Article archive / October 1, 2016
Originally published: . Volume 7, No. 10. Source pages: 2.
by J. Nelson When Stone and Janis discovered groupthink in the 60s and 70s, I believe most thought that the phenomenon was an extreme––that most group decisions were relatively free of the unconscious group forces.
It seems however, that we are in a time where unconscious group dynamics are in ascendance. One example is the presidential election. We have the worst, most unlikeable candidate for the U.S. President in the history of our country, running against the second worst, most unlikable candidate in the history of our country.
With millions of people around, we have these two. How does this happen? It must be the amazing conundrum of psychological phenomenon of social behavior. We have in-groups, out-groups, and embedded groups. We have automatic and unconscious characteristics––fast-think, obedience, over- confidence, conformation bias, bystander effects, and so on. All driven by the often invisible force of self-interest, and supported with self-deception.
The first time my own automatic behavior–an element of groupthink– dawned on me, I was in the 5th grade.
I was being confirmed in the Catholic Church in the small, north Louisiana city of Natchitoches. For us it was a major experience of dazzling pomp and circumstance, with mystical and magical things like incense, men in long robes, and Gregorian chanting. All of this was enough to put a grown adult into a trance, much less a child. Everyone was mesmerized.
Thinking back it was all very lovely and sweet. We were spit-shined in our crisp white-cotton, the girls in their frocks and the boys in their dressy shirts. Standing at attention, scrubbed and combed, we gleamed like an early sunrise. Family members watched us with love and pride; we were all one, we belonged, we knew who we were.
Many of the children had been gathered together from the outlying rural parishes and had never seen a real Bishop before. Certainly I hadn’t. So, it’s not surprising what happened next.
A young boy about 10 children ahead of me in line, stepped up and bowed. Then he bent over and kissed the Bishop’s ring. I was stunned. I’d never seen anything like that before in my entire young life.
The next child did exactly the same thing and the next and the next. When the Bishop made his way to me, I paused for just a split second, then mimicked the others, bowed and placed my mouth on the ring.
The cool, wet saliva already coating the ring jarred me out of my groupthink––me being at exactly that age when all things having to do with someone else’s saliva are totally disgusting.
Freed from my mindless, obedient behavior, I raised my head and struggled with my confusing emotions, nodded and backed away. Then I applied every bit of self-control I had at my young age, to refrain from scrubbing my mouth across my starched, white sleeve, as the Bishop slowly turned from me with his kindly smile.
I’ve watched my own automatic behavior many times since then, in more situations than I care to admit. I’ve been carried along by the social currents like a leaf in a stream, just like everyone else. But I don’t think I’ve ever been quite as disgusted.
Scattered through the news this month are instances of groupthink, taking the inevitable toll on problem-solving. Boards, committees, commissions, charged with statesmanship, but who slip into politics.
An example is the Task Force for Meaningful Oversight is asking the board questions. One question, there are many, is, does the LSBEP have any “Suggestions for active supervision by the state on market- sensitive decisions…”
To this, and other similar inquiries about oversight, there is the same theme, probably crafted by the attorney. The board replies: “It is the Board’s opinion that the board’s policies and training in conjunction with oversight currently in place (i.e. rule-making and injunctive proceedings in the District Courts) is sufficient,” the board wrote.
Really? The checks and balances are sufficient?
Perhaps a little saliva might help.
This article is part of a historical newspaper archive. Read the original issue for its original layout, photographs and graphics.