Sociopaths on television: Fringe

From Fringe (spoiler alert, the observer characters are an advanced future race of humans that have evolved in such a way to replace emotions with rational thought):

Observer: But you ascribed meaning to something that was not there. You saw what you wanted to see. You believed what you wanted to believe, because that's what your emotions do. They ascribe meaning to something that is not there. They fool your perception as to what is real. A dog does not smile, no matter how many times your kind might think it does. . . You blame us for her death, but it is irrelevant. She was here, now she is simply not here.

Human: You're wrong about emotions not being real. My feelings for her are very, very real.

But that's not quite the point that the sociopathic observer is making, is it? He never said that emotions don't exist (i.e. are not real). He just said that they obscure one's perception of reality, which I think most people would agree with? I have seen people make similar statements as the human before and I always wonder what point they're trying to make. What does it mean to them for feelings to be real? For instance, if you were having a hallucination of a dragon and I told you that there is no dragon, you might tell me that the dragon is real. And I guess in a way you would be right be the dragon exists in your hallucination, and what does it mean for something to be real? But from my perspective and from the reality that most people share, there is no dragon. And if you persist in obligating me to acknowledge your hallucinated dragon as being "real" because it is real from your perspective, then you must equally acknowledge that the dragon is not real because from my perspective it is not.

It reminds me of this tweet:

"Feelings ARE facts. This is what socios don't understand."
— M.E. (@sociopathworld) October 30, 2013

Power of empathy?

From researcher Brene Brown on the distinction between empathy and sympathy, among other characteristics of empathy:

It's interesting that Brown quotes another scholar, Theresa Wiseman, who studied professions in which empathy is (allegedly) important. Wiseman came up with four main qualities of empathy based on these studies:

1. Perspective taking (ability to take perspective of another person or recognize their perspective as their truth)
2. Staying out of judgment (not easy when you enjoy it as much as most of us do)
3. Recognizing emotion in other people 
4. Communicating that 

To me, I can say yes to all of those things. I can take people's perspective, as well as other people (maybe better?). I stay out of judgment (no bandwagon angry mob public shaming). I can recognize emotion in other people and communicate it back to them, it's why I am so good at reading and manipulating people. My main problem is recognizing emotion in myself. But Professor Brown then concludes that empathy is "feeling with other people." Ok, maybe that is what it is, or maybe that is what it feels like for most people (whether or not that's even possible or if people are just projecting their own emotions on the empathy target). But if the four main qualities don't include "feeling with other people," is that what is really valuable about empathy? If I can do the other four things, am I basically covering all of the important empathy bases?

Substituting you for me

A pilot friend of mine was describing to a dilettante friend of ours the process of obtaining a pilot's license. He talked about what it means to "fly blind," or fly relying solely on the instruments, not being able to see anything out the windows of the cockpit, or at least not looking. Obviously you wouldn't want to fly blindly if you had the option to also see outside, but the point is that sometimes you don't have that option, or sometimes what you are seeing with your naked eye can be deceptive.

While he was describing the sort of psychological self-mastery it takes to ignore everything that you think you know about your situation and instead put all of your trust in fallible tinker toys of gauges (which you may not even understand how they operate), I couldn't help but think of the way I struggle to ignore meaningless but strong impulses or emotional hallucinations.

I have talked before about relying on a prosthetic moral compass to compensate for my lack of conscience. I have also talked about my understanding of the utility of trust. By that I mean, substituting someone else's judgment for my own -- particularly principled people I know who have managed to achieve a stable sort of success and happiness.

A small example of an exercise of trust involves a relative of mine. He is a lover of technology, a proud first adopter. I have never really been a gearhead of any sort, so I always have him choose my set-ups. He is not my advisor for buying/adopting tech type stuff, he actually makes decisions for me. I was talking with a work colleague the other day about it. I told him I admired his laptop, to which he replied I should just buy my own. I explained to him that my technologically more sophisticated relative hadn't told me I should/could, and that he makes all my tech decisions for me. When my colleague suggested that I just do it anyway, I realized he misunderstood the nature of me "trusting" someone else to make decisions for me. If I just bought whatever I wanted when I wanted, then he would no longer be making decisions for me, he would be making suggestions to which I could either follow or not follow, or at best he would be making demands that I could veto. That would defeat the whole point of me putting him in charge of that aspect of my life.

To the extent I believe that there is value in things like "faith" or "trust," it is that you ignore your own ideas about what you think you know and rely on something, not because it is infallible, but because it is a different sort of fallible than you. That's why I don't understand people who say they have faith in something, a religion perhaps, but only when it's convenient or it happens to coincide with how they would have chosen anyway. Maybe this is a downside to my personality, the ability and willingness to just follow blindly. I don't think it is always a good thing, and it certainly has its downsides (as does deciding yourself). But to the extent it is useful at all, I believe it is only in this way.

Fleeting emotions

My sister and sister-in-law have several children that are the same ages as each other. Children all have different personalities, but I have also seen some trends in how these particular children act based on their mothers' parenting styles. My sister is a little emotionally detached herself and is not an overly emotional parent. Her parenting style fosters independence. Her children go places by themselves before they are in the double digits of age. The children have a lot of autonomy, responsibilities, and experience real consequences for their actions. My sister-in-law is more the typical, doting mother. She is anxious and her children live in a safe bubble of love and protection. When her children speak, we stop and listen. They get choices about certain things like what to eat for dinner, but most of the time they are being told what to do from hour to hour. It's easy to see that there is not a one-style-fits-all approach to parenting. Both approaches have their plusses and minuses.

I am grateful for the way I was raised. Some people have called it borderline (or just plain) abusive, but to me it was mainly characterized by freedom and creativity. Even the unpredictable outbursts from my parents had a use, they helped bond me and my siblings together in a way that is still remarkably tight into adulthood. We got along not just because we had to, but because we wanted to -- everyone recognized that it was better that way. We would play music together, play games together, play sports together, and do projects together -- all of which we recognized would have been impossible to do alone. Together we were better, stronger, and happier than we were as individuals. Consequently, my family does certain things very well. We're very good at subjugating our will to the utilitarian needs of the whole. We joke that we're a little like the Borg from Star Trek -- assimilation for the needs of the hive. That might sound like a nightmare for some, but it's really efficient and no one ever feels like they're held hostage to the potential drama and demands of divas and tyrants. Each member of the family has their role and expertise, and the rest of us defer to them on those points when we're together. Because this state is completely voluntary, we're also careful to make sure that no one gets overly disgruntled and opts out completely. If someone is feeling put upon, we address the issue openly and efficiently. People who cheat get informal social sanctions, typically in the form of my sister's wrath. But to make things work this way, no one is really allowed to take things personally or have "unreasonable" emotional reactions and expect to have those feelings validated. Someone can be upset and cry and no one will give him a hard time about it, but unless he can verbalize his problem and propose a solution, no one is really invested in anyone's fleeting emotions.

My sister's family is the only one that approximates this approach with her own children. The results are interesting. Her children are definitely more ruthless, calculating, and calloused than most of their peers (more than they should be?). But they're also really easy to reason with. They understand better than a lot of adults that just because they are feeling an emotion does not mean that it was caused by any particular thing or person -- that they can't control what happens to them, but they actually do have a lot of control over how they feel about things or how they interpret those feelings. They learn this from their parents. When my sister is in a bad mood, she tells her children that she's just "grumpy," so they shouldn't take her reactions personally. My niece picked up on this phrase when she was just a toddler. If you asked her why she was sad, she would frequently say "I'm not sad, I'm just grumpy." She meant that there was nothing in particular that she wanted solved, she was just not feeling happy and to leave her alone about it. My sister's family even plays at emotions, taking "grumpy" family photos the same way that some families take silly photos. They understand that their emotions are labile and often fleeting. The children are not as offended when people don't take their emotions "seriously" because they understand the difference between raw emotional reactions and actual problems that can be verbalized.

I'm sure this isn't the only way to teach children this particular skill and maybe this approach would be impossible for most parents to pull off or would harm most children more than it would help. But I thought that it was an interesting approach, and would be helpful to serve as common ground for parents of sociopaths (particularly if the sociopathic child had normal siblings). 

The drama/static of our minds

From a reader:

I just finished reading your memoir and I wanted to take a moment to thank you.  I am a clinical psychologist and am continually interested in expanding my mind and understanding of the human experience.  Your book helped me think differently about sociopathy, empathy, logic and choice.  Many people (especially clinicians) would like to think that there is a firm line between those who are "personality disordered" and the rest of them.  This presupposes that they are perfectly ordered in their own personalities.  Why is it that we allow ourselves to be 'a little depressed' or 'have some problems with anxiety' but the notion that we may all be on a spectrum of orderliness to disorderliness in regard to personality is so challenging?  While I do not identify with any one personality disorder per se (other than general traits of cluster B), your worldview and approach to life resonated with me at times.  I believe that working within one's system of thought and affect instead of against the grain will yield greater results.  This is especially true when I apply this to the clients I see in my private practice.  There is a difference between the drama that unfolds in our minds and the behavior we choose to enact in the world.  I teach my clients to remove (emotional) judgment from choices and evaluate different paths according to the cost benefit ratio.

I asked what she meant about the "drama that unfolds in our minds and the behavior we choose to enact" and whether her patients push back when she tries to get them to be less emotional in their decision-making:

As far as my comment goes, everyone has dark thoughts; some are more willing to admit them.  I believe that having the freedom to fantasize and think about whatever you want is freeing and allows you to work out other issues.  I actively promote this with my clients and generally find that even the most violent of fantasizing does not lead to action for those that I see.  In fact, it usually has deeper, symbolic meaning.  I don't believe in judging anyone if I can help it - natural consequences shape behavior.  If one is generally an asshole to others, that person will find he or she has few friends.  If that works for that person, then great.  Otherwise, it's time to review one's strategies and weigh the pros and cons.  Personally, I draw the line at not encroaching on the rights of others (even though I would often like to and most of the time don't really care about the rights of people I don't know or who wouldn't affect me).  I do this because of the natural consequences of not doing so (i.e. having to deal with pissed off people, losing friends, legal issues) but also because I believe this sort of discipline keeps me mentally fit and in control.  

As far as taking emotion out of decision making, I usually give clients a logical reason for examining issues in a particular way. Emotion tends to act as static for our cognitive minds.  I look at it like two data streams - one leans towards facts and the other towards instinct.  Both hold good information but since emotion is processed by an older part of our brain and doesn't work with information in the same way, we can't rely solely on it as a source of decision making and is better used as an adjunct.  Clients tend to see what I mean so it's not a hard sell.

The sick and the dying (part 2)

My response:

Interesting question. I am the world's worst sick person. When I was a teenager, I had a hard-to-diagnose health problem that made me very sick for some time. During that time I lost every single friend I had.

When I am sick, all I can think of is me. Usually I have the energy to keep up appearances, keep the mask on, etc. When I am sick, I simply do not. I typically don't even notice my ill behavior myself. For instance, when I was sick as a teenager, I thought I was handling things remarkably well. I was honestly surprised when all of my friends abandoned me. Since then, nearly every time I am sick, I get into an unprovoked argument with someone. The sickness makes me less patient, more easily annoyed, which I mistakenly attribute to that person being particularly troublesome. Does this ever happen to you? Where you feel nauseous and equate it to being nervous, but really you have the flu? Or you are short tempered and equate it to other people being difficult, when really you have a migraine? This is what happens to me when I am sick.

I think my emotions are so low level that I have gotten used to reading changes in my body as signs of how I may "feel" about something. If my stomach is upset, I figure that I am probably nervous so my adrenaline is up. If I have a fuzzy brain or a headache, I assume that I am tired or overwhelmed. Because I have gotten used to doing this, when I am sick because of a virus and not just sick and tired of something or somebody, I mistakenly believe at first that I am responding to things going on around me. But they are just emotional hallucinations -- my body is tricking my brain into thinking that certain negative things exist, but they don't -- it's all just my brain misinterpreting data.

So I could see how your father might blame you or others for the discomfort he feels. Even if that isn't true, he certainly has much less energy to put on a happy face. What you are getting from him right now is the uninsulated, un-papered over version of him. And you're right that he is probably annoyed that life (and you in some weird way) has betrayed him, failed him by allowing him to become the shadow of the man that he was. But that must be pretty normal for old people with a touch of narcissism, I would imagine.