Thursday, October 9, 2014

Liking and not liking

A reader asked me if I dislike wearing masks and what else I might like doing:

I think that it's easy to start resenting the mask if you feel like you have to wear it, that other people or your circumstances are making you wear it. And then you will do little things to act out, like a put-upon husband will look for ways to escape or sabotage his marriage, maybe. I am not sure the acting is sustainable, but the older you get, I think the less scrutinized you become.

For me the most satisfying thing I do is playing music. It's manipulative and I control it but it also controls me. It's what the best love affairs are supposed to be, I imagine. Apart from that, I think I just like doing something that I'm good at and getting caught up in the flow. I like things that occupy my complete attention, whatever they may be. They give me a respite from myself and the circular thoughts plague me. If I don't have something else to think about, I feel like my thoughts turn in on themselves, like an ingrown toe nail or like I'm standing in between two mirrors. They quickly turn meta and then meta upon meta. 

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.  


Tuesday, October 7, 2014

A (sociopathic?) poem

A young poet reader seeks to capture the sociopathic mind (accurately?):

A Sociopathic Mind
Should I laugh or should I cry?                                                                                                                            To this tragedy before my eyes                                                                                                                    Emotions and feelings tumble about,                                                                                                                     While I wonder why people need to shout.
Surrounded by exclamations of joy and fear,                                                                                                                I quietly sit with my crocodile tears.                                                                                                        Everything on this earth is part of my twisted game,                                                                                          And I am the hidden beast you cannot tame.
As the endless cycle of doldrums takes its toll,                                                                                                          I secretly plot on the avarice of souls.                                                                                                                           Deceit and lies are the tools of my trade,                                                                                                            Tools I use at my continuous bade.                                                            
I am the one with a thousand faces,                                                                                                                   To suit a multiple and plethora of tastes.                                                                                                                       And while I am different from all the rest,                                                                                                        There is no need for you to be in duress.
I live my life as a continuous gamble,                                                                                                                     With facts and odds and where loot lies ample.                                                                                              And while I do not plot for your ultimate demise,                                                                                               To cross me would be wholly unwise.
My kind hides behind charm and misconceptions,                                                                                               So I hope you will forgive us for our little deception.                                                                                         With our piercing gaze, we watch the sheep                                                                                                You will never guess what our souls shall reap.
I can be found wherever my whims takes thee,                                                                                               Even if my impulses might bring either harm or glee.                                                                                     We are free from the shackles society has set,                                                                                                       And will fulfill our goals with either charisma or threat.
We are actually a peaceful lot despite what TV has said,                                                                             Even if we do not care, we do not want you dead.                                                                                       We just want games to quench our thirst,                                                                                                          To relieve the boredom that makes our mind burst.
We see the world in a different light,                                                                                                                          Where emotions are irreverent and pragmaticity is might.                                                                            We follow the rules and love one another,                                                                                                          Although our minds are programmed differently than others.
As this poem comes to a finality and an end 
I hope that you and I can still be friends 
Even though you know I am hidden in the flock 
Fitting in a circle hole as a square block

Monday, October 6, 2014

Never Home School a Sociopath

From a reader (and let's play a game where we guess what gender the sociopathic reader is then I tell you at the end):

M.E.,

First, I do want to express my sincere appreciation for your having written your book.  There are so many expressions of your perspective that absolutely take my breath away with their accuracy.  I really thought I was the only one who thought the same things.

Let me start by saying that I am a miserably bad sociopath.  I have all the intellect, the lack of emotion, the ruthlessness, the egoism and swagger, the charm, the wit, the lack of absolute moral code, etc.  I rate fairly high but not the highest on every sociopath "test" I've taken so far, mostly because many tests unfairly include causing harm to others a requisite.  However, I often fail when it comes to using these advantages in the workplace or in my personal life.  When I do succeed (and I definitely have), it's often due more to raw talent and intelligence than any utilization of my skill set.

You see, for a long time, I was (and still am in some ways) completely and unfairly crippled by the fact that I was home schooled from 4th through 7th grade.  Being thrown into the lion's den of junior high school with no context or social capabilities would be bad enough for an empath, but is obviously a nightmare for someone like me.  To have those years back and be able to observe and participate in the most essential social development years would be invaluable to me.

As a result of this, I stumbled my way through my teen years, always a few degrees off kilter from everyone else and unable to understand that they most decidedly did not think or feel like me.  In fact, not even knowing there was any other way to think or feel.  I would often enter social situations and groups, dazzling them with the native charm but fairly quickly become the most hated member of the circle without ever knowing why.  They just knew somehow that I was not like them, that I didn't relate to anything they were saying or feeling.

This background has turned me into a different sort of sociopath, I think.  I have developed an abhorrence for harming others; you see, everyone I could harm during my social development years was someone essential to my survival or personal enjoyment.  This left me completely defenseless when dumped unceremoniously into the public world.  Also as a result of this, I've probably also suffered more harm than they typical sociopath might, as i developed an extreme hesitation to strike back and have typically been utterly naive to possible threats to my person.

I could go on, but you're no stranger to the aspects of wearing this strange mantle.  Suffice it to say that, although it's rather late, I'm glad to finally feel free to know and be who I am. 

Female.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Am I a sociopath?

A reader wonders if he is a sociopath:

I had no idea what a sociopath is. Before I saw the American psycho movie a psychopath was synonym to killer in my dictionary and I am certainly not a killer so psychopath was just not the answer I've been looking for. But the movie made me do some research and stuff and now sociopath may be the answer to all my questions.

I was ten years old when I realised that I am not an ordinary child, I grew up in a muslim family with two kind and loving parents (especially my mother), my father owned a farm where we would go and spend the week-ends. You would assume that I have killed some animals in our farm but I never did. However, I did torture them all and each time I was caught by my father or any of the workers I was beaten to the ground which I didn't understand back then, but they've always told me my soul would burn in hell if I kept doing it which eventually caused me to stop. But each time they would beat me, I would sit alone and ask myself a lot of questions, what did I do wrong? Why is he hitting me? Why care for an animal? Maybe he loves the animal more than me? ... the day I figured it out I was so scared of what I've been doing that I had to create a new me, one that can cover all the evil I've been doing, so I would invent a nerd version of me, for a whole year it was just A's and books and a lonely time in my room, which would comfort my parents for a while, but I wasn't satisfied with the change I've done, I could always sense the presence of the evil within me, and the fact that everyone else seemed so innocent made me hate them all.

 by the time I was fourteen I had to create new layers of my new personality, I developed an athletic me who excelled in boxing and basket-ball, later it has become easy to create layers or masks at any moment I want. I would invent a romantic guy, the bad-ass, the good-guy, the naive, and my favorite the stupid guy. And, I never let them go, in fact I've been always aware of people around me, I could tell what they're thinking, how they're feeling. I used my masks to make contact with them, in a point that they would always feel comfortable to me, and from then it was cake to make them do whatever I wanted. The sad thing is that I did it even with my parents. At high-school I convinced my parents step-by-step that I was seing ghosts, and that I may be losing my mind so they would buy me the car I wanted, and I don't know if the psychiatrist they brought me, sucks at his job or did I excel at acting, that guy confirmed my imaginary show. I manipulated a lot of people, and I knew it was bad ,but I was good at it. And It seemed enough for me to keep on doing it. It was then when my insomnia started, and until tody I only sleep twice a week for a few hours, then I'm on the clock. Not that I spend my nights regretting anything, I never have this kind of problem, I usually spend the nights wandering the Streets looking for trouble or adventures, and at sunrise I have to shower, look good then go back to my game. With time, questions kept bothering me. Who am I? everyone seemed obsessed with seeking validation from other fellow humans, except me, why am I so different? And, why am I doing this? I got bored after all, people were getting dumber and dumber and I couldn't find a challenge, game over I've beaten the boss. Then I taught I should look for a new passion, and I was either going back to torturing animals, explore killing and stuff; Or turn the Wheel for 360 degrees and seek redemption, which I am still looking for.

 I helped a lot of people in the last two years, probably more than those I've ruined their lives. The interesting case was sam, she had some Relationship problems both in her family and with her boyfriend, (both relationships that I've never had) yet I've been able to anticipate sam's choices in a way that kept her away from harm, and strengthen her confidence, what I didn't anticipate was when sam told me she's in love with me. I panicked, and sam never heard of me again. Love doesn't make any sense to me, most people are seeking it, even in the movies, books, the human world is based on love. Which made mine seem so different. I've never loved someone, I missed people for sure, but it wouldn't cause me any mood change, or disturb my thinking. I've helped a lot of guys to seduce their crushes, I even get messages from friends saying that I give the best advice, and that I have a huge wisdom about life. That they cherish me and that I'm big in their eyes, even if I take everything theoretically; Because my logic is flawless, my lack of feelings, helps my brain to think logically.
For the physical part I am a good looking guy, tall with dark hair and big golden eyes, a strong chin and an athletic body that I managed to keep sculpted disregard my lack of sleep. So maybe I am a sociopath, maybe I am something else. I guess if my actions were of sociopathy I would find the redemption I've been seeking. If not then I am what I am.
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