The republic of sociopathy

I had an interesting experience tonight. My mom has been a member of a book club for awhile and wanted to go to tonight's meeting, but her eyesight has been so bad lately she wasn't able to drive herself. Naturally, I drove her and went with her. The book club is really odd. They don't all read a book and discuss it; one person reads a book and presents it to the group. I don't know, that just seems weird to me. Where's the context?

The presenter tonight was a psychiatrist my mom knows who presented The Sociopath Next Door, by Martha Stout. The interesting thing about the presentation was that as the man was talking, people started interrupting him to put their views in, to ask unrelated questions, and to generally just hold their own conversations. I could tell the man was getting frustrated, and I can understand that; no one wants to be interrupted and talked over when they are giving a presentation. Anyway, the subject was something I've always found interesting and it struck me that beyond the physical boundaries of neurology (being wired a certain way), the discussion of people and their personalities and dysfunction is very much a philosophical endeavor.

The book discussed the different character traits for sociopaths and the ways they are different from other people. It seems fairly clear that there are genetic markers for these things, as people will often be adopted by loving parents (having been born to sociopaths) and grow up to be sociopaths. Obviously, there are environmental factors, too, but I am positive we are going to find more and more evidence for genetics being the overwhelming indicator for our larger personality. When people were asking the presenter questions it struck me as odd that no one (until the end) asked the question I thought would be foremost on everyone's mind: how can we know when we are dealing with a sociopath? The truth is, we generally do not know, until they hurt us. We've all had those experiences, of course. I told my mom that every boss I ever had in the film business was a sociopath and I've had some friends who turned out to be sociopaths. But how can we know these people in our first dealings with them?

This is where I think philosophy asserts itself: in trying to understand who and why these people are, we are trying to attach meaning to it and to them and to our interactions with them. For example: I often use the unusual case of Ted and David Kaczynski; here were two brothers, very different from each other, whose fates were tied not just by relation, but by the very difference in their characters. Ted became a murderer with the intention of bringing an end to technology, while David became an upstanding citizen who had the integrity to turn his brother in for his crimes when he realized the connection. That is such an incredibly profound statement of meaning. When I use this example, many of my students say that they can't imagine turning in a sibling for crimes he or she committed. I often wonder if they would feel the same way if they knew that if they didn't turn him or her in they would be responsible for any suffering or death their sibling caused. I think that is where we find the meaning: in our own roles and the ways we relate them to ourselves. We seek to know these things because we seek to use the information in our lives. Why else do we seek to know? Is there any other reason?

One of the questions someone asked was, coincidentally, about people with autism. She compared people with autism to sociopaths because they "couldn't make eye contact and couldn't feel empathy for other people's feelings." (at which point I turned to my mother and literally bit my hand to keep from saying anything) The presenter was very kind and simply told her that the two were not the same; I think he may have missed the opportunity to talk about intent, and the role that plays in wrong behavior. But the question would still remain: if this is genetic, can it be wrong? If it is genetic, is it simply something that is different and nothing else? I wonder. Anyway, back to the point: I'm extremely curious by nature and love to learn and know. But is there anything that I try to learn that isn't of use to me? No. I don't read about things that I don't find interesting, because things are interesting to me in a very personal way. Everyone is like that, obviously. So, I am left to wonder, still, if knowledge, the seeking of knowledge is nothing more than utilitarian and lacks a larger, extended meaning.

We like to think that we're a part of things, part of other people. We join groups, we make friends, we identify ourselves with others. When I started reading more about the skeptic movement (a name I don't like, btw), I realized that I had more in common with that ideology than with many other. But the truth is, I am I, I think what I think, and it has nothing to do with anyone else. Just like everyone else. The coming together thing is happenstance and lacks an overwhelming meaning because we didn't choose to come together with those particular people; we chose to come together with people who think like we do. Again, it's ultimately self serving and that's a teensy bit disturbing. If everything we do and are is ultimately self serving, what happens to meaning? Does it only exist in the very singular sense? How can it?

The path I'm exploring betrays my love for existentialism and the idea of sovereignty and a lack of meaning. It's uncomfortable, though. I want there to be a larger meaning to being human; I want there to be something more than what I think and say and do. I want there to be meaning beyond the singular, meaning that is necessarily attached to human deeds. But I am forced to admit that meaning doesn't truly exist beyond the singular. So, the understanding of the sociopath next door is only valuable insofar as it informs us in very particular ways. The meaning for me is one of trying to understand how other people think, what it means to be human, etc. That is indicative of my training but also the way I think and have always thought. Someone else, someone who doesn't really care what other people do and think would only find it interesting insofar as it encroached on their actions, perhaps. But the meaning remains the same in quantity and quality because it doesn't ultimately matter. I can try to convince you or anyone else of something all day long, but unless you want to be convinced by me, you will not be convinced by me. Hell, you will decide that I mean something I do not actually mean, because that is what that thing means to you. Meaning is.... meaningless.

Ah hell, that's depressing. I think I might need to argue with myself over this one for awhile. I must get to the other side of this idea or I will start to question the validity of my job! eek. Maybe I'll get back to you on this one. I'm not proofreading this, it might have some holes where I thought I was clear but was utterly unclear. Sorry, must scoot to my mom's house; our plumbing is on the fritz, and darlings let me tell you! that has profound meaning. To me.

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