Showing posts with label military. Show all posts
Showing posts with label military. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2020
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Psychopathy in the Army
From a reader:
As a veteran reading “Natural Killers – Turning the Tide of Battle” by Major David Pierson, I was a stricken by the assumption that it’s sociopaths who make up “natural killers” on the battlefield. A member of Joint Special Operations Command, I was one of the guys sneaking around at night snatching up all those high value targets in the war on terror. I was also a sniper in one of these units. More than one source of data suggests psychopaths are drawn to commando units and sniper teams in particular. Hell, I remember feeling a vague sense of discomfort after reading the last DSM criteria for ASPD, which listed impulsivity, aggression, tendency to break social norms, enjoy alcohol, and engage in a series of sexual relationships with little emotional attachment. Most of us in my unit really enjoyed our time overseas, had fun in combat, and still crave the thrill of assaulting an objective. The implications are… unnerving.
But despite Pierson’s presumption, there’s a more nuanced perspective of ASPD, psychopathy, and sociopathy in relation to his idea of natural killers on the battlefield. I believe archetypal psychopaths, though drawn to commando units, typically wash out of the elite selection processes. This is because elite military units require a strong sense of social cohesiveness.
Major David Pierson’s research draws heavily from Colonel Grossman’s research for his book On Killing, which drew heavily from the Gen. Marshall study on soldiers’ ability to kill following WWII. Pierson describes an experience in Iraq, in which he witnessed a friend of his, a soldier, who had become battle fatigued after a brief fire fight. He described the soldier as being “shaken by the episode,” and “not a natural killer.” A natural killer wouldn’t have been shaken by the incident above. A natural killer, Pierson goes on, is callous, adventurous, possesses a dark sense of humor, is athletic, and enjoys fighting.
These are all the common traits of the unit I served with, and traits which couldn’t describe me better. My unit rarely had problems with guys being battle-fatigued, and never had problems with guys failing to pull the trigger when needed. Indeed, Pierson points out that aggressive psychopaths seek out positions in “airborne, Ranger, and special forces” units. However, Pierson jumps to the conclusion that natural killers in combat are necessarily aggressive psychopaths. After all, the traits described above do not necessarily a psychopath make. In fact, they only apply to some facets of the diagnosis for ASPD in the DSM. Though many expect most of us to be sociopathic, there’s actually limited data to suggest psychopaths are overrepresented in the profession.
In my experience, commandos do have a certain profile that is almost ubiquitous in the industry. Obviously, thrill seeking is the biggest prerequisite for special operations, but other, maybe surprising traits tend to pop up in the community. We tend to be obsessive, single minded kind of guys, so the addiction trait is quite, quite common (every guy I know, including myself, are mild to severe addicts). Next is some form of mild Attention Deficit Disorder. Last, the guys are generally smart and eccentric. These are not the “military” types you see running around with cropped haircuts and army boots in their off time (think – Marine) though they are tough guys.
That being said, some traits above do tend to mesh with some ASPD criteria. Being an elite soldier means jumping out of planes and helicopters, mastering weapons of violence, applying medical trauma skills at the EMT-P level, and enjoying hand-to-hand combat. There must be a powerful intuition to suppress emotions and engage in violence. So to a certain extent, lack of empathy and remorse, a desire to break social norms, impulsivity, and aggression are prerequisites of the job. While Pierson’s essay encourages leaders to identify natural killers in their units, the selection process for special operations units does a brilliant job finding them, institutionally.
The selection process for elite units can be divided into two major assessment portions. The hard physical selection weed-out process, like hell-week for navy seals’ Basic Underwater Demolition School, or the first week of the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program, coerces groups of cadets into performing strenuous group activities which depend on cooperation. These drills require a sort of pack-like behavioral sense for cadets to succeed. I can’t stress enough how socially demanding group drills are in a selection setting.
On the opposite end, however, comes individual talent drills which do not allow for others to pick up any slack. One way the army selects for individual talent draws heavily from the British commando schools of the 40s, by requiring land navigation challenges, orienteering for the civilian reader, to assess whether an applicant can think on his feet and surmount arduous physical demands without any help from a comrade. Land navigation, basically being dropped in the woods with a map and compass and told to find a bunch of points, is the LSAT or GMAT for the commando. I suspect an intelligent psychopath could thrive on the latter, though struggle with the former.
It’s hard to explain the mindset of working in an elite military unit. While individual skills are necessary to succeed in the environment, group cohesion is equally important. Small unit movements are a thing of awe. Each member of the team works off one another, effortlessly, to flow through rooms, maintain 360 degrees of security, and achieve an objective. There is an almost preternatural sense of being aware what the entire unit is doing, an exercise of reptilian and mammalian brain functions. It takes a degree of yes, empathetic feeling to experience this as second nature. The less you have to concentrate on what everyone else is doing, the more your cognitive attention can focus on what’s in front of you, and how to accomplish the larger mission. This takes a lot of practice. I would conjecture that the psychopath, who has a remarkably lower blood flow to the socially activated portions of the brain, would have a harder time concentrating during small unit tactics. At least he’d have more difficulty developing the bonds necessary to thrive in the environment.
All that being said, during my time as a DOD contractor and commando in Afghanistan and Iraq, I did come across what you’d call a traditional psychopath, albeit rarely. I’m talking about the archetypal psychopath, the guy who stares at people and makes them uncomfortable, the guy incapable of reacting to other peoples’ emotional states without effort, who genuinely won’t feel guilty after a bad shooting incident, who sincerely enjoys playing head games with people. But they had a hard time staying in a crew. Sometimes it’d be the occasional inappropriate assault, sometimes the attempted murder of a comrade (yes, I’m not kidding). There were a couple guys I knew, though, traditional sociopaths, but smart enough to fake it and control themselves to gel on a team. I tended to enjoy their company, actually. There’s a lot of entertainment to be had with a legit sociopath.
Last, Pierson makes some great observations in identifying killers in a unit. Overwhelmingly, guys in special operations come from middle-to-upper class backgrounds, are extroverted, and have higher technical scores than the rest of the military. The class background in particular warrants further study. While many who join the military do so for job skills or college money, men who enlist for commando units have no expectation of gaining either of these. The types who volunteer for a professionally worthless job skill do so for adventure, and little else. Ironically, volunteering for the most arduous, Hollywood positions in the military comes from a position of privilege. I still struggle to wrap my head around that.
Ultimately, I suspect most true aggressive psychopaths drawn to commando units wash out during some point of the selection process, or are kicked out because they either have a hard time getting along with comrades or get caught conducting illegal activity. Otherwise Pierson’s description of a natural killer is pretty accurate. To most of us who thrive during our time in a deadly unit, we have just enough ASPD traits to do well, but also enough empathy to flow as a cohesive unit and genuinely care for one another in the event of a casualty. You could say we have ASPD in all the right places.
As a veteran reading “Natural Killers – Turning the Tide of Battle” by Major David Pierson, I was a stricken by the assumption that it’s sociopaths who make up “natural killers” on the battlefield. A member of Joint Special Operations Command, I was one of the guys sneaking around at night snatching up all those high value targets in the war on terror. I was also a sniper in one of these units. More than one source of data suggests psychopaths are drawn to commando units and sniper teams in particular. Hell, I remember feeling a vague sense of discomfort after reading the last DSM criteria for ASPD, which listed impulsivity, aggression, tendency to break social norms, enjoy alcohol, and engage in a series of sexual relationships with little emotional attachment. Most of us in my unit really enjoyed our time overseas, had fun in combat, and still crave the thrill of assaulting an objective. The implications are… unnerving.
But despite Pierson’s presumption, there’s a more nuanced perspective of ASPD, psychopathy, and sociopathy in relation to his idea of natural killers on the battlefield. I believe archetypal psychopaths, though drawn to commando units, typically wash out of the elite selection processes. This is because elite military units require a strong sense of social cohesiveness.
Major David Pierson’s research draws heavily from Colonel Grossman’s research for his book On Killing, which drew heavily from the Gen. Marshall study on soldiers’ ability to kill following WWII. Pierson describes an experience in Iraq, in which he witnessed a friend of his, a soldier, who had become battle fatigued after a brief fire fight. He described the soldier as being “shaken by the episode,” and “not a natural killer.” A natural killer wouldn’t have been shaken by the incident above. A natural killer, Pierson goes on, is callous, adventurous, possesses a dark sense of humor, is athletic, and enjoys fighting.
These are all the common traits of the unit I served with, and traits which couldn’t describe me better. My unit rarely had problems with guys being battle-fatigued, and never had problems with guys failing to pull the trigger when needed. Indeed, Pierson points out that aggressive psychopaths seek out positions in “airborne, Ranger, and special forces” units. However, Pierson jumps to the conclusion that natural killers in combat are necessarily aggressive psychopaths. After all, the traits described above do not necessarily a psychopath make. In fact, they only apply to some facets of the diagnosis for ASPD in the DSM. Though many expect most of us to be sociopathic, there’s actually limited data to suggest psychopaths are overrepresented in the profession.
In my experience, commandos do have a certain profile that is almost ubiquitous in the industry. Obviously, thrill seeking is the biggest prerequisite for special operations, but other, maybe surprising traits tend to pop up in the community. We tend to be obsessive, single minded kind of guys, so the addiction trait is quite, quite common (every guy I know, including myself, are mild to severe addicts). Next is some form of mild Attention Deficit Disorder. Last, the guys are generally smart and eccentric. These are not the “military” types you see running around with cropped haircuts and army boots in their off time (think – Marine) though they are tough guys.
That being said, some traits above do tend to mesh with some ASPD criteria. Being an elite soldier means jumping out of planes and helicopters, mastering weapons of violence, applying medical trauma skills at the EMT-P level, and enjoying hand-to-hand combat. There must be a powerful intuition to suppress emotions and engage in violence. So to a certain extent, lack of empathy and remorse, a desire to break social norms, impulsivity, and aggression are prerequisites of the job. While Pierson’s essay encourages leaders to identify natural killers in their units, the selection process for special operations units does a brilliant job finding them, institutionally.
The selection process for elite units can be divided into two major assessment portions. The hard physical selection weed-out process, like hell-week for navy seals’ Basic Underwater Demolition School, or the first week of the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program, coerces groups of cadets into performing strenuous group activities which depend on cooperation. These drills require a sort of pack-like behavioral sense for cadets to succeed. I can’t stress enough how socially demanding group drills are in a selection setting.
On the opposite end, however, comes individual talent drills which do not allow for others to pick up any slack. One way the army selects for individual talent draws heavily from the British commando schools of the 40s, by requiring land navigation challenges, orienteering for the civilian reader, to assess whether an applicant can think on his feet and surmount arduous physical demands without any help from a comrade. Land navigation, basically being dropped in the woods with a map and compass and told to find a bunch of points, is the LSAT or GMAT for the commando. I suspect an intelligent psychopath could thrive on the latter, though struggle with the former.
It’s hard to explain the mindset of working in an elite military unit. While individual skills are necessary to succeed in the environment, group cohesion is equally important. Small unit movements are a thing of awe. Each member of the team works off one another, effortlessly, to flow through rooms, maintain 360 degrees of security, and achieve an objective. There is an almost preternatural sense of being aware what the entire unit is doing, an exercise of reptilian and mammalian brain functions. It takes a degree of yes, empathetic feeling to experience this as second nature. The less you have to concentrate on what everyone else is doing, the more your cognitive attention can focus on what’s in front of you, and how to accomplish the larger mission. This takes a lot of practice. I would conjecture that the psychopath, who has a remarkably lower blood flow to the socially activated portions of the brain, would have a harder time concentrating during small unit tactics. At least he’d have more difficulty developing the bonds necessary to thrive in the environment.
All that being said, during my time as a DOD contractor and commando in Afghanistan and Iraq, I did come across what you’d call a traditional psychopath, albeit rarely. I’m talking about the archetypal psychopath, the guy who stares at people and makes them uncomfortable, the guy incapable of reacting to other peoples’ emotional states without effort, who genuinely won’t feel guilty after a bad shooting incident, who sincerely enjoys playing head games with people. But they had a hard time staying in a crew. Sometimes it’d be the occasional inappropriate assault, sometimes the attempted murder of a comrade (yes, I’m not kidding). There were a couple guys I knew, though, traditional sociopaths, but smart enough to fake it and control themselves to gel on a team. I tended to enjoy their company, actually. There’s a lot of entertainment to be had with a legit sociopath.
Last, Pierson makes some great observations in identifying killers in a unit. Overwhelmingly, guys in special operations come from middle-to-upper class backgrounds, are extroverted, and have higher technical scores than the rest of the military. The class background in particular warrants further study. While many who join the military do so for job skills or college money, men who enlist for commando units have no expectation of gaining either of these. The types who volunteer for a professionally worthless job skill do so for adventure, and little else. Ironically, volunteering for the most arduous, Hollywood positions in the military comes from a position of privilege. I still struggle to wrap my head around that.
Ultimately, I suspect most true aggressive psychopaths drawn to commando units wash out during some point of the selection process, or are kicked out because they either have a hard time getting along with comrades or get caught conducting illegal activity. Otherwise Pierson’s description of a natural killer is pretty accurate. To most of us who thrive during our time in a deadly unit, we have just enough ASPD traits to do well, but also enough empathy to flow as a cohesive unit and genuinely care for one another in the event of a casualty. You could say we have ASPD in all the right places.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
The all in the family sociopath
As a high functioning, truly, highly intelligent sociopath (well aren't we all) I.... "enjoyed" your book.
I figured out years ago I was a sociopath. I have a brother who is so the definition of "narcissistic personality disorder" his picture should be next to the definition in all books. I personally always classified him as a "psychopath" as opposed to my "sociopath".
Our early lives we moved every few years. Dad was in the military. My brother and I came from an abusive household. I the black sheep, and he the "good" brother. I was physically, mentally and emotionally abused. Mom as well. Little brother got his fair share of the latter two as I recall. Dad never broke any bones. Never left bruises where people could see them. His intention, His terror, was part of his Standard Operating Procedure (SOP) for us. I could see the overall methodicalness of it even as a young child. Keeping us off balance with random acts of kindness and random (or expected acts) of terror. Molding us into what he wanted us to be at the time. Clarity comes with hindsight, I know now that in many ways I had a good teacher. He was a highly intelligent, highly functional man who worked a Top Secret job for the government. He's gone now, not that he'd have spoken to me about it, but with what I now know, I'm certain he was in that APD spectrum somewhere.
Dad not only taught me the "ways and means" of dealing with the sociopathic tendencies, but the "ways of terror" as well. Mental, emotional, physical, all fair game in our household growing up. I always found the physical violence far to easy (I'm a big guy and can physically dominate most people easily enough) and prefer the mental and emotional manipulations more; more of a challenge. More "fun". Anyone can physically MAKE someone do something (say with a gun if nothing else), but manipulating them into WANTING to do it, far, far more satisfying.
I have really never had much of a chance to actually discuss the intimate details of our "disorder" with another sociopath. All us "APD" people have similarities. A few of the similar SMALL details however, of our (yours and my and perhaps others)"condition", "blew" me away.
The fake accent. Mine is a non-specific southern accent, "blunted" by many years of living in the Midwest; or so it sounds. Seems to instantly set people at ease. "He's just a good ol' boy." Hearing the consonants roll off your tongue. Funny enough, I used to do the "non-specific European" accent and dropped it for the "non-specific southern" accent, as it was proving to be far more useful and continues to be. I wonder if this is due to our "chameleon" abilities or is there some other underlying mental process that makes us change our speech?
The "sharp tooth". Wow. Such a small detail, but on the mark. Likely due to our "sensation seeking". Had anyone bothered to ask, I could have told them 20+ years ago I was a dopamine junkie. I truly believe we do not produce enough dopamine, which causes us to live our lives constantly searching for some sort of stimulation, so for a brief moment we can have "peace". "Feel"......"Normal"?
There were a few other small details as well that I did not expect. Playing drums and living in bad neighborhoods being two of them. Makes me wonder how much of the "us" we have is really us, not just a response to our expressed genetic heritage. I'd be curious at how many others you've communicated with have similar "accents", "sharp teeth", are good at keeping a beat and live in bad neighborhoods.
I have delved into BDSM for quite a while now. Yes, surprise-surprise, I'm a Dom. Choking, pain, asphyxiation; all can certainly be "fun". Knives are "fun" as well.
The sexual "deviancy" and attraction to the BDSM world is more common among APD people I've noticed. As well as MANY other mental disorders it seems. A fertile playground. Not without its downside. I've had two stalkers in the last 10 years who didn't take kindly to me just dropping them from my life. Of course what really happened was I decided it was over, and manipulated them into either leaving or stepping over the "line" and doing things there was no coming back from. That cost/benefit analysis can be a bitch sometimes. Mostly for others.
In this day and age of sarcasm and violence, I often just speak the truth now. Just like the person you quoted in your book. People think I'm joking. At worst, I have a slightly "off" or "dark" brand of humor. "What are you thinking?", she asks. "I'm wondering what kind of noises you'd make if I held you down and bit a chunk out of your shapely ass." She laughs. I was telling the truth.
I'm really not sure why I'm writing this email. Certainly curiosity. I have never shared this information with anyone.
In some way perhaps its comforting to know I'm not alone in my "uniqueness".
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Oliver North
In November 1986, U.S. Marine Corps Lt. Colonel Oliver North was fired by President Ronald Reagan from his position at the National Security Council for his involvement in the Iran-contra scandal. Iran-contra involved selling weapons, via intermediaries, to Iran and using the funds from these sales to finance the Nicaraguan resistance then trying to overthrow a left-leaning government. After testifying before Congress in the summer of 1987, North was indicted the following year on 16 felony counts, including accepting illegal gratuities, aiding and abetting the obstruction of a congressional inquiry, and destroying documents and evidence. Although he was convicted on three counts, his conviction was overturned on appeal on the basis that jurors had been influenced by the congressional hearings, during which he had been granted immunity for his testimony. During the nationally televised hearings, North admitted that he had shredded documents, lied to Congress, and violated, or at least come exceedingly close to violating, a law prohibiting giving aid to the Nicaraguan resistance.
But Oliver North knew how to act and speak with power. These abilities would produce an amazing effect on his reputation and his subsequent career. North defended himself and his actions by appealing to a higher purpose—protecting American interests, saving American lives, protecting important U.S. intelligence secrets, following the orders of his superiors, and doing what he was told to do as a good Marine lieutenant colonel—in short, being a good soldier. North wore his ribbon-decorated uniform to the hearings, even though he was seldom if ever in uniform at his job at the NSC. He took responsibility for what he did, saying that he was “not embarrassed” about his actions or about appearing to explain them. And he asserted that he had controlled what had occurred, frequently using phrases such as “I told” and “I caused.” This phrasing demonstrated that he was not running away from what he had done. Observers watching people who don’t deny or run away from their actions naturally presume that the perpetrators don’t feel guilty or ashamed, so maybe no one should be too upset. This phrasing also communicated power, that North was in charge rather than a “victim” of circumstance.
Only seven years after this incident, using the celebrity and sympathy that his testimony created, Oliver North ran for the U.S. Senate from Virginia and lost by just 3 percent of the vote to the incumbent, Charles Robb. During that campaign, North raised some $16 million through direct-mail solicitations, making him the top recipient of direct-mail political funds in the United States that year. Today, North, author of several books, is a television commentator on Fox News and a well-paid speaker at both public and private organizations. And even at the time of the hearings, he enjoyed a positive image. The Wall Street Journal asked dozens of senior U.S. executives if they would hire Oliver North. “The majority said they would…. A poll of the general public reflected the bullishness on Col. North…56 percent of those surveyed said they would hire Col. North; 35 percent said they wouldn’t hire him and 9 percent weren’t sure.”1
Donald Kennedy, a biology professor and former commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration, served as president of Stanford University. Kennedy got caught up in a scandal over indirect costs in the early 1990s. Because it is impossible to associate all the costs of running any organization, for instance, the water and power, police and fire protection, and infrastructure such as libraries, with specific research projects, research grants have an overhead rate that reflects these costs. That rate is then charged to the government for all contracts. In the case of Stanford and other research universities, the claim was that unallowable charges, for instance, for lobbying, liquor, a yacht used by the sailing club, silverware and furniture for the president’s house, and other items, had been included in the cost pools used for calculating the overhead rate.2 After several years of investigation, litigation, and audits, the government found no basis for its claim. Stanford agreed to pay just $1.2 million to the government for overcharges for over 18,000 research grants covering the fiscal years from 1981 to 1992 that involved hundreds of millions of dollars in total funds.3
After the brouhaha broke, Kennedy, like North, appeared before a congressional investigating committee. Donald Kennedy’s performance could not have been more different from North’s. North appeared at the witness stand with just his attorney. Kennedy came with a team that included the head of government contracts from the accounting firm Arthur Andersen, the controller and assistant controller from the university, and the chairman of the board of trustees, James Gaither. This coterie of colleagues conveyed the image that Kennedy could not answer the questions on his own. Using long, convoluted sentences full of subordinate clauses, answering questions indirectly, admitting that he was “embarrassed,” and looking extremely uncomfortable, Kennedy made a weak impression—he looked guilty. He left his position as Stanford president soon thereafter.
The differences between Oliver North’s and Donald Kennedy’s presentations may have had little to do with personality or individual style. Kennedy was not only a distinguished scientist but a successful and effective teacher; he had testified in front of Congress numerous times before, and many people watching his testimony who knew him say he seemed like a different person. He came to the hearings prepared, as did North. What differed was how they chose to present themselves, how they decided to act, and the impression they made. Kennedy wanted to express contrition; North chose to convey incredulity—how could he be questioned?—and some righteous anger. As we will see later in this chapter, expressing anger is usually much more effective than expressing sadness, guilt, or remorse in being seen as powerful.
We choose how we will act and talk, and those decisions are consequential for acquiring and holding on to power.
I think the sociopath has a natural advantage in acting without shame, because we don't react the same way to other people's sense of moral outrage. Not that sociopaths have the monopoly on shamelessness, but I do think it is one of our more potent weapons in getting away with things and getting what we want.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
