Long Form Psychopath Interview Mr. Fatal YouTube

Here's another over an hour interview I did with someone I have never met or talked to before, Mr. Fatal:

Confessions of a Sociopath author interviews sociopath spectrum former army paratrooper infantryman Mr. Fatal. They talk about how well suited psychopaths are for the military, as first responders such as firefighters, police, and other risky occupations, professions such as surgery that require clarity of thought and less emotional and empathic attachment, etc. per Kevin Dutton's book the Wisdom of Psychopaths. They also talk about how a psychopath would respond to military and martial arts training and the role of honor in those disciplines (Mr. Fatal is one of many generations of warriors in his family). They talk about the cycles that psychopaths develop through, including the playground stage in the early 20s and the "reckoning" of the late 20s and early 30s and about the role that sense of self plays. They also talk about the stigma of psychopathy, including hurting animals (Mr. Fatal loves animals more than most humans) and other natural variations or expressions of the personality disorder that you might see amongst the populace.

Sociopaths = night owls?

According to the University of Western Sydney "a preference for staying up late or into the early hours has a direct link to anti-social behaviour and so-called Dark Triad traits," as reported by the Daily Mail. The dark triad, of course, refers to narcissists, sociopaths, and machiavellians.

People were then rated based on a narcissism scale and were asked how strongly they agreed with statements including 'I have a natural talent for influencing people.'

They were additionally asked how they felt about statements made on the psychopathy scale, for example, 'I think I could beat a lie detector', and a Machiavellian scale, such as 'It is hard to get ahead without cutting corners here and there'.

Across the 263 students, the darker a participant's personality score, the more they tended to be an 'owl' and said they functioned more effectively in the evening hours. 

This was also the case when the three traits were analysed separately; each trait was stronger in people who considered themselves to be night owls.

Why might that be? Like almost all scientific findings about psychopaths, the theories explaining the differences seem to be as unbiased as a old-fashioned phrenologist unquestioningly explaining why certain races are naturally superior to others in order to justify the status quo:

Both nocturnality and Dark Triad traits are hereditary, and adaptive. Now that a link between the two has been established, researchers are speculating as to how it came about – likely, they say, people with Dark Triad tendencies use the cover of night to better engage a “cheater strategy.”

While the vigilant eyelids of morning people start drooping, the night owls are just getting revved up – using their optimal cognitive function for anti-social behaviour, “increased mating success in the short-term context,” mate-poaching, risk-seeking, and impulsivity (and, likely plot-hatching: there has to be a way to wipe the sunny smile off that breakfast server’s face).

It's a little like the people who try to straight-facedly give a scientific explanation for why they think that dolphins are nicer than sharks.

Sheeple

An empath reader sent this (accurate?) video on how people are manipulated, particularly en masse:

Easy to love

Under the title "Bad Dog," a writer tells the story in the NY Times of her relationship with her dog -- a creature that did not get along well with others, was unpredictable, and overall poorly behaved. Her thoughts on what it means to love unconditionally:

It’s easy to love a well-behaved dog. It’s harder to love Chance, with his bristly personality and tendency toward violence. Yet in the end, I measure the success of my relationship with Chance by its challenges, because if I can’t love him at his most imperfect what use is love?

I had a work colleague who gushed about his new dog when we first met. He worked in a remote office, so we didn't see each other that frequently, but when we did, I would always be sure to ask him about his dog (I have found that dog owners love to talk about their dogs). One day I asked him  about his dog and he told me that he was thinking of giving the dog back to the pound. I was pretty shocked. The dog was hard to potty train and tore up the furniture, so had to be kept at doggy daycare almost every day. The dog was expensive and time-consuming, more than the owner had anticipated. Owning a dog was not as convenient and rewarding as planned, so he was going to return it like you might return a television set that had failed to live up to expectations.

Of course I don't care what people do with their pets, but I did think this was an odd turnaround. Man expects unconditional loyalty and devotion from his best friend but he does not return it? Not quite Old Yeller material. Then again, what did the dog do to deserve a good life? Should we feel obligated to be nice to things that are not nice to us -- to give to people or things that cannot or do not give back to us in commensurate ways?

Along those lines, I got a little bit of pushback from this recent tweet and subsequent exchange:

"Being friends with a sociopath is fun as long as you are OK that to them your friendship is just a series of mutually beneficial exchanges"
— M.E. (@sociopathworld) September 10, 2013

@sociopathworld That's exactly what friendship is?
— Samantha Barruel (@Name_Namae) September 10, 2013

@Name_Namae @sociopathworld bahahahaha umm no. Giving to get is fake. People these days who confuse transactions with depth makes me smh.
— Erin McCaslin (@CaliWanderlust) September 10, 2013

Ok, but does that mean people should have no problems being friends with someone who is a parasite, leech, or a sociopath? If there's such thing as unconditional love for all creatures, does that include sociopaths? And relatedly (but even more puzzlingly), some people act as if empathy is this great thing, but empathy doesn't seem that powerful or that special if it doesn't allow you to empathize with people who can't empathize back. Can you empathize with sociopaths? 

The paternalistic pull of conscience

I asked a reader why it is a relief to know that his ex was a sociopath. His response:

Woah, Never thought about that one, I guess it makes me feel better because of two reasons.

First reason would be that it means that I can just let go, As I've read sociopaths can't change, I'm not saying "Can't get better" on purpose because I don't think you're that much different to people who can't see certain colors or can't hear certain tones. If it she can't change that means I have the complete right to let her go and not try to help her and still feel good about myself.

Second reason is that it gives me the right to actually blame everything on her, keep my hands clean as some people say. I guess I sound about low on the empathy when saying that but truthfully that's how I feel.

My response:

That reminds me of a comment one of the socio readers once wrote: "Empaths are the idiots who will help anything that's in pain or distress for no other reason than its state." A couple of weeks ago, I witnessed a wild animal intrude on civilization. The animal was in no danger, the area wasn't that urban, but people were so surprised to see it that they began discussing what they should do about it, how they should protect him. To me it seemed bizarrely paternalistic and presumptuous for these people to assume that they knew better than this animal how best to survive, or to see any potential action on their part as anything but unwanted interference. Anyway, I guess you can't help it, but what you said reminded me of seeing people react to that wild animal.

Normal people are always trying to do the right thing, God love them, which makes it even more tragic when things like this scene from a television series happen, as described by the New Yorker:

When the three [friends] head out of the city for a day hike, in the first episode, Joe hits a possum in the road and is torn about what to do. He can’t tell whether it’s dead or alive, and he decides that the only humane solution is to make sure it’s dead, so he backs up over it, then pulls ahead again. It becomes clear that the possum is definitely not dead, as they look back and see it walking across the road. Of the three guys in the car, Joe is the most upset by this mess; at first, he thought he might have killed the animal, then he tried to kill the animal, and now he’s left wondering whether it will die because of him. It’s to the show’s credit that this isn’t (only) a metaphor for the uncertainty and the inevitable mistakes of adult life; the scene is viscerally disturbing, and you watch it closely, as if some magical method for undoing irreversible damage will reveal itself, not just to Joe but to you, too.

I always say that one of my biggest fears is well-intentioned people, from the Crusades, to the Inquisition, to the colonization of the New World, to everyone who has ever done something "for my own good."

The upside of candor

There have been a lot of interesting consequences from writing the book. I'll try to schedule an AMA on reddit or a Q&A on this blog soon to talk about them. One of the more positive ones is the support I have gotten from most of my friends and family.

I was talking to my sister, who has just started reading my book. She and I have never been close. She is by far the most emotional member of my family and we never shared much in common. We talk on the phone maybe once or twice a year. She wanted to call to tell me that she felt like she was understanding some of our interactions and my past history better than she ever had before. It felt really good to be better understood by someone that I've known for most of my life but from whom I have always felt distanced. She did admit that she felt a little badly for the death of the baby opossum, but she also told me that she loved me and was proud of me. And perhaps the first time in our lives it meant something to me because I knew that it wasn't because I had tricked her into thinking I was something that I'm really not. She was actually seeing me and still seeing things she liked.

Along these same lines, my other sister sent me a link to this interview with memoirist and former alcoholic Mary Karr:

When you surrender, you get used to a certain level of candor—you know, the old thing, you’re only as sick as your secrets. You develop a confidence in truth-telling. Part of my drinking was so much about trying not to feel things, to not feel how I actually felt, and the terrible thing about being so hidden is if people tell you they love you. . . it kinda doesn’t sink in. You always think, if you’re hiding things, How could you know who I am? You don’t know who I am, so how could you love me? Saying who I am, and trying to be as candid as possible as part of practicing the principles, has permitted me to actually connect with people for the first time in my life. It’s ended lifelong exile.

They always say God is in the truth, and I’ve ended loneliness and been able to feel connected by saying who I am and how I feel. I’m sort of comfortable to the degree to which I’m an asshole. It’s not like I’m not an asshole—people know the ways I’m an asshole and it’s within the realm of acceptable asshole-ocity. 

I don't know if being more honest and open will improve my relationships in the long run, but that's the hope. It's probably a very ironic thing for me to say, but I don't really have any desire to let my disorder define me or my life. That doesn't mean that I don't acknowledge that I have issues and struggle with things that to a large extent have prevented me from having lasting stable relationships and work situations, but I've always been really open to trying new things.

Sociopath fish: bluestriped fangblenny

Does any of this sound familiar? From a science blog:


Nature is rife with charlatans. Hundreds of animals have evolved to look like other species in order to fool predators into thinking they’re more of a threat, or to sneak up on unsuspecting prey. In the Indo-Pacific lives a fish that does both and has the rare ability to switch between different disguises – the bluestriped fangblenny.
***
Its model is the bluestreak cleaner wrasse Labroides dimidiatus, an industrious species that provides a cleaning service for other reef visitors by picking off parasites and mucus from hard-to-reach places. The fangblenny’s intentions are less welcome. Its resemblance to the helpful wrasse allows it to get close enough to mount quick attacks on larger fish, biting off scales and skin (see image below for why it got it’s name).
***
Now, Cheney has provided further evidence for the opportunistic colour changes of this con artist. She captured 34 fangblennies of various colours and after 60 minutes alone, all the mimics had switched to non-mimic colours – it seems that there’s no point putting on a disguise if there’s no one around to see it.

When she added another fish, nothing happened unless it was a juvenile bluestreak cleaner wrasse. At that point, a third of the fangblennies swapped back to their black-and-blue coats. Cheney noticed that only the smaller individuals changed colours. She believes that as fangblennies grow larger, the rewards of looking like the smaller wrasse are reduced, so they don’t bother.
***
A disguise may look right to us, but our colour vision is very different to that of most animals, including those whose reaction actually matters. To get a more objective view of the fangblenny’s disguise, Cheney analysed the light reflecting off its scales when it went through its different colour phases. Sure enough, its black-and-blue form reflected light in almost exactly the same way as a real cleaner wrasse would.
***
The bluestripe fangblenny’s many faces gives it great versatility. By matching the colours of a variety of different fish, it greatly expands the area of reef where it can safely hide from both predators and potential victims. Unlike the mimic octopus, it makes no effort to change its body shape and some of its models, like the chromis, are very different. But in a shoal, that hardly matters. A superficial resemblance to the surrounding throng may be advantage enough.


I love everything about this fish: pretends not just to be a neutral fish, but to be a helpful fish, careful to project an image suitable to its audience, but of course only superficial changes because that's often advantage enough.

Sociopathic pig

Unless this pig experiences emotions and used empathy or altruism to decide to save this goat?

Biological origins of empathy

Hopefully people aren't sick of reading about empathy by now, but I recently found this interesting Wall Street Journal article discussing how animals possibly feel (or don't feel) empathy, including humans.  First the article discusses recent studies on animals that suggested that animals have altruistic traits. Initially this animal altruism was claimed to be related to empathy, but it has since been downgraded to being merely "pro-social":


In one, scientists at the University of Chicago put two rats in an arena, one held by a restrainer, the other free. They found that the free rat learned to "intentionally and quickly open the restrainer and free the cagemate." They interpreted this result as "providing strong evidence for biological roots of empathically motivated helping behavior."

In the other case, Drs. Hollis and Nowbahari themselves did a very similar experiment with ants. They found that ants were prepared to rescue fellow ants held in a nylon snare and showing obvious distress. Just like the rats, the hero ants would chew at the restraints (though not if the victims were anesthetized or from different colonies or species). Happy to describe such behavior as "pro-social," they did not go so far as to attribute empathy to the ants. There was no reason to think that the hero ants were motivated by a wish to alleviate the suffering of the victims. More likely, they possessed a self-interested instinct to help get a co-worker back to work.

How does this differ from humans? Humans would probably behave in similar ways if we put them in similar situations, but is the psychological motivation different?  Adam Smith seems to think so:

In his 1759 book the "Theory of the Moral Sentiments," philosopher Adam Smith argued that empathy (he called it sympathy) was motivated by the capacity to imagine being another person. "When I condole with you for the loss of your only son, in order to enter into your grief, I do not consider what I, a person of such a character and profession, should suffer, if I had a son, and if that son was unfortunately to die; but I consider what I should suffer if I was really you; and I not only change circumstances, but I change persons and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account, and not in the least upon my own. It is not, therefore, in the least selfish."

The article concludes that either we think that rats are capable of this Smithian imagination (which the author concludes is absurd), or we assume that animals must have different motivations than humans.  OR!!!!  And this was what I was thinking this whole time, but the author finally admits at the end a big OR to this whole thing is that maybe humans don't have the psychological motivations that they think they do. Maybe the humans are doing things for the same reasons as the rats: "Can we be so sure it is fellow-feeling rather than instinct that drives us to our virtuous as well as our vicious actions?"

If we are really the empathy equivalent of rats, maybe we invented empathy to give ourselves a nice story. In other words, maybe humans give a positive spin on their "choices" after the fact, the same way they do with free will (or should I say, free won't). I feel like I just discovered the necessary plot device to make the Matrix IV relevant.

A chicken parable

When I was growing up, my grandfather raised chickens and other animals on his ranch. Each chicken laid approximately one egg a day, so if he had seven chickens at the time, we would expect to see seven eggs. My grandfather was always very careful to feed the chickens and collect the eggs everyday and taught me to be equally diligent when I stayed with him. If not, he said, the chickens might turn to eating their own eggs, and once a chicken has a taste for egg, it will continue eating eggs and have to be killed. I don't know if it is really true that there is no cure for a cannibalistic chicken, but that is what he told me to scare me into feeding the chickens and collecting their eggs regularly. One time while I was gone, he got sick and couldn't visit the chicken coop every day to feed them and collect their eggs. When he finally did get out there, he saw broken egg shells everywhere, the evidence of egg eating. Ever after, there were always one or two eggs missing from or pecked over in the daily collections. At least one chicken had gotten a taste for egg and wasn't willing to give it up, even with the renewed ample food source.

"How are we going to find out which one of them it is?" I asked.

"What do you mean."

"We need to kill the chicken that is eating the other eggs."

He just laughed. "No, seriously, grandpa. One of these chickens is eating our food, taking up room in our coop, and ruining our eggs. We have to find out which one it is and kill it, right?"

"I don't have time to sit watching chickens. Plus that chicken actually helps. It helps to remind me to stay vigilant about caring for the other chickens and collecting the eggs. It also reminds me that nature is cutthroat, and that human nature is just that."

I wasn't satisfied with my grandfather's reasoning. The next day I woke up early and kept watch over the chicken coop. I saw the chickens go into the nesting area and lay their eggs, one by one. I also saw one of the chickens begin toying with an egg with its claws and pecking at it with its beak. I thought about killing the chicken. I had learned how to slaughter a chicken by hanging it up by its feet, securing its head in my weak hand, and with my strong hand locating the jugular vein with a knife and slitting it open, spilling the blood on the ground while the chicken flapped itself to death. The whole process took no longer than five minutes. Instead I yelled at the chicken, causing it to scurry away. I gathered the remaining viable eggs and walked back into the house.

Sociopaths and animals (part 2)

My response:

You're right, I feel like there is a lot of emphasis on animal cruelty in the diagnostic criteria for psychopaths, typically juvenile cruelty. Does animal cruelty only appeas to a juvenile psychopath's mind? Or they shift their cruel behavior to humans as they age?

I myself have no affection for animals, certainly no greater affinity for them than I would have for any person. Still I don't go out of my way to hurt or kill them, but I have also never shied away from it when the situation called for it. For instance, I don't have the urge to kill a chicken just to see its blood spill, but no problem killing it to slaughter it for food. I am the type of person that would kill a neighbor's barking dog if I knew there would be no negative repercussions from it.

I saw this on some site: "I know one sociopath who really likes her Preying Mantis and doesn't like dogs. An enjoyment of dogs generally requires some degree of caring, empathy--characteristics devoid in sociopaths." Maybe. I just don't understand the appeal of animals, other than their pure utilitarian value. But I love children and inanimate objects, so I'm not judging or anything.

i've also been thinking, though, in regards to everyone that asks me if they are a sociopath or not. my thought is this, either you believe that sociopaths exist, or you don't, you think that they are self-aware narcissists or have ADD or asperger's or autism or are borderline or manic depressive or schizoid, or not loved as a children, guarded, unemotional, or the myriad of other "disorders" that if you stack them on top of each other in the right combinations could explain everything a sociopath is. but if you believe that 1-4% of the population has a condition called
"sociopathy," then ask yourself -- in a room full of 100 people, am i the most coldhearted, remorseless bastard in that room? if the answer is yes, than that is probably a good indication that you are a sociopath. if no, or if maybe, then you probably aren't, or your aren't enough to really be concerned about it. and as many have said before, labels do not have any intrinsic value, just the value from being able to explore the truth about yourself and others.

Sociopaths and animals (part 1)

A reader asks:

Dear ME,

After reading your website, I've come to believe that I'm possibly a mild sociopath. Not only is my world view and general behavior in many ways consistent with a sociopath but my childhood and teen years definitely have featured the kind of social rejection consistent with the development of this disorder. However one thing keeps on bugging me. A commonly described characteristic of sociopaths is cruelty to animals. But I have never been cruel to animals. In fact, I feel a profound love for animals of all kinds, even going out of my way to kill many species of bugs. In my childhood, I bought a pet snake, because I thought it would be cool but ended up in tears when I first watched my snake constrict a baby mouse. Indeed, seeing animals in pain or seeing people behave cruelly towards them has always been upsetting to me.

Is it even possible for an actual sociopath to feel this kind of strong connection to animals? Let me reiterate that my feelings towards humans are almost completely opposite: I'm a total misanthrope and have no faith at all in human nature. My theory for this dissonance is that, while humans have always treated me like shit, even though I've been nothing but kind to them, animals have always reciprocated my friendliness. One recent anecdote serves as a kind of mise en abyme for my entire relationship with animals. A girl I'd been hooking up with had inexplicably broken things off with me. I left her residence in tears, and collapsed in the woods outside her house. It was cold and I was sobbing in the darkness when I heard something coming towards me. One of the cats that lived at her house had followed me and rubbed it's face affectionately against my body, purring as it nuzzled back and forth. The cat was there to comfort me when the human had broken my heart. And that pretty much encapsulates my relationship with animals throughout life.

Animals have a sense of morality?

According to one scientist at least:

Scientists studying animal behaviour believe they have growing evidence that species ranging from mice to primates are governed by moral codes of conduct in the same way as humans.

Until recently, humans were thought to be the only species to experience complex emotions and have a sense of morality.

But Prof Marc Bekoff, an ecologist at University of Colorado, Boulder, believes that morals are "hard-wired" into the brains of all mammals and provide the "social glue" that allow often aggressive and competitive animals to live together in groups.

He has compiled evidence from around the world that shows how different species of animals appear to have an innate sense of fairness, display empathy and help other animals that are in distress.

I don't get what is so special about moral compasses if they are all relative to the particular culture one is raised in and do not necessarily include those perceived as outsiders:

"Just as in humans, the moral nuances of a particular culture or group will be different from another, but they are certainly there. Moral codes are species specific, so they can be difficult to compare with each other or with humans."

Looks like we sociopaths are more alone than we thought. But at least no one will ever be able to call us filthy animals anymore.