President Obama lost something invaluable last week when he weighed in on the arrest of his friend, Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr., saying the Cambridge police acted stupidly. He lost the presumption that he is colorblind and embraces all races and both genders equally.

This colorblindness was, perhaps, the fondest hope of the American public when we elected President Obama to our highest office.  As the son of a white woman from Kansas and a black man from Kenya we hoped his election marked the ascent of a leader possessed of so much empathy, so much intelligence and such a desire to understand all perspectives and experiences that he could resonate with anyone’s needs and disenfranchise no one.

That hope has withered for many, and it will be difficult to resurrect.  The fact that President Obama remained in a church headed by a pastor (Reverend Wright) who denounced white people, together with the fact that the First Lady says she felt no pride in our country until very recently, together with the fact that President Obama nominated a woman to the Supreme Court who slurred white judges as inferior, together with the President’s recent unwarranted slur of a white police sergeant as stupid seems to reveal deep-seated anger in him and constitutes a psychological pattern of insensitivity to the feelings of Caucasians.  He is a President who now (and hopefully only temporarily) seems the least colorblind of my lifetime, a terrible irony and tragedy I certainly didn’t imagine transpiring when he announced his candidacy.

The emotions some white people are sharing with me seem to parallel the feelings that African Americans may have struggled with in the past.  They tell me that they fear President Obama resents them, but won’t say so plainly, that he considers them “less than” others, maybe even demonic (like Reverend Wright does), but won’t admit it.  This gives them, and it gives me, a sliver of insight into how painful it must have been for disenfranchised minorities for decades in this country.  But the price of that slim window on the feelings of others has been high, indeed.  For the millions of white Americans who now better understand what it feels like to doubt that the President of the United States is their President, too, our heightened empathy comes with deep sadness and not a little anxiety.

President Obama doesn’t seem to understand the full depth of what has transpired.  It can’t be glossed over with the words he shared after the Crowley fiasco: 

“This has been ratcheting up, and I obviously helped to contribute ratcheting it up.  I want to make clear that in my choice of words, I think I unfortunately gave an impression that I was maligning the Cambridge Police Department and Sgt. Crowley specifically.  And I could’ve calibrated those words differently.”

He then invited Crowley over to the White House for a beer with Professor Gates.

What we needed, as white Americans, for all Americans, was a moment less about political caution and false camaraderie and more about self-revelation.  I kept thinking, as I listened to President Obama, of how short his statement fell from the words of another great African American politician, Jesse Jackson.  During the 1984 Presidential campaign, when Jackson sought the Democratic nomination, he referred to New York City as Hymietown, a slur against Jews.  I remember him taking the podium at the Democratic Convention and apologizing.  It was 25 years ago, and I was just 22-years-old, so forgive me if I have forgotten some of the words.  Most of them are seared into my memory—these two-and-a-half decades later:

“If I have offended anyone, or renewed old fears, I am deeply sorry.  Charge it to my head and not my heart.  I am an imperfect servant.  God is not yet finished with me.”

That was plenty good enough for me.  I didn’t believe Jackson could fake a statement like that.  And I never questioned the man’s heart again. 

President Obama, we need that kind of eloquence and honesty right now.  We need you to do that kind of soul-searching and let us in on the result.

The murders of Arturo Gatti, possibly by his 23-year-old ex-stripper wife, and of Steve McNair by his 20-year-old lover, may reflect yet another sign that more Americans than we know —especially younger Americans — are losing their sense of self and, with it, their psychological and moral bearings.  

Certainly, crimes of passion are nothing new.  As has always been true, the killers of Gatti and McNair had to have had extreme life stories with major psychological fault lines reaching back, quite possibly, to childhood.  But in both cases, the victims were famous men who may well have offered the women in their lives temporary and fragile shelter from deep, unresolved questions about whether they could exist independently or would crumble into nothingness without their connections to fame and fortune. It is often those who feel dead themselves who take the lives of others.

Some may think it’s too big a leap to draw any connection between a lack of respect for life and the artificial, Internet-based, technology-fueled existences that too many of today’s teens and twenty-somethings have lived, but I’m not so sure.  I think that the kind of existential panic — the panic of having nothing real at one’s core — that can lead a young woman to murder her famous lover, rather than lose him, is a distant cousin of posting videos on YouTube of staged beatings and the deconstruction of real lives and relationships into profiles, IMs and tweets.

In a world that worships reality TV parents who turn their children into entertainment automatons and a psychologically disturbed pop star whose celebrity was initially forged through enslavement to his sadistic father, respect for one’s own life and that of others can start to erode.  Gaining fame and saving face on Facebook is what matters, and the loss of image can feel like the loss of everything.  I hope I’m wrong.  I hope that cases of extreme violence are now just the same as they always were — outlying cases that are no predictor of anything about the rest of us.  

But as a psychiatrist who has made it part of my life’s work to resist dismissing my instincts, I now sense something ominous about our culture reflected in the worst deeds of the most violent among us.  I fear we are at risk for losing respect for one another and for human life.  I fear our fragile God-given capacity for empathy is under siege. I fear that in obsessing over “Blanket” Jackson (and I feel a little disturbed by even writing his preposterous name), who was dangled over a railing by a father who may not have fathered him at all, we open the door to outlandish acts of dramatic violence that would make for decent psychological thrillers, but are now the stuff of what we call “real” life.

When Drew Peterson was brought into court on charges that he murdered his third wife Kathleen Savio, he was in a good mood.  He yelled jokes to reporters about how “spiffy” his red prison jumpsuit was and called his shackles “bling.” 

Peterson is, of course, also a suspect in the 2007 disappearance of Stacy Peterson, his fourth wife.  He insists he is an innocent man.

Think of how you’d respond to being dragged into court on murder charges, especially if you were wrongly accused.  You might be terrified or confused or enraged at the injustice of your plight, but you wouldn’t be all smiles, spewing one-liners.

So how can Drew Peterson do it?

To have any hope of understanding Drew Peterson, one first has to understand human empathy.   Empathy is the ability to resonate with the feelings of others to such an extent that one actually experiences some of their joy or grief or anxiety.  It is a remarkable and inexplicable quality that we too often take for granted.  The fact that a friend can be brought to tears by a loss of yours, that you can intuit and share the worries or hopes or pride of your partner in life, or that the hunger of children thousands of miles away could spur you to action on their behalf is a tribute to this miraculous force.

Empathy does even more, though.  It helps us contain our anger and our destructive impulses, because we can imagine how it might feel to be the object of that rage.  It also helps us gauge what is appropriate language and behavior in various situations, again because we can imagine how others are likely to respond to us.  We can put ourselves in the shoes of our friends or neighbors or loved ones. 

I believe empathy is an essential ingredient in experiencing guilt, as well.  If you can’t imagine the injuries you may have done another person—can’t feel their pain in any measure—then you aren’t likely to worry over any harm you’ve done them.  The absence of empathy is the growing place for antisocial and narcissistic traits that set a person adrift from the interpersonal ties and sense of personal responsibility that bind the rest of us.

Drew Peterson may be largely devoid of empathy.  That’s why he just doesn’t get the fact that lobbing jokes to reporters while being dragged into court on charges he murdered a young woman is bizarre and macabre.  It’s why he believed he’d come across as credible on television during the media tour he orchestrated after the disappearance of Stacy Peterson.  It’s why he probably is confident a jury will acquit him (which, of course, it could).  Peterson may not be able to put himself in the place of others—at all.

One of the most toxic manifestations of having no empathy, of course, is that it leaves those without it free to inflict suffering on others.  There’s no wincing at causing them pain, even death.  In the forest of pure narcissistic and antisocial traits that grow in soil without roots of empathy, only self-preservation and one’s own needs matter.  No one and nothing else really does.

If Drew Peterson killed Kathleen Savio or is responsible for the disappearance of Stacy Peterson or both, he isn’t worried about any of that.  He’s busy with the opportunity to showcase what he believes is his extraordinary charm and intelligence and wit.  And he thinks you and I and every reporter and every judge and every juror will be mesmerized.

Dr. Keith Ablow is a psychiatry correspondent for FOX News Channel and a New York Times bestselling author. His newest book, “Living the Truth: Transform Your Life through the Power of Insight and Honesty” has launched a new self-help movement. Check out Dr. Ablow’s Web site at livingthetruth.com.

During August, 1984, Josef Fritzl, then 48, imprisoned his 18-year-old daughter Elisabeth in a damp and moldy secret room he had constructed beneath his home.  Over the ensuing years he raped her numerous times, “fathering” seven children with her.  One of those children died shortly after birth due to breathing complications Fritzl allegedly neglected to address — an act for which he was on trial for murder.  He had already pled guilty to incest and to threatening to gas or electrocute Elisabeth and her children if they attempted to escape.  Now, he has admitted to all the charges against him.

Fritzl had a history of sex crimes.  He had exposed himself to women before progressing to violent rape at knifepoint.  He was arrested for that rape, but ultimately freed.

Fritzl’s actions are so monstrous that they might seem to defy any attempt to begin to understand them.  Certainly, there is no psychological explanation that could begin to excuse them.  But, if we look for possible roots of Fritzl’s evil, a few may be traceable back to his own childhood development: Fritzl’s pathological relationship with his mother and his childhood in Nazi Germany.  I shared my perspective on both topics with John Glatt, whose book on Fritzl called Secrets in the Cellar, was just published.

According to Glatt, Fritzl described very powerful impulses to have sex with his mother. He actually prided himself on being as strong a person as she was and, therefore, able to resist having a sexual relationship with her.  This implies that Fritzl’s mother either attempted to seduce her son, or that he at least believed she was attempting to do so. And if that is the case, then imprisoning Elisabeth underground and creating a family with her could be a kind of reenactment of Fritzl’s buried childhood fantasies and fears of incest (or his actual incestuous experiences, if they occurred).  With Elisabeth, however, he was the aggressor, the one in control, rather than the potential victim.  So it may have been transmuted Oedipal desires that Fritzl brought to life in the dirt beneath his home, this time taking his daughter captive, rather than being captured himself.

It also bears noting that Fritzl’s personal development — including his battle against such fierce Oedipal desires — took place against the political backdrop of Nazi Germany. Remember, Fritzl threatened to gas his children if they escaped their underground prison.

Fritzl grew up within half a mile of the Mauthausen death camp in Amstetten.  He would literally have seen and smelled smoke rising from the crematorium.  The mingling of secrecy and an organized death camp with his sexual fantasies is hard to ignore, given the dark, buried chamber he constructed to father a second family by repeatedly raping his own daughter.

Why Elisabeth?  Perhaps she was especially sensitive.  Maybe she represented something he lacked. Humanity.  Sensitivity.  A magical, emotional, intuitive quality. Maybe looking at her in the light of day threatened to reconnect him with what he had lost in his own character, an innocence that had been taken from him.  Better to bury her.

Surely, we can’t know the precise way the toxic ingredients of Josef Fritzl’s heart and mind mingled to create a monster. He hasn’t revealed enough of his childhood and adolescence for a complete map to be drawn from horrors he experienced to the ones he perpetrated.  But Fritzl’s complete lack of empathy for his daughter Elisabeth, his wife and all the other children in his home and beneath his home means that someone showed him no mercy at a critical point as his personality took form.  Because there are no new monsters that spring, fully formed, onto the planet.  In well over a decade evaluating and treating violent men and women, I have found every single one capable of monstrous acts was created, not born.

Dr. Keith Ablow is a psychiatry correspondent for FOX News Channel and a New York Times bestselling author. His newest book, “Living the Truth: Transform Your Life through the Power of Insight and Honesty” has launched a new self-help movement. Check out Dr. Ablow’s website at livingthetruth.com or e-mail him at info@keithablow.com.

The brazenness of Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich allegedly attempting to sell a U.S. Senate seat and securities trader Bernie Madoff allegedly bilking investors (including charities) of about $50 billion in a Ponzi scheme may seem inexplicable.  But having evaluated dozens of white-collar criminals and very violent offenders over the past decade (and having testified about them in local, state and federal courts), I’ve realized many of them share recognizable psychological characteristics with convicted murderer Scott Peterson.  Peterson, you will recall, is the Modesto, California man who murdered his wife Laci and his unborn child Conner in the midst of an affair with massage therapist Amber Frey, then helped lead the search for his victims.

Like Scott Peterson, Blagojevich and Madoff (if guilty) have to possess a sense of narcissistic entitlement that allows them to feel justified in manipulating others to their ends.  Probably to hide internal feelings of unworthiness, weakness, or impotence, such men (or, in other cases, women—including, perhaps, Blagojevich’s wife) create an over-inflated sense of self.  Their minds build towering fortresses of ego immune to the reticence most of us would feel about putting ourselves first and everyone else second.  

The narcissistic traits of Peterson, Blagojevich and Madoff (none of whom I interviewed) mean that they not only feel entitled to live special lives that don’t include following rules — they may well believe they are so intelligent or clever that they will never be caught breaking those rules.  That partly explains the outlandish nature of each man’s behavior.

Peterson fashioned his own cement anchors to weigh down his wife’s body in the San Francisco Bay.  It didn’t occur to him that making anchors and taking his boat out on the bay might implicate him in the disappearance of Laci. 

Blagojevich challenged authorities to monitor him and even reportedly wheeled and dealed on a telephone he knew was tapped.

Madoff delivered outsized returns to his clients every year, apparently not worried about the fact that doing so seemed impossible to some.  In his own mind, he was that special.  He never lost — until it was all over.

Narcissism, however, doesn’t explain all of Scott Peterson’s murderous violence or Blagojevich’s and Madoff’s alleged schemes to sell a piece of the United States government or steal money.  There also has to be a failure to recognize both the importance of the rule of law and a failure of empathy.  All three men were seemingly unmoved by the rights or the suffering of others.  To steal a life may seem wholly unrelated to stealing someone’s life savings or someone’s vote, but they are closer cousins than you might believe. 

Unfortunately, the outsized nature of what is likely the Peterson-Blagojevich-Madoff brand of personality structure attracts, rather than repels people.  Peterson had no shortage of women.  Blagojevich had no shortage of voters.  And Madoff had no shortage of investors.  They seem so certain of everything, so much larger than anything that might contain them, that they seduce mere mortals, burdened as we are by self-doubt and respect for others — and a respect for our society and the rule of law.

Dr. Ablow is a Fox News contributor and the author of the New York Times bestseller “Inside the Mind of Scott Peterson.”