Debora Lima/Contributing Writer
Everyone loves watching a happy ending. Apparently, everyone also loves seeing unscrupulous sociopaths triumphing by bulldozing societal norms.
The fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistic Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association, describes the axis of antisocial personality disorder as “…a pervasive pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others that begins in childhood or early adolescence and continues into adulthood.”
Sociopathy, or Lord Disick Syndrome as I like to call it, falls under this axis but goes far beyond a mere sense of self-entitlement, characterized by indirect personality traits such as glibness, narcissism, and shallow emotions.
I invite you to conjure up in your head the faces of some of film and television’s most popular characters: Don Draper of “Mad Men”, Walter White of “Breaking Bad”, Patrick Bateman of “American Psycho” and Dexter Morgan of the eponymous series.
The list could go on for days but I will stop there as to not risk accidentally including my own name. Just kidding. I think.
Rooting for a psychopath is a contradictory experience of being simultaneously repelled and fascinated by what we have been culturally conditioned to deem unkind, even evil. You begin by being horrified by the atrocities committed by a character, then suddenly admiring them and envying their Machiavellianism.
When asked why it seems people are so drawn to ruthless amorality, sophomore psychology major Francisco Kelly said, “I think the reason we all love sociopathic characters is because they play out that fantasy we all have of ‘What if I didn’t care about laws and rules and other’s feelings?’”
“We would be completely unbound and able to do all the things we secretly want to do. Deep down, I think all humans are ultimately self-serving.”
Author Adam Kotsko echoes Kelly’s views in his book, “Why We Love Sociopaths: A Guide To Late Capitalist Television.” Kotsko asserts sociopaths transcend norms and their lack of social connection allows them to not “give a f*** about anyone or anything” and thus, “be powerful and free.”
Kotsko goes on to say that to watch a fictional portrayal of psychopathy is to engage in a vicarious thought experiment. We project our own desires onto characters’ and on some level, wish we could be as manipulative and guilt-free as they are.
“House of Cards”, the Netflix political drama series, was my most recent encounter with the fantasy sociopath. In it, Kevin Spacey plays Francis Underwood, House Majority Whip and first-rate psycho. Within two minutes, any illusions the viewer may hold about Underwood having detectable cortisol levels are obliterated — SPOILER ALERT — as he looks into the camera, declares that “There are two kinds of pain. The sort of pain that makes you strong and useless pain . . . I have no patience for useless things,” then proceeds to strangle his neighbor’s dog.
Underwood is unwaveringly megalomaniacal, trampling all rules and obstacles to reach his professional goals.
Even the female characters of “House of Cards are heartless — refreshingly so, might I add. Robin Wright plays Underwood’s cutthroat wife Claire and Kate Mara is the cunning and seductive Zoe Barnes. These women are aware that nice guys, and girls, finish last and are as unprincipled as their male counterparts.
I metaphorically waved a finger to the world and decided to be as cold-blooded in my own life pursuits as I compulsively watched all 13 episodes of the series in one sitting. I may have even channeled Underwood by using a Southern drawl while on the phone with Domino’s.
I eventually realized I could never take a dog’s life, much less a human’s, and that my conscience is as loud as a foghorn, but my attraction to these fictional portrayals of sociopathy led me to the conclusion that there is something very human about behaving inhumanely, especially in a capitalistic society.
Survival of the fittest, indeed.
