) — in exactly the same way that Zimbardo’s analysis of the way that situation subverts character should, if valid, apply in multiple settings. In this sense, the applicability of our findings to prisons should not be privileged above their applicability elsewhere, but nor should it be ignored. Our analysis should be as relevant to prisons as to any other domain of inequality. If it is not — if prisoner resistance and prisoner dominance can be found nowhere in the known universe — then, at the very least, it suggests a serious limitation to the social identity analysis. In these terms, Zimbardo’s challenge is therefore both valid and meaningful. Indeed, there is a sense in which the issue of prison resistance provides a stringent test case for social identity analyses. For if we can demonstrate that successful resistance is possible even in the most repressive institutions then we can conclude that it must be possible anywhere. Moreover, if we can show that the factors identified by a social identity analysis explain how such resistance becomes manifest then it provides strong support for the value of this analysis.
3. Three Case Studies of Prison Resistance We can state from the outset that effective prisoner resistance — even prisoner dominance — does exist. Indeed, there are a plethora of examples in the literature. This is especially true if one uses a broad definition of prisoner resistance as “characterized by purpose, either implicit or explicit, manifesting itself in opposition, or taunting, undermining and attacking the exercise of power” (McEvoy, McConnachie, & Jamieson, 2007, p.307; see also Crewe, 2007; Foucault, 1986; Pile, 1997). As McEvoy and colleagues (2007) note, such resistance can take many forms depending on circumstances, opportunity, and motivation. These include (a) the creation of alternative communities and cultures, (b) attempts to escape, (c) prolonged legal challenge, (d) hunger strike and other forms of self-harm, and (e) violence and rioting. Indeed, in light of the breadth of these activities, it would be hard to find an example of a prison which has not, at one point or another, witnessed some form of resistance that threatens the institutional power of authorities^3. (^3) In English and Welsh prisons there were 95 successful escapes and 108,400 proven disciplinary offences in 2002 (in a population of 66,503 prisoners; Councell & Olagundoye, 2003). In Scotland in 2003 there were 8 escapes, and 20,029 disciplinary offences — including 8,090 instances of disobeying a rule or order (in a population of 6,227 prisoners; Scottish Executive,
10 Personality and Social Psychology Review as a focal point of ongoing conflict between British authorities and Irish republicans. Initially known as Long Kesh detention centre, the prison was established in 1971 following the outbreak of “the troubles” and the introduction by the British government of a policy of internment (i.e., imprisonment without trial) for individuals suspected of being involved in paramilitary activity. By 1975 nearly 2,000 prisoners had been interred and of these 95% were Catholic — the vast majority being members of the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA). Consistent with the policy of internment, initially the British government had granted these prisoners, and other paramilitary members who were subsequently convicted of criminal charges related to acts of terrorism, “Special Category Status” (SCS). This accorded the prisoners privileges consonant with their being, in effect, prisoners of war (e.g., according them the right to not wear prison uniforms or do prison work, allowing extra visits and food parcels). However, in 1976 the British government withdrew SCS and turned the detention centre into a regular prison, seeking to treat paramilitary detainees as ‘common criminals’ and refusing to recognize their claims to be political prisoners. This sparked a series of ongoing protests that galvanized both the prisoners and the Catholic community outside the prison, and which set in train a process that completely transformed the political landscape of Northern Ireland. The dissent of republican prisoners began in 1976 as ‘blanket protests’ in which — pursuant of the right not to wear prison uniform — prisoners wore nothing other than their prison sheets and blankets. As Campbell, McKeown and O’Hagen (1994) note, the defining feature of the prison at this point was “the solidarity and commitment of prisoners and their determination that neither they nor the libertarian struggle were ever to be criminalized” (p.2). Aside from the discomfort involved, these acts of defiance exposed the prisoners to physical retribution from the authorities. In the words of one inmate, Jackie McMullan: Brutality was the order of the day. All the prisoners in the Block were under 21, a lot of them only 17 or 18, and the screws [prison officers] took great delight in bullying and terrorizing us all. There were numerous rules that were enforced through fear and beatings…. We weren’t allowed to smoke. I’ve often thought this is one of the most cruel aspects of prison: denying people cigarettes. I know what its like to crave for a smoke for weeks on end, to be able to think of little else. It’s torture…. The screws had power, and like the bullies they are, they abused it to the full (Campbell et al., 1994, pp.9-10) Yet this oppression notwithstanding, when the prison officers refused to allow the prisoners more than one towel when going to wash, resistance escalated into ‘dirty protests’. The prisoners refused to go to the washrooms where toilets were located. Instead they smeared the walls of their cells with their own urine and excrement. Although this brought with it additional threats to the prisoners’ well-being in the form of serious illness (as well as a loss of rights, privileges and remission, thereby effectively doubling their sentences), this phase of the protest created a new sense of purpose and empowerment as “increasingly … they began to use their bodies as practical and symbolic subjects of their resistance to criminalization” (McEvoy, 2001, p.83; see also Foucault, 1979). In the words of one inmate, Jaz McCann: Morale was sky-high. We felt that we were winning and for a change we, not the screws, had control over our lives and were dictating the pace of events. The screws for their part were demoralized because they had no control over what happened next. They dreaded Mondays because that was the day that we kept upping the tempo of the protest by introducing something new. (Campbell et al., 1994, p.32) Significantly too, this phase of protest had a polarizing impact outside the prison. For while loyalist groups and government representatives saw the protest as bestial and degraded (Robinson, 1980), the protesters themselves were encouraged by growing support from sections of the Catholic community that had now started to stage mass rallies of support. Within the H-Blocks too, the prisoners became more organized. Two features of the prison were particularly indicative of this. First, Gaelic (Irish language) classes were organized thereby enabling prisoners to learn a language that was both symbolic of their struggle and a means of resistance: It [learning Gaelic] became a weapon in our hands to use against the screws. They hadn’t a clue what we were saying and this really got to them. It helped to isolate them. (Campbell et al., 1994, p.48) Second, a clear leadership structure started to emerge among prisoners and became a source of particular concern for the authorities (McEvoy, 2001, pp.86-87). In an attempt to weaken the impact of this leadership, the authorities decided to move all its members into the same block — H6.
Haslam and Reicher 11 However, this proved counter-productive since, once placed together, the republican leaders were now in a position to organize and plan even more effective means of protest. As Beresford (1994) explains: “It was the equivalent, in prison terms, of setting up an officer’s training academy, and the men… set about developing a philosophical and strategic approach — including a refined training course for prisoners” (p.29) The authorities soon realized their mistake and dispersed the leadership amongst different Blocks. But by then it was too late. The enhanced organization was a basis for two events that are amongst the most significant in British penal history. The first of these were two hunger strikes staged in 1980 and 1981 with the attention of putting yet more pressure on the British government to recognize prisoners’ political status. The 1980 strike was called off after it appeared that the government had conceded to the prisoners’ demands (McEvoy, 2001, p.92). However, when the government reneged on the concessions that had been agreed, a second commenced six months later on March 1, 1981^4. The strike was led by the IRA’s commanding officer, Bobby Sands, who, 40 days after going on strike, was elected MP for Fermanagh and South Tyrone, thereby bringing the Maze to worldwide media attention and piling yet more pressure onto the government. This was heightened still further when Sands died without taking his seat in parliament and his funeral was attended by over 100,000 mourners. In many ways the hunger strikes can be seen as the most powerful statement of the social identity that the republican prisoners shared — embodying their willingness to promote the collective cause to the total exclusion of personal interests (in the same way that their terrorism valued republican objectives over the lives of individual victims). Although a further nine prisoners died in the hunger strikes, the British government never formally acceded to their claims and neither side was able to claim a clear victory. Nevertheless, the (^4) It is worth noting that these protests were organized along sectarian lines. Thus alongside the first republican hunger strike, several loyalist (i.e., Protestant) prisoners also mounted a ʻcleanʼ protest in which they too argued for recognition as political prisoners. Anxious to differentiate themselves from the republicans, this involved them refusing to wear prison uniform, but keeping their cells spotless. However, after five months, these strikes were called off by loyalist leaders outside the prison as it was felt that the strikes bore too close a resemblance to those of the republicans (see McEvoy, 2001, pp.100-101). government did grant several key concessions to the prisoners. In particular, it allowed them to wear their own clothes and gave them greater freedom of association (McEvoy, 2001, p.97). Moreover, the hunger strikes marked a significant turning point in the power relations between prisoners and prison officers as it allowed the republicans “to expropriate power, denigrate legitimacy and politically contest the position of an intransigent British government” (McEvoy, 2001, p.106). In practical terms this also meant that now: The prisoners … effectively controlled the space within their compounds at Long Kesh. They were able to drill, to hold military and political lectures, and effectively to exclude prison officers and soldiers for large parts of the prison day. Such places allowed prisoners to “rework and divert space to other ends” (Pile, 1997, p.16), to create sites of resistance. (McEvoy, 2001, p.130) As one prison officer observed: “They had the cell, then they had the landing, then they had the hall” (McEvoy, 2001, p.131). The increasing self-assurance of the prisoners was also mirrored by a marked reduction in the confidence and morale of the prison staff — associated with an expansion in their duties, higher levels of accountability (brought about by increased media awareness, and shifts towards a more managerialist and bureaucratic system of prison management; see McEvoy, 2001, pp.203, 248 - 313), and difficulties of recruitment. McEvoy (2001, p.193) draws on a description by Philliber (1997) in characterizing prison officers at the time as “alientated, cynical, burnt out, stressed but unable to admit it, suffering from role conflict of every kind and stressed beyond imagining”. Somewhat more colorfully, one prison officer described the Maze as “like Butlin’s^5 and we’re the bloody red-coats” (Ryder, 2001, p.336). As Ryder (2001) notes, this state of affairs meant that “there was endless opportunity for the dangerously subversive terrorist prisoner population to seek to undermine, manipulate and intimidate the prison staff for their own ends, a proposition all the more damaging because so many of the prison staff were inexperienced” (p.267). This subversion also now manifested itself in more sophisticated and creative forms than it (^5) Butlins is well-known as a chain of family holiday camps with multiple sites around the UK. Its famed red- coats are responsible for entertaining holidaymakers and organizing recreational activities.
Haslam and Reicher 13 elections to delegitimize the state and advance their case. By contrast, there were clear limits to how the state was able to respond. Perhaps prison resistance would be less possible in a more unequal society with a more tyrannical regime and with less concern for its population (or at least for certain sections of its population)? To explore this possibility we turn to the case of South Africa under Apartheid. Case 2. Robben Island, South Africa (1962-1991) Robben Island is located in Table Bay, 7.5 miles (12 km) off the coast from Cape Town, South Africa, and was a site of banishment and imprisonment for over 400 years. However, it achieved notoriety in the latter half of the 20th century as the place to which the South African government sent individuals who had been convicted of crimes associated with opposition to the state policy of Apartheid — the system of ethnic separation that formalized a “white South Africa” policy. This policy preserved political and social privileges for the white minority while other groups (in particular, the indigenous black population) were disenfranchised. From 1959 to 1996 around 750 political prisoners were housed on the island (together with around 2,250 common-law prisoners) in brutal conditions designed to crush both the spirit of the individual inmates and the broader movement of which they were part. Ultimately, though, the prison had exactly the opposite function, serving as a crucible for liberation politics that played a major part in the development of the anti- Apartheid cause and in the emergence of a leadership that was geared up to fight that cause (Buntman, 2003, p.230). Indeed, over time, the Robben Island inmates — including Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Jacob Zuma, Govan Mbeki and Tokyo Sexwale — came to see themselves as a “government in waiting”, and, on their release, the leadership developed in prison was able to play a major role in the new political order that was created once the state of Apartheid had been dismantled. Accounts of life on Robben Island suggest that a number of factors were central to these dramatic developments but that these were all grounded in the prisoners’ sense that they a shared a meaningful identity as political prisoners with a common conviction (see Buntman, 2003, pp.236- 271; Mandela, 1995, p.494). As one inmate, Patrick Nkosi Molala noted: “it is very, very crucial for people to understand that we may have … belong[ed] to different organizations, and we may have had our tiffs, our conflict, our battles, but when it came to the authorities … we would always act as one” (Buntman, 2003, p.238). Furthermore, this sense of shared identity was reinforced by the fact that, as in the Maze, on Robben Island political prisoners were kept apart from the general prison population (Mandela, 1994). This sense of shared identity was also actively policed by the prisoners themselves, largely by means of an informal code that structured resistance activities. This code centred around principles of self-determination designed to create a world in which prisoners were in control of their own community and not subject to the authority of the state (an authority which they did not recognize). The core tenet of this code was that “you don’t allow the warder to impose discipline on you, but you impose discipline on yourselves as a group” (Buntman, 2003, p.237). As Mandela subsequently put it: “Ultimately we had to create our own lives in prison. In a way that even the authorities recognized, order in prison was preserved not by warders but by ourselves” (1994, p.464). The strong sense of shared social identity that was cultivated within the prisoner community was also a basis for effective information sharing and other forms of social support (Haslam, O’Brien, Jetten, Vormedal, & Penna, 2005; Haslam & Reicher, 2006; Haslam, Reicher & Levine, 2011; Levine, Prosser, Evans, & Reicher, 2005; Reicher, Cassidy, Wolpert, Hopkins, & Levine, 2006). Thus in his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom , Mandela notes that: Our survival depended on understanding what the authorities were attempting to do to us, and sharing that understanding with each other. It would be hard, if not impossible for one man alone to resist… The authorities’ greatest mistake was to keep us together, for together our determination was reinforced. We supported each other and gained strength from each other. Whatever we knew, whatever we learned, we shared, and by sharing we multiplied whatever courage we had individually (1994, p.463). A corollary of this was that while prisoners were encouraged to make idiosyncratic contributions to the community that reflected their unique skills and competencies, those forms of individuality that undermined a sense of shared political identity — and the political struggle with which this was associated — were actively sanctioned. Indeed, prisoners who failed to live up to group norms
14 Personality and Social Psychology Review were subjected to a range of formal and informal punishments. These were in some cases more severe than those imposed by the guards, and were certainly more keenly felt. For example, when one of the prisoners, Enoch Mathibela, wrote to the justice minister pleading for pardon on grounds that he was not a member of a political organization, he was taunted, mocked and ostracized by other prisoners, to the extent that he became the “loneliest and most hated man on the island” (Buntman, 2003, p.240). Significantly too, as it developed, the goal of the prisoners on Robben Island was not simply to resist the authorities, but to reconstrue, restructure, and remake their world in another form. In this way shared identity was the basis for emergent forms of leadership and organization (Haslam, Postmes & Ellemers, 2003; Turner & Haslam, 2001; Reicher et al., 2007). One of the clearest examples of this was seen in the creation of a self- regulated “university” with its own faculty, courses, and curriculum. This provided inmates with a structured education whose content and purpose was both academic and political (Mandela, 1994, p.556). More generally too, this and other collective activities provided prisoners with a range of fora in which they could envision, and work towards the creation of, an alternative order that moved beyond both the structure of the prison and the forms of organization that had existed on their entry into it. Buntman notes that by this means: Prisoners challenged the status quo ... with the goal of using the prison as a laboratory for micro- experiments in creating the social order they sought and as a training school to develop social change agents to revolutionize the world outside and beyond the prison (2004, p.250, 253; see also Mandela, 1994, p.464) By this means, then, the prisoners did not simply oppose the power of the guards, but also created an alternative identity-based power structure of their own (Scott, 1990; Turner, 2005). Significantly too, history shows that in the struggle between guards and prisoners, conservatives and progressives, racists and democrats it was this alternative power structure that ultimately won out. Furthermore, the systems, structures and leadership that were developed on Robben Island not only challenged those of the Apartheid regime, but also formed the nucleus of a new polity that went on both to make that regime unworkable and, ultimately, to replace it. In fact, by this means, the prisoners ended up not just running the prison but also the country. And far from resistance being rendered impossible by the unequal nature of society, resistance served to transform the society as well as the prison. However, lest the argument that resistance is possible even under the most oppressive circumstances still remain unconvincing, let us consider one last case. If asked to name the most tyrannical and brutal of systems, few would demur from a decision to single out that which operated under the Nazis. Indeed, as we noted at the outset, this regime lies at the heart of contemporary concerns with discrimination, oppression, and tyranny (Newman & Erber, 2002; Milgram, 1974; Miller, 2004). As we will show shortly, not only would open opposition lead to almost certain death, but those who undertook such opposition were also well aware of the fact and did not expect to survive. So can we show that, even here, resistance could also be effective? Case 3. Sobibor extermination camp (1942-1943) The issue of resistance to the Nazis, specifically Jewish resistance, has been the subject of considerable controversy and changing views over the years. Indeed, thinking on this subject has gone through at least three distinct phases. In the early post-war years there was a widespread sense that Jewish people had gone to Nazi camps ‘like lambs to the slaughter’ with rare and shining exceptions like the Warsaw Ghetto revolt which was and remains the ‘gold standard’ of Holocaust resistance (Epstein, 2008, p.283). Yet from the 1960s onwards, increasing evidence of the widespread nature of resistance began to be published (e.g. Krakowski, 1984; Langbein, 1994; Suhl, 1975; Yad Vashem, 1971). This evidence indicated that Warsaw was far from unique (there were more than 90 ghettos with armed undergrounds; Gurewitsch, 2007-8), and also that resistance was not limited to the ghettos but continued into the extermination camps themselves (Arad, 1987; Langbein, 1994; Mais, 2007 - 8a; Rashke, 1995; Willenberg, 1984). In a third and more recent phase, the very concept of resistance — and of what constitutes resistance — has begun to be reassessed (Mais, 2007 - 8a; see also Hollander & Einwohner, 2004; Horwitz, 2010). The main conclusion here is that resistance, as evidenced not just by major acts of rebellion but also by smaller acts of self-assertion and insubordination, was omnipresent among those subjected to Nazi tyranny.
16 Personality and Social Psychology Review Pechersky himself in his memoirs (Pechersky,
- and which rapidly circulated amongst the prisoners. One day, he was challenged by a German guard to split a huge stump in five minutes or receive 25 lashes. Pechersky managed it in four and a half minutes. The German, Frenzel, offered him a pack of cigarettes as reward, but Pechersky refused, saying he did not smoke, and continued working. Later Frenzel returned with bread and margarine (a great luxury). ‘“Russian soldier, take it,” he said… “Thank you, the rations we are getting satisfy me fully”’ Pechersky replied with heavy irony (1975, p.16). Frenzel, furious at being so snubbed and ridiculed, turned and left. The presence of Pechersky and his peers galvanized the prisoners as a whole and rallied them around plans for revolt. The complex plan that was formulated involved, first, luring SS guards individually to a range of different specified locations and killing them. Then, at the afternoon roll-call, the arms store would be seized, the remaining SS guards shot and all the prisoners would stage an orderly break out of from the camp. The plan was put into action on 14th^ October
- Its early stages were executed with precision and proved largely successful. However, at roll- call the guards realized that a plot was afoot. They opened fire on the insurgents, killing many of them, defending the armoury from attack, and cutting off escape through the main gate. The insurgents returned fire using what weapons they already had, killing several of the guards. But from this point, the leaders of the uprising had lost control of events. People fled in all directions, cutting the camp fences and running through the minefields that surrounded it. Of around 600 prisoners in the camp some 300 escaped of whom roughly half were killed either by gunfire or mine explosions. In the end, some 50 survived to the end of the war. These included Pechersky who managed to link up and join ranks with Soviet partisans (Arad, 1987; Langbein, 1994). In sum, even in the most oppressive regimes the world has known, prisoners did take on their guards and (at least temporarily) come out on top. Drawing attention to this reality allows us to counteract some of the pernicious consequences of claims that resistance was non-existent. Evidence of these consequences is seen in the memoirs of Gideon Hausner, the Israeli Attorney General who prosecuted Adolf Eichmann. In these, Hausner recollects receiving a letter during Eichmann’s trial which stated: “I could not honor all my relatives about whom I had heard from my father. I loathed them for letting themselves be slaughtered” (1966, p.433). Our point is not that revolt always happened. It didn’t. It was rare. But under certain conditions, it could occur. What is more, when people failed to revolt, this did not indicate ‘passivity’ but was generally a result of the adoption of deliberate and plausible strategies of survival which (due to the deceptions practised by the Nazis) ultimately proved ineffective. Mais (2007-8b) sums up the present consensus when he states: “(t)rue the Jews were slaughtered, but clearly not like sheep!” (p.19). There is certainly nothing to suggest that the acts of Jewish prisoners reflected a ‘natural’ conformity to their subjugated role. In response to Zimbardo’s challenge, we can thus assert there is no part of the known universe — including prison systems — in which resistance is either unthinkable or completely absent. On the contrary, when one looks closely, resistance is everywhere: not only in the Stanford and BBC Prison Studies but also in the most repressive real- world regimes (Brehm, 1966; Foucault, 1990). To echo Moscovici (1976) and Turner (2006), the only place in which in is absent, is in mainstream social psychological theory. With a view to rectifying this situation, we now need to ask what can be drawn from evidence of prison resistance to explain when, where, and how it occurs. Our final section seeks to answer this question, and in the process to draw out a model that builds upon the framework provided by previous social identity theorizing. 4. A Social Identity Model of Resistance Dynamics The evidence that we have considered, both from the BBC Prison Study and from real life examples, points to the importance of social identity processes for an understanding of the dynamics of resistance and change — both as they apply to prisons themselves and also more generally in situations of intergroup inequality. However, as well demonstrating the importance of the factors highlighted in the original statements of social identity theory, this evidence points to a number of ways in which the theory needs to be developed in order to provide a rounded explanation of change dynamics. In some cases, this is a matter of adding extra constructs, in some cases it is a matter of refining the constructs that are already used. More globally, though, we develop a dynamic and interactive approach to the resistance process,
Haslam and Reicher 17 whereby the actions of any one party are dependent upon the responses of the other. The importance of such an approach was clearly appreciated by Tajfel (1978) when he outlined the original social identity model, but he did not have time to work it into all elements of his analysis. Most importantly, then, we argue that the understandings that generate resistance, rather than being structural ‘givens’ or imposed from the outside, actually emerge out of the ongoing intergroup process itself. In order to highlight both the continuities with and the developments of traditional social identity theorizing, we divide our discussion of the evidence into three parts. The first has to do with the development of oppositional identities; the second has to do with the conditions under which groups choose strategies of overt resistance; the third has to do with the role of practical and organizational factors in generating effective resistance. In line with our dynamic approach, in each case we look at these processes from the perspective both of subordinate groups (who typically promote resistance) and of dominant groups (who typically seek to stymie it). The overall analysis is summarized schematically in Figurec2. Figure 2. A Social Identity Model of Resistance Dynamics unify around oppositional social identity develop organization, leadership secure external support challenge system effect social change Action of Resistant Group Impact of Resistant Group’s Action Counter-action of Dominant Group
- envision cognitive alternatives - develop internal structure - expose illegitimacy/ instability - formulate strategy - enact and embody cognitive alternatives
- _promulgate legitimating ideology
- reduce uncertainty_
- _undermine resistant group’s social identity (e.g., through personal incentive)
- isolate/ neutralize leaders
- divide and rule_
- increase pressure on dominant group - restrict external surveillance/ accountability
- create uncertainty
- undermine dominant group’s social identity
- divide and subvert - (threaten to) retaliate
Haslam and Reicher 19 facilitate this sense of sharedness, then the more time that people are able to spend together, then the more possible it is develop shared identity. Thus, for instance, one of the major impediments to the emergence of shared identity in the Nazi camps was the fact that people simply did not survive long enough to cohere as a group. Even if people survived initial selection for immediate death, then in most camps their life expectancy was no more than a few months (Sofsky, 1997). At a completely different level, policies of prisoner transfer from cell to cell or from institution to institution also determine whether people are together long enough to become a group (Broude, 1974; Stojkovic, 1986). The third factor is permeability. As we have shown, this has been the focus of previous research informed by social identity theory. As Tajfel insisted (Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; see also Ellemers, 1993; Ellemers et al., 1988), it is not enough that we have common experience with others in order to identify with them. The issue is whether our experience is necessarily yoked to theirs in the future as well as in the present. Will we always rise and fall together or else can we, through our own efforts, improve our own fate and leave others behind? Shared identification depends upon believing the former and is undermined if one believes the latter. This emerges clearly from the BBC Prison Study. It also emerges from the cases we have studied, where the practices of authorities (such as forcing Jews to wear yellow stars) did much to show prisoners that their fate would always be entwined with that of the group. And where official practices fell short, then prisoners themselves exerted a discipline that made it very difficult for individuals to try and distance themselves from their fellows — the ostracism of Enocj Mathibela on Robben Island being a case in point. Perhaps, though, the most powerful evidence for the importance of these three factors and of shared identity more generally lies in the lengths to which prison administrations go in order to frustrate them. Indeed, rather than the achievement of shared identity being seen as a passive process, it needs to be understood as a site of struggle between those in the subordinate group who wish to mobilize resistance and those in the dominant group who wish to demobilize it. We have, for instance, noted that the Nazi camp system was organized specifically to prevent common identity emerging (Sofsky, 1997). This included procedures for forcing people to participate in degrading acts that defiled their own group membership (Levi, 1958/1987; see also Gourevitch & Morris, 2008, Zimbardo, 2007, on similar techniques used at Abu Ghraib). As shown in the SPE, it also commonly involves using informers to undermine trust and solidarity between prisoners. Indeed, there is a wide variety of evidence, both from historical events and psychological research, which suggests that the impact of informers lies less in the information they provide than in their capacity to promote a culture of paranoia, of denuniciation, and of schism which destroy cohesion in the targeted group; see Hornsey & Jetten, 2003; Solzhenitsyn, 1973/1998; Warner, Hornsey & Jetten, 2007). Most commonly of all, however, the Nazi camp system (and other systems besides) sought to break down a sense of common identity by creating divisions between prisoners and raising the prospect that some could obtain improvement and dominion over others through their compliance (Appelbaum, 2003; Levi, 1958/1987). Even as they trapped people in their group memberships, they simultaneously sought to fragment groups so as to prevent solidarity. On the one hand, of course, the yellow stars worn by Jews may have kept their group membership permanently salient but it equally served to divide them from others who were oppressed by the Nazis (e.g., the political prisoners who wore red triangles, the Roma Gypsies who wore brown triangles, the Johovah’s Witnesses who wore purple triangles). In addition, though, the Nazis created divisions amongst the Jews by offering privileges to those who were compliant. In the camps, this meant that favored individuals could be promoted to the ranks of Capo and thereby not only had better conditions and increased chances of survival, but also often had the power of life and death over other prisoners in determining who was placed on the lists of those selected for extermination. While, of course, such permeability was limited, it remained highly consequential and highly effective as a form of atomizing prisoners and maintaining social control. More generally, the use of either formal positions of trust or else of particular privileges as rewards for those who comply is an almost universal technique of control in prison systems (e.g., Ditchfield, 1990; Marquart & Crouch, 1984; Wortley, 2002). To quote the conclusion of Colvin’s (1992) study of The Penitentiary in Crisis : “Conflict is usually kept dormant in most prisons through an array of formal and informal structures of social control that offer inmates something to gain by conforming and something to lose by rebelling”
20 Personality and Social Psychology Review (p.207). In this sense, it could be argued that if there was something unrealistic about the BBC Prison Study, it was not the availability of promotion for ‘good behavior’ in the study’s first phase as a way of creating a sense of permeability. It was, rather, the situation in the study’s second phase in which there were no opportunities for improvement and prisoners would remain in the same position whatever they did. Nonetheless, on a conceptual level, this provides a stark and powerful illustration of the importance of impermeability as a condition for shared identity and of shared identity as a condition for resistance. Stabilizing and destabilizing intergroup inequality Thus far, we have been arguing as if the achievement of shared identity among a subordinated group will lead straightforwardly to resistance. However, the evidence we have provided suggests that, while it may be necessary , shared identity is not sufficient for resistance to occur. As social identity theory suggests, if people are to act collectively to change rather than simply accommodate to the status quo, it seems necessary both that they see the status quo as illegitimate and that they can envisage ways of changing it — that is, they must see existing inequalities as insecure (Tajfel & Turner, 1979). To examine these issues we will concentrate first on the issue of legitimacy, looking at this issue from the perspective of the subordinate group, the dominant group, and in terms of the interaction between them. We will then turn to the issue of cognitive alternatives. Useem and Goldstone (2002) note the general importance of illegitimacy for prison resistance. They state that: “Inmate ideologies … unite inmates by providing a common framework for establishing opposition and justifying rebellion. Inmate ideologies claim that conditions in prison are not just bad but ‘wrong’” (p.501). Conversely, if the prison system and prison procedures are seen as legitimate then there is a reduction in the violation of prison rules (Reisig & Mesko, 2009). The sense of wrong is so obvious in each of our case studies that one might almost neglect to mention it. In each case, prisoners belonged to groups that saw the system as a whole as involving the arbitrary power and privilege of one group over others (of Protestants over Catholics in Northern Ireland, of Whites over Blacks in South Africa, of Nazis over Jews, Communists, and other excluded groups in Germany). Moreover, they believed that the process by which they were imprisoned generally served to exemplify the injustice of the system (e.g., internment without trial in Northern Ireland) and that the same was true of the way in which they were treated in prison. Indeed, in the Maze, the whole point of extreme protests — from refusing prison clothing to refusing toilet facilities to refusing to eat — was to contest the legitimacy of being treated as ordinary criminals. In these cases a sense of illegitimacy was already present when people entered the prison system. However, as in the case a sense of shared identity, a sense of legitimacy/illegitimacy can also develop within the prison system and is affected by the behavior of the authorities in prisons (Sparks, Bottoms, & Hay, 1996). On the one hand, then, dehumanizing conditions, the pettiness of regulations, the brutality of guard behavior, or the refusal of guards to protect prisoners from brutalization by others can lead to a developing sense of illegitimacy amongst prisoners where little or none existed before (Carrabine, 2005; Useem & Goldstone, 2002). Prison authorities can also entrench a sense of illegitimacy by reproducing inequalities that exist in the wider society. A case in point was the segregation of black prisoners from their white peers who were involved in the American desegregation movement of the 1950s and 60s (Deming, 1966). To quote Sparks and Bottoms: Every instance of brutality in prisons, every casual racist joke and demeaning remark, every ignored petition, every unwanted bureaucratic delay, every arbitrary decision to segregate or transfer without giving clear and unfounded reasons, every petty miscarriage of justice, every futile and inactive period of time — is delegitimating (1996, p.60). But while prison guards and prison authorities may sometimes impose policies and procedures that increase the sense of illegitimacy, they can equally implement practices designed to legitimize an unequal system. Indeed, if Sparks and Bottoms are right about all the things that increase a sense of illegitimacy, then their converse should lead to an increased sense of legitimacy. In line with Tyler and Blader’s (2003) group engagement model, Jackson, Tyler, Bradford, Taylor and Shiner (2010) seek to sketch out some procedures that would achieve such a result. They lay particular stress on the implementation of systematic, transparent and accountable procedures for structuring interactions between staff and prisoners on the grounds that these minimize the space for intergroup conflict and bias to flourish.
