Dion George and the Stanford Prison Experiment: Power and abuse in South African politics - Dr Joan Swart
Key topics:
Dion George allegations mirror Stanford Prison Experiment power dynamics
Political roles can foster abuse, fear, and learned helplessness
Systemic issues in South African governance enable misconduct
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By Dr Joan Swart
When news broke of the allegations against recently demoted Forestry and Fisheries Minister Dion George, it shocked even seasoned political observers. Reports described George as “rude and abusive,” accused of intimidating his staff and making deeply inappropriate remarks about driving employees to suicide. According to insiders, “the level of distress among staff was unprecedented.”
What makes this story compelling, beyond its political intrigue, is its striking resemblance to the psychological mechanisms revealed by the Stanford Prison Experiment (SPE) — a landmark 1971 study that explored how ordinary individuals can adopt oppressive or submissive behaviours when immersed in hierarchical power structures. The parallels between Zimbardo’s simulated prison and the realities of government leadership today offer profound insights into how institutional culture and role-based psychology interact to shape conduct in South African politics.
The power of role and the loss of self
In the SPE, college students randomly assigned as “guards” quickly began mistreating “prisoners,” not because they were inherently sadistic, but because they internalised their new roles. Deindividuation — the loss of personal identity in favour of a role-defined identity — enabled the guards to rationalise abuse as “discipline.”
This pattern is eerily mirrored in the allegations against George. By many accounts, he was previously seen as a courteous, principled figure. Yet once elevated to ministerial office, his demeanour allegedly shifted into one of domination and control. Former subordinates described an environment of humiliation and fear, while colleagues noted an unwillingness to take advice or abide by party and cabinet discipline.
The office of a cabinet minister is itself a powerful psychological stage. It conveys authority, expectation, and the illusion of control. For some, the role becomes performative: one begins acting the part of a powerful decision-maker, suppressing empathy and self-awareness in the process. Zimbardo called this “the tyranny of roles,” where individuals surrender moral autonomy to the institutional script.
Situational pressures and institutional psychology
The Stanford study’s central lesson was situational rather than dispositional: that behaviour arises more from environment than personality. The experiment’s “guards” were not inherently cruel — they were responding to the conditions of anonymity, hierarchy, and lack of oversight.
In South African politics, this situational power is amplified by unstable coalitions, opaque decision-making, and weak accountability structures. Ministers often find themselves caught between the expectations of their parties, their departments, and the public. When performance pressure collides with authority, it can foster aggression, micromanagement, and even emotional detachment.
The George affair illustrates this vividly. Facing complex departmental challenges, inter-party friction within the Government of National Unity (GNU), and internal DA politics, he occupied a psychologically volatile position. Within such conditions, the slide from assertive leadership to authoritarian conduct can be alarmingly quick — especially in an environment that rewards projection of control over consultation.
Conformity, rebellion, and group dynamics
The SPE also revealed how both obedience and resistance emerge within rigid hierarchies. Prisoners conformed to their submissive roles, some even accepting mistreatment, while others rebelled and were punished. Likewise, the “guards” conformed to the perceived expectations of authority figures, including Zimbardo himself, who as superintendent failed to restrain their excesses.
In George’s case, conformity and rebellion coexisted. He allegedly refused to conform to party and cabinet directives, even withdrawing state legal action in a controversial mining case, but simultaneously demanded absolute conformity from subordinates. In psychological terms, he resisted external authority while reproducing its coercive patterns internally — a duality often observed in political environments where loyalty and control are both currency and shield.
The DA’s subsequent move to demote him demonstrates another group dynamic: the system protecting itself. Parties, like institutions in the SPE, enforce conformity to maintain legitimacy. When leaders threaten the stability of the hierarchy, they are swiftly expelled or sidelined — not necessarily out of moral concern, but to preserve the structure.
To be clear, this response is institutionally rational but psychologically revealing. The DA acted understandably to contain reputational damage and restore order within the Government of National Unity. Yet from a behavioural perspective, such corrective action often treats the individual symptom rather than the systemic cause. A psychologically literate organisation might have coupled disciplinary measures with deeper reflection: What role stressors, internal expectations, or leadership culture contributed to the breakdown? Addressing those factors — through leadership training, independent departmental review, or open dialogue about workplace culture — would turn a crisis of behaviour into an opportunity for institutional learning.
Cognitive dissonance and moral justification
When individuals act in ways that conflict with their personal values, they experience cognitive dissonance — the discomfort of inconsistency. To ease it, they rationalise their behaviour. Guards in the SPE justified cruelty as necessary for order. Likewise, public officials accused of bullying or corruption often rationalise their conduct as “tough management” or “defending the mission.”
In South African politics, this is almost ritualised. From corruption scandals to factional purges, many politicians convince themselves that ethical compromises are strategic necessities. The line between leadership and coercion becomes blurred, particularly in the pressurised, performance-driven environment of national office. If the system rewards control and compliance more than empathy and collaboration, it conditions leaders to silence their conscience.
The Lucifer effect and the systemic corruption of power
Zimbardo later coined the term “The Lucifer Effect” to describe how good people turn bad within corrupt systems. The transformation is not spontaneous — it is nurtured by structures that normalise abuse and shield the powerful from accountability.
The same dynamic pervades South African governance. From the State Capture years to recurring scandals in coalition municipalities, leaders have repeatedly succumbed to the seductive logic of impunity. In these systems, moral failure is rarely punished; it is explained away, redirected, or buried in process. Even those who enter politics with good intentions risk moral decay if the institutional ecosystem rewards dominance and punishes dissent.
George’s alleged treatment of staff, if accurate, fits this pattern. It is less about personal pathology and more about the corrupting design of power — a system where empathy is weakness, hierarchy is sacrosanct, and success is measured by control. The tragedy is that such environments not only harm individuals but corrode the very idea of public service.
Learned helplessness and organisational trauma
While the SPE exposed the psychology of dominance, it also illuminated the psychology of submission. “Prisoners” quickly became passive, showing signs of anxiety, depression, and resignation. Zimbardo described this as learned helplessness — the belief that one’s actions no longer matter.
Reports that long-serving departmental employees broke down in tears under George’s leadership are a chilling parallel. When subordinates experience persistent humiliation and no credible recourse, they disengage emotionally and professionally. This phenomenon is widespread in the South African civil service, where demoralised employees often retreat into bureaucratic inertia.
At a national scale, citizens themselves may exhibit a form of collective learned helplessness — a resignation to dysfunction, corruption, and political decay. Repeated disappointment breeds apathy, explaining low voter turnout and political disengagement. In a sense, society becomes the “prisoner” in the system’s psychological drama.
Beyond individuals: Reforming the system of power
The SPE was terminated early because it became ethically untenable. The same principle should guide democratic governance: when the exercise of power causes psychological or institutional harm, reform is imperative.
South Africa’s political environment continues to reproduce conditions conducive to abuse:
Diffuse accountability: Ministers and directors-general often operate in silos, allowing moral disengagement (“it wasn’t my decision”). Clearer delineation of authority, stronger interdepartmental oversight, and transparent reporting structures could reinforce individual responsibility.
Anonymity and impunity: Party structures insulate leaders from personal responsibility. Introducing public accountability reviews and independent ethics panels would help make power more personally answerable.
Role confusion: Coalition politics blur lines of authority, creating stress, suspicion, and overcompensation through authoritarian conduct. A unified code of conduct and clearly negotiated coalition protocols could reduce ambiguity and promote cooperative governance.
Lack of psychological literacy: Few political or bureaucratic institutions incorporate organisational psychology into leadership training or performance management. Embedding psychological and emotional-intelligence training in leadership development programmes would cultivate awareness, empathy, and healthier management styles.
What the George case exposes is not simply the fallibility of one man, but the predictable consequences of a system that prioritises command over character.
Final thoughts
The Stanford Prison Experiment remains a cautionary tale: it is not evil individuals who make systems oppressive, but systems that make ordinary people capable of harm. South Africa’s political institutions, from cabinet to council chambers, are theatres where roles, power, and accountability collide.
The lesson is simple yet profound — power must be humanised. Without empathy, feedback, and structural checks, authority becomes self-justifying. Whether in a prison simulation or a government office, the dynamics are the same: unchecked power corrodes, conformity silences, and fear infects the fabric of institutions.
If South Africa’s leaders wish to avoid repeating the Stanford script, they must first confront the psychology of their own roles — and the system that keeps rewriting the same tragic play.
*Dr. Joan Swart: PsyD Forensic Psychology, MBA, MA (Military Studies)