I believe that many people who
were abused as children do themselves—and the entire struggle—a disservice when
they refer to themselves as "survivors." A long time ago, I found
myself in the middle of a war zone. I was not killed. Hence, I
"survived." That was happenstance ... just plain luck, not due to any
greatness of character or heroism on my part. But what about those raised in a
POW camp called "childhood?" Some of those children not only lived
through it, not only refused
to imitate the oppressor (evil is a decision, not a destiny), but actually
maintained sufficient empathy to care about the protection of other children once they
themselves became adults and were "out of danger."
To me, such people are our
greatest heroes. They represent the hope of our species, living proof that
there is nothing bio–genetic about child abuse. I call them transcenders, because
"surviving" (i.e., not dying from) child abuse is not the significant
thing. It is when chance
becomes choice that people
distinguish themselves. Two little children are abused. Neither dies. One grows
up and becomes a child abuser. The other becomes a child protector. One
"passes it on." One "breaks the cycle." Should we call them
both by the same name? Not in my book. (And not in my books, either.)
The
“sociopath,” boiled down, is someone who routinely does,
and takes,
what she
wants,
unconcerned with the impact of her
behavior on others. Nothing in my mind defines her
essence more than this concise, factual description. She
is rather unique, and thus diagnosable as a sociopath, to this
precise extent.
Sure,
we’ve discussed this before, but it always merits, in my view,
fresh reconsideration. And so let me add, I think, an important
caveat: The sociopath doesn’t necessarily feel she
has the “right” to what she’s
pursuing,
or planning
to take.
Rather,
she
doesn’t feel she
needs
the right. She
just needs the want. Simply
wanting
what
she
wants, with or without the right
to it, meets herstandard
for laying claim
to her
quarry.
Because
after all, you may ask the sociopath, “Did you have a ‘right’
to take
that? To steal
it?” And she
may answer, with intellectual honesty, “No. I realize,
intellectually, that I had no
right
to what I took.”
Which
gets to the nub, the essence, of her
condition: Her
“right” to what she
wanted wasn’t relevant, didn’t even enter her
thinking; rather, herwanting
it was the sole
factor necessary
to support hercomfortable,
non-conflictual pursuit
of it.
To
sum up, the sociopath’s disordered essence is captured best in herpattern
of taking,without
remorse,
what intellectually she
may very well know doesn’t
belong to her—she
has no
right to
it—yet she
takes it anyway.
To
be clear: when I say that the sociopath intellectually
can understand she
may lack the “right” to what he’s taking, I’m not
suggesting that she
lacks a sense of entitlement. Quite the contrary: her
sense of entitlement is all the more astounding for herintellectual
awareness
that she
may lack the “right” to what she
wants,
yet still takes
it. In
doing so, she
is exhibiting self-entitlement, and attitudes of contempt, in their
gaudiest, most audacious forms.
One
always must beware of oversimplifying complicated concepts. The
sociopath’s disorder is complex on many levels. Yet on some levels
the sociopath’s mentality isn’t so complicated at all. In some
respects it’s pretty simple.
In
this article I suggest the sociopath is, essentially, that strange,
disconcerting, disruptive individual with a history, and pattern, of
taking
from
others what doesn’t
belong to her
with an impoverished sense of shame and remorse. When you confront an
individual with this history and pattern, you are dealing with a
sociopath.
