Morbid curiosity is our fascination with ‘compelling awfulness’, like the footage of a plane crash, or a celebrity meltdown on camera.
People rubbernecking on a car crash site, for instance, cause further accidents just because the curious drivers cannot look away from the crash site and in front of their own vehicle.

Morbid Curiosity

Our attraction towards morbid, horrifying and destruction-oriented objects and situations is due to our wanting to experience someone else’s suffering, or evaluate dangers that can threaten us.
This is why we enjoy gory or sad films, curious about the misfortune of others. The problems we see mirror our own relationships, values and the connections we have. Death fascinates us, as it makes us feel truly alive.

The Desire To Experience Suffering

<div data-print-layout="hide">Can gawping at disaster be good for us?</div><figure><picture itemprop="contentUrl"><source srcset="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=620&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=484b3c16a38f5b1443f3b3e28a91e06d 1240w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=605&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=8e20113e324202e3c394ae19f63d6b7f 1210w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=df94f073d9a6377d7165b14034d9aa5e 890w" sizes="(min-width: 660px) 620px, 100vw" media="(-webkit-min-device-pixel-ratio: 1.25), (min-resolution: 120dpi)"><source srcset="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=620&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=7230d6931791f1890ad9dbf025006b9d 620w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=605&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=2f61448a2992c61a940247ce7a1453ed 605w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=f503c2d7f231aa82f48e5cecb11a231c 445w" sizes="(min-width: 660px) 620px, 100vw"><img alt="Oliver Burkeman column illo 28 July 2012" src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/7/20/1342782818963/Oliver-Burkeman-column-il-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=df94f073d9a6377d7165b14034d9aa5e" height="407" width="678"></picture><figcaption dir="auto">Illustration: Chris Madden for the Guardian</figcaption></figure><img src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/uploads/2017/10/09/Oliver-Burkeman,-R.png?width=300&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=b75b6e33bbe0ff7d111e8c7785e84577" alt="Oliver Burkeman" width="60" height="60">Mainly, I just wish I'd never encountered the website <a href="http://serialkillersink.net/" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Serial Killers Ink</a>, which showcases terrible artworks by the perpetrators of some truly terrible crimes. I don't like to think about the kind of person who'd pay, say, $175 for a portrait of <a href="http://serialkillersink.net/skistore/index.php?_a=viewProd&amp;productId=1996" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Jennifer Love Hewitt by Elmer Wayne Henley</a>, who is serving six life sentences for mass murders in Houston in the 70s, or $60 for a cartoon panda by a man with the soubriquet of "the internet's first serial killer". It's all very depressing. But I can't deny it: I kept clicking. The&nbsp;flicker of fascination was there.That flicker – the morbid curiosity that keeps the "murderabilia" industry in business – is what preoccupies Eric Wilson, whose new book, <a href="http://www.guardianbookshop.co.uk/BerteShopWeb/viewProduct.do?ISBN=9780374150334" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Everyone Loves A Good Train Wreck</a>, tries to explain "why we can't look away". And he does mean everyone. Even if you're appalled by Serial Killers Ink, you almost certainly feel morbid curiosity in other contexts: to Wilson, the culture's fascination with murderers has something in common with the compelling awfulness of a <a href="http://gawker.com/5583622/mel-gibsons-horrifying-phone-call-is-now-online" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Mel Gibson meltdown</a>, or footage of natural disasters. And, of course, with car crashes: the urge to rubberneck, one study found, may account for 16% of all traffic accidents. A few years back, the UK Highways Agency tested giant <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/aug/02/car-accidents-prevention" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">"incident screens"</a> to be placed around accident sites, purely to combat the gawking.Philosophers and psychoanalysts have long debated the lure of the morbid – but the current dominant explanation, from evolutionary psychology, is rather deflating, lacking any reference to Freudian "death drives" or the like. We're compelled by horrible things, this argument goes, because it pays to scrutinise dangers that could threaten one's survival. Such tendencies evolved before mass media, of course – so these days, we see celebrity self-destruction and far-off tsunamis, and they grip us as hazards that might befall us, too.But Wilson's conversations with psychologists lead him to another, more uplifting conclusion: that "our attraction to the macabre is, on some level, a desire to experience someone else's suffering." We yearn to empathise – a yearning that is, incidentally, perfectly compatible with the evolutionary argument, since empathy helps us forge close bonds, which are essential for survival. Striving to feel what it might be like to be caught in the tsunami, or the pile-up, may be fundamentally healthy. Perhaps even "the itch to touch a corpse," Wilson writes, recalling his behaviour at his grandmother's open-coffin funeral, "is normal [and] noble."Recently, researchers at Ohio State University investigated another psychological eccentricity, not unrelated to morbid curiosity: the enjoyment we derive from <a href="http://crx.sagepub.com/content/early/2012/03/05/0093650212437758.abstract" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">sad films</a>. On the face of it, this makes little sense. But their work – which involved having 361 people watch <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/movie/119568/atonement" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Atonement</a>, interrupting them at several points to administer questionnaires – revealed that the film triggered thoughts about the viewers' own relationships. It stimulated empathy, "reinforcing pro-social values". Gratitude for good relationships was part of it, but more generally it just felt stirring to focus on what mattered. We crave meaning and connection, it seems, far more than cheeriness. Neither tearjerkers nor morbid sights offer the latter – but&nbsp;they do offer the former. Ultimately, the lure of death may be&nbsp;all about feeling truly alive.Follow Oliver on <a href="http://twitter.com/oliverburkeman" title="" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">Twitter</a>… we have a small favour to ask. Tens of millions have placed their trust in the Guardian’s high-impact journalism since we started publishing 200 years ago, turning to us in moments of crisis, uncertainty, solidarity and hope. More than 1.5 million readers, from 180 countries, have recently taken the step to support us financially – keeping us open to all, and fiercely independent.With no shareholders or billionaire owner, we can set our own agenda and provide trustworthy journalism that’s free from commercial and political influence, offering a counterweight to the spread of misinformation. When it’s never mattered more, we can investigate and challenge without fear or favour. Unlike many others, Guardian journalism is available for everyone to read, regardless of what they can afford to pay. We do this because we believe in information equality. Greater numbers of people can keep track of global events, understand their impact on people and communities, and become inspired to take meaningful action. We aim to offer readers a comprehensive, international perspective on critical events shaping our world – from the Black Lives Matter movement, to the new American administration, Brexit, and the world's slow emergence from a global pandemic. We are committed to upholding our reputation for urgent, powerful reporting on the climate emergency, and made the decision to reject advertising from fossil fuel companies, divest from the oil and gas industries, and set a course to achieve net zero emissions by 2030.If there were ever a time to join us, it is now. Every contribution, however big or small, powers our journalism and sustains our future. Support the Guardian from as little as $1 – it only takes a minute. Thank you.

Can gawping at disaster be good for us, wonders Oliver Burkeman

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M ainly, I just wish I'd never encountered the website <a href="http://serialkillersink.net/">Serial Killers Ink </a>, which showcases terrible artworks by the perpetrators of some truly terrible crimes. I don't like to think about the kind of person who'd pay, say, $175 for a portrait of <a href="http://serialkillersink.net/skistore/index.php?_a=viewProd&productId=1996">Jennifer Love Hewitt by Elmer Wayne Henley </a>, who is serving six life sentences for mass murders in Houston in the 70s, or $60 for a cartoon panda by a man with the soubriquet of "the internet's first serial killer". It's all very depressing. But I can't deny it: I kept clicking. The flicker of fascination was there.

That flicker – the morbid curiosity that keeps the "murderabilia" industry in business – is what preoccupies Eric Wilson, whose new book, <a href="http://www.guardianbookshop.co.uk/BerteShopWeb/viewProduct.do?ISBN=9780374150334">Everyone Loves A Good Train Wreck </a>, tries to explain "why we can't look away". And he does mean everyone. Even if you're appalled by Serial Killers Ink, you almost certainly feel morbid curiosity in other contexts: to Wilson, the culture's fascination with murderers has something in common with the compelling awfulness of a <a href="http://gawker.com/5583622/mel-gibsons-horrifying-phone-call-is-now-online">Mel Gibson meltdown </a>, or footage of natural disasters. And, of course, with car crashes: the urge to rubberneck, one study found, may account for 16% of all traffic accidents. A few years back, the UK Highways Agency tested giant <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/aug/02/car-accidents-prevention">"incident screens" </a>to be placed around accident sites, purely to combat the gawking.

Philosophers and psychoanalysts have long debated the lure of the morbid – but the current dominant explanation, from evolutionary psychology, is rather deflating, lacking any reference to Freudian "death drives" or the like. We're compelled by horrible things, this argument goes, because it pays to scrutinise dangers that could threaten one's survival. Such tendencies evolved before mass media, of course – so these days, we see celebrity self-destruction and far-off tsunamis, and they grip us as hazards that might befall us, too.

But Wilson's conversations with psychologists lead him to another, more uplifting conclusion: that "our attraction to the macabre is, on some level, a desire to experience someone else's suffering." We yearn to empathise – a yearning that is, incidentally, perfectly compatible with the evolutionary argument, since empathy helps us forge close bonds, which are essential for survival. Striving to feel what it might be like to be caught in the tsunami, or the pile-up, may be fundamentally healthy. Perhaps even "the itch to touch a corpse," Wilson writes, recalling his behaviour at his grandmother's open-coffin funeral, "is normal [and] noble."

Recently, researchers at Ohio State University investigated another psychological eccentricity, not unrelated to morbid curiosity: the enjoyment we derive from <a href="http://crx.sagepub.com/content/early/2012/03/05/0093650212437758.abstract">sad films </a>. On the face of it, this makes little sense. But their work – which involved having 361 people watch <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/movie/119568/atonement">Atonement </a>, interrupting them at several points to administer questionnaires – revealed that the film triggered thoughts about the viewers' own relationships. It stimulated empathy, "reinforcing pro-social values". Gratitude for good relationships was part of it, but more generally it just felt stirring to focus on what mattered. We crave meaning and connection, it seems, far more than cheeriness. Neither tearjerkers nor morbid sights offer the latter – but they do offer the former. Ultimately, the lure of death may be all about feeling truly alive.

Follow Oliver on <a href="http://twitter.com/oliverburkeman">Twitter </a>

… we have a small favour to ask. Tens of millions have placed their trust in the Guardian’s high-impact journalism since we started publishing 200 years ago, turning to us in moments of crisis, uncertainty, solidarity and hope. More than 1.5 million readers, from 180 countries, have recently taken the step to support us financially – keeping us open to all, and fiercely independent.

With no shareholders or billionaire owner, we can set our own agenda and provide trustworthy journalism that’s free from commercial and political influence, offering a counterweight to the spread of misinformation. When it’s never mattered more, we can investigate and challenge without fear or favour.

Unlike many others, Guardian journalism is available for everyone to read, regardless of what they can afford to pay. We do this because we believe in information equality. Greater numbers of people can keep track of global events, understand their impact on people and communities, and become inspired to take meaningful action.

We aim to offer readers a comprehensive, international perspective on critical events shaping our world – from the Black Lives Matter movement, to the new American administration, Brexit, and the world's slow emergence from a global pandemic. We are committed to upholding our reputation for urgent, powerful reporting on the climate emergency, and made the decision to reject advertising from fossil fuel companies, divest from the oil and gas industries, and set a course to achieve net zero emissions by 2030.

If there were ever a time to join us, it is now. Every contribution, however big or small, powers our journalism and sustains our future. Support the Guardian from as little as $1 – it only takes a minute. Thank you.

Morbid curiosity: Can gawping at disaster be good for us?

Morbid Curiosity

The Desire To Experience Suffering

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