E
EasterJoy
Guest
"After listening for almost twenty-five years to the stories my patients tell me about sociopaths who have invaded and injured their lives, when I am asked, “How can I tell whom not to trust?” the answer I give usually surprises people. The natural expectation is that I will describe some sinister-sounding detail of behavior or snippet of body language or threatening use of language that is the subtle giveaway. Instead, I take people aback by assuring them that the tip-off is none of these things, for none of these things is reliably present. Rather, the best clue is, of all things, the pity play.* The most reliable sign, the most universal behavior of unscrupulous people is not directed, as one might imagine, at our fearfulness. It is, perversely, an appeal to our sympathy.**
"I first learned this when I was still a graduate student in psychology and had the opportunity to interview a court-referred patient the system had already identified as a “psychopath.” He was not violent, preferring instead to swindle people out of their money with elaborate investment scams. Intrigued by this individual and what could possibly motivate him-I was young enough to think he was a rare sort of person-I asked, “What is important to you in your life? What do you want more than anything else?”
"I thought he might say “getting money,” or “staying out of jail,” which were the activities to which he devoted most of his time. Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, he replied, "Oh, that’s easy. What I like better than anything else is when people feel sorry for me. The thing I really want more than anything else out of life is people’s pity."
"I was astonished, and more than a little put off. I think I would have liked him better if he had said “staying out of jail,” or even “getting money.” Also, I was mystified. Why would this man-why would anyone wish to be pitied, let alone wish to be pitied above all other ambitions? I could not imagine. But now, after twenty-five years of listening to victims, I realize there is an excellent reason for the sociopathic fondness for pity. As obvious as the nose on one’s face, and just as difficult to see without the help of a mirror, the explanation is that good people will let pathetic individuals get by with murder, so to speak, and therefore any sociopath wishing to continue with his game, whatever it happens to be, should play repeatedly for none other than pity.
"**More than admiration --more even than fear–pity from good people is carte blanche. **When we pity, we are, at least for the moment, defenseless, and like so many of the other essentially positive human characteristics that bind us together in groups-social and professional roles, sexual bonds, regard for the compassionate and the creative, respect for our leaders-our emotional vulnerability when we pity is used against us by those who have no conscience. Most of us would agree that giving special dispensation to someone who is incapable of feeling guilt is a bad idea, but often, when an individual presents himself as pathetic, we do so nonetheless.
"Pity and sympathy are forces for good when they are reactions to deserving people who have fallen on misfortune. But when these sentiments are wrested out of us by the undeserving, by people whose behavior is consistently antisocial, this is a sure sign that something is wrong, a potentially useful danger signal that we often overlook. **Perhaps the most easily recognized example is the battered wife whose sociopathic husband beats her routinely and then sits at the kitchen table, head in his hands, moaning that he cannot control himself and that he is a poor wretch whom she must find it in her heart to forgive. **There are countless other examples, a seemingly endless variety, some even more flagrant than the violent spouse and some almost subliminal. And for those of us who do have conscience, such situations, no matter how brazen, seem to present us emotionally with a kind of embedded figure puzzle, in which the background design (the appeal for pity) continually overcomes our perceptions of the more important embedded picture (the antisocial behavior).
"In long retrospect, sociopathic appeals for pity are preposterous and chilling.*
Stout, Martha. (2005). The Sociopath Next Door : the ruthless versus the rest of us (1st ed.). New York: Broadway Books.
This is what we see over and over again here: A sociopath goes out looking for a spouse who will fall for the pity play every time, and where does he find lush and beautiful picking? In a Catholic church! Always remember what Pope Francis had to say about confessors, the Church’s professional dispensers of mercy. Mercy is love, which is to say mercy concerns itself with bringing the sinner to sanctity. Mercy does not give in to a sinner who begs to remain in sin any more than it would give in to a child who begs to avoid the pain of the treatment that will save his life. Mercy sees the big picture. When someone plays for pity in order to avoid amending his or her life, don’t give it to them. Remain kind, but whatever you do, don’t let them play the pity card on you. If that is their whole deck, back away and stay off their radar.
"I first learned this when I was still a graduate student in psychology and had the opportunity to interview a court-referred patient the system had already identified as a “psychopath.” He was not violent, preferring instead to swindle people out of their money with elaborate investment scams. Intrigued by this individual and what could possibly motivate him-I was young enough to think he was a rare sort of person-I asked, “What is important to you in your life? What do you want more than anything else?”
"I thought he might say “getting money,” or “staying out of jail,” which were the activities to which he devoted most of his time. Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, he replied, "Oh, that’s easy. What I like better than anything else is when people feel sorry for me. The thing I really want more than anything else out of life is people’s pity."
"I was astonished, and more than a little put off. I think I would have liked him better if he had said “staying out of jail,” or even “getting money.” Also, I was mystified. Why would this man-why would anyone wish to be pitied, let alone wish to be pitied above all other ambitions? I could not imagine. But now, after twenty-five years of listening to victims, I realize there is an excellent reason for the sociopathic fondness for pity. As obvious as the nose on one’s face, and just as difficult to see without the help of a mirror, the explanation is that good people will let pathetic individuals get by with murder, so to speak, and therefore any sociopath wishing to continue with his game, whatever it happens to be, should play repeatedly for none other than pity.
"**More than admiration --more even than fear–pity from good people is carte blanche. **When we pity, we are, at least for the moment, defenseless, and like so many of the other essentially positive human characteristics that bind us together in groups-social and professional roles, sexual bonds, regard for the compassionate and the creative, respect for our leaders-our emotional vulnerability when we pity is used against us by those who have no conscience. Most of us would agree that giving special dispensation to someone who is incapable of feeling guilt is a bad idea, but often, when an individual presents himself as pathetic, we do so nonetheless.
"Pity and sympathy are forces for good when they are reactions to deserving people who have fallen on misfortune. But when these sentiments are wrested out of us by the undeserving, by people whose behavior is consistently antisocial, this is a sure sign that something is wrong, a potentially useful danger signal that we often overlook. **Perhaps the most easily recognized example is the battered wife whose sociopathic husband beats her routinely and then sits at the kitchen table, head in his hands, moaning that he cannot control himself and that he is a poor wretch whom she must find it in her heart to forgive. **There are countless other examples, a seemingly endless variety, some even more flagrant than the violent spouse and some almost subliminal. And for those of us who do have conscience, such situations, no matter how brazen, seem to present us emotionally with a kind of embedded figure puzzle, in which the background design (the appeal for pity) continually overcomes our perceptions of the more important embedded picture (the antisocial behavior).
"In long retrospect, sociopathic appeals for pity are preposterous and chilling.*
Stout, Martha. (2005). The Sociopath Next Door : the ruthless versus the rest of us (1st ed.). New York: Broadway Books.
This is what we see over and over again here: A sociopath goes out looking for a spouse who will fall for the pity play every time, and where does he find lush and beautiful picking? In a Catholic church! Always remember what Pope Francis had to say about confessors, the Church’s professional dispensers of mercy. Mercy is love, which is to say mercy concerns itself with bringing the sinner to sanctity. Mercy does not give in to a sinner who begs to remain in sin any more than it would give in to a child who begs to avoid the pain of the treatment that will save his life. Mercy sees the big picture. When someone plays for pity in order to avoid amending his or her life, don’t give it to them. Remain kind, but whatever you do, don’t let them play the pity card on you. If that is their whole deck, back away and stay off their radar.
