Can the good stay good?

An indefatigable human rights lawyer and militant champion of the downtrodden becomes a mayor and turns into one of the most insatiable kleptocrats in government. A shy university chaplain finds himself in the midst of adoring coeds, and changes into Casanova, succumbing to carnal pleasures. An innovative and successful division manager gets promoted to the corner office and loses no time enriching himself through corporate malfeasance. A former head of a global non-profit for poverty alleviation is arrested for using donations to engage in personal profit ventures. An enlightened ideologue and charismatic thought leader gets media facetime and alters into an opinionated, egocentric bigot. A hardworking farmer gets elected as barangay captain and mutates into a seducer and rapist of children.

The public no longer gets shocked. From government officials, corporate executives and world-class athletes, allegations of corruption, prostitution and other scandals fill the headlines with serial dishonor.

The pat explanation dates back to 1887 when historian Lord Acton first lamented that “power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely”. He further noted, “Great men are almost always bad men.” The observation has become the generally accepted premise that transformation from good to evil is the inevitable side effect of power.

Yet there remain a handful of people that defy this conventional wisdom. A few good men stay on the straight and narrow path, even as they acquire influence and status, seemingly invulnerable to the consequence of authority. Are they somehow inoculated against evil? Have they found the antidote that can stop the first bite of iniquity? The plaintive question is why do good people turn evil?

Research on the subject abounds. There is a morbid fascination about fallen angels. Moralists and social scientists have mounted volumes of research that investigate, measure or even predict when and why the regression from decency to malevolence happens. Social psychologist Philip Zimbardo, famous for his trail-blazing research, the Stanford Prison Experiment, calls the phenomenon “The Lucifer Effect”. In this work, Zimbardo contends that the world is filled with good and evil: was, is and always will be; that the boundary between good and evil is permeable and nebulous; that it is possible for angels to become devils, and though more rare, for devils to become angels. He elucidates on how situational forces and group dynamics can make monsters out of upright people as drawn from history up to the recent notorious Abu Ghraib.

A psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley, Dacher Keltner, interviewed freshmen at a campus dorm. They were asked their first impressions of other dorm-mates. He repeated the same survey at the end of the school year. The results were heartening. The students at the top of the social hierarchy — the most “powerful” and respected — were also the most considerate and outgoing. Similar outcomes were found in the military, corporations and politics. People give authority to those they genuinely like. In other words, nice guys finished first.

These scientific findings contradict the cliché that ruthless aggression is the fastest way to the top. A treatise by Italian philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli, “The Prince,” preached that compassion got in the way of eminence. That if a leader has to choose between being feared or being loved, he should choose fear. It’s bad advice as our previous administration proved.

In fact another study conducted by Keltner and Anderson measured “Machiavellian” behavior, like the willingness to spread malicious gossip, in a sorority. The Machiavellians were quickly identified and isolated. Nobody liked them, so they never had influence.

But there’s reason for alarm. There’s evidence that once at the top, nice guys could end up modified into fiends. The most cited reason is that power makes them less sympathetic to the concerns and emotions of others and more likely to rely on stereotypes and generalizations when judging other people.

Psychologists call it the paradox of power. The very traits that helped leaders attain control all but evaporate once they rise to power. From being polite, honest and accessible, they become reckless, impulsive and unapproachable. In some cases, these acquired traits can help a leader be more decisive and single-minded, or make hard decisions regardless of their popularity. Unchecked however, the new overconfidence can lead to a big fall.

“It’s an incredibly consistent effect,” Keltner says. He compares the feeling of power to brain damage, noting that people with lots of authority tend to behave like neurological patients with a damaged orbito-frontal lobe, the brain area that’s crucial for empathy and decision-making.

Although people generally know right from wrong, a sense of power makes it easier to rationalize an ethical lapse. When the subjects in low- and high-power positions were asked how they would judge an individual who overspeeds when late for an appointment, the high-power group consistently said it was worse for others than for themselves. After all, they had a good reason to speed — they’re important people, with important things to do — but everyone else should follow the law.

The same self-importance undermines their ability to evaluate information and make complex decisions. Instead of weighing the strength of an argument, those in power focus on whether or not it confirms what they already believe. If it doesn’t, the facts are conveniently ignored. Leaders can overestimate their moral virtue and make them oppose oversight. They lobby against regulators, and fill corporate boards with their friends. The end result can be power at its most dangerous.

In a classic experiment called the Dictator Game, by the economist Vernon Smith, “dictators” were given $10 and were asked to share if they wished. Majority generously gave away $2 or more. But once isolated, or assured of anonymity, more than 60% kept all the money.

There is no easy cure for the Lucifer Effect. The best treatment is transparency, the Sunshine Principle. Moreover, a conscientious effort to listen to ordinary folk outside the inner circle sharpens empathy and prevents the Ivory Tower syndrome.

Let us help the good stay good with our constant vigilance and feedback.

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