Study Reveals Which U.S. States Psychopaths Are Most Likely Be Living In

A wave of groundbreaking psychological research has revealed that the prevalence of “dark personality traits” is not evenly distributed across the United States.

This sprawling set of studies, led by researchers at the University of Copenhagen and supported by data from nearly 2 million people worldwide, sought to map traits like psychopathy, narcissism, Machiavellianism, and sadism across every state in America.

Rather than viewing these characteristics as fixed or solely genetic, the scientists emphasized that environmental factors—like poverty, inequality, crime, and corruption—shape these dark tendencies.

Their “D” score—a kind of unified index for the dark side of personality—shows clear geographic patterns, with some regions consistently ranking higher than others.

While every person possesses at least some degree of these traits, the findings reveal that societal conditions can fuel or restrain how often they are expressed.

The study underscores that no one is simply born “bad,” but instead, the world we inhabit can coax out or tamp down antisocial behaviors.

This new approach rejects the idea that “psychopath” is a rare or clinical label, instead focusing on broader, everyday tendencies toward manipulation, selfishness, and exploitation.

For policymakers and the public alike, the study serves as a wake-up call about the power of environment in shaping not just opportunity but also morality and character.

Its results invite Americans to reconsider how their home states may influence their outlook, choices, and interactions with others.

In a nation obsessed with individual differences, the research points back to the communities, institutions, and conditions that set the stage for our darkest impulses.

Ultimately, the Dark Factor study opens the door for conversations about responsibility—not just individual, but collective.

The research team collected personality data from over 144,000 Americans, drawing on large-scale surveys that assessed both positive and negative traits.

To build a robust map, they matched these survey results with hard statistics: Census Bureau data on poverty and inequality, FBI records on homicide rates, and Justice Department corruption convictions.

By combining these sources, the team could see how adversity—what they called “Aversive Societal Conditions”—aligned with the prevalence of dark traits across all fifty states.

They used the “D” score to encapsulate a constellation of behaviors, from cheating and lying to aggression and selfishness.

Importantly, the study did not diagnose anyone as a clinical psychopath; instead, it looked for everyday signs of manipulativeness, ruthlessness, and disregard for others.

Participants’ self-reports were cross-referenced with regional social indicators, building a compelling portrait of each state’s average “darkness.”

The findings were statistically significant, even when differences between states looked small at first glance.

Even slight shifts in societal adversity, the study suggests, can ripple outward to produce noticeable changes in the collective personality of a population.

The methodology’s limitations are acknowledged—such as self-selection bias and lack of data on how long individuals had lived in a particular state—but the patterns remained robust across different analyses.

Ultimately, this research represents a new frontier in personality science, moving beyond the individual to the state and even national level.

The result is a data-driven map of America’s psychological landscape, illuminating the interplay of place, policy, and personality.

Nevada emerged as the state with the highest “D” score, followed closely by New York, Texas, and South Dakota.

These states, marked by a mix of urban density, economic inequality, and historic struggles with corruption, seem to provide fertile ground for the flourishing of dark personality traits.

Louisiana and Mississippi also made frequent appearances near the top of the rankings, reinforcing the role of adversity in fueling these characteristics.

In these places, higher rates of crime, poverty, and social dislocation may create a culture where self-preservation and exploitation feel like necessary survival strategies.

The research doesn’t suggest that every Nevadan or New Yorker is a budding Patrick Bateman—rather, these environments may subtly encourage behaviors like manipulation, aggression, or opportunism.

What distinguishes these states is not just urbanization or economic output, but the intensity of adverse societal conditions that shape daily life.

The scientists note that these differences, while moderate, are meaningful across millions of people and could have significant effects on social trust, cooperation, and public life.

It’s a reminder that the darker aspects of human nature are not just personal failings, but can become part of a region’s social fabric.

For residents of high-“D” states, the findings may be a call to examine local norms, institutions, and policies that reward or enable such traits.

The rankings are not destiny, but they are a warning: under the right circumstances, almost anyone can be pulled toward the dark side.

This knowledge can empower communities to seek reforms that reduce adversity and, over time, foster healthier, more pro-social behavior.

At the other end of the spectrum, Vermont stands out as the only state with an average “D” score below 2.0, suggesting a notably lower prevalence of dark traits.

Utah, Maine, and Oregon follow closely, all ranking among the states least likely to cultivate manipulation, narcissism, or cruelty.

These places share common features: relative economic stability, lower crime rates, and a tradition of tight-knit, supportive communities.

The research points to a link between geographic isolation, homogeneity, and more balanced, less adversarial social conditions.

In these states, trust, cooperation, and mutual respect are reinforced by daily experience, making it less rewarding to exploit or undermine others.

The environment may buffer residents from the pressures that can erode empathy or encourage ruthlessness elsewhere.

For policymakers, these findings highlight the importance of creating conditions—through good governance, economic opportunity, and social safety nets—that minimize the triggers for antisocial behavior.

While no place is free from dark traits entirely, these states provide a kind of model for how to contain and counteract them.

The study underscores that darkness is not inevitable, and that societal choices matter at every level.

Communities can, through their norms and structures, shape personality as much as any inherited disposition.

Ultimately, the lowest-“D” states show that a more prosocial, less adversarial society is possible—and that such environments protect not just individuals, but the collective good.

For decades, psychologists have debated the relative influence of nature versus nurture in shaping personality.

The “Dark Factor” research decisively tips the scales toward nurture, revealing how environmental adversity fuels the emergence of negative traits.

While genetics certainly play a role, the study shows that exposure to violence, poverty, inequality, and corruption can cultivate a worldview centered on self-interest and exploitation.

People adapt to their surroundings—if rules are broken without consequence, or if resources feel scarce, more individuals will learn to prioritize themselves over others.

This adaptational hypothesis does not absolve anyone of responsibility, but it places the burden of reform squarely on the shoulders of communities and governments.

It suggests that reforms aimed at reducing adversity—such as lowering poverty, strengthening institutions, or reducing corruption—could, over time, yield not just safer societies, but kinder ones as well.

The research reframes dark personality traits as rational adaptations to harsh environments, rather than personal flaws to be stigmatized or ignored.

It’s a powerful argument for investing in societal well-being as a matter of public health and collective character.

Such findings may guide future policy, education, and even parenting, as communities seek to foster resilience without fostering ruthlessness.

The interplay of nature and nurture is ongoing, but the evidence for the latter’s power is more compelling than ever.

As the researchers conclude, personality is shaped as much by the world we inherit as the world we build.

The “D” score is a unified index developed by leading psychologists to measure the presence of dark personality traits across populations.

Rather than treating psychopathy, narcissism, Machiavellianism, and sadism as isolated diagnoses, the “D” score views them as overlapping elements of a single dispositional spectrum.

This approach captures the broad tendency toward selfishness, manipulation, aggression, and disregard for others—a spectrum that all humans inhabit to some degree.

High “D” scorers are not necessarily criminals, but they are more likely to justify harmful actions, cut corners, or pursue personal gain at the expense of others.

The index draws on self-reported behaviors, attitudes, and values, as well as objective measures of regional adversity.

It’s not a tool for clinical diagnosis but for understanding social patterns and how individual traits cluster in particular environments.

The D factor is conceptually similar to the “g” factor in intelligence research—a general tendency that underlies a range of related behaviors.

By mapping D scores across the U.S., the study reveals how context, culture, and policy interact to shape psychological outcomes.

Importantly, the D score can shift over time, responding to changes in adversity, governance, or economic opportunity.

For researchers and the public, this index offers a new way to think about the sources—and solutions—to the problems of trust, cooperation, and antisocial behavior.

The D factor, in short, is not destiny, but it is a mirror for American society.

A striking finding from the research is the concentration of dark traits in densely populated urban areas.

The District of Columbia, while not a state, was consistently found to have the highest prevalence of psychopathy—an outcome linked to its status as a seat of power, high competition, and population density.

Northeastern states like New York and Connecticut also ranked high, as did major urban centers in California and New Jersey.

In contrast, rural areas—particularly in the West and Midwest—tended to score lower on the D index.

Researchers suggest that city life, with its anonymity, competition, and social fragmentation, can create incentives for manipulation and self-advancement.

Urban environments may reward boldness, risk-taking, and a willingness to exploit opportunities—traits central to the dark personality spectrum.

Meanwhile, smaller, close-knit communities reinforce cooperation, reputation, and accountability, discouraging antisocial conduct.

These patterns were robust across different studies, even after accounting for income, education, and other demographic variables.

However, the researchers note that urban life is not inherently corrupting—rather, it reflects the combined effects of social structure, governance, and opportunity.

The geography of psychopathy, then, is both a product of place and policy, not just population.

Understanding these dynamics can inform urban planning, community development, and social policy for a healthier collective psyche.

The rise of dark personality traits in a population is not just a matter for psychologists—it has profound implications for society as a whole.

High levels of D are linked with aggression, cheating, corruption, and a host of behaviors that undermine trust, safety, and social cohesion.

Communities with elevated D scores often see greater social costs, from increased crime and violence to weakened institutions and higher economic inequality.

These environments can erode faith in governance, sap community engagement, and damage the very fabric of public life.

The researchers warn that even small increases in dark traits can have outsized effects, as they spread through workplaces, families, and social networks.

For organizations, the presence of high-D individuals can disrupt teamwork, foster toxicity, and encourage a cutthroat culture.

At the societal level, high D scores predict more frequent rule-breaking, opportunism, and a tendency to prioritize personal over collective interests.

This can perpetuate cycles of disadvantage, mistrust, and social decay, making it harder for reforms to take root.

Yet, as the research points out, such trends are not irreversible.

By tackling the root causes of adversity, communities can reduce the incentives for dark behavior and begin to restore trust and collaboration.

The stakes are high: the health of democracy, community, and even economic prosperity depend on curbing the rise of the D factor.

While the research on dark traits is compelling, it comes with important caveats.

The studies rely on self-reported data, which can be subject to bias, misrepresentation, or misunderstanding.

Participants’ length of residence in a given state was not always known, which complicates the links between environment and personality.

Psychopathy and related traits are difficult to define precisely, and even sophisticated indices like the D score have their critics.

Estimates of state-level psychopathy based on indirect measures—such as Big Five personality traits—can be noisy and are not substitutes for clinical assessments.

Nonetheless, the convergence of multiple studies and datasets lends credibility to the general patterns observed.

The research opens the door for further investigation, especially into how policies, social programs, and cultural shifts can influence collective personality.

It also invites ongoing debate about the balance between individual agency and structural forces in shaping behavior.

Future studies may refine the methodology, expand the scope to include more diverse populations, and test interventions designed to reduce adversity and dark traits.

The public conversation has already begun, as people grapple with what these findings mean for their communities and their country.

For now, the D score offers a provocative new lens for understanding—and perhaps changing—the American mind.

The study’s core message is clear: dark personality traits are not fixed, nor are they the sole responsibility of individuals.

Instead, they are shaped, encouraged, or constrained by the societies we build, the policies we enact, and the environments we tolerate.

Reforms aimed at reducing inequality, violence, corruption, and poverty do more than improve material well-being—they help shift the moral compass of a population.

By investing in education, strong institutions, and social safety nets, communities can dampen the conditions that fuel manipulation, aggression, and self-interest.

The research calls on policymakers, leaders, and citizens to take seriously the links between environment and character.

It suggests that even small steps to improve the social fabric can yield big dividends for public trust, safety, and happiness.

At the personal level, the findings invite self-reflection about how we absorb and reflect the norms of our surroundings.

For Americans considering where to live, work, or raise a family, these insights may guide choices about community, values, and aspirations.

Above all, the new science of the D factor encourages optimism: with the right interventions, the tide of darkness can be turned.

The future of American personality, like its past, will be written not just in genes or brains, but in streets, schools, laws, and lives shared together.

It’s a story still unfolding—one shaped by every choice, every reform, and every effort to build a more decent, cooperative, and compassionate society.