This is Part 2 of a two-part series. Read Part 1 here.
While I attempted to approach “The New Stanford Prison Experiment,” a newly released Netflix reality television series, with an open mind, I couldn’t help but identify from the start significant distinctions between the study originally conducted by Philip Zimbardo and his graduate students in 1971 and the conditions the architects of this reimagining put in place.
As I reflected on in Part 1 of this series, this show in no way meets the scientific criteria for sanctioned research. The fact of its being produced and recorded for television—and presumably, for entertainment purposes—introduces the fraught variable of how individuals recruited will react knowing it will be viewed by the larger public, in addition to the obvious lack of any IRB approval regarding the ethics of this simulation.
While Zimbardo screened prospective volunteers for his study in an effort to ensure they could handle the potentially stressful 14-day interval of the simulation, it remains unclear how individuals were recruited for this show, and dubious that random assignment was used to decide who would play the role of guards versus prisoners. In fact, at least two of the “inmates” on this show share in their self-narrations having had brushes with the law, with at least one reporting having been incarcerated. This individual clearly shows signs of being retraumatized by the conditions of the simulated prison in Episode 1, which is actually filmed in a real prison.
One of the dimensions of this reality show that distinguishes watching it from the experience of being exposed to the original footage of the actual study is that the Netflix contestants are housed in an actual correctional facility rather than in the makeshift prison of the 1971 study. Imagination is not required for individuals on this show to feel as if they are incarcerated, because they are in fact in an actual prison, even if they have been separated from other inmates, correctional officers, and staff.
So, while all the participants are aware they consented to participate in this reality show—curiously, many contestants repeatedly refer to their taking part in this “experiment,” despite it not reflecting sanctioned research—it is not only the roles they have been assigned that create the conditions of being incarcerated but also the literal environment they have been placed in. The uniforms the guards and prisoners are clothed in serve as additional social cues reminding them of their respective positions—similar to the way Zimbardo leveraged such costumes to trigger authenticity in the experience for each participant. It is clear in watching this production that the budget was greater than what Zimbardo had at his disposal, and that such resources were allocated to create authenticity for the contestants so that the simulation felt like actual incarceration.
Perhaps the most engaging element of this reality show is that the contestants reflect a more diverse group of people than the original sample, offering a dimension not present in Zimbardo’s study. Zimbardo’s sample consisted exclusively of traditionally aged white male college students, while the individuals recruited for this show reflect diversity in race and age, and include three women. All three women—two of color—are assigned the role of correctional officers, presumably for the logistical complexity of housing one or more women in a pod of 20-plus males.
The inclusion of women and Black males offers a further layer of complexity regarding how identity intersects with power and perceptions of authority and leadership. In fact, the female guards explicitly reflect on their gender when they self-narrate how they are navigating their roles over the course of the experience. While the male guards generally approach leadership with a sense of entitlement, the female guards are sensitive to having to “earn” legitimacy in their positions, perhaps best exemplified by a scene shown more than once from an early episode when one of the male guards repeatedly speaks over a female one who is attempting to relay information to the larger group of guards by reading a missive left for the group.
Another element less salient in Zimbardo’s study is the openness with which contestants in this simulation—both assigned inmates and guards—reflect on leadership and how it develops. In fact, over the course of this simulation, abuse of power is a far less salient feature of the group dynamics that develop than which members are perceived as effective versus ineffective leaders. Both explicit and implicit norms develop regarding hierarchies within both groups, as engaging intragroup and intergroup dynamics emerge.
Lastly, this reality show specifically breaks up the experience of the contestants into four phases, diverging significantly from the original study design. The four phases are referred to as: transformation, hierarchy, role-reversal, and self-governance. Each phase reflects an escalation of uncertainty in conditions imposed on the contestants, becoming more outrageous with each new iteration they are exposed to. Notably, each phase is further marked by at least one contestant opting out of continuing the simulation by evoking “pineapple,” the safe word all participants have been told will enable them to be extracted from the prison if or when they feel uncomfortable or unsafe prior to the 14-day mark.
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“Transformation” reflects the first stage of the simulation, when contestants learn what role they have been assigned and start to transition into their respective roles as prisoner or guard within the facility. This interval of the simulation is perhaps most true to the original study. From there, the show diverges; even the pretense of scientific replication has been discarded, and contestants are exposed to ever more extreme conditions. In the “hierarchy” phase, both guards and inmates are placed in positions where individuals from their ranks are explicitly placed in leadership positions. This phase demonstrates noteworthy friction that develops between the guards, as each shift has to select a specific leader within their subgroup, and then announce their decision to the pod of inmates. The last two phases become more extreme in what contestants are exposed to, starkly reminding both viewers and participants that this very clearly is a reality production and not a scientific experiment.
While there is much to reflect on regarding this series, the extent to which this Netflix show repositions the Stanford Prison Experiment or offers any new insights in this regard is questionable. In fact, I would argue the release of this show perhaps best exemplifies the enduring interest of the original study, as the question of whether or not and how power corrupts individuals when operating as part of a larger collective is just as resonant today as it was in Zimbardo’s day. An additional question to consider, especially in light of this particular reimagining, is whether or how entertainment corrupts—is it possible to produce authentic reactions in individuals experiencing a simulation when they know they are being recorded for a television series?
Alas, readers interested in the answer to this question will have to watch the show and decide for themselves.
Copyright 2026 Azadeh Aalai
