Crowd Non-Control

The story “Two NRI Women Mobbed/Molested by 70 Men Outside J.W. Marriott in Mumbai on New Year’s Eve,” or some variation of this headline, hit the Indian national news on New Year’s Day. In short: two women and their husbands emerged from the Marriott around 1:45am and headed towards Juhu Beach. Shortly thereafter, they were assaulted by a group of men, which quickly grew to a number of anywhere between 40 and 80 individuals (depending on which Indian tabloid you’re reading). The young women were grabbed, groped, and pinched, their clothes were ripped, and their husbands were overwhelmed by the crowd. They were all pushed to the ground under a hoard of aggressive men. Photographers from the media who happened to be present captured the incident, and eventually (after about 10 to 15 minutes of the onslaught) grabbed the attention of police officers passing by in a vehicle, who apparently rescued the women and took them to a local police station. No one was arrested at the time, and no incident report was filed until a couple of days later. The police commissioner’s response to the incident basically stated that the event had been blown out of proportion, that law enforcement cannot be expected to prevent such incidents everywhere always, and that “these things happen all the time.”

Several components of this incident have drawn attention: the women were NRIs (Non-Resident Indians) living in the United States, visiting India for the wedding of one of the couples; they had emerged from a five-star hotel in one of the most posh areas of the city; the reaction of the local police was to delay, deflect, and wait for public outcry before taking any action; contrary to popular opinion, women’s safety in Mumbai isn’t necessarily any better than anywhere else in this country; and these women were attacked by a group that grew to at least 40 men, if not double that.

It’s this last bit that boggles my mind. So a couple of guys, or maybe a group of guys, maybe they’re drunk, maybe they’re charged up on New Year’s levels of testosterone, are hanging around on the street with nothing left to do bars are closed, shows are over, they’re not ready to go home, don’t know what to do with themselves… and in some shift that I find entirely incomprehensible, they end up traumatically molesting a couple of women. But it’s not just a few guys or a group of them. It becomes a mob. The other dudes hanging around further down the beach, or on the steps of the hotel, decide NOT to break it up or pull the offenders off the women, but to jump in. How do 40/80 guys attack two women, anyway? At some point, aren’t they just pushing and shoving and jumping all over one another? The situation begs a question regarding what’s going on in the collective mind (or lack thereof) of the group, and what, if anything, can be done to minimize or control the behavior leading to such incidents.

The subjects of such herd behavior and crowd psychology have long intrigued me. What is it that causes groups of people to behave is such drastic ways? Why do their actions vary so dramatically from acceptable societal norms? (This is assuming, of course, that not each and every one of the men in the above example believe in, support, and individually purport to threaten and accost women, or that they find such actions to be socially acceptable — big assumption.)

Many theorists have attempted to tackle this question; Freud claimed that the minds within a group merge to form a unique way of thinking — the “enthusiasm” of each member within the group is heightened, and as a result, the individual becomes less aware of the nature of his own actions. Another theorist, Gustave Le Bon argued that crowds foster anonymity, generate emotion, and that at a simplistic level, they act irrationally. A slightly different theory of convergence claims that crowd behavior is not a product of the crowd itself, but of certain individuals within the crowd. Finally, the emergent-norm theory cuts somewhere in the middle: social behavior in a crowd isn’t necessarily entirely predictable, nor is it entirely irrational. When crowds of like-minded individuals come together, a new pattern of their collective action emerges.

As I am sitting here at our adopted dining table — it’s now around 11pm — I hear some shouts at the market across the street. The neighborhood is usually pretty quiet, seeming almost suburban at this time of the night. I step out onto the balcony. Through the trees lining the property, I see legs scuffling, more shouts. One guy takes off running down the street, and another starts yelling after him, “Pakro! Pakro usko!” (“Catch! Catch him!”) More scuffling in the parking lot of the market, a few minutes go by, someone jumps in an auto-rickshaw and takes off in the direction of the absconder. There are about 7 or 8 guys still arguing, yelling, pushing, stepping away from this mini-scene, and then making their way back to the middle of it. One old-ish guy looks like he’s in the middle of it. Someone picks up a boulder, wields it, resulting in renewed shouts … K had come out to join me. We get sort of shifty. Should we call the police? What should we do? What can we do? Um. Chances of me going down there to try to save someone at this moment, in the middle of writing this particular posting: slim to none. Call 100, I tell K. It’s the emergency number. The guard downstairs has approached the gate to our building and is peering out at the scene. Other guards from the neighborhood are literally lazily sauntering over in the direction of the fiasco. The one old-ish guy gets pushed to the ground. He moves to get up, and is pushed down again. A group gathers around him, pushing, kicking. K, alarmed, heads downstairs. RB, our cook, has come out as well. The old-ish guy looks unconscious. The crowd breaks up. “Daroo piya hai…” someone mumbles. (“He’s been drinking.”) Someone else wanders back over. “Isko utao.” (“Pick him up.”) From inside our gate, K inquires about calling the police. RB, half chuckling, giving the impression that this sort of thing happens all the time, and responds that if we call the police, it’ll be such a hassle. They’ll come over, ask a bunch of questions, they’ll want to file a report, and we’ll be up all night explaining what happened, what we saw… Whatever. He shakes his head and heads back to bed. Slightly uncomfortable, K and I head back up as well. My curiosity has taken off. Were they all drunk? Are they buddies? What started the scuffle? Just drunken idiocy? What happened to the guy who ran off, chased by the man in the auto? Are they all just going to get together tomorrow night and laugh about it? Or is someone going to be knocked in the head by a boulder later tonight as he heads down a dark alley towards home?

There’s more going on here than just crowds and alcohol. There seems to be something simmering under everyone’s surface. Rage, restlessness, frustration, discontent, fear? I’m not sure I’ll ever put my finger on it, and maybe it’s none or all or some combination or so variable that this is a silly effort. But tonight, to me, it’s a stark reminder to not take my or anyone else’s personal safety and security for granted, and that groups of men around here, angry, drunk or neither, are a force I won’t reckon with under any circumstances.