The Compassionate Instinct

We have been able to learn from a body of prior research how certain situations can induce the bystander effect, which we mentioned earlier. But just as they can create bystanders, situations also have immense power to bring out heroic actions in people who never would have considered themselves heroes. In fact, the first response of many people who are called heroes is to deny their own uniqueness with statements such as, “I am not a hero; anyone in the same situation would have done what I did,” or, “I just did what needed to be done.” Immediate life-and-death situations, such as when people are stranded in a burning house or a car wreck, are clear examples of situations that galvanize people into heroic action. But other situations—such as being witness to discrimination, corporate corruption, government malfeasance, or military atrocities—not only bring out the worst in people; they sometimes bring out the best. We believe that these situations create a “bright-line” ethical test that pushes some individuals toward action in an attempt to stop the evil being perpetrated. But why are some people able to see this line while others are blind to it? Why do some people take responsibility for a situation when others succumb to the bystander effect?

Just as in the Stanford Prison Experiment and the Milgram studies, the situation and the personal characteristics of each person caught up in the situation interact in unique ways. We remain unsure how these personal characteristics combine with the situation to generate heroic action, but we have some preliminary ideas. The case of Sugihara’s intervention on behalf of the Jews is particularly instructive.

Accounts of Sugihara’s life show us that his efforts to save Jewish refugees was a dramatic finale to a long list of smaller efforts, each of which demonstrated a willingness to occasionally defy the strict social constraints of Japanese society in the early twentieth century. For example, he did not follow his father’s instructions to become a doctor, pursuing language study and civil service instead; his first wife was not Japanese; and in the 1930s, Sugihara resigned from a prestigious civil service position to protest the Japanese military’s treatment of the Chinese during the occupation of Manchuria. These incidents suggest that Sugihara already possessed the internal strength and self-assurance necessary to be guided by his own moral compass in uncertain situations. We can speculate that Sugihara was more willing to assert his individual view than others around him who preferred to “go along to get along.”

Also, Sugihara was bound to two different codes: he was a sworn representative of the Japanese government, but he was raised in a rural Samurai family. Should he obey his government’s order to not help Jews (and, by extension, comply with his culture’s age-old more not to bring shame on his family by disobeying authority)? Or should he follow the Samurai adage that haunted him, “Even a hunter cannot kill a bird which flies to him for refuge”? When the Japanese government denied repeated requests he made for permission to assist the refugees, Sugihara may have realized that these two codes of behavior were in conflict and that he faced a bright-line ethical test.

Interestingly, Sugihara did not act impulsively or spontaneously; instead, he carefully weighed the decision with his wife and family. In situations that auger for social heroism, the problem may create a “moral tickle” that the person cannot ignore—a sort of positive rumination, where we can’t stop thinking about something because it does not sit right with us.

Yet this still leaves the question, What prompts people to take action? Many people in similar positions recognize the ethical problems associated with the situation and are deeply disturbed, but simply decide to ignore it. What characterizes the final step toward heroic action? Are those who do act more conscientious? Or are they simply less risk averse?

We don’t know the answer to these vital questions—social science hasn’t resolved them yet. However, we believe that an important factor that may encourage heroic action is the stimulation of heroic imagination—the capacity to imagine facing physically or socially risky situations, to struggle with the hypothetical problems these situations generate, and to consider one’s actions and the consequences. By considering these issues in advance, the individual becomes more prepared to act when and if a moment that calls for heroism arises. Strengthening the heroic imagination may help to make people more aware of the ethical tests embedded in complex situations, while allowing the individual to have already considered, and to some degree transcended, the cost of his or her heroic action. Seeing oneself as capable of the resolve necessary for heroism may be the first step toward a heroic outcome.

HOW TO NURTURE THE HEROIC IMAGINATION