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Law and Crime
The Truth Shall Set You Free—Except When It Doesn’t
Being uncertain, being dead certain, and guns.
Posted September 24, 2016
A colleague reports the following life episode. It raises very interesting psychological and legal questions.
Let’s call my colleague M. M is a gun enthusiast. In her state, to carry a gun (a pistol), one needs a special permit. To get such a permit, one has to take a class on gun laws, laws governing the use of deadly force, and firearm safety and use. As part of this class, each of the permit students have to complete a practicum set up by the course’s instructors. The set up of the practicum is this. In the middle of the night, a burglar, called the Peanut Butter Burglar (PBB), breaks into the student’s home. The student grabs his or her pistol — which is a bright blue fake gun made of rubber — and confronts the PBB in the kitchen, whereupon, the PBB says: “I only wanted to make myself a peanut butter sandwich.” From here, the practicum goes in different directions depending on what the student does.
Several students were killed. Of course, they weren’t really killed. But people do, apparently behave quite oddly in the presence of a burglar. M reports that in one case, after explaining to a male permit student what he, the PBB, was doing in the home, the student asked the PBB to make him a sandwich, too! Then the PBB got up and started conversing with the student about how to make said peanut butter sandwich. When the PBB was within a few feet of this student — who the whole time was pointing his pistol at the PBB — the PBB rushed the student and stabbed him to death with a butter knife.
M also reports that several women students were murdered as they just stood there with their fake pistols while the PBB talked to them about about random stuff. He would edge closer and closer until, when within range, he would kill the students either by stabbing them with the butter knife or a kitchen carving knife he picked up on the way or hitting them hard on the head with a large frying pan he picked up from the stove (again, this is all fake and make-believe — no actual students were harmed in this course).
M further reports that several students died before any student ever fired a shot at the PBB. This fact is interesting because all the practicums were individually conducted, with none of the other students watching. It was only after they were all through, that students and instructors could compare notes, and the instructors could explain what the students did wrong or right (mostly wrong).
Finally, M says, one male student shot the PBB. Let’s call him R. It went like this. R confronted the PBB. The PBB explained that he was only there to make a peanut butter sandwich. Then the PBB slowly stood up, carrying his butter knife. R demanded that he stop, the PBB stopped, but then the PBB started again walking slowly toward him and talking. R then raised his gun and shot the PBB, killing him.
When it was M’s turn, she too shot the PBB — almost immediately after he stood up. In the end, several students did wind up shooting the PBB.
At the end, for each student who killed the PBB, the instructors held a quick, mock trial, with all the other students present. (Apparently, in M’s state, killing an intruder in one’s home with a legally owned gun is not sufficient to avoid being charged with a crime and being tried and convicted.) Some of the students where convicted of manslaughter and others were acquitted. So the practicum resulted in three different kinds of outcomes: (1) the student dies, (2) the student shoots the PBB and is convicted of manslaughter, and (3) the student shoots the PBB and is acquitted of manslaughter.
Every student who shot and killed the PPB was asked at his or her trial “Why did you shoot the PBB?” M answered, “Well, I didn’t know what he was going to do, so I shot him.” R answered “I thought the PBB was going to kill me.” M was convicted; R was acquitted. Apparently, all the trials resulted in answers that more or less matched R’s or M’s: Either the student shooter, “home-owner,” would say “I wasn’t sure what the PBB was going to do,” or “I was sure the PBB is going to kill me.” All students who uttered the former were convicted; all those who uttered the latter were acquitted.
M reports that the point of the practicum was 2-fold: First to teach students not to let any home invader anywhere near them, and second, always to say what R said, always to say: “I thought the burglar was going to kill me.”
Here’s where things get interesting.
M told me that she answered completely truthfully: she really didn’t know what the PBB was going to do, and for her, this was the most salient characteristic about the situation. And she genuinely thought telling the truth at her “trial” would get her off. Furthermore, she was certain that shooting someone in her home (e.g., the PBB) would be justified simply by not knowing what the intruder was going to do — after all, he might kill her. The instructors insisted that that is the wrong strategy. The right strategy is saying what R said: “I was certain that he was going to kill me.” It turned out, according to M, that very few students said they were certain the PBB was going to kill them; most were uncertain. So very few students were acquitted.
So now we have our central puzzle. Why did some people shoot intruders based solely on uncertainty? The clear causal winner here is knowing that the PBB was going to kill you. In that case, you can, morally, rationally, and legally shoot the PBB. But why shoot when you are uncertain? In that case, you lack moral, rational, and legal grounds. (Of course, at the time, students didn’t know the legal part. That was the second point of the practicum — still, you lack or seem to lack moral and rational grounds.)
The answer appears to have to do with uncertainty. It is known that uncertainty is an emotional state that humans strive hard to alleviate. It is also known that uncertainty makes unpleasant events worse (see Yoav Bar-Anan, Timothy D. Wilson, and Daniel T. Gilbert. 2009. “The Feeling of Uncertainty Intensifies Affective Reactions.” Emotion 9(1): 123-127). So, here comes a complete stranger who has broken into your home and, in truth, you are uncertain. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Why? Well for one thing, having a home invader is somewhat rare — most of us will never experience it, and we will never know someone who experiences it. A second thing most of us will never experience, even second or third hand, is someone murdering us, or attempting to. We just can’t believe it. So, in our minds, we don’t know what is going to happen. We can’t imagine that the PBB, or whoever, is going to kill us. But he might kill us. And killing him, killing the PBB, reduces uncertainty.
So there you have it. We reduce uncertainty by killing someone who has invaded our home, violated our safe space, and may well harm or kill us. So we shoot him. Problem solved.
But then why is the law so psychologically unrealistic about this? I asked M this, and she opined that in her state, the law was made by a bunch of mostly white men — legislators — who never experienced any burglaries, violence, violations, etc. in their lives and so can afford to be moralistic and high-handed: kill only if you are certain. I noted though, that in states with more forgiving burglar shooting laws, those laws were still made by a bunch of mostly white men who never experienced any burglaries, violence, violations, etc. in their lives. So the make-up of the legislature can’t be the correct explanation.
Of course, and sadly, there are many people for whom the answer R gave: “I was certain that he was going to kill me” is spot on. They have suffered violence and harm. They have lived through violation of their safe spaces. These people are not uncertain. They are certain. They are certain that they are going to be severely harmed. So they shoot for the reason the law allows: they know they are about to be killed.
But most of us are not like this. We are like M. The presence of a burglar, especially one as weird as the PBB, is completely novel. We are awash in uncertainty.
So, when the PBB shows up, shoot him because you are uncertain. But when the police or the district attorney asks you why you shot the PBB, remember to give the moralistic and high-handed reason: you were certain the PBB was going to kill you.
