The survey is unique: the first of its kind to assess the prevalence of psychopathic traits within an entire national workforce. Participants were directed onto my Website, where they completed the Levenson Self-Report Psychopathy Scale and were then given their score. But that wasn’t all. They also entered their employment details. What would turn out to be the U.K.’s most psychopathic profession? I wanted to know. And, for that matter, its least? The results, revealed below, certainly make interesting reading—especially if you’re partial to a sermon or two on a Sunday.

But a couple of weeks later the following appeared in my in-box, from one of the survey’s respondents. He’s a barrister by trade—indeed, one of the U.K.’s finest—who’d posted a score that certainly got my attention. Yet, to him, it was nothing unusual. No big deal whatsoever:

“I realized from quite early on in my childhood that I saw things differently from other people,” he wrote. “But, more often than not, it’s helped me in my life. Psychopathy (if that’s what you want to call it) is like a medicine for modern times. If you take it in moderation it can prove extremely beneficial. It can alleviate a lot of existential ailments that we would otherwise fall victim to because our fragile psychological immune systems just aren’t up to the job of protecting us. But if you take too much of it, if you overdose on it, then there can, as is the case with all medicines, be some rather unpleasant side effects.”

The e-mail had got me thinking. Might this eminent criminal defense lawyer have a point? Was psychopathy a “medicine for modern times”? Could taking it in moderation, twiddling those dials a little to the right on our respective psychopath mixing desks—at certain times, in certain specific contexts—actually be good for us?

Kevin Dutton: The Wisdom of Psychopaths. What Saints, Spies, And Serial Killers Can Teach Us About Success, New York: Farrar 2012, 162 f.