July 11, 2026

TOUGH BEAT FOR EMPATHISTAS:

There are no psychopaths: Virtually everything you think you know about psychopathy has been thoroughly debunked. Why does this zombie idea live on? (Rasmus Rosenberg Larsen, 2/27/26, Aeon)

Consider one of the most repeated tropes about psychopaths, that they are incapable of mirroring or reading other peoples’ emotions: they lack empathy. The problem with this view is that science tells a radically different story. When people diagnosed with psychopathy participate in empathy experiments, their performance is entirely indistinguishable from normal controls.

The most compelling evidence comes from a recent systematic review of empathy research my team conducted, which included a total of 66 studies involving 5,711 persons clinically assessed for psychopathy. We found that the results were ‘overwhelmingly null findings’ (89.11 per cent of all tests). That is, statistical analyses cannot tell the difference in performance between psychopathic vs non-psychopathic persons. We also found that high-quality studies – those using more rigid statistical methods – had an even higher null-ratio of a whopping 94.77 per cent. In behavioural scientific experiments, where datasets are presumed to be rife with false positives, this is arguably as close as you get to proving a negative: people diagnosed with psychopathy do not have empathy deficits.

Consider another well-trodden claim that psychopaths lack emotions. This claim is as old as the idea of psychopathy itself, however it was the psychiatrist Hervey Cleckley who popularised it through his book The Mask of Sanity (1941). Cleckley hypothesised that psychopathy was essentially a neurological disorder of the affective system, causing abnormally shallow emotions. What made psychopathy peculiar was that those who were affected by the disorder could hide or mask their disability, coming across as if they were normal. But, to Cleckley, this is just a façade covering up a barren inner emotional life. In many ways, the Chigurh character effectively captures this aspect of Cleckley’s conception of psychopathy.

However, most researchers have long given up on this idea too, rendering it little more than a myth. There has never been any clear evidence to support it. A person clinically diagnosed with psychopathy might appear as if they are lacking emotions, but once these patients are subjected to careful analysis using technology capable of measuring physiological markers correlated with emotional reactions – like skin conductance, heart rate, brain activity, etc – the data tell a different story.

DEMOTIC LANGUAGE TO A DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE:

These green and printed lands: How William Caxton developed Englishness, and how his Englishness is breaking down (Freddie Attenborough, 11 July, 2026, The Critic)

Indeed, perhaps the chief benefit of the exhibition is that, through its attention to primary sources accumulated between the fifteenth and late eighteenth centuries, it forces us to approach “England” not as a natural inheritance but as an historical achievement: the coming together of capitalist productive relations, print technology and the emergent administrative state at a particular historical juncture. […]

As a matter of material necessity, Caxton and his contemporaries were primarily concerned to make a profit, and to sell their products to the largest possible number of readers. But how to do so? True, Latin had long operated as an elite, transnational medium of handwritten communication among clerics and scholars. Yet as a market for mechanically reproduced texts, now assuming the form of commodities, it was limited. Nor could printers simply descend into the full plurality of spoken dialects, each too local, unstable and limited to justify the enlarged print-runs on which the new technology depended.

It was the genius of humble but extraordinarily savvy, commercially minded printers like Caxton slowly to assemble a new vernacular reading public below the transnational republic of Latin and the administrative vernacular of the elites, but, crucially, above the mutually opaque world of local dialects. What emerged, over time, was not “English” as a natural tongue, but a mechanically reproducible print-language, capable of dissemination — and sale — through the largest market available to it.

In other words, moveable type and the rate of turnover of capital were not incidental to the development of “our” national identity, but helped establish the material conditions under which this possessive adjective could, over the centuries following Caxton’s publication of Chaucer, become thinkable.