Saturday, July 13, 2013

Sociopath quote: hiding in plain sight

Every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are, and those few dare not oppose themselves to the opinion of the many, who have the majesty of the state to defend them.

-- Niccolò Machiavelli

Friday, July 12, 2013

A rose by any other name

As a follow-up to the sociopathy = criminality? post, this selection from Martha Stout's Sociopath Next Door on whether culture plays a role in creating a sociopath, or even more interestingly, "curing" one:
Apparently, cultural influences play a very important role in the development (or not) of sociopathy in any given population. Few people would disagree that, from the Wild West of the past to the corporate outlaws of the present, American society seems to allow and even encourage me-first attitudes devoted to the pursuit of domination. Robert Hare writes that he believes "our society is moving in the direction of permitting, reinforcing, and in some instances actually valuing some of the traits listed in the Psychopathy Checklist—traits such as impulsivity, irresponsibility, lack of remorse."

In this opinion he is joined by theorists who propose that North American culture, which holds individualism as a central value, tends to foster the development of antisocial behavior, and also to disguise it. In other words, in America, the guiltless manipulation of other people "blends" with social expectations to a much greater degree than it would in China or other more group-centered societies.

I believe there is a shinier side of this coin, too, one that begs the question of why certain cultures seem to encourage prosocial behavior. So much against the odds, how is it that some societies have a positive impact on incipient sociopaths, who are born with an inability to process interpersonal emotions in the usual way? I would like to suggest that the overriding belief systems of certain cultures encourage born sociopaths to compensate cognitively for what they are missing emotionally. In contrast with our extreme emphasis on individualism and personal control, certain cultures, many in East Asia, dwell theologically on the interrelatedness of all living things.

Interestingly, this value is also the basis of conscience, which is an intervening sense of obligation rooted in a sense of connectedness. If an individual does not, or if neurologically he cannot, experience his connection to others in an emotional way, perhaps a culture that insists on connectedness as a matter of belief can instill a strictly cognitive understanding of interpersonal obligation.

An intellectual grasp of one's duties to others is not the same attribute as the powerfully directive emotion we call conscience, but perhaps it is enough to extract prosocial behavior from at least some individuals who would have behaved only in antisocial ways had they been living in a society that emphasized individualism rather than interrelatedness. Though they lack an internal mechanism that tells them they are connected to others, the larger culture insists to them that they are so connected—as opposed to our culture, which informs them resoundingly that their ability to act guiltlessly on their own behalf is the ultimate advantage. This would explain why a Western family by itself cannot redeem a born sociopath. There are too many other voices in the larger society implying that his approach to the world is correct.

As a tiny example, had Skip [previously mentioned sociopath in the book] the American been born into a strongly Buddhist culture, or Shinto, would he have killed all those frogs? Perhaps, or perhaps not. His brain would have been the same, but all the people around him would have maintained that respect for life was necessary. Everyone in his world would have been of the same mind, including his wealthy parents, his teachers, his playmates, and maybe even the celebrities he saw on television. Skip would still have been Skip. He would have felt no honor for the frogs, no guilt if he murdered them, no repugnance, but he might have refrained from doing so because his culture had unanimously taught him a lesson, something on the order of proper table manners, about how to fit in—a lesson that his perfectly good intellect had mastered. Sociopaths do not care about their social world, but they do want, and need, to blend in with it.
I'm curious whether Dr. Stout believes that the Shinto version of the sociopath Skip would still be a sociopath. In other words, if Skip's brain is the same, if Skip is still Skip and wanted to kill those frogs but refrained from cultural/spiritual beliefs or influences, does he remain a sociopath? Is a sociopath his behaviors or his thoughts and inclinations?

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Being open about mental illness?

I was watching a television show where one of the characters is applying for college. She had been suffering mental health issues, including a brief hospitalization. After getting rejected from schools, her counselor blamed it on her admissions essays. Particularly, he took issue with her discussion of how she  successfully made it out of the institution. He calls it overshare, she says that she is just being honest and that this is her greatest source of pride. He argues that it's not the fact that she struggles with a mental illness that is necessarily the bad thing, but in this current climate of mass shootings, schools would not be willing to take a chance on anyone who admits to having a mental disorder. In other words, it’s fine to have a mental disorder, but it’s quite another thing to admit to it.

But what is the signaling power of discussing mental issues (not just disorders but depression, suicidal or violent thoughts, etc.). Does the willingness to vocalize these thoughts mean that you are particularly bad off? Or particularly likely to act on them? Or particularly unstable? Possibly, because if there is a social norm of never discussing these issues, then you are certainly violating this social norm and people who violate social norms are often written off as being dangerous and anti-social. On the other hand, what is the origin and purpose of the social norm? Do we think it’s particularly harmful for people to express these thoughts? That perhaps by voicing the thoughts, they move one step towards acting on them? Or is it simply that we find these thoughts distasteful, the same way we know we all defecate, but it’s highly inappropriate to discuss one's irritable bowel syndrome in public (which perhaps explains all of the commercial advertisements addressing highly embarrassing bodily dysfunctions? People can't talk about it so you have to reach them directly?). But a major reason why we don’t talk about defecation is because we have natural visceral reactions to it (the same way we gag at the smell of vomit). Why such a strong reaction against bad thoughts?

I watched Silver Linings Playbook recently and thought it was a great portrayal of the sorts of internal and social struggles that people with mental illness deal with. Once these people get their disorder under control, what do they have to look forward to? Working minimum wage at a fast food place or mowing lawns? Living with their parents and other family members for the rest of their lives? Certainly not attending university or getting a good job, not without both omitting their mental health struggles and coming up with a plausible explanation to explain a résumé gap. So no, the struggle/stigma with mental illness doesn’t stop after treatment success. And how does society benefit from perpetuating the stigma? Maybe they can more plausibly lie to themselves that their school or place of employment is free of whackjob crazies. They’re not, and the ones that are there are probably the ones who never sought treatment -- which is more dangerous?

Of course all of this goes double for sociopaths. Crazy people are just sick, but sociopaths choose to be that way. 

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

External vs. internal limitations

I try not to let my diagnosis of being a sociopath define me or change me. One of my friends told me, I think wisely, "I wish that you had never heard of the word sociopath, that you just lived your life without knowing that there was a label for what you are." Labels can be very limiting and I wouldn't want to ever be frozen, without making any effort to grow and develop as a person.

One of my favorite stories of not falling prey to percevied limitations involves the filming of the opening shot of Sunset Boulevard:

For the opening shot of William Holden floating face down in the swimming pool, Wilder wanted a shot from below that would show both the body and the police and photographers standing at the pool's edge.

They tried putting the camera in a waterproof case and putting it on the bottom of the pool, but the quality of the shot was not good. Then art director John Meehan had the idea of putting a mirror on the bottom of the pool. That didn't work either because the water created too much distortion. But Meehan reasoned that because cold water distorts less than warm water, if he could chill the water enough, they could manage. Although extremely uncomfortable for actor William Holden, they got the shot.

The thing is that if the artistic choice was up to Meehan, he probably would have never thought to do that shot because it wouldn't have been within the realm of possibilities for him. That's the problem with growing up -- the more we learn about the way the world works, the less original our thoughts. It was only Billy Wilder insisting that the shot be that way that made Meehan even bother to go through all possible solutions -- if only to prove to Wilder that it could not be done. But it could. And it is one of the most iconic images in all of film.

I often wonder what my personal limits are, if any. Mormons have a teaching that the purpose of life is that all things might fulfill the measure of their creation, people, animals, plants, planets, everything. Mormons also believe that God "created every man different from his brother" and that institutions thrive when "when we take advantage of this diversity and encourage each other to develop and use our talents to lift and strengthen." The basic idea is that we are to be our best selves, whatever that self happens to be. But could most people say with absolute certainty that they even know who their best self is? Where is the proper line drawn between realistic and loving self acceptance and a desire to be "good" in one's own opinion versus the opinions of those who love you? Sometimes I think to myself, God must have created me differently to fulfill a different purpose than other people. But could I really be more normal than I think? Could I grow a conscience? Or practice empathy enough to the point where I too can feel what others are feeling? If I self-identify as a sociopath who will always be flawed in certain ways with limited opportunity for change, would that be a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Bad but redeemable?

In the NY Times review of the book, Jon Ronson wrote that I simultaneously humanized and demonized myself. Some of my friends and family are a little upset that I didn't focus more on my "good" traits in the book, I think partly because it makes them look a like idiots for choosing to like me. Most people do not focus on their bad traits -- their every bad thought and motivation. Most people carefully craft a persona that they present to the world full of flattering photographs taken from the right angle and lighting and a résumé that shellacs over flaws and imperfections. I didn't want to whitewash myself or the traits of sociopathy. But I was also hoping to not convey that I thought that having the label "sociopath" meant I was all badass and there's nothing anyone can do about things. There actually are a lot of things people can do about it to make my life miserable and it's not too absurd to think that eventually all sociopaths really will be locked up or otherwise isolated from general society. But I was hoping to show that despite having some negative or potentially dangerous characteristics, there is still some hope for everyone, sociopaths and non. Because if someone as unlikeable as me can manage to be work and be loved in my own way, then it suggests there are ways to properly integrate sociopaths into society in pro-social ways.

Along those same lines, from a reader, Sarah:

From what I can tell, you're a clinical douchebag who deserves the Nobel Prize.  This kind of blows my mind, makes me slightly uncomfortable, and also boosts my faith in the survival of the human race.  Congrats.

I've just finished your book, and frankly, I'm not at all certain that "you" actually wrote that book or, if you did, whether any of it is factual or not.  But if it's a scam or fake, it's a great one, and if it's true -- if you actually do exist as an ethical, self-aware sociopath -- you've done all the "normal" and "abnormal" humans on the planet a great service by writing a memoir.

I'm an empath who has a visceral revulsion towards sociopaths, narcissists, and sadists (not that these are the same categories, but there are some similarities.)  I've had my personal run-ins (even been almost "ruined" by one), and I've witnessed well-paid sociopaths royally fucking up our economy and society.  So I wasn't inclined to like or respect you at all when I started reading the book.  

And there are certainly some things you describe that make me want to puke, or beat the shit out of you.  However, this desire to slap you across the face, which waxed and waned as I read, made me realize that even I have sociopathic traits, and that everybody else does, too.  No matter how guilt-ridden, emotional, and attuned to the feelings of other people we empaths are, everyone sometimes wants to exercise their power, take advantage of weakness, or feel in control of their environment.  My desire to hit you emerges solely from a wish to demonstrate that I am tougher, smarter, and more powerful than the Biggest Bitch in the Room.  If that's not a sociopathic impulse, I don't know what is.

So, speaking for the empaths (as I'm sure many have done before me), thanks for drumming up some self-reflection of the type I generally avoid.  I attend to myself carefully in many ways, and am quite aware of various weaknesses.  It's just that I usually frame my weaknesses as a surplus of love and squishiness, rather than a surplus of power-hunger or calculation.

Regarding that Nobel: if even a shit like you turns out to be not so much a shit as a regular human being who happens to function at the far end of a mysterious spectrum, then maybe we all have something pro-peace/pro-social to offer.  I absolutely love the suggestions you make for helping sociopathic kids, and I honestly believe they would not go amiss if applied to any young human who is different in some way.

Thanks, asshole.
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