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Walter Humes
Robert D Hare, who developed the psychopath test
In ‘The Psychopath Test’ – a book that is both funny and disturbing in equal measure – the author, Jon Ronson, refers to a clinical scale that is used to determine whether a person has a psychopathic personality. The first six items on the scale are:
Glibness/superficial charm
Grandiose sense of self-worth
Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom
Pathological lying
Cunning/manipulative
Lack of remorse or guilt
These characteristics brought to mind a number of people whom I have encountered in the course of my career, though the laws of defamation prevent me from identifying them. They could not be described as fully-fledged psychopaths, but aspects of their behaviour certainly placed them somewhere on the psychopathic spectrum. Some had highly successful careers: their polished charm won admirers; their need for stimulation meant that they were good at coming up with new ideas and suggesting projects; and their self-esteem propelled them into the limelight. At the same time, they had no qualms about exploiting colleagues, were skilful at deflecting blame if things went wrong and untroubled by ethical considerations.
The profiles of psychopathic executives raise interesting questions about what is understood by ‘leadership’. Traditional notions of ‘strong’ leadership exhibited by ‘charismatic’ individuals do nothing to make it less likely that people with flawed – and dangerous – personalities will reach the top. More recently, there has been an emphasis in management training courses on ‘democratic’, ‘distributed’, ‘moral’ and even ‘spiritual’ forms of leadership, but while these models have had some rhetorical appeal, there is little evidence that they have made a significant impact on patterns of appointment to major companies.
The financial world offers a fertile environment in which the psychopathic personality can flourish. It is at least arguable that the ‘greed is good’ philosophy of some financial institutions was partly responsible for the banking crisis of 2008, the effects of which are still with us. A climate in which mutually beneficial deals, of dubious legality, were struck by high fliers whose principal motivation was the bonus potential of the schemes, ensured that the consequences for investors did not feature in the calculation.
Similarly, profit became the sole criterion of many vulture capitalists, whose asset stripping did not give any weight to the likely impact on individuals, businesses and communities. Technology makes it easier to disregard the human consequences of financial decisions. Robert Harris’s novel ‘The Fear Index’ offers a chilling insight into what happens when computer models make split-second decisions about the buying and selling of shares.
Politics is an obvious field where the psychopathic personality can find expression. One immediately thinks of Hitler and Stalin, but there is no shortage of present-day leaders in Europe, Asia, Africa and South America who tick many of the boxes on the psychopath test. They use the techniques of propaganda, aided by media control, to establish and strengthen their power-base. Opposition is ruthlessly crushed and dissidents are subject to torture and imprisonment. Posters and statues celebrate the ‘achievements’ of the great leader, while elections are rigged and foreign criticism is disregarded. Even in advanced democracies, the exercise of power can bring out disturbing personality traits in politicians who may have started off with good intentions.
Perhaps a less obvious field for the expression of psychopathic tendencies is sport. We normally think of sport as an activity that encourages character development, healthy competition and a sense of fair play. But elite sport manifests many other features. The activities of some managers, coaches and sports men and women are consistent with the checklist of psychopathic features. Winning at all costs becomes the imperative. Young players are subject to training regimes that may involve bullying and being pushed beyond their physical limits. We tend not to hear about the casualties of elite sports programmes, only the successes.
‘Professional’ fouls, gamesmanship, drug-taking and other forms of cheating are condemned in public but behind the scenes may be encouraged, or at least tolerated. The financial rewards at the highest levels of many sports are now so great that the ‘fair play’ argument is regarded as a naïve anachronism, a romantic aspiration that gets in the way of success.
The absence of conscience in all of this is perhaps the most worrying aspect. We are familiar with public figures in politics and business having to apologise for some personal or institutional failure. Often these apologies are only forthcoming after considerable pressure and they can seem formulaic and insincere, lacking in genuine remorse. This might indicate that what is happening is not merely the exposure of defects among individuals who exist somewhere on the psychopathic spectrum. It might signify a much wider cultural failure, in which we are witnessing a weakening of the collective conscience which used to serve as a constraint on individual action. What happens to society when human beings, particularly those who occupy powerful positions, begin to lose any sense of guilt?
Walter Humes held professorships at the universities of Aberdeen, Strathclyde and West of Scotland and is now a visiting professor
of education at the University of Stirling
