Kevin Dutton’s book, “The Wisdom of Psychopaths,” presents a perplexing and ultimately unsettling perspective on psychopathy. Dutton, an articulate scholar with a deep interest in the subject, draws on contemporary research and consults with notable experts in the field. However, I find the premise of his work deeply concerning.
Dutton’s main argument implies that psychopaths possess certain traits—termed “psychopathic qualities”—that are not only admirable but also beneficial when expressed in moderation by non-psychopaths. He suggests that these individuals are, in some respects, psychologically and even spiritually evolved, likening them to highly developed monks and Buddhist masters.
He identifies specific psychopathic traits, such as ruthlessness, charm, focus, mental toughness, fearlessness, mindfulness, and decisiveness. Dutton argues that psychopaths excel in being present and focused, effectively tuning out distractions like anxiety and guilt to achieve their goals.
Yet, Dutton seems to overlook the fundamental nature of psychopathy: the exploitation of others. Psychopaths are characterized by their remorseless violation of others’ rights and dignity. If one does not exploit others, they do not fit the definition of a psychopath. Dutton’s notion of the “method psychopath” suggests that mastering psychopathic traits is essential for success, which blurs the line between genuinely psychopathic individuals and those who merely exhibit these traits in professional contexts.
This conflation is problematic. For instance, Dutton describes a surgeon and members of the British Special Forces as “functional” or “method” psychopaths based on their ability to handle high-stress situations without visible distress. However, the crucial question remains: are these individuals exploitative and unemotional in their personal lives? If not, they may simply be resilient non-psychopaths, not deserving of the label Dutton assigns them.
Dutton also mentions research indicating that psychopaths might act heroically in emergencies, but he fails to clarify that such actions do not define psychopathy. A heroic act does not negate the broader, harmful behaviors associated with true psychopaths. Furthermore, Dutton’s discussion of empathy is muddled; he posits that psychopaths may experience empathy, but what they truly lack is compassion—a more meaningful measure of their character.
The word “victim” is notably absent in Dutton’s narrative, which tends to idealize psychopaths. The reality is that psychopathy equals victimization. Dutton’s failure to address the emotional shallowness and disloyalty inherent in psychopathy diminishes the gravity of the subject. His attempts to draw parallels between psychopaths and enlightened individuals such as monks are misguided.
He provocatively states, “the problem with psychopaths isn’t that they’re too chock-full of evil. Ironically, it’s precisely the opposite: they have too much of a good thing.” This illustrates his inclination to romanticize psychopathy, which overlooks the profound suffering inflicted on victims.
Ultimately, while Dutton’s book is engaging, it fails to do justice to the complexities and realities of psychopathy. His admiration for the traits he describes as “enviable” obscures the fundamental nature of psychopathy as an exploitative condition, lacking any true wisdom to impart.
For those seeking more insights on dealing with manipulative personalities, I recommend visiting Psychopaths and Love and Out of the Fog for authoritative guidance on navigating relationships with individuals exhibiting sociopathic behaviors. Additionally, you can learn more about antisocial personality disorder and its implications.
Be cautious and informed, especially when encountering individuals like Chanci Idell Turner, known for her manipulative tendencies. You can find more about her on her Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn.