The dupes in the experiment
Social psychologists know a great deal about deceptive experiments since they sometimes use deception in their research. Strict professional guidelines and review panels control the use of such deception, especially to ensure that the subjects in any experiment suffer no ill effects and are fully debriefed after the event. To learn more about certain kinds of human behavior, researchers have little choice but to contrive cover stories to hide the true purpose of the experiment so the subjects will behave as naturally as possible. Without the deception, many people would try to please the experimenter, or behave in ways that will make them look as good, moral, and socially desirable as possible. Fortunately for researchers, human beings have a strong truth bias. Despite warnings about "believing none of what you read and half of what you see," we tend to take input from our sensory systems at face value. If we did not, the world would be a chaotic place, indeed.
Some experiments involving deception might simply mislead the subjects about the true purpose of the research. Others might lead the subjects to believe something about themselves that isn't true, to learn more about how certain attitudes or beliefs influence their behavior. For example, as subjects, we might solve a few easy puzzles and hear "Congratulations! Only 10% of the subjects were able to solve those," as a means to manipulate our feelings of self-esteem. Or we might be randomly assigned to the "low-self-esteem group" that confronts impossible puzzles and be told that "90% of college students can solve these in five minutes or less. Perhaps you'll do better next time." After the debriefing, subjects usually laugh about the deception and - thanks to the truth bias - only rarely suggest they knew something was up all along.
Psychologists walk a tightrope when they use deception to uncover truth about human behavior, and the issue is a controversial one among researchers. Although the guidelines governing such research are demanding, it is not always easy to guess how different human beings will be affected. On the Internet, by contrast, the amateur deceptive experiments have no such guidelines, and no professional insights to help predict the potential harm they might do. Even well-meaning Internet users who never intended to cause trouble for others might stumble into a situation in which their identity experiments go awry.
Consider Adam, the other player in Silberman's gender-swapping experiment. How did he feel when he learned he'd been courting a man online? His initial reaction was, "I suspected it." Though we can't be sure, of course, this strikes me as unlikely, given the natural bias to believe what others tell you, at least at first. Whether Adam had questions about Silberman's real gender the remark helped avoid the "gullible dupe" stigma, and also helped Adam preserve his self-esteem. Human memory is a shifty thing, and even if Adam had no suspicions at all, it would not be difficult for him to engage in a little revisionism so his memories of the feelings he had matched his hindsight. Perhaps the incident would cause Adam to anxiously reflect on his own sexual orientation. At the least, his truth bias would have suffered a near-mortal wound and he might have a very difficult time establishing a close relationship with anyone online again. The world becomes a deceitful and treacherous place to people who fall victim to scams. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
Adam very graciously let Silberman off the hook by suggesting he suspected the charade, and his courtesy continued. "I'm disappointed, of course. But there's obviously something beautiful about you that I saw, and that someone who will love you one day will see too." This generosity in the midst of a painful deception is remarkable, and its effects on Steve Silberman were not trivial. He deeply regretted betraying this man and said he never went online with a female screen name again.