The Psychosis of Psychology Philosophy

Like a rabid animal skulking in our collective psyche, sadism creeps around, waiting for the perfect moment to bare its teeth. Ah, the sweet agony! The sadist walks on the tightrope of morality, relishing the way it wobbles beneath the weight of their perverse pleasure. They feel the pain of others more acutely than the rest of us, savoring it like a fine wine, until the high fades and they're left with the bitter aftertaste of remorse.

The popular imagination paints sadists as the monsters under our beds—torturers, murderers, the dregs of society. But there's a subtler, more insidious form of sadism that lurks in the mundane. Everyday sadists, they call them. These are the folks who get their kicks from the small cruelties—an unkind word, a malicious prank, a cold smile at another's misfortune. They find entertainment in gory films, their hearts quicken at the sight of a fight, and torture? It's not just interesting; it's exhilarating. They are rare, yes, but not rare enough. A chilling 6% of undergraduate students confess to finding joy in others' pain. A drop in the bucket, but a drop of poison nonetheless.

Now, don’t confuse these sadists with psychopaths. Psychopaths don’t harm for the sheer thrill of it—no, they’re more calculating, more methodical. They have a goal, a prize they’re after, and if hurting others is the shortest path to it, so be it. Their lack of pity, remorse, and fear makes them surgical in their approach. They can dissect your emotions with precision, understanding, and mirroring but never feeling them. It’s a dangerous cocktail of traits, a perfect storm for unprovoked violence. Over millennia, humanity has domesticated itself, making it difficult for most of us to inflict harm. But psychopaths? They walk that line with ease, unburdened by the ghosts that haunt the rest of us.

We’re wired to sense a psychopath, to pick up on the dissonance in their facade. But here’s the kicker—they know we know. And so, they adapt. They cloak themselves in charm, in meticulous grooming and impeccable fashion, crafting a first impression that disarms even the most perceptive among us. Only 0.5% of the population can be classified as psychopaths, but take a stroll through a prison and those numbers spike—8% of male inmates, 2% of females. It’s a stark reminder that while most people have little to no psychopathic traits, those who do often find their way into the penal system.

The whole field of psychology, some might argue, should be tossed into the bin. After all, it’s more art than science, a philosophical endeavor masquerading as empirical study. We label one brain as normal, another as abnormal, based on the whims of a handful of psychologists. It’s ever-evolving, a practice more than a proven science. And yet, here we are, dissecting the human mind as if it were an equation to be solved.

But let’s not stray too far. No one really knows what makes a sadist tick. Some speculate it’s an evolutionary adaptation—a remnant from our days of hunting, a necessary cruelty to slaughter our prey. Others suggest it’s a power play, a way to climb the social ladder. The Italian philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli once mused that “the times, not men, create disorder.” Neuroscience backs this up, hinting that sadism could be a survival tactic, a response to tough times. When resources are scarce, our serotonin levels drop, making us more willing to harm others for a fleeting sense of pleasure.

Psychopathy, as a concept, has been theorized to potentially serve as an adaptive trait in certain contexts. Various studies have presented conflicting views on its relationship to fertility, with some suggesting a link to increased reproductive success while others propose the contrary. It is plausible that psychopaths excel in challenging environments, leveraging their distinctive traits to gain a competitive edge in terms of reproduction. In tumultuous and cutthroat settings, they emerge as adept manipulators, leveraging their impulsiveness and fearlessness to capitalize on immediate opportunities. Drawing a parallel to characters like Gordon Gekko in Wall Street, we can envision psychopaths as cunning puppet masters who amass fortunes through their calculated actions. While psychopathy may confer a slight advantage in navigating the corporate landscape and assuming leadership roles, it is essential to recognize that it is not a guaranteed pathway to success.

Creativity and psychopathy? There’s a connection there, too. The mathematician Eric Weinstein argues that disagreeable people drive innovation. But in environments that foster creativity, even the nice can be novel. Sadism and psychopathy often come bundled with other traits—narcissism, Machiavellianism. Together, these form the “dark factor of personality,” or D-factor. A veritable Pandora’s box of human darkness.

Sadism thrives on dehumanization. Strip someone of their humanity, label them as dogs, lice, or cockroaches, and it becomes easier to justify their suffering. Our brains are wired for this. Break a social norm, and suddenly your face is less human to those around you, a trick of the mind that smooths the path to punishment. It’s a comforting lie we tell ourselves: "If we see someone as human, we won’t hurt them." But it's a dangerous delusion. Psychologist Paul Bloom suggests our worst cruelties don’t stem from dehumanizing others but from recognizing them as human and choosing to hurt them anyway.

The Nazi regime, for instance. They dehumanized Jewish people with labels like vermin and lice, making it easier to justify their atrocities. Yet, paradoxically, the Nazis also saw their victims as humans worthy of suffering. They inflicted pain and humiliation precisely because they understood the depth of that suffering.

Some use cruelty as a motivator for greatness. We cringe at his methods, yet the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would argue we've grown too soft. For Nietzsche, cruelty was a necessary tool for personal development, a way to etch lessons deeply into the soul. He believed enduring cruelty could forge courage, endurance, and creativity. Should we, then, embrace suffering to cultivate virtue?

“To see others suffer does one good, to make others suffer even more: this is a hard saying but an ancient, mighty, human, all-too-human principle. ... Without cruelty there is no festival: thus the longest and most ancient part of human history teaches”

“lmost everything we call

‘higher culture’ is based on the

spiritualization ofcruelty, on its becoming more profound [...]. Consider that even the seeker after knowledge forces his spirit to recognize things against (its] inclination [. Jand thus acts as an artist and transfigurer of cruelty”

Arguably not. Modern psychology reveals the long-term damage inflicted by cruelty, both mental and physical. Compassion, especially towards oneself, is increasingly recognized for its benefits. For too long, we've clung to the idea that pain is the ultimate teacher, the harsh drill sergeant of life's boot camp. Yet, lived experiences are painting a more nuanced picture—a picture that includes the transformative power of joy, love, and fulfillment.

Positive life events—those golden moments that light up our existence—are now recognized as powerful catalysts for personal growth. Falling in love, for instance, can be a profound journey of self-discovery. It opens our hearts and minds, teaching us about vulnerability, trust, and the intricate dance of intimacy. Love pushes us to become better versions of ourselves, not through the lash of hardship but through the gentle, persistent encouragement of connection and affection.

Similarly, the experience of having children is a monumental milestone that reshapes our identities and priorities. Parenthood is a crucible of a different kind, one that molds us through the demands of unconditional love, patience, and responsibility. The sleepless nights and endless worries are balanced by the boundless joy and pride that come with nurturing a new life. It's a journey that fosters resilience, empathy, and the profound understanding that our capacity for love is far greater than we ever imagined.

Achieving cherished dreams, too, brings about significant personal growth. Whether it's a long-sought career milestone, the completion of a creative project, or any goal that sets our souls on fire, the realization of these dreams validates our efforts and dedication. It teaches us about perseverance, the value of hard work, and the sweet taste of success. These triumphs don’t just boost our self-esteem; they expand our horizons and inspire us to dream even bigger.

The idea that growth can only come from suffering is an oversimplification. Positive experiences enrich our lives in ways that hardship alone cannot. They provide the fertile ground for our spirits to flourish, instilling a sense of purpose and joy that propels us forward. While adversity can indeed be a powerful teacher, it is not the sole path to personal development.

Buddhism offers a different perspective: wrathful compassion. Here, love drives us to confront others, protecting them from their own greed, hatred, and fear. It’s a tough love, a rare virtue in a world quick to condemn and slow to forgive.

Life, in all its raw, unfiltered reality, can be cruel. Truth can cut deep. But we have the power to choose. We can pick the path of least resistance, letting our darker instincts rule, or we can strive for something better. We can reject the sadist within, turn away from the psychopath’s cold logic. We can choose humanity, empathy, and kindness.

In our existence, we are both actors and directors, the choice to be cruel or kind rests squarely on our shoulders. So let’s choose wisely. Let’s choose to see each other, truly see each other, in all our flawed, messy humanity. And in that seeing, let’s find a way to be better—to be kinder, to be more compassionate, to be more human.