Psychopathy, Freedom, and Criminal Behavior
This paper by the forensic psychiatrist Seymour Halleck was first published in the Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic in 1966. His fundamental hypothesis is that psychopathy is a defensive search for painless freedom from objects. His premise is thought provoking and was partially stimulated by the previous work by Miller. To be sure, the scientific evidence concerning psychopathy points toward an object-relational world that is preoedipal and dyadic, not absent—a biology that predisposes the psychopath to be both underaroused and less influenced by bad consequences. His behavioral degrees of freedom are quite limited. He paradoxically exercises less choice, certainly less meaningful choice, than normals. The appearance of greater freedom in the psychopath is often caused by some observers’ wishful projections, as is noted in this study. They are reminiscent of Norman Mailer’s idealization of Gary Gilmore and Jack Abbott, two unrepentant but talented psychopaths. Nonetheless, Halleck’s paper sheds light on the phenomenology of the psychopath, his psychodynamics, and society’s morbidly curious reaction to him.
The subject of psychopathy always seems to create confusion and dissension. Few laymen are willing to acknowledge that the psychopath is a sick person. Even within psychiatry there is widespread disagreement as to whether psychopathy is a form of mental illness, a form of evil or a fiction. Most of the major arguments which have characterized psychiatric criminology have originated in efforts to understand and treat the psychopathic personality.
This article will review some of the historical problems of defining psychopathic behavior. The many inconsistencies in traditional approaches will be noted and a new concept of psychopathy based on phenomenological and psychoanalytic insights will be presented. Finally, the relevance of psychopathy to the problem of criminality will be described.
HISTORY AND DEFINITIONS
The great humanitarian psychiatrist Pinel was the first to suggest that an individual who repeatedly involved himself in aimless antisocial behavior might be mentally ill. Shortly afterwards, the English psychiatrist J. C. Prichard (1837) described a syndrome in which the “moral and active principles of the mind are strongly perverted or depraved.” His description of this condition, which he labeled “moral insanity,” is quite similar to current descriptions of the sociopathic or psychopathic personality. From the beginning, the inclination of some psychiatrists to include selected forms of antisocial behavior under the category of mental illness was vigorously resisted. Philosophers, clergymen, attorneys, social scientists and other psychiatrists repeatedly warned of the dangers inherent in defining individuals who regularly transgress our laws as mentally ill and nonresponsible. Nevertheless, by the latter part of the 19th century, psychiatrists were becoming more active in redefining some forms of antisocial behavior as illness. The “morally insane” were now being described as “constitutional psychopathic inferiors” (McCord and McCord, 1956), a term more in keeping with a medical as opposed to a moralistic orientation.
In 1930, Alexander utilized psychoanalytic concepts of character formation and alloplasticity to describe certain antisocial individuals as “neurotic characters.” According to Alexander, the neurotic character was a conflicted individual who, instead of developing psychic symptoms, resolved his conflict through alloplastic activity. Alloplasticity was believed to be related to a greater predisposition to violate the legal code. While the provocative quality of such an individual’s behavior was recognized, his behavior was also seen as self-injuring. He was pictured as a guilt-ridden person who ultimately suffered “just like the neurotic.” This concept made it easier for psychiatrists to describe problems of unacceptable or illegal behavior in terms of familiar psychoanalytic knowledge.*
In 1956, William and Joan McCord, on the basis of an exceptionally thorough study of the literature, described psychopathy as an emotional disorder or syndrome and listed the characteristics of the psychopath as follows: “He is an antisocial, aggressive, highly impulsive person who feels little or no guilt and who is unable to form lasting bonds of affection with other human beings.” They distinguished the psychopath from the neurotic character and contended that while psychopathy could predispose the individual to crime it could not be equated with criminality. For the McCords, psychopathy is a specific syndrome which rates an important place in psychiatric classification and nomenclature. Many psychiatrists are in agreement with this view and the official nomenclature manual of the American Psychiatric Association (1952) includes the term sociopathic or psychopathic personality as an acceptable diagnosis.
In the current literature the term psychopathy is defined vaguely and because of arbitrary usage tends to assume multiple meanings. At its worst the term becomes an invective to describe people who are personally disliked or whose values differ from our own. Another unscientific use of the term equates all criminality with psychopathy. Generally, however, two major usages predominate. There are those who would agree with the McCords that psychopathy is a personality disorder, a discernible clinical entity which can be isolated from other disorders and diagnosed with clarity. There are others who see the psychopath as similar to Alexander’s neurotic character or “pure criminal” and visualize psychopathy as an abstraction, as a quantitative excess of alloplastic personality structures existing in individuals who utilize defense mechanisms which are similar to those employed by the neurotic. Psychiatrists who support this latter usage argue that one does not see real psychopaths, only individuals who are more or less psychopathic. Unfortunately, these two meanings of the term, one referring to a distinct emotional disorder and the other to an abstract condition are often used interchangeably.
Whichever concept of psychopathy we may choose to explore, perplexing inconsistencies are encountered when we think of psychopathic behavior as mental illness. The traits listed in any definition of psychopathy are derived entirely from the values or morals of our culture. This diagnosis is not based on the presence of pain or communication of personal suffering. The psychopath does not communicate personal anguish unless we restrain him and he rarely experiences himself as being unable to control his behavior. When psychiatrists encounter him in a state hospital we are never sure that he really belongs there.*
The case for defining psychopaths as sick people must be made on the basis of their unreasonable behavior. Yet, it is not always easy to discern the unreasonableness of the psychopath. There are times when his goals and his efforts to obtain his goals appear to be entirely reasonable. When psychiatrists insist that psychopathy is a form of mental illness it is with a quality of overdetermination, almost as if they have to reassure themselves and others that people who commit objectionable acts and do not seem to be guilty about it must be suffering from an affliction.**
The concept of psychopathy as a disease is put on even more tenuous grounds when we consider the surprising versatility and flexibility the psychopath is able to demonstrate in certain circumstances. Henderson (1939) initially described a type of psychopathic state which was associated with genius and unusual creativity. In his classification, a brilliant but erratic person such as Lawrence of Arabia was considered a “creative psychopath.” Even if creative individuals are rejected as not meeting the usual definitions of psychopathy, there remain many less colorful psychopaths who are still able to demonstrate peculiar and unusual strengths. Much depends on the social situation. People described as psychopaths are often able to function better under wartime conditions than many who would be considered normal. On the athletic field the relatively nonself-conscious psychopath may perform better than his neurotic teammate. The psychopath’s capacity for success with women has been frequently noted, sometimes with a restrained note of envy. In frontier societies or under conditions of relative lawlessness, the psychopath has a higher survival potential than many other individuals. Even in the prison or mental hospital many psychopaths have the capacity to create a comfortable niche for themselves and survive with grace under circumstances that would overtax the resources of a “healthier” person. Admittedly, the gains accrued through utilization of these strengths may later be dissipated through impulsive or inappropriate behavior. A high capacity for adjustment and survival for a limited time under adverse circumstances remains, however, an aspect of psychopathy that has never been adequately explained.
The individual diagnosed as a psychopath is often a charming and exciting person. While it is tempting to dismiss this charm as superficial or manipulative it is still intriguing. Moments of involvement with the psychopath are often remembered as moments of pleasure, excitement and even exhilaration. The literature of Western society abounds with characters akin to the psychopath. Many of them are pictured as totally villainous and unlovable. On the other hand, the major characters of some novels, such as The Rainmaker, The Music Man, or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, are people who, though “afflicted” with the traits of psychopathy, are, nevertheless, alive and exciting. They are people who have the capacity to bring excitement, fun and even love into the lives of others.
Psychiatrists have not been unaware of this quality, and have showed an unusual degree of interest in these troubling people. In his paper on the neurotic character, Alexander (1930) describes the fascinating qualities of these individuals in terms that could also be applied to the psychopath. He states:
The eternal struggle between man and society is exemplified not in elusive intrapsychic processes, but in the visible drama of their own lives. That is why they are born heroes who are predestined to a tragic fate. Their defeat is the victory of society and the spectator who has had some conflict within his breast (and who is without it?) is able to live out both the rebellious and the social tendencies of his personality by sympathetically feeling themselves into the lives of the vanquished.
In this dramatic and sensitive description, Alexander has perhaps grasped a major reason for society’s fascination with the psychopath.
A THEORETICAL CONCEPT OF PSYCHOPATHY
The following theoretical discussion is offered in the hope of shedding a new light on three basic issues: (1) the phenomenology of psychopathy, (2) the psychodynamics of the psychopathic “syndrome”, and, (3) society’s reaction to the psychopath. Throughout this discussion psychopathy will be defined as an abstraction rather than as a definite syndrome. Pure psychopathy is considered to be a theoretical state lying at the end of a continuum of behavior and personality traits. Certain individuals who are usually labeled as psychopaths may on occasion approach the end point but no one ever reaches it. Stated differently, the pure psychopath does not exist, but there are individuals who are more or less psychopathic.
Using this frame of reference, psychopathy can be defined as the search for a painless freedom from object relations. The word “search” is important, because implicit in this concept is the idea that “painless freedom from object relations” can never be found in humans and must remain an abstraction. The adjective “painless” is included to distinguish psychopathy from autistic withdrawal, a condition in which the individual may seek freedom from object relations, but where he does so only with great anguish.
The psychopath is a person who constantly seeks to be free of meaningful involvements with other people. He perceives the normal ties of affection, dependency, trust and love as fetters or traps which must be avoided at all costs. He seeks a type of freedom in which what he does, who he is and where he goes is independent of the appraisals of others. The alternatives to his way of life are all seen as leading to helplessness. His constant search for a painless freedom is a defense against this intolerable emotion.
This concept is best illustrated by clinical example. The author, like so many other psychiatrists, has long been intrigued with the problem of psychopathy, and for years has searched for the “pure psychopath,” the individual who is completely free of guilt, who takes what he wants without discomfort and who seems totally uninterested in relating himself to others. Such an individual might correspond to Alexander’s concept of the pure criminal or to Karpman’s (1941–42) concept of the idiopathic psychopath or anethopath. The patient to be described comes close to fitting this clinical picture.
The patient was a 22-year-old white male who was seen initially in a staff conference at a state reformatory. He was serving a five-year sentence for fraud and swindling. His family background was similar to that of many delinquents. The father was an inadequate individual, an alcoholic, who absented himself from the home for long periods. The mother was described as a long-suffering, “martyred” type of person who, in spite of her protestation of affection toward the patient, was often irresponsible. She would frequently leave the children alone in order to pursue extramarital escapades and drinking activities.
Throughout his school years, the patient was well liked by teachers and friends. His academic performance was slightly better than average. He was active in athletics and when he reached adolescence was unusually successful in attracting women. He left high school during his senior year and went to work in an auto shop. Finding this work too boring he became a used car salesman and even at the tender age of 18 had little difficulty in breaking most of the sales records of his firm. He chose not to linger at this position, however, and moved on to a series of sales jobs. In all of these he repeated a pattern of marked success followed by lack of interest, boredom and moving on to what appeared to be a “greener pasture.” During this period he had many heterosexual involvements. For about three years prior to incarceration he had been engaged in a number of “confidence games” designed to swindle the unsuspecting. He was far more successful than most criminals and managed to lead a financially comfortable life until apprehended.
After reviewing the history, the patient was invited into the conference room to be interviewed. He entered with poise and dignity, an unusually handsome individual who, although dressed in prison garb, managed to be neater and better groomed than anyone else in the room. He stated that he was pleased to have the opportunity to talk to a group of intelligent men and throughout the conference remained disturbingly at ease. The initial part of the interview focused on his adjustment to prison. He revealed that he had become interested in journalism while at the reformatory and had recently been made editor of the prison newspaper. His success in this role had already led to a promising offer of a position on the town newspaper at the termination of his sentence. His casual observations that he was accepted and respected by guards and other inmates were easily confirmed.
When the author pointed out to him that he seemed to have found quite a comfortable place for himself in the prison setting, he replied, “Why shouldn’t I? A man can be happy wherever he is if he has faith in himself, is confident and is interested in life.” The author was, of course, intrigued with such comments and the next day spent several hours interviewing the patient in private. He talked freely and obviously enjoyed conversation with a psychiatrist. In discussing his viewpoint of life he stated: “Most people seem to have to believe in something to survive. Me, I have learned to believe in myself. My goal is to make myself as happy as I possibly can and to experience life to the fullest. To most people this sounds selfish, but to me it makes real sense.” He could offer little explanation for having adopted this philosophy of life except for the following:
Life was pretty hard for our family when I was little and until I was nine years old, I was worried and nervous most of the time. Then things really got bad. My father disappeared and one day when my mother was going out and planning to leave me alone, I felt that I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I thought to myself that I would cry and plead with her to stay and maybe she wouldn’t leave me. Then suddenly it came to me that no matter what I did, no matter how much I cried or pleaded, it wouldn’t make any difference, she would leave anyway. At that moment, somehow or other, I was a free person. I didn’t need her and I didn’t need anybody. I stopped worrying and I started having fun. Since that time life has been easy and I can be happy even though I am in prison.
Two other items of information which the patient revealed are of interest. He admitted that at one time he had sought psychotherapy at the institution, partly “because I was curious” and partly
because people were beginning to suspect I was different from them and I was afraid that if they ever realized what I am, they would find some way of hurting me. Going into psychotherapy was like masking myself. It was a little bit like going underground. I tried it for several weeks, had some interesting chats with the therapist and then figured that I had had enough.
When asked as to situations which made him uncomfortable, he replied, “The only danger I can see for myself is if I ever feel I really need to become involved with others. When I borrow a pack of cigarettes from another inmate, I try to return it as soon as possible so that I don’t think I need him for anything.” Then he stated, “Sometimes I think I would like to change and be like other people and sometimes I worry that maybe they have something that I don’t. Then I start to think that I might lose so much of my strength if I ever became like the others. I have to hold on. I can talk to people, use them and enjoy them, but I can’t let them mean anything to me.”
This history is, of course, edited in a way that focuses mainly on those issues which are relevant to the thesis of this article. If this patient is kept in mind, however, together with the concept of psychopathy as a search for painless freedom from object relationships, various aspects of what most psychiatrists would consider psychopathic behavior will begin to take on a new meaning.
The antisocial character of the psychopath can be understood more clearly if we think about him in terms of his apparent lack of need for others. If an individual experiences interpersonal relationships as stultifying and dangerous, and if he really strives to deny his involvement in what others might think or say, then for that individual any sort of behavior is permissible. If a person does not care about the appraisals of others, the concept “antisocial” itself becomes meaningless. Antisocial behavior becomes only that behavior which is defined by law as punishable if one is unfortunate enough to be caught.
The apparent aggressiveness of the psychopath also takes on a different quality. Actually in this frame of reference, the psychopath is no more or no less aggressive than any other person. If others are truly insignificant there is simply less need to mask aggressiveness through feigned passivity. Similarly, the impulsiveness of the psychopath becomes more understandable. The ability to delay gratification is a strength that is for the most part contingent on learning experiences with other human beings. Impulses are restrained with the expectation of ultimately receiving greater rewards from others. This obedience to the reality principle can exist only so long as one really wants to gain the love and respect of others. If it is possible to approach a state of freedom from caring, the advantages of restraining immediate gratification are certainly less apparent.
The apparent inability of the psychopath to form bonds of lasting affection with others should be considered not only as an inability but also as an aversion. To a certain extent the psychopath consciously and unconsciously seeks to avoid such relationships. He is a person who has been hurt by others. His inability to maintain relationships based on mutual respect can be visualized in part as an unwillingness to try. He avoids situations which are painful and feels safe in relating himself to others only when he does not need them.
The psychopath has also been described as a person who does not experience guilt in the same way as other people. This can be understood by considering that he is a basically ahistoric individual for whom the past and the future are meaningless and for whom only the existing moment is important. Miller (1964) has described the psychopath poetically as a person who can “walk through snow without leaving footprints.” History, however, must be written in terms of people and in terms of meaningful interactions between people. The psychopath, to the extent that he is successful in freeing himself of a need for others, can approach an ahistoric condition. His lack of commitment to people, causes or ideas allows him to slip through life with little impact upon the world. On the other hand, this same lack of commitment provides him with unlimited maneuverability, freedom from guilt and the sometimes enviable quality of being able to comfortably experience a wide variety of situations. Since the psychopath travels lightly, it is possible for him to visit a great deal of the world.
The charm of the psychopath, his bewildering comfort in stressful situations, and the observation that we at times envy, admire or even hate him are clarified if we consider his behavior in the light of a search for freedom. Allen Wheelis (1960) in his novel The Seeker describes the intense feeling of pleasurable release his major character experiences when he makes an almost conscious decision to cease to care about others. The hero of the book, a psychoanalyst, finds that he is then able to maintain a lucrative practice, gain professional acclaim through superficial accomplishments, overcome many of his anxieties and experience new success in seducing desirable women. The behavior of the major character is clearly psychopathic. But what fun he has while suffering from this disease!
Wheelis recognizes that if a man can disentangle himself from involvement with others he is free to develop qualities in his own personality which are socially useful. Other people will be attracted to the psychopath because he holds out the possibility of sharing his freedom. Women in particular are fascinated by his straightforwardness and apparent lack of dependency.
While most of us may personally deplore the behavior of certain entertainers, business people or even psychiatrists who live excitingly above and beyond the codes we hold to be dear, we would be dishonest if we did not occasionally consider the possibility that “these people have something.” Perhaps it is not, as Alexander suggests, only rebelliousness which explains our fascination with the psychopath. More likely it is his apparent freedom. We can argue that this is an immoral freedom, that it is an unsatisfying freedom or that it is basically an inhuman freedom. It is still a commodity sufficiently lacking in the lives of most of us, so that it is often coveted.
Approaching the problem from this frame of reference may explain psychiatry’s urgency in considering psychopathy as a mental illness, but it also exposes some of the defects in the medical model. Psychopathy is an illness only in the sense that it seeks a basically inhuman kind of existence which if allowed to prevail in a great number of people would make the continuation of organized society impossible. To the extent that we become more rational in describing and judging psychopathy, we are forced to look at other aspects of psychopathy that would come under the heading of “non-illness.” From some frames of references and in some value systems, psychopathy “can’t be all bad.” Obviously for the psychopath himself his behavior may be sustaining and gratifying. He is always a little puzzled when society reacts toward him with such great anger.
PSYCHOPATHY AND CRIMINALITY
In describing the psychopath we have been listing a group of traits which are defenses against a subjective feeling of helplessness. The psychopath defends against oppression even when it is no longer present. His personality structure makes it difficult for him to find a conforming or mental illness adaptation. The psychopath is an activist who, in his efforts to suit the world to his own needs, often finds that is necessary to violate the law.
Two points must, however, be reemphasized. First, the psychopath is not necessarily a criminal and certainly need not be an unsuccessful criminal. If a really “pure psychopath” could exist his success in the world would probably preclude his ever coming to the attention of a psychiatrist. Second, true psychopathy is an abstraction and it is doubtful if any person could ever achieve a painless freedom from object relations. Even the prisoner we described earlier could not be called a “pure psychopath.”
Still, it must be noted that those criminals whom the psychiatrist is allowed to examine seem to show a high degree of psychopathic behavior. What is important about this behavior, however, is that it is ineffective. The criminal is likely to be a poor or mediocre psychopath. He may seek a painless freedom from object relations but he has great difficulty in finding it. The criminal is unable to deny or overcome his need for the love and affection of others, and is capable of sustaining psychopathic behavior for only brief periods of time. His antisocial acts are often preceded or followed by periods of exaggerated conformity and dependency.
This phenomenon is observed in almost pure form in adolescent delinquents. The adolescent delinquent is a person who at times develops intense, dependent and even worshipful feelings toward adults. He is incapable, however, of sustaining these feelings. Eventually he is frightened by closeness and rebels, sometimes against the very individual with whom he was so deeply involved.
Some adult criminals find comfort only when they accept a certain amount of helplessness and receive gratification of dependency needs in a familial or institutional setting. Like the adolescent, however, this type of criminal cannot sustain his comfort. Relationships soon become contaminated with fears of helplessness and he adapts in the only way he knows. He strikes out against the world by committing an antisocial act. In so doing he seems to be saying, “I don’t really need you people. I don’t really need anybody.” For most criminals this is a pathetic cry. A temporary state of freedom is obtained but the criminal’s inept behavior usually guarantees that he will soon return to a familiar state of dependency.
SOME FURTHER DYNAMIC SPECULATIONS
Most of the psychoanalytic writers who have examined the problem of criminal behavior have concluded that the criminal is a masochistic person who unconsciously seeks punishment (Alexander and Staub, 1956; Freud, 1915; Friedlander, 1947). It is assumed that the criminal is ineffective because he unconsciously intends to be ineffective. This hypothesis seems to ignore the adaptive value of crime and can only be partially true. The criminal’s ineffectiveness can also be understood as an inability to free himself from his need for others or an inability to be a “good psychopath.” At the moment a provocative act is committed he may be seeking freedom as well as punishment. There is no way of determining if his failure resides in an unconscious masochistic wish to fail or if it is a maladaptive by-product of an ineffectual search for freedom. Both explanations may be valid but the latter explanation is usually given insufficient consideration.
If we examine maladaptive criminal behavior solely in terms of the ineptness of the psychopathic defense it can be explained without invoking the difficult concept of masochism. Such an explanation, however, must also consider the factors which encourage the criminal to seek the psychopathic defense but to use it so ineffectively. These factors have already been described. The criminal seeks freedom in order to maintain organismic integrity but he cannot find it because he cares too much about others and needs them too much to be a “good psychopath.” If he were really a “good psychopath” he would be able to handle situations of oppressive stress more gracefully. Consider the following grotesque but illuminating clinical vignette.
The author, as part of his prison consultation duties, was asked to examine a 22-year-old male inmate who had been in solitary confinement for 30 days. This unusual length of stay had been provoked by repeated episodes of verbal and physical aggressiveness directed toward the prison guards. His aggression seemed boundless and even when physically restrained he would spit and curse. Although his intellectual functions were intact, his obviously self-destructive behavior had aroused the concern of the guards, who were beginning to tire of their struggle with this man and hoped that the psychiatrist would send him to the state hospital.
When interviewed, the patient expressed almost global aggression toward his jailers, toward those who had imprisoned him and even toward members of his own family, whom he felt had abandoned him. He swore revenge and though the hopelessness of his struggle was apparent to him he gave no indication of wishing to call it off. His physical condition was deplorable. He had lost weight, was unshaven, unkempt and beginning to show signs of vitamin deficiency. He nevertheless refused an offer of hospitalization, stating, “I am not crazy and even if you transfer me out of here sooner or later I’ll come back and I’m going to get these guys.” Although overt symptoms of psychosis were not obvious, the patient was transferred against his wishes to the state hospital simply on humanitarian grounds. As anticipated, he improved quickly, was returned to the prison and, of course, was soon experiencing further difficulty.
The apparently unresolved situation of this man while in solitary confinement was similar to that of a helpless child trying to influence a cruel and depriving mother. He was confronted with an authority which was in complete control, but which was at the same time nongiving, arbitrary and from his standpoint, cruel. Yet he needed his torturers for they supplied him with food, clothing, cigarettes and on rare occasions even bits of affection. The patient seemed inextricably bound up in a struggle with a rejecting and depriving maternal structure which he could control only in a negative direction, i.e., he could induce his captors to punish him, but he could not force them to help him. He would attack, feel relieved while attacking and then he would be punished.
While interviewing this man, the writer was preoccupied with alternative solutions by which the patient might handle his grievous situation. The prison authorities had not really been too unfair. They were simply performing their duties as instructed by prison protocol. It was obvious that the patient’s own paranoid attitudes had helped to bring him to his plight. Why couldn’t the patient see this? Why couldn’t he accept himself as a deviant, aggressive and perhaps bad person and make an effort to live up to the expectations of conformity that others were trying to impose upon him? He was obviously too angry and rebellious, had been too deeply wounded to accept this kind of solution. The writer then began to wonder why the patient simply did not “go crazy.” Certainly many neurotic individuals could not have stood the abuse and isolation this individual had endured for more than a few days. When the writer verbalized this thought he was met with the reply of “I thought about that, Doc, and I know my behavior seems crazy but I’m not. I know who I hate and I hate them too much to ever go crazy.”* Finally, the writer hit on what seemed to be the best way out and communicated this thinking to the prisoner.
Why not pretend to conform, why not pretend to go along with what these people say, do what they want you to do until they leave you alone and then do as you please and live your life as you please from there on in. You don’t really have to give a damn about them. Just pretend you like them and then you are free to do as you please the rest of the time.
This suggestion was the first one that both moved and troubled the patient. It also troubled the writer. What had been suggested as the most healthy means of handling a gruesome situation was actually cynical, dishonest and psychopathic.
If we return to our consideration of psychopathy and related traits we can ask if the depriving or rejecting mother (or world) really offers the growing child many more alternatives than those available to our unfortunate inmate. If mother, parents, or authority are consistently visualized as all powerful, cruel or arbitrary what behaviors are available to the individual? A direct attack upon a maternal structure which is perceived as oppressive implies that the individual still cares. At the same time that he seeks freedom, he is hopeful that his behavior will bring him the love and recognition he so desperately craves. But the “healthiest” resolution for the individual exposed to this kind of unfortunate situation would be possible only if he could cease to care. If one really does not care about others he can then “fake it.” He can pretend to conform while allowing himself complete freedom to satisfy basic needs. This, of course, would be pure psychopathic behavior.
Our prisoner obviously did not have the strength to behave in a truly psychopathic manner. Whether or not he unconsciously sought the suffering which was imposed upon him is debatable. What is clear, however, is that his quests for freedom took the form of an ineffective and futile rebellion. Actually our prisoner cared too much about the reactions of others to really find the freedom he craved.
Many criminals use the psychopathic defense far more effectively than the prisoner we have been discussing. Even they, however, cannot use it consistently. Sooner or later their needs for others lead to rebellious behaviors which have an implied message of caring and they become increasingly ineffective. Ultimately the psychopathic defense does not free the criminal; it only sustains him.
REFERENCES
Alexander, F. (1930). The neurotic character. Internat. J., Psycho-Anal., 11: 292–311.
Alexander, F. & Staub, H. (1956). The Criminal, the Judge and the Public, rev. Glencoe, IL: Free Press.
American Psychiatric Association (1952). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association.
Freud, S. (1915). Some character types met with in psychoanalytic work. In: Collected Papers, 4: 318–344. London: Hogarth Press, 1949.
Friedlander, K. (1947). Psychoanalytic Approach to Juvenile Delinquency. New York: International Universities Press.
Henderson, D. (1939). Psychopathic States. New York: Norton.
Karpman, B. (1941–1942). On the need of separating psychopathy into two distinct clinical types. J. Crim. Psychopathol., 3:112–137.
McCord, W. & McCord, J. (1956). Psychopathy and Delinquency. New York: Grune & Stratton.
Miller, M. (1964). Time and the character disorder. J. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 138:535–540.
Prichard, J. C. (1837). A Treatise on Insanity and Other Disorders Affecting the Mind. Philadelphia: Haswell, Barrington & Haswell.
Wheelis, A. (1960). The Seeker. New York: Random House.
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*Alexander also postulated a condition in which both the expression of conflict through behavior and lack of guilt or self-punishment might exist simultaneously. He referred to this state as “pure criminality” and thought of it as an abstract condition. Alexander doubted that the “pure criminal” actually existed and insisted that, on closer examination, most offenders would turn out to be neurotic characters. The idea of “pure criminality” is interesting, however, insofar as it is a description of a personality type that roughly coincides with descriptions others have made of the psychopath.
*Even when we agree that he is a legitimate object of psychiatric scrutiny, we have considerable difficulty in deciding what to call him. Repeated efforts to replace the phrase psychopathic personality with friendlier terms, such as sociopathic personality, neurotic character, or simple adult maladjustment, have met with limited success. The term “psychopath” seems to be retained because it has communicative value.
**Psychopaths have not always brought out the best in physicians. Even the most nonjudgmental of psychiatrists is at times unable to restrain feelings of hostility toward a psychopath, feelings that he seldom expresses as freely and casually toward other patients.
*Editor’s Note: The psychoanalyst Glen Gabbard described one who hates as intrapsychically holding on to an object in an unforgiving way. See G. Gabbard (1996). Love and Hate in the Analytic Setting. Northvale, NJ: Aronson.