We've all heard the term: Stockholm syndrome. It's a quick, almost clinical-sounding label for a deeply unsettling idea—that a captive can come to feel sympathy, or even affection, for their captor. It’s a concept that has seeped into our understanding of everything from dramatic hostage crises to the hidden struggles of domestic abuse. But what if this widely accepted "syndrome" is little more than a myth? A convenient story we tell ourselves that does more harm than good? Let's look closer at the story, the psychology, and the real human cost of this powerful idea.

The "Party" That Started a Global Myth

It all began in August 1973. A man named Jan-Erik Olsson, a convict on a short leave from prison, decided he wasn't going back. He walked into a bank on Normalmstorg square in Stockholm, fired a submachine gun at the ceiling, and announced, “The party's just getting started.”

Olsson let most people go, keeping four bank employees as his leverage. He demanded millions in Swedish kronor, weapons, a fast car, and the release of his former cellmate, Clark Olofsson. The police, surprisingly, delivered Olofsson to the bank. For six tense days, the two criminals and four hostages were locked inside a bank vault.

The situation was a media circus. Police plans were broadcast live, meaning the captors and hostages knew every move authorities were considering. The hostages heard news reports detailing police strategies that prioritized neutralizing the criminals over ensuring the hostages' safety. Fear was everywhere.

Then came the phone call that would define the event. One of the hostages, Kristin Enmark, was put on the phone with Sweden's Prime Minister, Olof Palme. Her words were shocking. "I am very disappointed in you," she said calmly. "You are playing chess with our lives. I am not afraid of the kidnappers... Let us all leave together."

The public was baffled. A criminal psychiatrist advising the police, Nils Bejerot, was asked to explain this bizarre behavior. Without ever speaking to the hostages, he coined a term on the spot: Normalmstorg syndrome. He theorized that Enmark's fear of the police was an irrational product of an emotional or even sexual attachment to her captors. The story ended without bloodshed after a police assault, but the term—soon renamed Stockholm syndrome—stuck.

A Diagnosis Without Evidence

The idea was so compelling that by the late 1970s, it was being taught to law enforcement and hostage negotiators. They were even advised to encourage the syndrome's development, believing it might make captors less likely to harm their victims.

There's just one problem: from the standpoint of evidence-based psychology and psychiatry, Stockholm syndrome doesn't officially exist. It is not listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) or the International Classification of Diseases (ICD), the two primary manuals used by mental health professionals worldwide. Real diagnoses like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) or Acute Stress Disorder are what clinicians use to describe the profound psychological impact of such terrifying events.

Years later, psychologist Alan Wade revisited the case and spoke directly with Kristin Enmark. She confirmed what common sense might suggest: she had no affection for her captors. She had, however, observed the police actions with clear-eyed terror. She saw that their plans showed little regard for her life and that of the other hostages. Her supposed "sympathy" for the criminals was a rational calculation for survival; she and the other hostages sided with the only people in the vault who seemed invested in keeping them alive as bargaining chips. Her actions were not a product of a mysterious syndrome, but a desperate, intelligent strategy to survive.

Misunderstanding Fear as Affection

This pattern of misinterpretation repeats itself. Consider the famous case of Patty Hearst, the heiress kidnapped and held for two months in horrific conditions. After her family paid the ransom, she announced she was joining her captors' revolutionary group. At her trial, she testified that she had only complied out of a paralyzing fear for her life, convinced she would be killed regardless of the ransom. The court dismissed this as a lie, and the "Stockholm syndrome" label was used to paint her as a willing accomplice. Her fear was ignored, and she was sent to prison.

The damage of this myth is perhaps most profound in cases of domestic violence. When we apply the Stockholm syndrome label to a woman who stays with an abusive partner, we fundamentally misunderstand her reality. Theorists sometimes point to the work of Anna Freud, who described a defense mechanism called "identification with the aggressor." But it's crucial to remember she was studying children. A child's life and entire sense of self are shaped by and dependent on their caregiver. For a child, siding with an abusive parent is a necessary survival tactic.

An adult in an abusive relationship isn't experiencing some mysterious emotional bond; they are often trapped by fear. Like the hostages in that Stockholm bank, they may rationally calculate that compliance or placating the abuser is the safest strategy at that moment. Asking "Why don't they just leave?" ignores the complex web of fear, control, and threats that define their existence.

The Comforting Lie of a "Just World"

So why do we cling to this flawed idea? The persistence of the Stockholm syndrome myth may have less to do with victims and more to do with the rest of us. It taps into a powerful cognitive bias that social psychologist Melvin Lerner called the "just-world hypothesis." This is the ingrained, often unconscious, belief that the world is a fair place where people get what they deserve.

If we believe the world is just, then a victim must have done something to "deserve" their fate. When we see a woman who doesn't leave her abuser, the just-world hypothesis whispers a comforting, if cruel, explanation: she must like it on some level. She must have Stockholm syndrome. This logic protects us from a terrifying existential fear. If we believe her situation is somehow her fault, it means something similar could never happen to us because we would act differently.

It's an illusion of control. The truth is that anyone can find themselves in a traumatic situation, and there is no single, correct script for how to survive. By labeling a victim's complex, rational survival strategies as a "syndrome," we blame them for their own suffering. It's like blaming someone for breaking their leg in a fall. It’s illogical and unjust. We swap a difficult truth for a simple lie, and the victim pays the price.

References

• Namnyak, M., Tufton, N., Szekely, R., Toal, M., Worboys, S., & Sampson, E. L. (2008). 'Stockholm syndrome': psychiatric diagnosis or urban myth? Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica, 117(1), 4–11.

  This medical journal review examines the historical origins and scientific standing of "Stockholm syndrome." The authors conclude that it is not a recognized psychiatric diagnosis and that its popular use often obscures the real, complex psychological responses to trauma, such as PTSD. They argue that the term lacks diagnostic criteria and that its acceptance is based more on media portrayal than on empirical evidence.

• Graham, D. L., Rawlings, E. I., & Rigsby, R. K. (1994). Loving to survive: Sexual terror, men's violence, and women's lives. New York University Press.

  This book provides an in-depth analysis of the psychological responses of women to violence and terror. The authors critique the "Stockholm syndrome" concept, proposing instead a model of "loving to survive" which frames victims' behaviors as conscious or unconscious survival strategies in response to coercive control and life-threatening situations. They argue these are adaptive, not pathological, responses. (Specifically, pages 3-15 introduce the critique of the syndrome and propose their alternative framework).

• Lerner, M. J. (1980). The Belief in a Just World: A Fundamental Delusion. Plenum Press.

  This foundational book explains the theory of the "just-world hypothesis." Lerner provides extensive research showing how people have a deep-seated need to believe that the world is fair and that people get the outcomes they deserve. The book details how this belief can lead to blaming victims for their misfortune, as it helps observers maintain their sense of a predictable and orderly world, protecting them from the anxiety that they too could suffer unjustly. This provides the psychological framework for understanding why a concept like Stockholm syndrome, which implicitly faults the victim's emotional response, is so readily accepted.