Through art people show who they really are. “Every portrait that is painted with feeling,” remarks Basil Haywood to the hedonistic aristocrat Henry Wotton in Oscar Wilde’s classic novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, “is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who (…) reveals himself.”[1] For better or worse, the page, the screen, and the canvas provide boundless fields for self-expression; ossifying a fragment of the artist’s soul and preserving it through the ages.
This results in the inevitable dirtying of otherwise enjoyable literary classics by the vices of their creators. Even masterpieces such as Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist and Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote can’t escape the dampening effects of anti-Semitism and inquisitorial conservatism from their respective authors. Sir William Golding’s Lord of the Flies is no exception to this.[2]
Golding was an ogre of a man in all but appearance. The terroristic outbursts of a violent mother and a life wrought with misery and loneliness haunted Golding with lifelong demons of bitterness and guilt, making him a terror to his wife and children, the shame of which he’d vainly try to drown through rivers of alcohol. He was sympathetic towards the very Nazis who he risked life fighting on D-Day, admitting that he was “of that sort of nature.” Golding was, as described himself, “a monster.” This Monster’s most famous work, Lord of the Flies, was hated by its creator because, like Basil Haywood, he had put too much of himself in it.[3] Indeed, Golding refused to read the manuscript of his classic, fearing that his embarrassment would drive him to suicide. “I despise myself and am anxious not to be discovered, uncovered, detected, rumbled,” Golding wrote.[4] The novel depicts a long series of horrors, detailing a group of schoolboys marooned on a Pacific island during an evacuation from Wartime Britain. Alone and destitute, the boys become increasingly violent and cliquish, forming a passionate cult around a rotting pig head and descending into murder, torture, and despotism; transforming a picturesque tropical island into a smoldering wasteland. “[Lord of the Flies is] based on the discovery that World War Two brought to my generation,” Golding told a reporter from the New York Herald Tribune.
Before the war [he continued], we were politically naive; most Europeans believed that man could be perfected by perfecting his society. The war taught us that if there is to be a perfecting of man, it will depend on the individual rather than on social machinery. We all saw a hell of a lot in the war that can’t be accounted for except on the basis of original evil. Man is born to sin. Set him free, and he will be a sinner, not Rousseau’s noble savage.[5]
It is unsurprising that Thomas Hobbes’ conservative notion of human nature as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short” resonated in a haunted, war-addled mind like Golding’s.[6] Intuition tells us that this idea of human nature as a “war of all against all”—pessimistic and archaic as it may be—is vindicated by the constant bombardment of horrors, tortures and abuses that fill our news reports and history books. Reality, however, paints a much more complex picture. The human mind to focus on curiosities and exceptions; on danger and deviation over placidity and normativity. When applied in history or journalism, this often leads to a distorted perception of the world, missing light for the shadows. For instance, the loathsome pirate Blackbeard’s carefully-cultivated image as a ruthless cutthroat has been preserved for centuries, despite the fact that he killed no one until his last stand at Ocracoke.[7] Crime in the United States is at its lowest in decades, yet the public perceives the reverse.[8] The Russian naturalist Peter Kropotkin explained the distortion:
Leaving aside the preconceived ideas of most historians and their pronounced predilection for the dramatic aspects of history, we see that the very documents they habitually peruse are such as to exaggerate the part of human life given to struggles and to underrate its peaceful moods. The bright and sunny days are lost sight of in the gales and storms. Even in our own time, the cumbersome records which we prepare for the future historian, in our Press, our law courts, our Government offices, and even in our fiction and poetry, suffer from the same one-sidedness. They hand down to posterity the most minute descriptions of every war, every battle and skirmish, every contest and act of violence, every kind of individual suffering; but they hardly bear any trace of the countless acts of mutual support and devotion which every one of us knows from his own experience; they hardly take notice of what makes the very essence of our daily life — our social instincts and manners. No wonder, then, if the records of the past were so imperfect. The annalists of old never failed to chronicle the petty wars and calamities which harassed their contemporaries; but they paid no attention whatever to the life of the masses, although the masses chiefly used to toil peacefully while the few indulged in fighting. The epic poems, the inscriptions on monuments, the treaties of peace — nearly all historical documents bear the same character; they deal with breaches of peace, not with peace itself. So that the best-intentioned historian unconsciously draws a distorted picture of the times he endeavours to depict.[9]
The breathtaking diversity of behaviors and customs between cultures not only precludes generalizations like Hobbes’, but calls into question the very idea of human nature.[10] Even if we assume a baseline array of behaviors that would constitute a shared “human nature,” this alone couldn’t give us a prescriptive insight into human action. This “nature’s” manifestations would be dependent on culture and circumstance. MIT linguist Noam Chomsky observed in a 1988 interview with David Barsamian that:
Individuals are certainly capable of evil (…) But individuals are capable of all sorts of things. Human nature has lots of ways of realizing itself, humans have lots of capacities and options. Which ones reveal themselves depends to a large extent on the institutional structures. If we had institutions which permitted pathological killers free rein, they’d be running the place. The only way to survive would be to let those elements of your nature manifest themselves.
If we have institutions which make greed the sole property of human beings and encourage pure greed at the expense of other human emotions and commitments, we’re going to have a society based on greed, with all that follows. A different society might be organized in such a way that human feelings and emotions of other sorts, say, solidarity, support, sympathy become dominant. Then you’ll have different aspects of human nature and personality revealing themselves.[11]
Instead of the unverifiable idea of human nature, we’d be better off examining the tenable concept of the human condition; evaluating human action within the material conditions where it manifests. Evaluating this human condition in times of disaster, we discover the anathema of Hobbes and Golding. The horrors of violent social upheaval seed the beauty of harmonious cooperation. Paradises are built in hell.[12]
Shared suffering begets solidarity.[13] From 1939 to 1945, humanity found itself trapped in a monumental struggle between good and evil. The Axis terrorized Europe and Asia, seeking to decimate supposed “undesirables” to impose the despotic rule of their self-declared “supreme” race. Humanity despaired at the thought of fascist victory; a horror entailing genocide and violence at a scale unprecedented in history. Experts foretold that the darkening effects of the war would spark terror into the allied civilians, sapping them of fortitude and patriotism and sweetening the relief of surrender.
Through an eight-month stream of nonstop bombings the Nazis tried to kill England’s spirits. They only strengthened them. The violence of war dislodged, declassed and deposed millions of Britons from the squabbles and prejudices of everyday life and abruptly thrust them into a collective struggle against a common evil. Mutual support became an essential for survival, wilting social hierarchy and springing fresh bonds of fraternity and solidarity.[14] Charles E. Fritz, a U.S. Airforce Captain stationed in Wartime Britain, was astounded by their optimism and fortitude:
By 1943, the British had already endured five years of war. They had not only experienced the direct effects of the bombing and the damaging effects on people and the physical environment; they had also been subjected to severe shortages of housing, food, clothing, and essential public services. Those problems were compounded by the arrival of six to eight million American and Allied servicemen and the ensuing overcrowding and added strains on public services and the British economy. Under those conditions, one might expect to find a nation of panicky, war weary people, embittered by the death and injuries to their family members and friends, resentful over their prolonged life style deprivations, anxious and disillusioned about the future, and, more generally, exhibiting personal and social behaviors indicating a state of low morale and esprit de corps. But those expectations proved to be totally false. Instead, what one found was a nation of gloriously happy people, enjoying life to the fullest, exhibiting a sense of gaiety and love of life that was truly remarkable. The traditional British class distinctions had largely disappeared. People who had never spoken to each other before the war, now engaged in warm, caring personal relations; they spoke openly with one another about their cares, fears, and hopes; and they gladly shared their scarce supplies with others who had greater needs. (…) everywhere people met-there was an easygoing, friendly intermingling of people of quite different racial, ethnic, class, and cultural backgrounds.[15]
While accompanying the United States’ Strategic Bombing Survey (USSBS) in Germany, Fritz was shocked to discover that wartime fortitude and optimism was not solely a British phenomenon. German cities with heavier bombing had higher morale than lighter-bombed ones! From Hiroshima to Udall, Kansas, Fritz found this trend universal.[16]
More interesting than the communal strengthening effect of the war was the psychological one. The stress of the war kindled a sort of widespread social therapy. British mental hospital admissions in 1940, the year the Blitz started, were eight percent lower than 1938, the year before Britain’s entry into the war, and continued to decline as the Blitz continued into 1941. Mental health statistics showed an overall decrease in psychological disorders during the war. Suicide attempts (at least among Women) in England-Wales plummeted (32% decline) during the Blitz. “Most social and emotional adjustments to disaster conditions,” concluded one psychologist, “are better carried out by those who do not know about their psychological basis.”[17] The war that killed Golding’s faith in humanity revived it for millions of others.
Much the same story happened in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina.[18] The sensationalist press worked hard to paint the struggling city as a hellhole or rape, banditry and torture. A September 3rd New York Times article caricatured New Orleans as “a snake pit of anarchy, death, looting, raping, marauding thugs [and] suffering innocents.” Brigadier General Gary Jones of the Louisiana National guard told the press that the city was a “Little Somalia” and that “[a] combat operation [was needed] to get this city under control.” Police Chief Eddie Compass broke down in tears on Oprah Winfrey’s show, reporting of “babies being raped” in the Louisiana superdome. Governor Kathleen Blanco flooded the city with National Guardsmen, armed with M-16s and thirsty for violence; The city’s police were greenlit to kill “looters” on sight.[19]
As the floodwaters receded, it became clear how wrong everyone was. The unspeakable depravity thought to have been divulged by Katrina was mythical. There was no mass rape, murder, cannibalism, or sniping at rescue helicopters.[20] Indeed, compared to pre-hurricane levels reported looting decreased.[21] The media orchestrated a racist and classist panic portraying the people of New Orleans as savages to dampen the world’s sympathy of the sufferings of the poverty-stricken majority black city. Survivors savaging through rubble to find supplies were twisted into “looters” in a naked attempt at dehumanization. Feminist writer Rebecca Solnit described the useless, loaded nature of that term:
Looting is an inflammatory, inexact word that might best be excised from the English language. It pools together two very different activities. One might be called theft; the other requisitioning, the gathering of necessary goods in an emergency—think of Salvation Army volunteers and affluent professionals breaking into drugstores in San Francisco during the 1906 earthquake to get medical supplies for the injured. Such requisitioning is an utterly appropriate response to extraordinary circumstances, a choice of survival and aid over the rules of everyday life. Almost no stores were open for business during the days after Katrina, and money was not relevant in any places; the only way to get essentials was to take them.[22]
In a particularly grotesque instance, the press stamped “looter” on a black child forced to scavenge for food, whereas a pair of whites who did the same were said to have merely “found” the supplies.[23]
The Superdome was never the orgy of gang violence and debauchery the government and media portrayed it as. The “gangs” of the Superdome far surpassed the National Guard in efficiency and compassion. Denise Moore, a young eyewitness, testified to their peaceful conduct:
[Armed men] were securing the area. Criminals, these guys were criminals, they were. But somehow these guys got together, figured out who had guns, and decided they were going to make sure that no women were getting raped, because we did hear about the women get raped in the Superdome, and that nobody was hurting babies, and nobody was hurting these old people.
They were the ones getting juice for the babies. They were the ones getting clothes for people that walked through that water. They were the ones fanning the old people, because that’s what moved the guys, the gangster guys the most, the plight of the old people. That’s what haunted me the most, seeing those old people sitting in them chairs, and not being able to get up and walk around or nothing. (…)
[The gangs] started [scavenging for supplies] on Saint Charles and Napoleon. There was a Rite-Aid there. And you would think that they would be stealing stuff that, you know, fun stuff or whatever, because it’s a free city, according to them. But they were taking juice for the baby, water, beer for the older people, food, raincoats so that they could all be seen by each other and stuff. And I thought it was pretty cool and very well organized. (…)
[The gangsters acted] exactly like Robin Hood. And that’s why I got so mad, because they’re calling these guys animals. These guys. That’s what got to me, because I know what they did. You’re calling these people animals? Come on. And I saw what they did, and I was really touched by it, and I liked the way that they were organized about it, and that they were thoughtful about it. Because they had families they couldn’t find too, and that they would put themselves out like that on other people’s behalf.[24]
What ever happened to little Somalia?
Psychologists have long known that mass looting after disasters is a myth. It’s no accident that Hollywood and the media haven’t. Perception of mass chaos and looting after disasters is a calculated factor in what Kathleen Tierney calls an “elite panic;” an artificial hysteria aiming to elevate property over human life and solidify societal structures of authority and hierarchy. Solnit explains:
Disaster sociologist Kathleen Tierney, who directs the University of Colorado’s Natural Hazards Center, gave a riveting talk at the University of California, Berkeley, for the centennial of the 1906 earthquake in which she stated, “Elites fear disruption of the social order, challenges to their legitimacy.” She reversed the image of a panicking public and a heroic minority to describe what she called “elite panic.” She itemized its ingredients as “fear of social disorder; fear of poor, minorities and immigrants; obsession with looting and property crime; willingness to resort to deadly force; and actions taken on the basis of rumor.” In other words, it is the few who behave badly and the many who rise to the occasion. And those few behave badly not because of facts but of beliefs: they believe the rest of us are about to panic or become a mob or upend property relations, and in their fear they act out to prevent something that may have only existed in their imaginations. Thus the myth of malevolent disaster behavior becomes something of a self-fulfilling prophesy. Elsewhere she adds, “The media emphasis on lawlessness and the need for strict social control both reflects and reinforces political discourse calling for a greater role for the military in disaster management. Such policy positions are indicators of the strength of militarism as an ideology in the United States.”[25]
In the shadow of this elite panic, the working class of post-Katrina New Orleans showed impregnable courage and fortitude. The cruel incompetence of the state and bureaucracy placed the burden of recovery on workers’ shoulders. As the president lounged in his Texas ranch, the people of New Orleans grew increasingly aware of their maroonment.[26] They realized that survival and the alleviation of their suffering depended on their cooperation. An indicative example saw hundreds of radical activists banding with former Black Panther Malik Rahim to establish the Common Ground clinic: an underfunded and under-trained brigade of volunteers that surpassed the resource-rich government and Red Cross in both efficiency and quality of care, saving countless lives.[27] While the city suffered a small degree of opportunistic theft and violence, peaceful cooperation was ultimately triumphant in New Orleans after Katrina, despite state wickedness. The true horror of Katrina was its aftermath: Capitalists swooped upon the drowned city, exploiting the tragedy as an excuse to punish the poor, instituting mass privatization and gentrification, further decaying the social fabric of an already destitute and impoverished community.[28]
A little over a decade after Golding published Lord of the Flies, another group of boys became marooned on a Pacific Island, but this time it wasn’t fictional. In the summer of 1965, six teenage boys decided to break the monotony of their incarceration at a strict Catholic boarding school in Nuku‘alofa, the capital of the sparsely-populated Tonga archipelago. Expropriating a boat from a widely-hated fisherman, the boys embarked on a 500 mile odyssey to Fiji, bringing neither a map nor compass for their adventure. Their recklessness cost them dearly, and they became quickly lost at sea. The boys washed up on the small island of ‘Ata, a rocky wasteland stripped of human life for over a century by slave traders and buried in obscurity by its ostensible inhabitability and dark past. Over a year later, a stroke of luck brought the Australian fisherman Peter Warner on a short detour to ‘Ata, where he discovered the presumed-dead boys and brought them home.
Two groups of boys marooned remotely in the Pacific: the first as fiction, the second as fact. While the circumstances of their maroonment and the material conditions of their habitats are quite dissimilar, the chasm between fantasy and reality gives us deep insight into the human condition. Unlike Golding’s fictional British boys, the isolation did not kill the humanity of the castaways, but strengthened it. The real castaways valued cooperation over competition. Labor was divided up by roster. Discord was calmed peacefully, by respectful conversation and self-isolation. Despite the often wet and stormy climate of Oceania’s archipelagos (and in deep contrast with Golding’s book) the boys maintained a rescue fire uninterrupted for fifteen months. Captain Warner was astonished at the community that the castaways had built:
the boys had set up a small commune with food garden, hollowed-out tree trunks to store rainwater, a gymnasium with curious weights, a badminton court, chicken pens and a permanent fire, all from handiwork, an old knife blade and much determination.[29]
It’s tempting to ascribe the chasm between fiction and reality as solely the product of Golding’s addled mind. While his dark mental state indeed impacted his worldview, it’s crucial to note that Golding’s view of human nature was drawn from his experience on the battlefield, when the human condition was subject to an immense struggle for domination.[30] Despite the horrors it brings, war powerfully demonstrates the polarity of human behavior. Unspeakable suffering on the barricades and trenches contrasts the peaceful, therapeutic communities that emerge from behind the lines of fire. The key difference between these two modes of behavior is the intent of the struggle: the former seeks domination through victory whereas the latter seeks survival through mutual support. The human condition manifests accordingly.
I’ve spent the entirety of this essay working to refute the Golding’s (and thus Hobbes’) idea of human nature, but I don’t blame them for adopting it. The dog-eat-dog nature of the capitalist system saps us of our cooperative instincts and spawns a culture of competition and coercion, where greed is encouraged and empathy shunned.[31] A truly free society entails the abolition of coercion and competition, denying the Hobbesian brute the chance to rear its ugly head.
Endnotes
[1] O. Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (London: Ward Lock & Co., 1891), 7.
[2] R.C. Lewontin, S. Rose, L.J. Kamin, Not in our Genes: Biology, Ideology, and Human Nature (New York: Pantheon, 1984), 17-18, C. Dickens, Oliver Twist (1837), M. de Cervantes, Don Quixote (1605), and W. Golding, Lord of the Flies (1954).
[3] Wilde, Dorian Gray, 3, 16.
[4] Information on and quotes from Golding come from: M. Wainwright, “Author William Golding tried to rape teenager, private papers show” The Guardian, 16 August 2009, Retrieved from: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/aug/16/william-golding-attempted-rape, P. Conrad, “[Review of] William Golding: The Man Who Wrote Lord of the Flies by John Carey” The Guardian, 30 August 2009, Retrieved from: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/aug/30/william-golding-john-carey-review, Wikipedia.org (Last ed. 17 Feb 2022), “William Golding,” Retrieved from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Golding
[5] Golding’s New York Herald Tribune interview quoted in J. Ellerby, “Must the Good Guys Always Lose?,” Anarchy #48 5(2) (Feb. 1965), 34. Lord of the Flies was also inspired by Golding’s practice of pitting his pupils against one another as a schoolmaster, Wainwright, “Golding tried to rape teenager.”
[6] M. Sahlins, The Western Illusion of Human Nature (Chicago: Prickly Paradigm, 2008), 11.
[7] A. Konstam, Blackbeard: America’s Most Notorious Pirate (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2007), 157.
[8] J. Gramlich, “What the data says (and doesn’t say) about crime in the United States,” Pew Research Center, 20 Nov. 2020, Retrieved from: https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2020/11/20/facts-about-crime-in-the-u-s/
[9] P. Kropotkin, Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution (Mineola, NY: Dover, 2006), 96-97. See also H. Zinn, A People’s History of the United States (New York: HarperCollins, 2003), 8.
[10] P. Gelderloos, Anarchy Works (San Francisco: Ardent Press, 2010), 46.
[11] N. Chomsky, Chronicles of Dissent: Interviews with David Barsamian (Monroe, ME: Common Courage, 1992), 158-59.
[12] Phrase from R. Solnit, A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster (New York: Penguin, 2010).
[13] I don’t just mean this in the sense of emotional pain; shared physical pain can act like “a social glue;” B. Bastian, J. Jetten, L. J. Ferris, “Pain as Social Glue: Shared Pain Increases Cooperation,” Psychological Science, 25(11) (5 Sept. 2014), 2079-85.
[14] Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 98-104, C.E. Fritz, “Therapeutic Features of Disaster,” Disasters and Mental Heath: Therapeutic Principles Drawn from Disaster Studies (Newark, DE: University of Delaware Disaster Research Center, 1996), 53-70.
[15] Fritz, Disasters and Mental Health, 2-3.
[16] Ibid. I couldn’t find any studies on disaster optimism in the USSR during WWII (Though Fritz mentions the USSR, 52) which is a shame considering that they bore the brunt of the fascist invasion. Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 105.
[17] Fritz, Disasters and Mental Health, 42, 44, 61.
[18] For brevity, I’m only covering Blitz-era England and New Orleans after Katrina in this essay, but I encourage the reader to educate themselves on San Francisco and Mexico City after their earthquakes, the civilian population during the Spanish Civil War, and New York after 9/11 for more examples of these disaster communities.
[19] S. Kroll-Smith, Recovering Inequality: Hurricane Katrina, the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906, and the Aftermath of Disaster (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2018), 58-59. For Compass crying see N. A. Cazenave, The Urban Racial State: Managing Race Relations in American Cities (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2011), 151-152.
[20] Cazenave, The Urban Racial State, 152. Kroll-Smith, Recovering the Aftermath, Chap 4. TIME Magazine, Hurricane Katrina: The Storm that Changed America (New York: Author, 2005), 55. K. Bragg, “The Lie of the Storm,” Columbia Journalism Review, 10 Nov. 2021, Retrieved from: https://www.cjr.org/special_report/new-orleans-hurrcane-katrina-ida-looting.php. M. Welch, “They Shoot Helicopters, Don’t They?,” Reason, December 2005, Retrieved from: https://reason.com/2005/12/01/they-shoot-helicopters-dont-th-2/. L. Barsky et al., “Disaster Realities in the Aftermath of Hurricane Katrina: Revisiting the Looting Myth,” (University of Colorado, Boulder) Quick Response Report (184) (Feb. 2006). B. Jacob et al., “Disaster Mythology and Fact: Hurricane Katrina and Social Attachment,” Public Health Reports 123(5) (Sept.-Oct. 2008), 555-66.
[21] Barsky et al., “Aftermath of Katrina,” 3. Authors mention that the hurricane may have affected the quality of reporting.
[22] Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 237. I should add that “looting” in the sense of seizing property in the context of a social uprising is quite effective at bringing about change, see V. Osterweil, In Defense of Looting (New York: Bold Type Books, 2020).
[23] S. R. Sommers et al., “Race and Media Coverage of Hurricane Katrina: Analysis, Implications, and Future Research Questions,” Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy 6(1) (2006), 39-55. Bragg, “The Lie of the Storm.”
[24] I. Glass, interview with D. Moore in “After the Flood, ” This American Life (296) (9 Sept 2005), Retrieved from: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/296/transcript. Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 243-44.
[25] Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 127.
[26] E. Bumiller, “Bush Criticized over Storm Response,” New York Times, 2 Sept. 2005, Retrieved from: https://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/02/world/americas/bush-criticized-over-storm-response.html.
[27] Gelderloos, Anarchy Works, 96-97. Solnit, Paradise in Hell, 289-95.
[28] C. Johnson (ed.), The Neoliberal Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, Late Capitalism and the Remaking of New Orleans (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2011). For more on how capitalists exploit disaster to enact controversial policies, see N. Klein, The Shock Doctrine (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2007).
[29] Info on the castaways comes from R. Bergman, “The Real Lord of the Flies,” The Guardian, 9 May 2020, Retrieved from: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/may/09/the-real-lord-of-the-flies-what-happened-when-six-boys-were-shipwrecked-for-15-months. S. S. Westfall & D. Herbst, “Inside the Lord of the Flies Survival of 6 Tongan Boys 54 Years Ago: ‘The Story We Need Now,’” People, 5 June 2020, Retrieved from: https://people.com/human-interest/inside-real-life-lord-of-the-flies-survival-of-6-tongan-boys-54-years-ago/
[30] Fn. 5 of this essay. Hobbes also drew his observations from war; he was the first to translate Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War into English. Sahlins, The Western Illusion of Human Nature, 9-11.
[31] This explains why there are so many psychopathic CEOs. P. Babiak et al., “Corporate Psychopathy: Talking the Walk,” Behavioral Sciences and the Law, 28(2) (2010), 174-93.
Notes of Potkea 