I’d rather be a sociopath than a far-right nutcase

THE fascinating question of whether our moral compass is formed by human emotions such as empathy, guilt and shame, or by religious indoctrination or upbringing, is highlighted in self-described sociopath Patric Gagne’s memoir. Most of us equate sociopaths with The Talented Mr Ripley or Malcolm Macarthur, who murdered two people in cold blood. Yet apart from admittedly shocking youthful crimes like plunging a pencil into a school pal’s head and breaking into houses for fun, violence and crime are not part of Patric’s life.

It’s not because she cares about other people; she frankly admits she couldn’t give a damn. It’s because she knows that staying on the straight and narrow guarantees her and her family a better life.

For her, doing the right thing is a tradeoff between personal gain, like staying out of prison, and her compulsion to lash out in frustration at feeling an outcast.

Gagne’s book, Sociopath: A Memoir, coincides with Confessions Of A Sociopath author ME Thomas saying her lack of emotions and concern for the opinions of others helped her further her career as a lawyer.

BOTH women’s claims of the benefits of their condition would almost make one think that being a sociopath is something to envy. Critics accuse Gagne and Thomas of peddling selfserving narratives, entirely in keeping with their chilling and manipulative natures and devoid of remorse for the hurt and pain they cause.

They claim that showing humans diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder – to use the correct term rather than the popular jargon – living moral lives is a slippery slope towards sanitising other odious behaviour such as bullying or cruelty. But is that really true?

For there is no moral equivalence between sociopaths who conquer their evil impulses and, for instance, our army of swivel-eyed far-right extremists who lean into their worst instincts at every turn.

I wouldn’t sign up for a sociopath’s life in a hurry, but I’d prefer it to firing toxic missives into the Twittersphere, summoning the mob to hate-fuelled anti-immigrant protests, and using threats of violence and intimidation to prevent the Government from providing emergency accommodation for migrants.

The nasty invective of the far right, underpinned by their ignorant belief that saying something makes it true, is, according to departing Fine Gael TD Ciarán Cannon, ‘one of the main reasons’ politicians are quitting.

But it’s not just public representatives who are demoralised and terrified by the onslaught of conspiracy theory and grievance politics, buttressed by a contempt for institutions and precedent. Jobs carry risks now that they never did before. Members of the independent case processing panel that assesses asylum applicants are asking for anonymity in any published information lest they become ‘targets’ in the climate of fear and loathing around international protection. What other sectors will be forced to reckon with vigilante groups and mob rule?

ANY armchair psychologist can have a go at explaining the personality type drawn to rabblerousing and the mindless hysteria of right-wing sheep, aimed at unravelling the social and democratic fabric.

But why waste time on understanding or empathy for people who are unlikely to care unless it benefits their fear-mongering cause? Clearly it’s not just sociopaths who know no guilt, empathy or shame.