Beware! Evil Is Something That Ordinary People Can Easily Do

“Evil is something that ordinary people do, not something that only special people do.” — Roy Baumeister

I want to begin with a story that has stayed with me for years because it unsettles a myth we like to believe about ourselves as people.

A dear friend—an exceedingly good man and a trusted leader—once told me that he had been a participant in the obedience experiments conducted by Stanley Milgram. You’ve likely heard of these studies but hearing them through the voice of someone you know and respect changes everything.

Participants were told they were taking part in research on learning. Their role was to administer what they believed were electrical shocks to another person each time that person gave a wrong answer. The shocks increased in small, orderly steps. At first the learner merely protested. Later he pleaded. Eventually he cried out in pain and then fell ominously silent. In the room stood a calm man in a white lab coat, who reassured the participant that the experiment was important and that they must continue.

What dumbfounded the world was not that a few people went all the way to the highest voltage. It was that the majority did. These were not cruel people. They were everyday people—neighbors, parents, churchgoers—who believed they were contributing to something meaningful.

When I asked my friend how he could keep going, his answer was disarmingly simple. He said, “They told me it would help him learn. They were the scientists.”

Milgram later observed that many participants slipped into what he called an “agentic state.” They stopped experiencing themselves as fully responsible moral agents and began to see themselves as instruments carrying out someone else’s wishes.

Responsibility drifted upward toward authority. The task itself became narrow and mechanical: just one more switch, one more step.

This is how human beings can find themselves doing things that, in hindsight, feel unrecognizable. Not because they are evil at heart, but because context, authority, and a compelling story quietly overtake conscience.

I felt a quieter version of this pull a few days ago. John and I attended a candlelight vigil for Alex Pretti, invited by someone from the interfaith justice coalition. It was hard to hear people clearly. Speakers rose spontaneously. One speaker mostly cursed and was cheered on by a few others. One man did a "LOVE" call and response (John and I yelled with gusto). There was low singing. I stood there, I noticed something happening inside me—the urge to follow the rhythm of the crowd, to respond automatically, to let the moment decide for me. I realized how easily I could be swept into something that might not fully reflect my values, simply because of the group energy.

That realization didn’t make me cynical. It made me tender towards my own humanity. And mindful.  More self-aware.

Years earlier, during the later part of the Vietnam era, I went into the military with my brother. I went through both basic enlisted training and officer training. I saw firsthand the power of authority and the group, the thin line between training that builds discipline and practices that cross into something closer to brainwashing.

There was a moment when all of us were punished and forced to clean bathrooms with toothbrushes because three rowdy girls (from Lodi, California…I still see them in my mind) slipped out of the barracks. Individual responsibility vanished. Collective suffering took its place. The lesson was clear: everyone will obey or all will be punished.

Milgram’s experiments, that vigil, and my military experience are not separate stories. They reveal a single truth about being human: we are profoundly shaped by the situations we are placed in. Authority tells us what is acceptable. Groups tell us what is normal.

This matters deeply if we care about living the good life.

The good life is not only about personal fulfillment or kind intentions. It is about staying awake to the forces that shape our actions. When we fail to understand those forces, we risk participating—quietly, unintentionally—in harm. When we do understand them, we become safer people for the world to be around.

Baumeister and Milgram both help us see that evil does not usually announce itself with malice. It often arrives dressed as duty, progress, safety, or loyalty.

One of the most hopeful findings from Milgram’s research is this: when participants were not alone—when another person refused to continue—obedience dropped sharply. Moral courage, it turns out, is relational. We help one another remember who we are.

So here is a simple practice I am carrying today.

When I feel the pull of authority, the heat of a crowd, or the pressure of urgency, pause long enough to ask: Who am I serving right now? Not whose side am I on, but who or what value, in the deepest sense, is being served by this action. Is it love, dignity, and truth—or is it fear, belonging, or the relief of not standing out?

These questions restore agency. They bring responsibility back home. They allow the soul to catch up with the moment.

When enough people practice this kind of moral attentiveness, the world changes in small but real ways. Families become gentler. Institutions become more humane. Movements become less likely to lose their way. The good life becomes not just something we seek for ourselves, but something we help create for others.

Milgram did not believe his experiments proved that people are bad. They showed how much we need awareness (to pay attention!), humility (as long as we are arrogant and have hubris about who we are, we set the stage for stumbling), and good guys beside us to remain good.

The good life, then, is a whole lot of presence. It is about noticing the current before it carries us, planting our feet, and choosing—again and again—to stay human in situations that make that hard. That’s a spiritual practice for a lifetime.

How might we journey together to the good life by being mindful, humble, and finding good guys to walk beside us?

A sidebar:

Dr. Roy Baumeister’s father, “Rudy,” was born and raised in Wurtzburg, Germany during the Nazi era. Rudy rose to prominence in the Hitler Youth. Much of Baumeister’s research has focused on why people commit atrocities. His thesis is that there is no such thing as “pure evil” rather “evil” acts are often committed by ordinary people sometimes even with good intentions…(remember the Nazi German military belt buckles primarily featured the inscription, “Gott mit uns,” God with us) and often due to breakdowns in self-control.

John and I were stationed in Germany.  At that time, if you traveled you had to travel in uniform.  I was by myself on a train traveling once.  I noticed a man staring at me.  I smiled.  He did not return the smile.  Finally, he said, “What are you doing here?” A question can bring us quickly into awareness!

John when he was a captain in the medical dental corps. The medical folks largely did their own thing. Yes, they enjoyed the wine and beer in Germany, but perhaps their insignia helped them remember their identity and mission - to care for people.

I wasn’t sure if he meant why was I on the train or what was an American woman doing there or what.  But it seemed that he was asking why the U.S. military was in Germany. I had to think.  I spouted something about the Americans defending West Germany, being a deterrent against Soviet Union expansion and honoring our NATO agreements. But it really did make me think about, “What was I doing there?”

 As it turned out John and I made very dear friends with the German people rather naturally. We hunted on their revieres with them which was an incredible adventure. We were married in a German hunting club.  I remember John even being asked to pull a tooth when we were in a local German pub.  An old guy was in real pain.  John found some sort of instrument and did it!

So, it worked out in a way that I feel good about now. Still, I wish I would have been more aware at that time, more able to articulate to others and myself that I was there to walk alongside and support the German people as I went about my military duties. It would have helped me hold more intentionally and thoughtfully noble values.

(Now some may say that I don't take sides, but I do. I take the side of good and kindness and wisdom and courage and being fully human. AND I know we ordinary people can fall into traps unless we are aware and help each other.)

Now for another sidebar.  I consider this group of readers, you and me, to be a “becoming community”.  I just learned that concept and wording recently.  There are different kinds of communities and groups with different aims.  Social (great), work (let’s do a job together, great), learning (I love learning), but for me, the ultimate group is one that supports us becoming better (not just studying about becoming better) … a becoming community…a community of people whose aim is to support each other in becoming their best selves. Our most sincere selves. Some call this our True Selves.

Toward that end, please do, let me know your thoughts.  I trust that our piggybacking on each others' thoughts and especially our respectful disagreements will all take us further on that journey together.

And let me ask you this question: What are you doing here? I am thankful that you support and encourage me on my journey…AND is there a way I (or others here) can walk alongside and support you as you become more of you?  How can I/we help? Feel free to email me: drjunedarling1@gmail.com.

And, I think you can view this even if you don't have instagram. It strikes me as hilarious and so true of the spiritual journey. When the log in comes up, just x it out and turn on the sound.