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Moab resident reflects on role in Stanford Prison Experiment and new documentary

Jerry Shue shares insights on the controversial study’s legacy and the National Geographic’s docuseries revisiting its narrative.

Not long after Jerry Shue moved to Moab in 2005, he found himself substitute teaching a sociology class at Grand County High School. Hoping to make the class more engaging, he decided to share a unique story from his past — the six days he spent as a prisoner in the infamous Stanford Prison Experiment in 1971.

Designed as a prison simulation to study the effects of situational forces on behavior, the experiment, led by Stanford psychologist Philip Zimbardo, randomly assigned 24 participants to roles as guards or prisoners.

The study, intended to last two weeks, was cut short after six days when guards escalated their use of dehumanizing tactics and some prisoners exhibited signs of emotional distress.

Zimbardo, who passed away in October of this year, often presented the study as proof of “the power of the situation” — how ordinary people can commit harmful acts in oppressive environments.

As Shue recounted his experience to the class, a student flipped open her textbook to the section on the experiment. On the page was a photo of Shue in his prison uniform, a bag over his head, labeled with the number “5486.”

“That was emblematic of the scope of what he turned the experiment into – you couldn’t escape it if you were in a psychology or a sociology class,” Shue said.

Now, decades later, the prison experiment is being re-examined in the limited series “The Stanford Prison Experiment: Unlocking the Truth,” which recently premiered on the National Geographic channel and is streaming on Disney+ and Hulu. The three-part series critiques the experiment’s methodology, highlights the varied experiences of its participants and challenges the conclusions Zimbardo famously promoted.

(Christopher Gill | National Geographic) Jerry Shue, an original participant of the Stanford Prison Experiment and Moab resident, sits for an interview.

Shue is one of six participants interviewed in the series, offering his perspective on the experiment and the narratives surrounding it.

“Zimbardo sold a particular message to his satisfaction — that good people do bad things in bad situations,” Shue said. “That became an easy-to-sell mantra [that] seemed to tap into what people wanted to believe. And now, decades later, there’s finally been enough scrutiny of that message.”

Observer in the chaos

In 1971, Shue was in his early 20s, recently out of college, and hitchhiking across the United States. The Vietnam War loomed large, and Shue recalled facing both hostility and curiosity during his travels.

“I had been harassed by cowboys, cops, you name it,” Shue said.

Eventually, his journey brought him to Stanford University, where he was staying with a friend. Down to his last dollar, Shue was still figuring out how he would get back home and spotted an ad in the Stanford Daily offering $15 a day for a two-week study on prison life. He applied, and was one chosen out of 75 men, and the offer, which included room and board, seemed “ideal.”

Shue was relieved to be assigned the role of a prisoner, a position most participants assumed would be less taxing. The basement of Stanford’s psychology building was transformed into a mock prison, complete with cells, uniforms and solitary confinement.

(Katrina Marcinowski | National Geographic) Stanford Prison Experiment guards dominate prisoners lined up along the wall in a re-enactment of the experiment.

Prisoners, including Shue, were stripped of their identities and addressed only by assigned numbers. Shue became “5486.”

Initially, Shue said he felt detached from the escalating intensity of the experiment. Compared to the hardships he had faced during his travels, the mock prison environment seemed manageable.

“I had everything I needed — food, a bed, and a roof over my head … I thought I was above it, like an observer, watching these college kids crumble,” Shue said.

But one incident altered his sense of detachment. A fellow prisoner refused to eat his sausages and was sent to solitary confinement in “the hole,” a dark closet meant as a punishment cell. Guards ordered the remaining prisoners to pound on the door to pressure the singled-out prisoner into compliance.

“I sort of knocked on the door and said something like ‘you eat them if you want’ … but they said go back and pound,” Shue said.

He added he rationalized following the orders because he didn’t want to worsen the tension and assumed the prisoner, who he had shared a cell with, would understand.

“You could say I succumbed to social pressure and I never felt good about that,” Shue said.

The incident is revisited in the documentary, which juxtaposes Shue’s recollections with those of a guard, who admitted his aggression got the best of him when he hit the dark closet with a baton.

“There was that interesting parallel that [the guard] and I both felt bad about slamming on the door, but for very opposite reasons,” Shue said. “He claims his aggression got the best of him, and I claim I succumbed to the social pressures and did what I was told, just to not make waves.”

Lessons from the docuseries

The docuseries builds on critiques of the experiment by incorporating research from figures like Thibault Le Texier, whose research findings suggest that Zimbardo coached guards and influenced events to fit his narrative. It delves into the manipulation behind the scenes, challenging the perception that the behaviors observed were entirely organic.

The show also reconstructs key moments on a sound stage with professionals acting out scenes from the original experiment, offering Shue and other participants a new lens to reflect on their experiences.

(Ken Yimm | Guy Miller Archives, Palo Alto Historical Association) Guards gather in the hallway of the original Stanford Prison Experiment.

By weaving archival footage, modern interviews and historical context, the series positions the prison experiment not just as a psychological study, but as a cultural artifact that reveals the power of media narratives.

For Shue, Zimbardo was a skilled promoter, but the study’s legacy is far messier than the simple narrative often presented.

“[Zimbardo] invented product, and he promoted product — so that’s the American dream,” Shue said. “… But what he managed to ignore was the individual. People reacted in different ways, remembered in different ways and it just was not as tidy as his pitch.”

Reflections on an enduring experiment

Though the experiment lasted just six days, Shue said its legacy has persisted, both in his life and in broader cultural discussions.

He praised the series for bringing nuance to the experiment and challenging viewers to think critically about research ethics, power dynamics, and human behavior. Shue said he hopes the series will encourage deeper discussions in academic and cultural contexts.

“I think the [series] has huge merit for psychology, sociology, research and journalism,” Shue said. “When it’s over, you realize it was a complex situation, it was manipulated, and we each have something to learn from it in our own way.”

This story was first published by The Times-Independent.