25Studies of Independence and Conformity
Solomon E. Asch, "Studies of Independence and Conformity: I. A Minority of One Against a Unanimous Majority", Psychological Monographs 70(9), whole no. 416, 1956
Linked to 27 chapters: supports 11 · contradicts 2 · mechanism 18 · same claim 4 · pairing 7
Solomon Asch set out to study independence and is remembered for its opposite. He seated one student among seven to nine others who had met the experimenter beforehand, and asked the group to say aloud which of three lines matched a standard line on a second card. The task was so easy that people judging alone were right on more than 99 per cent of the comparisons. On twelve of the eighteen trials the others announced, unanimously and without strain, a line that was plainly wrong. Across 123 subjects at three colleges, a third of those critical judgements went the majority's way. Asch's interest was in the other two thirds, and in what the interview afterwards showed about both. A quarter of his subjects never moved at all. Yielding took three forms and independence took three, and they did not line up with the error counts. A person's stand was set within the first two or three trials and then held. The effect fell to a third of its size when the subject wrote his answer instead of speaking it. Asch rejected the explanations then available — uncritical acceptance, suggestion, reward and punishment — as restatements rather than accounts, and argued that what he had built was not a demonstration of conformity but a situation in which one person had to decide what to do about a contradiction he could not understand.
Plan of the investigation
The materials were plain. A white card carried one black vertical line, the standard; a second card, forty inches away, carried three comparison lines numbered one to three. Standards were three, five and eight inches, and the two wrong lines differed from the standard, and from each other, by amounts a person could not miss. Eighteen comparisons took about twenty minutes.
The single critical subject was recruited by a member of the majority for what was described as an experiment in visual discrimination, and arrived to find the group already waiting. He was seated next to last in the second row, so that he heard all but one of the others before his turn. The experimenter read the instructions aloud to everyone, and two confederates asked clarifying questions, so that all present appeared equally new to the task. The first member of the majority read the prearranged answers off a small card and the rest followed his lead. They were told to answer clearly and firmly, not to argue with the critical subject, not to look at him, and not to feign surprise at his answers. The majority was, in Asch's description, impersonal rather than aggressive.
The series was built to let several things be read off it. The first two trials were neutral, the majority answering correctly, which lent it credibility; a third neutral trial fell in fifth position. The twelve critical trials were three basic comparisons shown four times each. On two showings of a comparison the majority chose the wrong line nearer the standard, on two the wrong line further from it, so that identical stimuli could be seen under a moderate and an extreme majority error, and its errors ran from three quarters of an inch to one and three quarters. The whole nine-trial set was then repeated without a pause, which let the two halves of the session be compared. The experimenter behaved as an impartial chairman, recording dissenting judgements without a show of surprise, and an individual interview followed immediately, before the subject had been told anything.
The majority effect
Thirty-seven people from a comparable college judged the same lines individually. Thirty-five made no errors at all, and the group's error rate was 0.7 per cent. Among the 123 who faced the majority, the mean was 4.41 errors out of twelve, or 36.8 per cent of the critical estimates. Asch states the headline both ways, and the second way matters as much as the first: the majority deflected a third of the estimates, and two thirds remained independent, which he takes as evidence that the perceived fact was the stronger of the two forces at work.
The distribution is the part most often dropped in retelling. It is not a hump around the mean but something closer to a J, with its mode at the truth. Twenty-nine subjects, 24 per cent, made no error whatever; about the same proportion, 27 per cent, went with the majority eight to twelve times; the remaining half were spread continuously between. On the six neutral trials the experimental groups made three errors in 738 judgements, so the errors were a product of the disagreement and of nothing else.
The errors tracked the majority closely. When it erred moderately, every error the subjects made was moderate too; when it erred extremely, 80.7 per cent of theirs matched it and 19.3 per cent fell short. Those short errors came almost entirely from trials where the intermediate line lay between the truth and the majority's choice, which is why Asch reads them as compromises rather than mistakes.
Individuals were consistent with themselves. Those independent in the first half of the series were independent in the second. More than half of those who ever erred did so by the second critical trial, and only 7 per cent first erred in the second half. Pressure did not accumulate; early independence conferred something like immunity, and early yielding perpetuated itself. Asch is careful about what this does not show: such consistency could be a property of the person, or commitment to a course taken for accidental reasons in the first minute, and his data cannot separate them.
Forms of independence and yielding
All subjects noticed the disagreement at once, and their first reaction was puzzlement rather than doubt. They formed hypotheses — that they had misunderstood the instructions, that the lines were an optical illusion, that the group was following whoever spoke first — and gave them up as the disagreement recurred. What replaced the hypotheses was a question about persons: who is right here. Most subjects, including the most independent, felt some doubt about their own accuracy, and the doubt then turned inward. They reported fearing that they were the ones with the defect, that they would be seen as a misfit, a black sheep, a sore thumb, and several described the loneliness of the position more vividly than the disagreement. Suspicion of the setup was rare, and Asch explains why: concern about oneself arrived first and left no room for it.
Of the 94 subjects asked whether a ruler would have vindicated them, 71 per cent said yes, and that confidence tracked performance: 87 per cent of the wholly independent against 41 per cent of those who erred eight to eleven times. Doubt and temptation did the same in reverse. One question showed no such gradient. Eighty-two per cent said they had been concerned about the disagreement, and concern was unrelated to what they did; what differed was how it was handled. Yielding subjects also underestimated how often they had yielded, by four trials on average, and some who had followed the majority ten or twelve times reported two.
Working from the extremes of the distribution, Asch sorts the reactions. Independence took three shapes. Some kept faith in what they saw, held the majority to be mistaken, and were freed by that confidence from most of the conflict; one said he was getting a certain pleasure out of being different. Others declined to pronounce on the majority at all and retreated to what they could not be argued out of, that this was how the lines looked to them. A third group was assailed by doubt, believed the majority was probably right, and reported what they saw anyway, because the task had asked for an accurate answer.
Yielding took three shapes as well. At the rarest, a few subjects appeared to comply without knowing it, and Asch is scrupulous about the limits of the evidence: there is no reason to think the lines looked different to them, only that the distortion happened somewhere in judgement and stayed out of their awareness. Far commoner was yielding at the level of judgement, where confidence collapsed, the subject concluded that he was wrong and the group right, and went as far as to feel he had forfeited the right to report his inferior impressions; several said they went along so as not to spoil the experiment. Third was yielding at the level of action, by people who saw the lines clearly, never confused themselves, and suppressed what they saw because being visibly the odd one out was intolerable. These were in the most pain, since they could not soften the conflict by becoming unsure.
Variations of the experimental conditions
Eight further experiments test what the first depends on, and several change nothing. Judgements of brightness on two colour wheels gave 39 per cent errors; lines a thirty-second of an inch wide, which removed the objection that the subjects had been comparing rectangles rather than lengths, gave 24.5 per cent; tripling the series to thirty-six critical trials gave 37.6 per cent, and no subject who stayed independent through the first eight trials erred afterwards; warning the group that the lines would be measured with a ruler at the end left the effect untouched at 36.7 per cent.
Two manipulations moved it. The first was publicity. When the critical subject was told he had arrived late and should write his estimates instead of announcing them, while the majority went on speaking, errors fell to 12.5 per cent, about a third of the original, and all ten that remained were moderate: nobody followed the majority when it went extreme. The subjects insisted the change had made no difference to them, which Asch notes is exactly what subjects say. Since every one of them assumed the experimenter would compare their answers with the group's, even this was not private, and he says the fully private case remained to be done.
The second was the size of the disagreement, and it runs the opposite way to intuition. In the sixth experiment, eighteen subjects judged a standard against a single unequal line, with the discrepancy set at a quarter, a half or three quarters of an inch. Errors fell as the majority's error grew: 56.7 per cent, then 33.3, then 25.7. A gross error is easier to resist than a small one. Errors also rose with the size of the standard, from 30.5 per cent at three inches to 48.1 per cent at nine, which Asch admits he cannot explain and for which he offers a name rather than a mechanism: differences well above the threshold still vary in what he calls unquestionability, a dimension that does not show itself until a judgement is challenged.
Two results the monograph does not contain belong here, because Asch had reported them in 1951 and refers to them throughout. The first is that the effect does not need a crowd. Against one opponent a subject is barely affected, against two he errs on about an eighth of trials, and against three he reaches the full level, which does not rise as the majority grows to eight or fifteen. What matters is not the number but the unanimity. The second is the partner. One other person answering correctly cuts the errors to a small fraction of their level, and the partner need not even agree with the subject: a confederate who gives a third, different wrong answer breaks the effect nearly as well. When the partner answers correctly at first and then switches to the majority, the subject's errors climb back towards the level of a man alone.
Structure of the experimental conditions
Asch closes by laying out what he had actually built, in fifteen numbered properties, because he thought the conclusions people were drawing from it exceeded it. The object of judgement was unambiguous and each person had independent access to it; the subject had no grounds for doubting the eyesight or good faith of the others; the unanimity was known to arise from separate judgements rather than a group decision, which made it hard to dismiss as chance. The conflict was irreconcilable, since the facts would not bend, and it was also unintelligible. In ordinary disagreement we can at least imagine why the other side sees it differently: the matter is complex, someone has overlooked something. Here nothing of the kind was available, which is why so mild a disagreement about lines produced distress.
It also lets him say what the situation was not. There was no persuasion, no argument, no reward and no punishment. The majority never addressed the subject, never disputed with him, never expressed displeasure. It was, he writes, "an entirely neutral chorus of voices." "Whatever pressure the subject felt grew solely within himself." That is the argument against reading the results as suggestion or as uncritical acceptance, the readings he had criticised at the outset for redescribing the behaviour in the guise of explaining it. Nothing was suggested to anyone. The subject supplied the pressure, out of his own reading of what the disagreement meant about him, and it is that supply, not the group's action, that the modes of yielding and independence describe. He ends by marking the boundaries: the participants were peers, temporarily assembled, not interacting; and the resistance at issue was the solitary kind, closer to courage civile than to the courage of people acting together.
Since 1956
The experiment became one of the most repeated in psychology, and the repetitions mostly found it. A meta-analysis by Rod Bond and Peter Smith in 1996 pooled 133 studies from seventeen countries and confirmed the effect along with two patterns Asch could not have seen from three American colleges in one decade. Conformity in the United States declined steadily from the 1950s onwards, so some of what the line task measured was the temper of a period. And it varied with culture: societies that rate interdependence highly produced larger effects, which fits Asch's own view that yielding is about the meaning a person assigns to standing apart rather than about eyesight. Attempts in Britain diverged. Stephen Perrin and Christopher Spencer, testing engineering students in 1980, recorded one conforming response in 396 trials and called the finding a child of the McCarthy years; their later work with unemployed West Indian men facing white majorities produced large effects, which points less at the decade than at what the subject has to lose.
The misreadings have proved more durable than the replications. The study is cited for the proposition that people conform, when its own numbers say two thirds of judgements were independent and a quarter of subjects never yielded once; Ronald Friend, Yvonne Rafferty and Dana Bramel documented in 1990 how textbook after textbook inverted the emphasis Asch had insisted on. It is cited as though the majority argued or threatened, when it did nothing but say numbers out loud. It is cited with the majority's size as the operative variable, when three dissenters do the work of fifteen and one ally undoes most of it. And it is cited as evidence about people in general on the basis of male American college students, tested in public, on a question with no stake attached.
What has lasted is not the third who yielded but the anatomy underneath: that resistance and compliance can wear the same error count and be different acts, that the decisive move happens in the first minute, that a single voice on your side is worth more than any argument, and that the pressure people feel from a unanimous room is something they manufacture themselves out of what they think the room will conclude about them.