Noto­rious Boston gang­ster James “Whitey” Bulger — who eluded author­i­ties for more than 16 years — is accused of mur­dering 19 people. Here, David DeSteno, asso­ciate pro­fessor of psy­chology at North­eastern Uni­ver­sity, who studies the role of emo­tion in social cog­ni­tion and social behavior, assesses the mind of crime fig­ures like Bulger and those who exalt them as heroes.

What drives immoral behavior?

We cannot assume that Whitey Bulger, Anthony Weiner, or other “fallen” indi­vid­uals were flawed from the start. After all, Whitey’s brother, William Bulger, was raised in the same envi­ron­ment but fol­lowed a dif­ferent tra­jec­tory; he ended up becoming the pres­i­dent of the Uni­ver­sity of Mass­a­chu­setts. 
The answer, then, to what makes someone “bad?” is found in under­standing how char­acter really works. Char­acter, as it turns out, isn’t estab­lished early in life and fixed there­after. It’s always in flux. Our moral behav­iors are deter­mined moment to moment by sit­u­a­tional influ­ences on the com­peting mech­a­nisms in our mind. One class of mech­a­nisms focuses on what’s good in the short term. The other class is focused on the long term — what actions, even if they sac­ri­fice short-​​term ben­e­fits, will lead to long-​​term gain. Cheating or lying, for example, may offer a short-​​term gain. Cheating or lying too much, how­ever, could lead to get­ting caught and ostra­cized, which car­ries long-​​term losses.

The more power that an indi­vidual pos­sesses, the greater the dis­con­nect between short-​​term and long-​​term impulses. With increased power, politi­cians, cor­po­rate CEOs, or mob bosses, for example, tend to view them­selves as invul­ner­able and begin to favor short-​​term, expe­dient actions like cheating or aggres­sion. Such power, then, allows the scale of char­acter to tip toward self-​​serving, and pos­sibly crim­inal, actions. The poten­tial for vice and virtue resides in each of us. If we forget that, we’re much more likely to act immorally as well.

Some South Boston res­i­dents appear to be rooting for Bulger. Why do so many still look at him as a local hero and turn a blind eye to his crim­inal record?

How we judge a person’s char­acter often has to do with how he “related” to us. Work in my lab shows that whether we’re willing to con­demn someone for com­mit­ting a trans­gres­sion doesn’t depend solely on the objec­tive facts. For one study, we asked par­tic­i­pants to put on one of two dif­ferent col­ored wrist­bands and then watch a staged inter­ac­tion between two actors, which par­tic­i­pants thought was real. In the sce­nario, one actor cheated on a task that left the other with more work to com­plete. We then asked our research par­tic­i­pants to judge how fairly the cheater acted. What we found was quite aston­ishing: If the actor who cheated was wearing the same color wrist­band as a par­tic­i­pant, then the par­tic­i­pant viewed his actions as much less objec­tion­able than did par­tic­i­pants wearing a dif­ferent color wrist­band. Feeling some level of sim­i­larity with the per­pe­trator leads one to excuse his behavior.

This simple example shows how deeply social bonds can alter moral judg­ments. The people in Southie who still look at Whitey as a hero would prob­ably con­demn another indi­vidual from New York who com­mitted the same crimes.

For 16 years, Bulger lived life on the lam with his partner Catherine Greig, whom he must have trusted not to turn him in to the author­i­ties. What role may trust have played in their relationship?

Trust is a fun­da­mental part of the human con­di­tion. We have to trust people because we need others to sur­vive. Trusting another person presents an inter­esting dynamic because it offers the poten­tial for joint gain, or asym­metric loss. If both indi­vid­uals are trust­worthy, both can ben­efit. If, on the other hand, one “sells out,” then he or she can gain at the other’s expense. How much we’re willing to trust another person depends on sev­eral fac­tors, but a pri­mary one is the extent to which out­comes are joined.

In the case of Whitey Bulger and Catherine Greig, both faced prison sen­tences if the other broke ranks. Each knew enough of the other’s secrets, habits and finances that if one didn’t sup­port the other, he or she would have a lot to loose. Having said that, work in our lab shows that trust­wor­thi­ness is change­able. We can be very trust­worthy with one person in one sit­u­a­tion, but com­pletely untrust­worthy with another. Just because Whitey Bulger and Catherine Greig appear to have acted in a trust­worthy manner with each other, does not indi­cate how they might deal with someone else.