How I got Hooked on Psychopathy Research

I’m often asked how I ended up researching psychopathy. This question almost always comes up when people find out that I’m not a psychologist by training. Yes, many people don’t know this, but I did my PhD in philosophy. So, what is a philosopher doing nosing around in the backyard of psychology?

I actually don’t think it’s as odd as it sounds, that is, mixing philosophy with psychology. But on a more formal note, my doctorate is in the philosophy of science, which means that I engaged with the sciences (and psychology) throughout my days as a PhD student. And I was also trained early on to work across disciplinary boundaries—first through my mentors at the University at Buffalo, and later through collaborations with colleagues at the National Center for Ontological Research. Anyways, I’m digressing.

When did I get hooked on psychopathy research?

Even after all these years, I vividly remember the moment. It was the summer of 2012. I was boarding a flight from New York to Copenhagen and had picked up a copy of what is likely the most widely read book on the subject: Robert Hare’s Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us. To his credit, Hare is a phenomenal writer (truly, enviously good!). I devoured the book in a single sitting. And by the time I stepped off the plane in Copenhagen, I knew I had found the topic I needed to study—somewhere, somehow.

Ironically, I would later become a critic of Hare’s work (more on that in a later post). But it was his gift as a communicator that ignited my path into the complex, controversial world of psychopathy research.

What did I find so attractive about psychopathy?

At the time I read Hare’s book, I was by all measures a green PhD student, without the skills necessary to interpret behavioral science. But it didn’t matter that much. I approach psychopathy from a different angle, as I was exploring the intersection of moral philosophy and moral psychology. And like many others in these fields, I was captivated by the idea that psychopathic individuals are often portrayed as incapable of moral reasoning—as if they were, so to speak, morally colorblind (this was Hervey Cleckley’s way of describing psychopathic persons). The idea that there are individuals who, allegedly, cannot tell the difference between right and wrong, struck me as utterly fascinating.

Of course, I later came to believe that this depiction of psychopathy – and the many colorful narratives found in books on psychopathy – is more myth than reality.

…but that, too, is a story for another day.

---

This blog is part of the series “The Making of Psychopathy Unmasked,” which shares behind-the-scenes stories about how the book came together and the experiences that shaped my thinking on psychopathy.