The Chilling Self-Portrait
of the "Decent" Criminal
They walk among us, these "decent people." Not the neighbours who occasionally forget to put out their recycling, nor the colleagues who hog the office kettle. No, these are men and women who rob, defraud, abuse, and even kill, yet gaze into the mirror each morning and see not a monster, but a fundamentally good human being. It’s a terrifying dichotomy, a psychological sleight of hand detailed with unsettling precision by Stanton E. Samenow in Inside the Criminal Mind, and it cuts to the very core of our understanding of wrongdoing.
Samenow, with the clinical eye of a seasoned pathologist examining a particularly baffling cadaver, lays bare a truth most of us would rather ignore: the vast majority of criminals possess an unshakeable conviction of their own inherent goodness. This isn't a fleeting delusion, an unfortunate side-effect of a troubled past. No, this is a bedrock belief, impervious to the weight of their own heinous acts. "Right is what I want to do at the time," one offender chillingly confessed, encapsulating a worldview where personal desire trumps all external moral codes and legal statutes.
The Elasticity of "Right" and "Wrong"
For these individuals, the law isn't a deterrent, but a series of obstacles to be navigated or, more often, summarily breached. Their internal compass points solely to self-interest. An act is "wrong" only if it's "too risky," carrying a high probability of apprehension. Shoplifting might be "wrong" for a "big-time operator," not because it's theft, but because the "proceeds are too paltry" or the "surveillance techniques" make it "not worth taking a chance." It’s a transactional morality, utterly devoid of empathy for the victim.
And when they are caught? Any expressed "remorse" is almost invariably linked to the inconvenience of "getting caught," not to the harm inflicted. This is a critical distinction, one Samenow hammers home with the repetitive force of a gavel in a silent courtroom: the criminal regrets capture, not culpability. This stands in stark contrast to responsible individuals who, when inadvertently causing harm, feel "shame or embarrassment" and strive to "make amends." For the criminal, "insensitivity" to others' pain isn't a deficit; it's a cornerstone of their very identity.
The "Mistake" and the "Better Than Thou" Mantle
A primary mechanism for maintaining this gilded self-image is the framing of crimes as mere "mistakes." The adolescent who shoots his girlfriend dismisses it as a "bad mistake," insisting he's "a regular teenager." This denial conveniently sweeps a lifetime of other transgressions under the rug, allowing the criminal to believe they are fundamentally "good," despite irrefutable evidence to the contrary.
Further bolstering this self-deception is the criminal's internal hierarchy of villainy. They always manage to position themselves a notch above "the really bad guys." A working criminal, however erratically employed, will sneer at those who don't work, however much their own labour is merely a smokescreen for "things on the side." This "mantle of respectability" inflates their ego, enabling them to look down their noses at others while perpetrating their own brand of havoc.
Talent: A Tool or a Trap
It's often surprising to learn that many criminals possess exceptional talents – artists, musicians, craftsmen. Yet, Samenow notes, these gifts rarely translate into lasting, legitimate achievement. Why? Because the criminal lacks the discipline, the sheer bloody-minded perseverance required for sustained effort. They crave "overnight" success; if not "highly-recognised" immediately, they "lose interest." While some might hone skills for "public admiration or financial gain," this often serves as an elaborate decoy, "conceal[ing] other, not so admirable behaviour." The responsible person, conversely, finds "meaning in the process of achievement," taking pride in "persevering and surmounting obstacles." It’s the journey, not just the destination, that holds value.
God and Gold: Compartmentalised Comforts
Religion, too, finds its twisted application in the criminal psyche. From impeccably behaved childhoods, "purer than pure," they often succumb to "increasing temptations." For the criminal, faith is a convenient tool: a return to "childhood comfort," a "soothing ritual" in times of stress, or, more egregiously, a means to "pray for success at a criminal enterprise." Within the confines of prison, it becomes a lever to gain "special favours" or "early release."
The true horror lies in this profound compartmentalisation: "Religion and evil exist side by side, each compartmentalised from the other." The altar boy shoplifting by afternoon, the churchgoer robbing at gunpoint, the organised crime figure building shrines whilst ordering hits without a second thought. Their "religiosity," paradoxically, "bolsters his opinion of himself as an upstanding citizen," as if "confessing his sins" grants "more latitude to do as he pleases."
The Public's Willful Blindness
Perhaps the most unsettling observation Samenow makes is the non-criminal's "tendency to resist seeing the criminal as he is." There’s an innate human desire to believe in the inherent goodness of all, leading us to seek "extenuating circumstances" for even the most "vicious crimes." The criminal, a master manipulator, exploits this perfectly. They present a "bubbly personality," appear "educated, responsible," "talented," "conscientious," or "devoted to their church." They might "do good deeds" or "espouse noble ideals," but these are calculated moves, further camouflaging their true nature.
Friends and family, even in the face of arrests and damning evidence, cling to the delusion that "misconduct" is an "aberration," never reflecting the "true personality" of the idolised individual. They are "incredulous," uttering the familiar refrain, "That's not her. They must be talking about someone else." Consider Irene, the "devoted wife and stay-at-home mother" with "many friends" secretly engaged in massive shoplifting, extramarital affairs, and child neglect. She was the victim, of course, blaming her husband, the courts, even claiming "medication impaired her judgment." Her parents "idolised" her, unwavering in their belief that her actions were merely an "aberration."
This self-righteousness weaponises even the most vulnerable situations. In child custody battles, a parent with a criminal personality will launch "ferocious campaigns" not for the child's welfare, but as a "trophy." Lance, a gambling, drug-abusing, absentee father, transformed into a "model father" during his custody fight. He genuinely believed his "self-favourable" responses on personality inventories, even while threatening his wife and abandoning his children when things didn't go his way. Troy, embezzling millions from his family's prosperous company, saw his "generosity" (misappropriating company funds, lavish spending) as proof of his inherent goodness. His parents, tragically, sustained the belief that he “wanted to help the family,” seeing his actions as "wrong thinking and part of his search for self-esteem.”
Even the most vulnerable are not exempt. Seniors become "particularly tempting targets" for perpetrators who, in a grotesque display of compartmentalised "goodness," will feign sentimentality towards their own grandparents, or "seniors in their neighbourhood," carrying groceries and shovelling snow, boosting their self-image as a "good person" while simultaneously defrauding others. Child molesters, such as Henry, the diplomat exploiting underprivileged girls overseas, believe themselves "good human beings," rationalising their horrific actions: "did not use force," "girls physically develop at an early age," "assumed adult responsibilities." Henry, facing child pornography charges, saw himself as a "hardworking, patriotic American" and a "uniquely able" cultural bridge-builder, not a predator.
A "Good Heart" and the Interrogator's Art
Law enforcement understands this chilling reality. Interrogation techniques often involve acknowledging the criminal's deeply held conviction that "he has a good heart." "I know you're not a bad guy. You're a good guy," the interrogator might calmly state, aligning with the suspect's ingrained self-perception, often making them "more forthcoming." It’s an unsettling insight into the fragile yet impenetrable fortress of the criminal ego.
Ultimately, Samenow's research is a sobering, stark reminder. The criminal mind isn't merely misguided or flawed; it operates on an entirely different moral plane. Their self-image as 'decent people' isn't simply a defence mechanism, but a foundational article of faith. True remorse or external blame crashes against this internal conviction like waves against an unyielding cliff. To truly understand, and perhaps even to effectively combat, crime, we must first accept this uncomfortable truth: the most dangerous criminals often carry with them an unshakeable belief in their own innate goodness. Such a formidable psychological shield makes genuine rehabilitation a far more complex undertaking than many dare to imagine.
Citations:
Samenow, S. E. (1984). Inside the Criminal Mind. Times Books.
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