The story starts: I was at a friend's house, and she had on her shelf a copy of the DSM manual, which is the manual of mental disorders. It lists every known mental disorder. And it used to be, back in the '50s, a very slim pamphlet. And then it got bigger and bigger and bigger, and now it's 886 pages long. And it lists currently 374 mental disorders.
Tas sākās tā: es biju ciemos pie draudzenes, un viņai plauktā bija DSM rokasgrāmata, psihisko traucējumu rokasgrāmata. Tajā uzskaitīts ikviens zināmais psihiskais traucējums. 50. gados tas bija plāns bukletiņš. Tad tas kļuva arvien biezāks, biezāks un biezāks, un tagad tas 886 lappušu biezs. Pašlaik tajā uzskaitīti 374 psihiskie traucējumi.
So I was leafing through it, wondering if I had any mental disorders, and it turns out I've got 12.
Tā nu es lapoju to, gribēdams uzzināt, vai man nepiemīt kāda psihiska novirze, un izrādījās, ka man to ir 12.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
I've got generalized anxiety disorder, which is a given. I've got nightmare disorder, which is categorized if you have recurrent dreams of being pursued or declared a failure, and all my dreams involve people chasing me down the street going, "You're a failure!"
Man piemīt vispārējā trauksme, pats par sevi saprotams. Man ir murgi, ko uzskata par slimību, ja cilvēkam ir atkārtoti sapņi, kuros viņu vajā vai atzīst par neveiksminieku, un visos manos sapņos kāds dzenas man pakaļ un sauc: "Tu esi neveiksminieks!"
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
I've got parent-child relational problems, which I blame my parents for.
Man ir vecāku-bērnu attiecību problēmas, kurās es vainoju savus vecākus.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
I'm kidding. I'm not kidding. I'm kidding. And I've got malingering. And I think it's actually quite rare to have both malingering and generalized anxiety disorder, because malingering tends to make me feel very anxious.
Es jokoju. Es nejokoju. Es jokoju. Un es simulēju slimības. Man šķiet, visai reti cilvēkam piemīt gan simulēšana, gan vispārējā trauksme, jo simulēšana manī rada trauksmi.
Anyway, I was looking through this book, wondering if I was much crazier than I thought I was, or maybe it's not a good idea to diagnose yourself with a mental disorder if you're not a trained professional, or maybe the psychiatry profession has a kind of strange desire to label what's essentially normal human behavior as a mental disorder. I didn't know which of these was true, but I thought it was kind of interesting, and I thought maybe I should meet a critic of psychiatry to get their view, which is how I ended up having lunch with the Scientologists.
Tā nu es lapoju šo grāmatu, prātojot, vai esmu daudz trakāks, nekā man pašam šķiet, vai ka varbūt nav laba doma diagnosticēt sev psihisku traucējumu, ja neesi apmācīts profesionālis, vai ka varbūt psihiatriem ir dīvaina vēlme būtībā normālu uzvedību klasificēt kā psihisku traucējumu. Es nezināju, kas no tā visa ir patiess, bet tas šķita visai interesanti, un es nodomāju, ka varbūt vajadzētu satikt kādu psihiatrijas kritiķi, lai uzzinātu viņa viedokli, un tā es nonācu pie pusdienu galda ar scientologiem.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
It was a man called Brian, who runs a crack team of Scientologists who are determined to destroy psychiatry wherever it lies. They're called the CCHR. And I said to him, "Can you prove to me that psychiatry is a pseudo-science that can't be trusted?" And he said, "Yes, we can prove it to you." And I said, "How?" And he said, "We're going to introduce you to Tony." And I said, "Who's Tony?" And he said, "Tony's in Broadmoor." Now, Broadmoor is Broadmoor Hospital. It used to be known as the Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane. It's where they send the serial killers, and the people who can't help themselves. And I said to Brian, "Well, what did Tony do?" And he said, "Hardly anything. He beat someone up or something, and he decided to fake madness to get out of a prison sentence. But he faked it too well, and now he's stuck in Broadmoor and nobody will believe he's sane. Do you want us to try and get you into Broadmoor to meet Tony?" So I said, "Yes, please."
Tas bija kāds vīrs vārdā Braiens, kas vada izcilāko scientologu grupu, kuras mērķis ir iznīcināt psihiatriju itin visur. Viņi sevi dēvē par <i>CCHR</i>. Es viņam teicu: "Vai varat pierādīt, ka psihiatrija ir pseidozinātne, kurai nevar ticēt?" Viņš teica: "Jā, mēs to varam." Es jautāju: "Kā?" Viņš atbildēja: "Mēs jūs iepazīstināsim ar Toniju." Es jautāju: "Kas ir Tonijs?" Un viņš teica: "Tonijs ir Broudmūrā." Broudmūra ir Broudmūras slimnīca. Kādreiz to dēvēja par Broudmūras vājprātīgo noziedznieku patversmi. Turp sūta sērijveida slepkavas un cilvēkus, kas nevar sevi savaldīt. Es jautāju Braienam: "Ko Tonijs ir nodarījis?" Viņš teica: "Gandrīz neko. Viņš kādu piekāva vai izdarīja ko tamlīdzīgu un nolēma notēlot vājprātu, lai izvairītos no cietuma. Bet viņš tēloja pārāk labi, un tagad viņš ir iestrēdzis Broudmūrā, un neviens netic, ka viņš ir pie pilna prāta. Vai gribat, lai mēģinām jums noorganizēt tikšanos ar Toniju Broudmūrā?" Es teicu: "Jā, lūdzu."
So I got the train to Broadmoor. I began to yawn uncontrollably around Kempton Park, which apparently is what dogs also do when anxious, they yawn uncontrollably. And we got to Broadmoor. And I got taken through gate after gate after gate after gate into the wellness center, which is where you get to meet the patients. It looks like a giant Hampton Inn. It's all peach and pine and calming colors. And the only bold colors are the reds of the panic buttons. And the patients started drifting in. And they were quite overweight and wearing sweatpants, and quite docile-looking. And Brian the Scientologist whispered to me, "They're medicated," which, to the Scientologists, is like the worst evil in the world, but I'm thinking it's probably a good idea.
Tā nu es iekāpu vilcienā uz Broudmūru. Ap Kemptonas parku es sāku neizturami žāvāties. To darot arī suņi, kad satraucas. Tie žāvājas vienā laidā. Mēs nonācām Broudmūrā. Mani veda caur vārtu vārtiem un durvju durvīm, līdz nonācām veselības centrā, kur pacienti tiekas ar viesiem. Tas izskatās kā milzīga trīszvaigžņu viesnīca, viss ir persiku un priežu, un nomierinošās krāsās. Vienīgās košās krāsas ir sarkanās trauksmes pogas. Pacienti sāka lēnām plūst iekšā. Viņi bija visai korpulenti, tērpušies sporta biksēs, un izskatījās visai paklausīgi. Scientologs Braiens man čukstēja: "Viņi ir nozāļoti," kas scientologam ir pasaules lielākais ļaunums, bet man šķita, ka tā droši vien ir labāk.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
And then Brian said, "Here's Tony." And a man was walking in. And he wasn't overweight, he was in very good physical shape. And he wasn't wearing sweatpants, he was wearing a pinstripe suit. And he had his arm outstretched like someone out of The Apprentice. He looked like a man who wanted to wear an outfit that would convince me that he was very sane.
Tad Braiens teica: "Lūk, kur Tonijs." Ienāca kāds vīrs. Viņš nebija korpulents, bet gan labā fiziskā formā. Viņš nebija tērpies sporta biksēs, viņš bija tērpies svītrainā uzvalkā. Viņš bija izstiepis roku sveicienam kā kāds no realitātes šova <i>The Apprentice</i>. Viņš izskatījās kā cilvēks, kas gribēja ģērbties tā, lai pārliecinātu mani, ka viņš ir ļoti normāls.
And he sat down. And I said, "So is it true that you faked your way in here?" And he said, "Yep. Yep. Absolutely. I beat someone up when I was 17. And I was in prison awaiting trial, and my cellmate said to me, 'You know what you have to do? Fake madness. Tell them you're mad, you'll get sent to some cushy hospital. Nurses will bring you pizzas, you'll have your own PlayStation.'" I said, "Well, how did you do it?" He said, "Well, I asked to see the prison psychiatrist. And I'd just seen a film called 'Crash,' in which people get sexual pleasure from crashing cars into walls. So I said to the psychiatrist, 'I get sexual pleasure from crashing cars into walls.'" And I said, "What else?" He said, "Oh, yeah. I told the psychiatrist that I wanted to watch women as they died, because it would make me feel more normal." I said, "Where'd you get that from?" He said, "Oh, from a biography of Ted Bundy that they had at the prison library."
Viņš apsēdās. Es teicu: "Tātad tā ir taisnība, ka jūs simulējāt, lai šeit nonāktu?" Viņš teica: "Jā. Jā. Tieši tā. Septiņpadsmit gadu vecumā es kādu piekāvu. Es apcietinājumā gaidīju spriedumu, un mans kameras biedrs teica: "Zini, kas tev jādara? Notēlo trako. Pasaki viņiem, ka esi traks, un tevi nosūtīs uz jauku slimnīcu. Māsiņas tev pienesīs picas, un tev būs savs <i>PlayStation</i>."" "Kā jūs to izdarījāt?" Viņš teica: "Es palūdzu tikšanos ar cietuma psihiatru. Nesen biju noskatījies filmu <i>Crash</i>, kurā cilvēki gūst seksuālu baudījumu no auto triekšanas sienā. Tāpēc es psihiatram teicu: "Es gūstu seksuālu baudījumu no auto triekšanas sienā."" Un es jautāju: "Ko vēl?" Viņš teica: "Ak, jā, vēl es psihiatram pateicu, ka gribētu vērot, kā mirst sievietes, jo tas liktu man justies normālam." Jautāju: "No kurienes jūs ņēmāt to?" Viņš teica: "No Teda Bandija biogrāfijas cietuma bibliotēkā."
Anyway, he faked madness too well, he said. And they didn't send him to some cushy hospital. They sent him to Broadmoor. And the minute he got there, said he took one look at the place, asked to see the psychiatrist, said, "There's been a terrible misunderstanding. I'm not mentally ill." I said, "How long have you been here for?" He said, "Well, if I'd just done my time in prison for the original crime, I'd have got five years. I've been in Broadmoor for 12 years."
Viņš notēloja vājprātīgo pārāk labi. Un viņu nenosūtīja uz jauku slimnīcu. Viņi nosūtīja viņu uz Broudmūru. Tur nonācis, viņš palūkojās apkārt un sacīja psihiatram: "Ir noticis milzīgs pārpratums, es neesmu psihiski slims." Es jautāju: "Cik ilgi jūs jau šeit esat?" Viņš atbildēja: "Ja es izciestu cietumsodu par sākotnējo pārkāpumu, es būtu bijis brīvs pēc pieciem gadiem. Broudmūrā es esmu jau 12 gadus."
Tony said that it's a lot harder to convince people you're sane than it is to convince them you're crazy. He said, "I thought the best way to seem normal would be to talk to people normally about normal things like football or what's on TV. I subscribe to New Scientist, and recently they had an article about how the U.S. Army was training bumblebees to sniff out explosives. So I said to a nurse, 'Did you know that the U.S. Army is training bumblebees to sniff out explosives?' When I read my medical notes, I saw they'd written: 'Believes bees can sniff out explosives.'"
Tonijs teica, ka ir daudz grūtāk pārliecināt citus, ka esi normāls, nekā ka esi traks. "Iepriekš domāju, lai izskatītos normāls, jārunā normāli par normālām lietām, piemēram, futbolu vai televīziju. Es abonēju <i>New Scientist</i>, un nesen tajā bija raksts par ASV armiju, kas apmāca kamenes saost sprāgstvielas. Tā nu es māsiņai teicu: "Vai zinājāt, ka ASV armija apmāca kamenes saost sprāgstvielas?" Lasot savas slimības piezīmes, ieraudzīju tajā ierakstu: "Tic, ka bites var saost sprāgstvielas."
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
He said, "You know, they're always looking out for nonverbal clues to my mental state. But how do you sit in a sane way? How do you cross your legs in a sane way? It's just impossible." When Tony said that to me, I thought to myself, "Am I sitting like a journalist? Am I crossing my legs like a journalist?"
Viņš teica: "Ziniet, viņi vienmēr meklē neverbālas norādes par manu psihisko stāvokli. Bet kā jāsēž normālam cilvēkam? Kā jāsakrusto kājas normālam cilvēkam? Tas ir neiespējami!" Kad Tonijs to teica, es pie sevis nodomāju: "Vai es sēžu kā žurnālists? Vai sakrustoju kājas kā žurnālists?"
He said, "You know, I've got the Stockwell Strangler on one side of me, and I've got the 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips' rapist on the other side of me. So I tend to stay in my room a lot because I find them quite frightening. And they take that as a sign of madness. They say it proves that I'm aloof and grandiose." So, only in Broadmoor would not wanting to hang out with serial killers be a sign of madness. Anyway, he seemed completely normal to me, but what did I know?
Viņš teica: "Ziniet, viens mans kaimiņš ir Stokvelas sērijveida slepkava, un otrs ir pazīstams izvarotājs. Tāpēc es cenšos palikt savā istabā, jo man no viņiem bail. Un viņi to uztver kā vājprāta pazīmi. Viņi saka, ka tas pierāda manu norobežošanos un paštīksmināšanos." Tikai Broudmūrā nevēlēšanās saieties ar sērijveida slepkavām ir vājprāta pazīme. Tātad viņš man šķita pilnībā normāls, bet ne jau man par to spriest.
And when I got home I emailed his clinician, Anthony Maden. I said, "What's the story?" And he said, "Yep. We accept that Tony faked madness to get out of a prison sentence, because his hallucinations -- that had seemed quite cliche to begin with -- just vanished the minute he got to Broadmoor. However, we have assessed him, and we've determined that what he is is a psychopath." And in fact, faking madness is exactly the kind of cunning and manipulative act of a psychopath. It's on the checklist: cunning, manipulative. So, faking your brain going wrong is evidence that your brain has gone wrong. And I spoke to other experts, and they said the pinstripe suit -- classic psychopath -- speaks to items one and two on the checklist: glibness, superficial charm and grandiose sense of self-worth. And I said, "Well, but why didn't he hang out with the other patients?" Classic psychopath -- it speaks to grandiosity and also lack of empathy. So all the things that had seemed most normal about Tony was evidence, according to his clinician, that he was mad in this new way. He was a psychopath.
Atbraucis mājās, es uzrakstīju viņa ārstam Entonijam Meidenam. Es jautāju: "Kā ar viņu īsti ir?" Viņš teica: "Jā, mēs pieņemam, ka Tonijs tēloja vājprātu, lai izvairītos no cietuma, jo viņa halucinācijas, kas jau no paša sākuma šķita visai klišejiskas, pazuda brīdī, kad viņš nokļuva Broudmūrā. Tomēr mēs viņu esam izvērtējuši un mēs noteicām, ka viņš ir psihopāts." Patiesībā vājprāta tēlošana ir tieši psihopātam raksturīga viltības un manipulācijas izpausme. Šīs pazīmes ir kontrolsarakstā – viltīgs, manipulatīvs. Tātad tēlošana, ka smadzenes ir slimas, norāda uz to, ka smadzenes ir slimas. Es runāju ar citiem ekspertiem, un viņi teica, ka strīpainais uzvalks – klasisks psihopāts – atbilst pirmajam un otrajam kontrolsaraksta punktam: izmanīgums, virspusējs šarms un milzīga pašvērtības izjūta. Es jautāju: "Bet kāpēc viņš nesaietas ar citiem pacientiem?" "Klasisks psihopāts – tas norāda uz paštīksmināšanos un empātijas trūkumu." Tā nu viss, kas šķita Tonijā normāls, pēc viņa ārsta vārdiem, bija pierādījums viņa vājprātam šajā jaunajā veidā. Viņš bija psihopāts.
And his clinician said to me, "If you want to know more about psychopaths, you can go on a psychopath-spotting course run by Robert Hare, who invented the psychopath checklist." So I did. I went on a psychopath-spotting course, and I am now a certified -- and I have to say, extremely adept -- psychopath spotter.
Viņa ārsts teica: "Ja vēlaties uzzināt vairāk par psihopātiem, varat apmeklēt psihopātu noteikšanas kursus, ko vada Roberts Heirs, psihopātijas kontrolsaraksta radītājs." Tā es arī darīju. Es devos uz psihopātu noteikšanas kursiem, un tagad esmu sertificēts, un jāatzīst, ka ļoti lietpratīgs psihopātu noteicējs.
So, here's the statistics: One in a hundred regular people is a psychopath. So there's 1,500 people in his room. Fifteen of you are psychopaths. Although that figure rises to four percent of CEOs and business leaders, so I think there's a very good chance there's about 30 or 40 psychopaths in this room. It could be carnage by the end of the night.
Lūk, kāda ir statistika: viens no katriem simts parastiem cilvēkiem ir psihopāts. Ja šajā telpā ir 1500 cilvēku, tad piecpadsmit no jums ir psihopāti. Kaut gan šis skaitlis pieaug līdz 4% uzņēmuma vadītāju un līderu vidū, tāpēc es domāju, ka ir liela varbūtība, ka šajā telpā ir 30 līdz 40 psihopātu. Līdz vakaram šis sarīkojums varētu izvērsties par slaktiņu.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
Hare said the reason why is because capitalism at its most ruthless rewards psychopathic behavior -- the lack of empathy, the glibness, cunning, manipulative. In fact, capitalism, perhaps at its most remorseless, is a physical manifestation of psychopathy. It's like a form of psychopathy that's come down to affect us all. Hare said, "You know what? Forget about some guy at Broadmoor who may or may not have faked madness. Who cares? That's not a big story. The big story," he said, "is corporate psychopathy. You want to go and interview yourself some corporate psychopaths."
Heirs teica, ka iemesls ir tas, ka kapitālisms savā nežēlīgākajā izpausmē atalgo psihopātisku rīcību: empātijas trūkumu, izmanību, viltību, manipulāciju. Patiesībā kapitālisms tā pārākajā pakāpē ir fiziska psihopātijas manifestācija. Tā ir kā psihopātijas forma, kas ietekmē mūs visus. Heirs teica: "Ziniet, aizmirstiet par to puisi Broudmūrā, kurš varbūt ir vai nav simulants. Tas nav nekas īpašs. Īpašais ir korporatīvā psihopātija. Nointervējiet kādu korporatīvo psihopātu."
So I gave it a try. I wrote to the Enron people. I said, "Could I come and interview you in prison, to find out it you're psychopaths?"
Es nolēmu pamēģināt. Es uzrakstīju <i>Enron</i> cilvēkiem. Es teicu: "Vai es varētu atnākt uz cietumu un noskaidrot, vai neesat psihopāti?" (Smiekli)
(Laughter)
And they didn't reply.
Viņi neatbildēja.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
So I changed tack. I emailed "Chainsaw Al" Dunlap, the asset stripper from the 1990s. He would come into failing businesses and close down 30 percent of the workforce, just turn American towns into ghost towns. And I emailed him and I said, "I believe you may have a very special brain anomaly that makes you ... special, and interested in the predatory spirit, and fearless. Can I come and interview you about your special brain anomaly?" And he said, "Come on over!"
Tad es mainīju taktiku. Es uzrakstīju "Motorzāģa Alam" Danlapam, uzņēmumu aktīvu iznīcinātājam no 90. gadiem. Viņš mēdza iesaistīties bankrotējošā uzņēmumā, atlaist 30 procentus darbinieku, pārvēršot veselas Amerikas pilsētas par spoku pilsētām. Es viņam uzrakstīju un teicu: "Es domāju, ka jums ir kāda ļoti īpaša smadzeņu anomālija, kas jūs padara... īpašu, tādu, kam raksturīga plēsīga pieeja un bezbailība. Vai es varētu jūs nointervēt par šo īpašo smadzeņu anomāliju?" Un viņš teica: "Brauciet tik šurp!"
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
So I went to Al Dunlap's grand Florida mansion. It was filled with sculptures of predatory animals. There were lions and tigers -- he was taking me through the garden -- there were falcons and eagles, he was saying, "Over there you've got sharks and --" he was saying this in a less effeminate way -- "You've got more sharks and you've got tigers." It was like Narnia.
Tā nu es devos uz Ala Danlapa milzīgo Floridas īpašumu. Tas bija pilns plēsīgu dzīvnieku statujām. Tur bija lauvas un tīģeri – viņš mani izveda cauri dārzam – tur bija ērgļi un vanagi, un viņš teica: "Lūk, tur ir haizivis un..." Viņš to teica mazāk piezemēti: "Tur ir vēl vairāk haizivju, un tur ir tīģeri." Tur izskatījās kā Nārnijā.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
And then we went into his kitchen. Now, Al Dunlap would be brought in to save failing companies, he'd close down 30 percent of the workforce. And he'd quite often fire people with a joke. Like, for instance, one famous story about him, somebody came up to him and said, "I've just bought myself a new car." And he said, "Well, you may have a new car, but I'll tell you what you don't have -- a job."
Tad mēs devāmies uz virtuvi. Alu Danlapu aicināja uz uzņēmumiem, kuriem draudēja bankrots. Viņš mēdza atlaist 30 procentus darbinieku. Un bieži vien viņš tos atlaida jokojoties. Piemēram, viens nostāsts vēsta, ka kāds darbinieks viņam teicis: "Es tikko nopirku jaunu mašīnu." Un viņš atbildēja: "Varbūt mašīna tevi tagad ir, bet es tev pateikšu, kā tev vairs nav. Tev vairs nav darba."
So in his kitchen -- he was in there with his wife, Judy, and his bodyguard, Sean -- and I said, "You know how I said in my email that you might have a special brain anomaly that makes you special?" He said, "Yeah, it's an amazing theory, it's like Star Trek. You're going where no man has gone before." And I said, "Well --" (Clears throat)
Virtuvē – viņš tur bija ar savu sievu Džūdiju un miesassargu Šonu – es viņam teicu: "Atceraties, es jums rakstīju, ka jums varētu piemist īpaša smadzeņu anomālija, kas jūs padara īpašu?" Viņš teica: "Tā ir vienreizēja teorija. Kā no <i>Star Trek</i> seriāla. Jūs darāt to, ko neviens vēl nav darījis." Un es teicu: "Hmm..." (nokrekšķinās)
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
Some psychologists might say that this makes you --" (Mumbles)
Daži psihologi teiktu, ka tas jūs padara par..." (Murmina)
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
And he said, "What?" And I said, "A psychopath." And I said, "I've got a list of psychopathic traits in my pocket. Can I go through them with you?"
"Par ko?!" viņš jautāja. Es teicu: "Par psihopātu." Es teicu: "Man kabatā ir saraksts ar psihopāta iezīmēm. Vai mēs varētu tās kopīgi caurskatīt?"
And he looked intrigued despite himself, and he said, "Okay, go on." And I said, "Okay. Grandiose sense of self-worth." Which I have to say, would have been hard for him to deny, because he was standing under a giant oil painting of himself.
Lai vai kā, viņš šķita ieintriģēts un teica: "Lai notiek!" Es teicu: "Tātad, pārspīlēts pašvērtējums," kas, jāsaka, bija grūti noliedzams, jo viņš stāvēja zem milzīga, eļļas krāsām gleznota sava portreta.
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
He said, "Well, you've got to believe in you!" And I said, "Manipulative." He said, "That's leadership."
Viņš teica: "Ir jātic pašam sev!" Un es teicu: "Manipulatīvs." Viņš atbildēja: "Tā ir līderība."
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
And I said, "Shallow affect, an inability to experience a range of emotions." He said, "Who wants to be weighed down by some nonsense emotions?" So he was going down the psychopath checklist, basically turning it into "Who Moved My Cheese?"
Es teicu: "Jūtu seklums, nespēja izjust plašu emociju paleti." Viņš teica: "Kurš gan vēlas ļauties kaut kādām muļķīgām emocijām?" Ejot cauri psihopāta iezīmju kontrolsarakstam, viņš to būtībā pārvērtā par "Kurš pievācis manu sieru?"
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
But I did notice something happening to me the day I was with Al Dunlap. Whenever he said anything to me that was kind of normal -- like he said "no" to juvenile delinquency, he said he got accepted into West Point, and they don't let delinquents in West Point. He said "no" to many short-term marital relationships. He's only ever been married twice. Admittedly, his first wife cited in her divorce papers that he once threatened her with a knife and said he always wondered what human flesh tasted like, but people say stupid things to each other in bad marriages in the heat of an argument, and his second marriage has lasted 41 years. So whenever he said anything to me that just seemed kind of non-psychopathic, I thought to myself, well I'm not going to put that in my book. And then I realized that becoming a psychopath spotter had kind of turned me a little bit psychopathic. Because I was desperate to shove him in a box marked "Psychopath." I was desperate to define him by his maddest edges.
Bet es kaut ko ievēroju todien, kad tikos ar Alu Danlapu. Kad viņš teica kaut ko tādu, kas šķita normāls, piemēram, viņš atbildēja ar "nē" uz mazgadīgo noziedzību, viņš teica, ka bijis uzņemts Vestpointā, un Vestpointā neuzņem mazgadīgos noziedziniekus. Viņš atbildēja ar "nē" uz daudzām īsām laulībām, viņš ir bijis precējies tikai divreiz. Tiesa, viņa pirmā sieva šķiršanās iesniegumā minēja, ka viņš viņai vienreiz draudējis ar nazi un teicis, ka allaž prātojis, kā varētu garšot cilvēka gaļa, bet neveiksmīgās laulībās cilvēki strīda karstumā sarunā visādas muļķības, un viņa otrā laulība bija ilgusi jau 41 gadu. Ikreiz, kad viņš teica kaut ko, kas nešķita psihopātam raksturīgs, es nodomāju, ka to nu gan es neminēšu savā grāmatā. Un tad es sapratu, ka, kļūstot par psihopātu ķērāju, es pats esmu kļuvis nedaudz psihopātisks. Jo es izmisīgi centos iedabūt viņu rāmī ar uzrakstu "psihopāts". Es izmisīgi centos parādīt viņu no trakākās puses.
And I realized, my God -- this is what I've been doing for 20 years. It's what all journalists do. We travel across the world with our notepads in our hands, and we wait for the gems. And the gems are always the outermost aspects of our interviewee's personality. And we stitch them together like medieval monks, and we leave the normal stuff on the floor. And you know, this is a country that over-diagnoses certain mental disorders hugely. Childhood bipolar -- children as young as four are being labeled bipolar because they have temper tantrums, which scores them high on the bipolar checklist.
Un es sapratu, ka, ak dievs... esmu to darījis 20 gadu garumā. To dara visi žurnālisti. Mēs ceļojam pa visu pasauli ar savām piezīmju grāmatām rokās un meklējam dārgakmeņus. Un dārgakmeņi vienmēr ir intervējamā personības galējos punktos. Mēs tos stiķējam kopā kā viduslaiku mūki un visu normālo atstājam novārtā. Un, ziniet, šajā valstī dažus psihiskos traucējumus diagnosticē daudz par daudz. Maniakālā depresija bērniem – bērniem pat no četru gadu vecuma nosaka maniakālo depresiju, jo viņiem uznāk dusmu lēkmes, kas tiem dod augstu rezultātu maniakālās depresijas testā.
When I got back to London, Tony phoned me. He said, "Why haven't you been returning my calls?" I said, "Well, they say that you're a psychopath." And he said, "I'm not a psychopath." He said, "You know what? One of the items on the checklist is lack of remorse, but another item on the checklist is cunning, manipulative. So when you say you feel remorse for your crime, they say, 'Typical of the psychopath to cunningly say he feels remorse when he doesn't.' It's like witchcraft, they turn everything upside-down." He said, "I've got a tribunal coming up. Will you come to it?" So I said okay.
Kad es atgriezos Londonā, Tonijs man piezvanīja. Viņš jautāja: "Kāpēc tu neatbildi uz maniem telefona zvaniem?" Es teicu: "Stāsta, ka tu esot psihopāts." Un viņš atbildēja: "Es neesmu psihopāts. Zini, viens no kontrolsaraksta punktiem ir nožēlas trūkums, bet vēl cits punkts – viltība, manipulācija. Ja saki, ka jūti nožēlu par pastrādāto noziegumu, viņi saka, ka esi tipisks psihopāts, kas viltīgi apgalvo, ka nožēlo, kaut patiesībā to nedara. Tas ir kā apburtais loks, viņi visu apgriež otrādi." Viņš teica: "Man drīz būs komisijas noklausīšanās. Vai atnāksi uz to?" Es piekritu.
So I went to his tribunal. And after 14 years in Broadmoor, they let him go. They decided that he shouldn't be held indefinitely because he scores high on a checklist that might mean that he would have a greater than average chance of recidivism. So they let him go. And outside in the corridor he said to me, "You know what, Jon? Everyone's a bit psychopathic." He said, "You are, I am. Well, obviously I am." I said, "What are you going to do now?" He said, "I'm going to go to Belgium. There's a woman there that I fancy. But she's married, so I'm going to have to get her split up from her husband."
Es aizgāju uz noklausīšanos. Un pēc četrpadsmit Broudmūrā pavadītiem gadiem viņu izlaida. Viņi nolēma, ka nevajadzētu viņu paturēt visu mūžu tāpēc vien, ka viņa augstais testa rezultāts varētu nozīmēt, ka tendence uz recidīvismu viņam ir virs vidējās. Tā nu viņu izlaida. Ārpusē koridorā viņš teica: "Zini ko, Džon? Mēs visi esam drusku psihopāti." Viņš teica: "Tu esi, es esmu. Es jau nu pavisam noteikti." Es jautāju: "Ko tu tagad darīsi?" Viņš teica: "Es došos uz Beļģiju. Tur ir kāda sieviete, kas man patīk. Bet viņa ir precējusies, tāpēc man būs jāizšķir viņa no vīra."
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
Anyway, that was two years ago, and that's where my book ended. And for the last 20 months, everything was fine. Nothing bad happened. He was living with a girl outside London. He was, according to Brian the Scientologist, making up for lost time, which I know sounds ominous, but isn't necessarily ominous. Unfortunately, after 20 months, he did go back to jail for a month. He got into a "fracas" in a bar, he called it. Ended up going to jail for a month, which I know is bad, but at least a month implies that whatever the fracas was, it wasn't too bad.
Bet tas bija pirms diviem gadiem, un tur mana grāmata beidzās. Pēdējos 20 mēnešus viss bija kārtībā. Nenotika nekas slikts. Viņš dzīvoja ar kādu meiteni Londonā. Scientologa Braiena vārdiem runājot, viņš centās atgūt zaudēto laiku, kas izklausās draudīgi, bet varbūt tā nemaz nav. Diemžēl pēc 20 mēnešiem viņš atkal nonāca uz mēnesi cietumā. Viņam gadījās "saķeršanās" kādā bārā, kā viņš to nosauca. Tā nu viņš nonāca cietumā uz mēnesi, kas, protams, ir slikti, bet mēnesis vismaz nozīmē, ka, lai vai kāda bija saķeršanās, tā tomēr nebija pārāk briesmīga.
And then he phoned me. And you know what, I think it's right that Tony is out. Because you shouldn't define people by their maddest edges. And what Tony is, is he's a semi-psychopath. He's a gray area in a world that doesn't like gray areas. But the gray areas are where you find the complexity. It's where you find the humanity, and it's where you find the truth. And Tony said to me, "Jon, could I buy you a drink in a bar? I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me." And I didn't go. What would you have done?
Un tad viņš man piezvanīja. Un, ziniet, es domāju, ka ir pareizi, ka Tonijs ir brīvībā. Jo nevajadzētu spriest par cilvēkiem no to neprātīgākajām izpausmēm. Tonijs ir puspsihopāts. Viņš ir pelēkā zona pasaulē, kurai nepatīk pelēkās zonas. Bet pelēkās zonas ir tās, kurās var atrast sarežģīto. Tajās slēpjas cilvēcība, un tajās var atrast patiesību. Tonijs man teica tā: "Džon, vai es varētu tev izmaksāt bārā dzērienu? Es vienkārši gribu pateikties par visu, ko tu manā labā esi darījis." Un es neaizgāju. Ko būtu darījuši jūs?
Thank you.
Paldies.
(Applause)
(Aplausi)