Save the Goldfish, Save the World
There’s a story about a goldfish making the rounds on social media that I’ll condense a bit in the interest of space.
“A teacher, in front of her classroom, took a fish from its bowl and left it to flop around on a table. She told her students if anyone left their seat, for any reason, they would fail her class. She then left the room.
“The children watched the fish flop around, gasping for air, but did not get up to help for fear of getting in trouble. Finally, a girl stood, went to the fish, and placed it back in its bowl. She refused to watch the fish die.
“When the teacher returned, she told the class the fish had been a lesson — that the fear of getting in trouble should never stop them from doing what’s right. There would be times opposing authority was necessary, even if others stood by and did nothing.”
Situations like the one with the fish are referred to as the bystander effect, the term for how individuals become less likely to offer help when in the presence of others.
I have no doubt how I would’ve reacted had I been in that room. I would have immediately put the fish back in the bowl, and then picked up the bowl and headed for home. Probably kicked the teacher in the shin if we passed in the hall.
I don’t say this to toot my own horn. Only that it’s how I react when a helpless creature is involved. I get quickly unhinged.
Yet there have been situations involving humans when I didn’t act and later wished that I had; times I stood by silently while one spouse berated the other in front of me or when an employer spoke cruelly to staff.
I wish I had done something. Said something.
The ABC television show “What Would You Do?” hosted by John Quiñones, recently filmed a few episodes in Charleston, West Virginia. The show’s premise tests the bystander effect by using actors in non-emergency scenarios, capturing the reactions and responses of onlookers. For instance, one of the situations filmed here had their actor portraying a homeless woman in a restaurant being treated poorly by another actor, who had been set up to look like he worked there. The responses of the patrons were heartwarming and compassionate. Poor behavior was not tolerated.
For years, I’ve bragged to out-of-state friends that in West Virginia, hospitality is something of a competitive sport. When I got a flat tire on the turnpike, another driver stopped to assist before I even turned off my engine. A friend’s car broke down in a Kanawha City parking lot and the men who came to her aid practically rebuilt her engine right there on the spot — and refused to accept payment.
But life isn’t that way everywhere. According to studies on the bystander effect, if a subject is alone and encounters someone in distress, there is a 70 percent likelihood they will attempt to help. Yet if the person is paired with a stranger, the likelihood of offering help drops to 40 percent.
It’s hard to imagine a classroom of students willing to watch a fish die, but when there are more people around, a single individual doesn’t feel pressured to take action, believing the responsibility is shared among everyone present. If those around us are doing nothing, we tend to think it’s ok to do nothing, too.
It might be easy to sit back and hope someone else steps up, but doing nothing is essentially accepting the wrong — which is only a half step away from being the person doing the wrong.
The next time I catch myself wondering why somebody doesn’t do something, I need to remind myself that I am somebody. I might not be fierce, scary, or loud, but unless I believe what they’re doing is right, I need to step up.
And get that gasping goldfish back in the bowl.
