Is Amos Burton a Sociopath?
“What do you think of Amos Burton?”
This question came at me quickly, mere seconds after I’d informed my friend that I’d taken his advice and binge-watched the “the best sci-fi show ever.” Before I could answer, he provided his own. “A good guy sociopath!”
For those unfamiliar with Mr. Burton, and wonder why people are calling him names, beware. Spoilers Ahead.
Originally airing on SyFY, Amazon’s hit space opera The Expanse (a fifth season is on the way) focuses on a future class conflict between three warring factions: Martians, Belters (as in Asteroid Belt), and Earthers (such as Amos, mechanic of the frigate spaceship Rocinante).
Some forums consider Amos a questionable character, if not downright sociopathic. A quick take paraphrased from Fanlore:
Amos is morally dubious; much fan discussion surrounds his motivations and mysterious backstory, which has yet to be revealed in the show. Some believe his actions are a result of a tragic childhood, while others view Amos as a sociopath…
So.
Is Amos Burton a sociopath?
From the Oxford Dictionary:
so·ci·o·path
noun
a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.
That’s a good place to start.
Does Amos have a lack of conscience?
In The Seventh Man S2E7, Amos is tasked with distributing aid to refugees at Ganymed Station. He aggressively pushes away a woman he believes is trying to steal supplies. Her small child, understandably upset, defends her by pushing Amos in return. This unsettles Amos, putting him out of sorts for the remainder of the episode.
Amos: The way I see it, there’s only three kinds of people in this world: Bad ones, ones you follow, and ones you need to protect.
Not only does Amos identify with the vulnerability of the victimized, which this refugee child helped him reify, but also with the victimizer, whom he personified through his strict amoral survivalist reaction. He’s simultaneously victim and victimizer at Ganymede, imploding the view of himself as protector. Amos is forced to examine his own persona and reckon with a conscience that questions his efforts to ignore it because it’s the navigator he needs to move forward.
Amos: “I”m trying to make decisions, but they seem to be the wrong ones.”
Amos has spent several decades building himself into a blunt force instrument of physical strength, suppressed emotions, and zero-sum perspective. But processing complicated events (people are nothing if not complicated) can require a different type of strength, namely the mature ability to understand, and operate with, nuance. Amos is all-or-nothing.
And until the incident at Ganymede, Amos looked to Naomi as the person who would flip that switch. She basically functioned as his decision-making apparatus.
Amos: Ask me whether or not I should rip your helmet off and kick you off this bucket I couldn’t give you a reason why I should or shouldn’t. Except Naomi wouldn’t like it.
Naomi, Inner Voice
Naomi served, for a time, as a kind of Jiminy Cricket, allowing Amos to react to events without remorse or hesitation. This emotionally stunted him, an unintended variation of that vulnerable positioning from childhood. Not only did he make himself subservient to Naomi psychologically, he made the act of trusting his own decisions extremely difficult. Unwittingly, he’d lost power by giving up his own agency, though he couldn’t see that until Ganymede because he’d always measured that agency through physicality. Amos had ironically accentuated his dependency by counting on someone else to do the thinking for him.
In practical terms, without the constraints of a conscience, Amos could put the fear of fear out of mind. But that fear is eventually replaced by the dread of turning into the type of monster he’s spent his life fighting against. In a black and white universe, a fight bound by conscience is like having one hand tied behind one’s back. Survival, for Amos, necessitates the silencing of his inner voice.
When a situation arises demanding that voice be heard, Amos is discombobulated by what it’s saying. Ignoring his conscience proves untenable.
Dr. Burnett: Part of Cortázar’s temporal lobe has been effectively erased. The part that governs empathy.
Amos: You can do that…?
Empathy as Achilles Heel
When Amos is exposed to scientist Paolo Cortázar (Static S2E3) he meets a man who’s had his empathy literally removed, a narrative device that puts this question of sociopathy front and center.
Amos had pushed empathy out of his mind as a preservation tactic — suppression not removal. The encounter with the refugee mother and child was a confronting moment which triggered his empathic struggle. He felt not only for those who he was hurting but also for the damaged person inside the monster he’d become. Unlike Amos, Cortázar’s been rendered fundamentally devoid of these human emotions (there will never be a questioning of conscience).
For a strict survivalist, there’s practical value in empathy removal. Amos asks if the process is reversible, seeing it as being akin to removing one’s Achilles heel before battle. Ultimately, he decides it’s a bad bargain:
Alex: I wish I could go through life without feeling fear.
Amos: No. You don’t.
Why? Because it’s not removing the Achille’s heel, it’s removing one’s humanity.
If Amos were a conscienceless sociopath how could he process such a position and determine its undesirability? He understands the sacrifice he’s made to live a life of suppressed emotion. But this was a choice made of necessity, not a disorder. Much like the dehumanizing issues that can traumatize soldiers, he’s tried to robotomize himself.
Sociopaths are Machiavellian
Amos is very much a straight shooter, the opposite of a manipulative, strategizing user.
According to Psychology Today, “Sociopaths are the epitome of Machiavellian creatures. As the sociopath assumes the highest level of the social hierarchy to win, win, win, it’s the trusting and the kind who suffer most.”
This isn’t Amos.
He’s a role player, loyal and protective of those he trusts, kind to the vulnerable (Prax, Chike).
Not only does Amos build relationships during the course of the show, but he is also high-functioning. This runs counter to the Mayo Clinic‘s assertion that “People with this disorder (ASPD) typically can’t fulfill responsibilities related to family, work or school.”
Again. Not Amos.
There is only one incident that causes a temporary disruption of his duties — the previously mentioned conscience-comes a-calling at Ganymede. This isn’t an example of a sociopath unable to function, but of a man-child being forced by his inner voice to see what he’s become and grow up in response.
The bonds he builds with his Rocinante crew allows him to finally operate within a familial support system, people worth trusting. He can start to face the fear of adulthood and the complexities it presents.
An unvarnished assessment of the human condition
Amos: Just because someone is good to you, it doesn’t mean that you can trust them.
This isn’t to say Amos’s reactionary responses are indicative of a faulty understanding of human nature. Quite the opposite.
His track record in sussing out which individuals represent mortal threats and societal menace is usually on-point. The question Amos must answer is how to stop such corrosive people without creating a ripple effect of destruction himself.
Perhaps some fans see Amos as a sociopath because they believe that’s how he sees himself.
Amos: “I haven’t felt fear since I was five.”
In Dandelion Sky S3E10, Amos issues this sociopathic declaration matter-of-factly. But I’d argue it’s more mission statement than reality, a ‘character is what they do not say’ moment. This is Amos trying to live in an identity he’s fashioned for himself, one that he believes will keep him alive, a sociopathic suit of armor. The man inside wears it pragmatically.
The actuality is that Amos fears fear.
Fear equals vulnerability
Fear is a threat because it equates to powerlessness. So Amos frames the issue as if he were AI with its emotion chip removed. This allows him to function as a pragmatic survivalist, a conscienceless “killer” (if need be). He refers to himself accordingly in Subduction S4E3:
Amos: The others don’t get it yet, but I know what you are.
Murtry: Oh, and what is that?
Amos: A killer. You have all the excuses that make you seem right, but the truth is your dick got hard when you smoked that guy in front of everybody and you can’t wait to do it again.
Murtry: Speaking from experience?
Amos: Not really. But from one killer to another, you don’t wanna try that shit with my people.
Amos is differentiating himself from Murtry. Whereas Amos kills as a prerequisite to protect his “people” in an ‘us or them’ scenario, Murtry’s actions on behalf of his team are performative. Even without knowing of Murtry’s greed, Amos understands the man’s intent is dangerously self-serving. Amos isn’t comparable: he serves his crewmates.
Sociopaths don’t operate with concern for others
Prax: “Amos is my best friend in the whole world.”
This is what Prax tells his daughter in the kind of phrasing a child can easily understand; Amos identifies with children (the vulnerable) so it resonates deeply and it was meant to:
More than once, Prax thanks Amos for the efforts on his behalf. Amos solidifies this role one last time by stopping Prax from killing Dr. Strickland:
Amos : [Puts his hand on Prax’s gun which was aimed at Dr. Strickland, lowering it] You’re not that guy.
[Prax leaves]
Dr. Strickland : [Standing up from where he was kneeling] Thank you. Thank you.
Amos : I am that guy.
This action, in a way, reminded me of Antony Dresden‘s execution by Miller in Doors and Corners S2E2:
Miller: I didn’t kill him because he was crazy. I killed him because he was making sense.
Dresden was both a mass murderer and an articulate defender of his rationale. He was making the case for humanity’s advancement through atrocity. This is rationale found in the numbers: how many potentially saved vs. how many sacrificed. (Dresden is the German city bombed during WW2 which killed approx. 25,000 people, including many civilians.)
Strickland was essentially the same type of ends-justify-the-means character, and for Amos, it was personal. Strickland’s victims were children.
Amos: A kid needs at least one person who never gives up on them, no matter what.
Strickland and Dresden, murderers both, committed grave crimes in the pursuit of scientific advancement. This is the context through which we determine who, and what, Amos is, especially in the extreme conditions these characters inhabit.
You may say, “But he killed a defenseless man.”
Amos doesn’t see it that way. Eventually neither do we.
Context is Key
Within the environment of The Expanse, and in regards to the argument of his supposed sociopathy, Amos has a logical position; this is not the expression of “a mental disorder in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong.”
Consider Cascade S2E10. Amos begins beating an immoral opportunist who refuses to assist the team unless he’s paid with food (he already has more than enough unlike everyone around him). Prax and his daughter, and those suffering at this hoarder’s greed, are at issue. Prax has to stop Amos from killing the guy, pointing out how they need this man for information.
At this juncture, it’s worth quickly mentioning just a couple of the seemingly relevant fourteen antisocial personality disorder symptoms listed on The Mayo Clinic website. Do they have applicability to Amos?
- Hostility, significant irritability, agitation, aggression or violence
Amos implements violence when he believes it’s necessary, not out of ego preservation. This is most likely based on his experiences as a defenseless child when utilizing physical force was not available to him.
- Impulsiveness or failure to plan ahead
Amos is compelled to fix broken things. He generally tries to address problems in ways that won’t lead to more or greater problems.
- Lack of remorse about harming others
Amos typically has no remorse because the people he harms are usually “deserving” or “asking for it.” I’ll elaborate shortly.
- Failure to consider the negative consequences of behavior or learn from them
Amos learns throughout the show, shaped by those around him, and opens up to a more complex view of circumstances as they arise.
With Amos, it usually comes down to what’s at stake.
Amos takes the measure and proceeds accordingly
He knows the character of the company he keeps and the nature of his enemies. Unbeknownst to Amos, Strickland, for example, killed a fellow physician in order to shift blame and save his own skin. Amos knows how the villainous will usually not cooperate without force (let alone stop acting villainous) and he also knows that those around him will step up to serve as ‘good cops’ as a counter if need be. But even if, and when, his bad cop goes all the way, he still feels justified:
Prax: You said you weren’t a homicidal maniac.
Amos: I didn’t kill him.
Prax: Not yet.
Amos: He’s a bully. And where I come from, bullies take desperate young girls like your daughter and force them into prostitution. And when they finally get knocked up, they peddle them to johns who get off on that. After they have the kid, they push them right back out on the streets even before they have a chance to heal. And those kids…they use them, too. Some people deserve to be punished.
I think this is one of several instances, not only in fiction but in real life, that reveals how ‘The Good’ too often fails to comprehend the depths of ‘The Bad.” Yes, perspective makes these terms relative and, thus a simplistic argument. But for the broad strokes of narrative, if being good is antithetical to having such a mindset as The Bad, then without knowing such depths The Good will always be at a disadvantage, scrambling to stop the cascade of destruction.
Is Amos compelled out of sociopathy or cold hard logic? Being that he’s a mechanic, he sees when things are not working. The question is whether he always chooses the correct tool for the job.
For us, his methods seem questionable, sometimes indefensible, as we judge from the safety of a moral perspective that exists in a vacuum outside the show. As viewers, we apply our idealism to the character as if his choices can be divorced from within the space he occupies.
Which is a good place to contrast him with Holden, Captain of the Rocinante.
From Caliban’s War S2E13:
Amos : In case I have to kill you, I just wanted to say thanks. You made some pretty stupid choices since you’ve been in charge, but you were always trying to do the right thing.
Holden : Hmm? Yeah.
Amos : That came out bad. I mean, you were always trying to be a good man. Not everybody does. Thank you. It’s nice not having to worry about being on the right team.
Holden’s quality of character is so rare in Amos’s universe. The ability to recognize it, appreciate it, and even apologize for his own poor wording, is a reflection of how un-sociopathic Amos is or, if you prefer, can be.
Interestingly, Amos admits inadvertently that he does feel fear: He doesn’t have to “worry” he’s one of the good guys. This clarifies his statement about not feeling fear. He fears his own decisions.
But, again, he makes an arguably sociopathic statement, “In case I have to kill you…” Would he? And if he did, would it be justified?
Amos appreciates Holden’s goodness so much that he’s compelled to tell him, which many people would not do even if they thought as much. Additionally, Amos honors Holden’s righteous wishes even though he, Amos, and the audience really really want Murtry dead. If the audience wants Murtry dead are they sociopaths?
And even our moral Northstar Holden acknowledges — in Cibola Burn S4E10) — what we all think Murtry deserves:
Holden: Amos, don’t kill him while I’m gone.
Amos: He has it coming.
Holden: I know, but it’s important to me.
Holden believes the prosecution of Murtry is of more value than killing him outright. That’s a pragmatic decision. Cold, hard logic. Amos doesn’t argue with it.
Instead, Amos bides his time, chooses his moment. As the image accompanying this article suggests, Amos delights in being able to mete out bloody violence — the murderous villain has struck first, allowing Amos to strike back with a clear conscience. It’s his life hack.
Amos is a damaged person who tries to rebuild himself during the course of the show by observing the positive role models he was denied in childhood (people like Naomi, Holden, Prax).
And continuing this metaphor of re-building…
I’m assuming many viewers interpreted Amos as a Frankenstein monster, a brute force of nature that seems to exist outside the world, watching through inhuman eyes. Sure enough, this was addressed by Prax in Assured Destruction S3E3:
[Prax winces as Amos removes the stitches from his wound]
Prax : I thought you said you’d done this before!
Amos : I have. Just not on someone else. I don’t want you looking like Frankenstein when Mei sees you.
Prax : Frankenstein was the name of the doctor. The monster didn’t have a name.
Amos has a mini-epiphany at this distinction: “Oh yea!”
Unlike the empathy-depleted Cortázar, Amos is not truly emotionally isolated from people. He’s only been playing the part of a nameless monster. He’s actually the misguided doctor who’s created a false persona for his subject, himself. Amos has the ability to fix his frayed wiring (he’s a mechanic after all) and be a better member of his Rocinante family. Which he does.
Being sociopathic means never having to say, “I’m Sorry.”
Naomi: About what I did to you on Ganymede. I’m sorry.
Amos: I’m sorry.
Naomi: You’re sorry?
Amos: Yeah. l am. You said that you needed to do something and I didn’t listen. I made you put me down. That couldn’t have been easy for you. It’s just that I’ve been trying to make choices on my own lately.
Again from Psychology Today: “Sociopaths are always blameless and rarely apologize unless they are caught and it will make them look good.” Well, Amos gives Naomi a heartfelt apology, so from the Sociopath’s perspective, it doesn’t make him look good. It makes him appear earnest. Which he is.
Long before the first episode of The Expanse, Amos had transferred the nature of his childhood victimization from one aspect of his life to another, Naomi serving as his mental and moral compass as if he were incapable of decision-making. He did not want to think and face the conundrum of moral responsibilities in an immoral world. The only way to square that circle is through amoral detachment. Or so he thought. Ganymede got him thinking otherwise.
The most difficult task of adulthood may be the continual dilemma of moral choices shaped by situational context. It may seem easier to shut off one’s mind and react, but as Amos found out, this has its limitations.
As a master mechanic, Amos knows every problem can’t be repaired with the same tool. As the idiom goes, “When every problem is a nail, every solution is a hammer.” His seemingly practical solution — to defend himself by operating as a sociopath in a harsh, uncaring universe — lost its practicality. He now has to try to be himself. Whatever that means.
