Fragile Bully

Understanding Our Destructive Affair With Narcissism in the Age of Trump

Laurie Helgoe

• Publisher: Diversion Books
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781635765441
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: Social Psychology
• Index: Psychology

Obsessive self-promotion, an aggressive triggering response, and retaliatory rants. "Both sensitive and incisive, beautifully capturing the paradoxical dynamic of narcissism—that the grandiosity and surrounding bravado belies an underlying fragility and brittleness." —Kenneth N. Levy, PhD, Associate Professor, Penn State University; Senior Fellow, Personality Disorders Institute, Cornell UniversityEven before Donald Trump entered America's highest office, an international survey revealed that narcissism is part of the assumed "national character" of Americans. While only a small number actually meet the criteria for Narcissistic Personality Disorder, those exploitive few have a way of gaining center stage in our culture. Fragile Bully: Understanding Our Destructive Affair With Narcissism in the Age of Trump looks beyond the sound bites of self-aggrandizing celebrities and selfish tweets to the real problem of narcissism. We see past the solo act to the vicious circles that arise in relationships with a fragile bully, and how patterns like this generate both power and self-destruction. We also look at the problem of Echo, how so many of us get hooked by the narcissist, and how variations on the destructive affair leave both partners dehumanized and diminished. Once we recognize the steps in each dance, we can break the cycle and allow and the possibility of true engagement.

PART
I

1

NARCISSISM BY MANY NAMES

Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

–J. K. ROWLING

Narcissism is easier felt than defined. We sense it through our own responses: fascinated and curious, shocked and irate, helpless, used, riveted. We feel bullied yet compelled to hang around—either to take care of the bully or to try to win the losing battle. We freely respond with the label “narcissist,” often in retaliation, and those labeled don’t seem to care anyway. Sometimes the label seems our only defense against that person in our life we can’t seem to reach—and also can’t seem to ignore. But what is narcissism anyway? Beyond the basic association with “self-absorption,” the word conjures a myriad of meanings. At once, narcissism is a developmental phase, a personality trait existing on a continuum, and a full-fledged psychiatric disorder. This chapter looks at two divergent ways of understanding narcissism, starting with the healthy and natural and proceeding to the diagnostic extreme of pathological narcissism. (In Chapter 2, we’ll explore the murky and complex in-between.)

Necessary Narcissism

Inflated narcissism is normal—for babies and toddlers. The infant enters the world in survival mode and is necessarily self-centered. The world should revolve around this new being. Baby cries, someone responds. A sucking, “rooting” reflex produces the breast or bottle. Caregiver pulls away the soiled source of discomfort and gently provides a soft, fresh diaper. The fearful, flailing baby calms as the caregiver swaddles her in a tight blanket. In healthy development, the infant sees others as extensions of the self, picking up each cue and responding—a symbiosis of need and satiation.

These early caregiver responses assure the infant that she is safe: she can trust the world to sense her need and respond in turn. But the dance of narcissism takes on new significance as the infant begins to develop a sense of self. As the philosopher Martin Buber stated, “Man becomes an I through a thou.” When another, independent person mirrors and responds to us, we see our own reflection and internalize a sense of who we are. Adults naturally mirror and mimic the self-discovering toddler. I recall my sixteen-month-old son, sitting in a high chair, surrounded by his extended family at a reunion. He started waving his hands up and down, and without missing a beat, the family chorus below him responded with the same gesture. Delighted and empowered, he squealed with satisfaction, and the dance of expression and response continued.

These simple mirroring responses help the growing child construct a sense of self. It is as if the toddler notes, “So that’s what I’m doing. That’s how I look, how I sound.” This crucial feedback may be denied when parents are too preoccupied with their own concerns to mirror the child, or when they are threatened by the child’s growing competence and independence. According to Heinz Kohut, whose theory of self psychology focused on the importance of mirroring, the optimal response is an empathic one: one that tunes into and reflects the child’s experience. Gradually, through the “thou,” the child becomes an “I,” constructing an internalized representation of the self.

And even more gradually, the child begins to separate what is self and what is other and learns to relate to others as an independent participant. Developmental researcher and psychoanalyst Margaret Mahler saw this awakening to the self as so central, she called it the “psychological birth” of the child.¹

For Mahler, who took psychoanalytic study to its source by directly observing mother-child interactions, healthy narcissism peaks along with the toddler’s radical assertion of independence—first steps. She observed with some surprise that healthy toddlers took their first steps away from rather than toward the primary caregiver. Now able to explore the world on his own, the little one basks in a heady feeling of competence and invincibility. Others cheer him on, and he revels in the spotlight. Mahler observed, “The child is exhilarated by his own capacities—he wants to share and show…he acts as though he were enamored of the world and with his own grandeur and omnipotence.”²

Until he falls. He crashes and cries, seeks security in mommy or daddy, gets up, reclaims his power, and the process repeats. Knocked, over and over again, between invincibility and powerlessness, the healthy child eventually strikes a compromise. He is not omnipotent, nor is he completely helpless.

This is the dance of healthy developmental narcissism. Reconciling narcissistic yearnings with human limitations is a challenging, and often lifelong, task. As we come to terms with our own limits, we also learn that others cannot perfectly meet our needs—they are limited too, with needs of their own.

Psychologically healthy adults can still access that heady, “top of the world” feeling, but they aren’t blinded by it. We see healthy narcissism in the form of ambition, self-confidence, and a sense of personal effectiveness. Malkin describes healthy narcissism as the ability to view oneself through “slightly rose colored glasses.”³ Individuals with this type of narcissism approach new goals with confidence, often overestimating the ease with which they will fulfill the task. Yet, like the two-year-old taking first steps, these lofty dreams can be the very fuel propelling psychologically healthy adults through life’s inevitable falls and scrapes. On the other hand, narcissistically impaired individuals have the lofty dreams but are less able to tolerate the humbling effects of reality. They may deny, avoid, or distort those realities, or conversely, suffer intense shame and self-punishment.

The Disorder

At the other extreme from healthy narcissism is the diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) or, more broadly, pathological narcissism. The most recent version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) describes NPD as “a pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy.”⁴ Let’s look at each of these elements separately.

Pervasive pattern implies that the symptoms are not just phase-related, such as adolescent self-preoccupation, or situation-specific, such as the high one might feel in response to an adoring audience. The narcissistic pattern becomes most noticeable in adult relationships, but a recent analysis of longitudinal data found that certain childhood traits, such as social attention getting, lack of stable self-esteem, and the need for control predicted narcissistic psychopathology in adulthood.⁵

All personality disorders come with their own “pervasive pattern.” In contrast to other mental health disorders, personality disorders are a product of an individual’s adaptation woven into the fabric of his or her character. This is why individuals with personality disorders often do not experience distress or a desire to change. For example, people who suffer from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder typically feel intense distress about their symptoms, even as they feel compelled to engage in the problematic behaviors. By contrast, people exhibiting features of the related personality disorder—Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder—are often comfortable with, or even proud of, their attention to order and rules and may criticize those who don’t conform to their standards.

For the individual with NPD, the features of grandiosity and need for admiration represent two sides to what has been called the “narcissistic paradox.”⁶ The grandiose individual feels superior and special. She vastly overestimates her capacities, denies human vulnerabilities, and assumes only special people are able to comprehend her. This self-inflation tends to push others aside and cast them as dispensable admirers. On the other hand, her need for admiration exposes vulnerability, revealing a lacking sense of self and the need for constant reassurance and praise from those in her world. This paradox is central to the fragile bully dynamic we’ll be discussing in this book. Though the “need for admiration” criteria suggests vulnerability, critics have noted that the current DSM diagnostic criteria neglect the more fragile presentations of a subgroup of narcissists. Those who drafted the fifth revision of the DSM in 2013 proposed an alternative NPD diagnosis for research purposes, and this version better acknowledges the dual nature of narcissism.⁷ However, because so much of available research uses the current criteria, existing data may both underrepresent and oversimplify the disorder.

The final basic feature, lack of empathy, is described in the DSM-5 as an unwillingness to “recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others.”⁸ This need to be separate from others stems from grandiosity; however, lack of empathy may also relate to the narcissist’s excessive neediness. In the latter case, empathy, which would put the focus on someone else, interferes with the narcissist’s need for others to constantly focus on and mirror him. The talent of the narcissistic person to turn everything around and make it “about them” exempts them from practicing empathy toward others.

The DSM-5 goes beyond this general description to outline specific criteria, introducing related features such as “interpersonally exploitative,” “sense of entitlement,” and “envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her.”⁹ If five out of nine listed criteria are evident “in a variety of contexts,” the diagnosis may be applied.

If you are nodding as you think of people who fit this description, you may assume NPD is common. Researchers who have tested samples resembling the general population have found the contrary. A systematic review of studies looking at the prevalence of NPD in the general population found an average estimate of 1.06%, meaning only one in about one hundred people meet the criteria for NPD.¹⁰ If we focus in on the U.S. population, two large studies revealed contrasting results: one was unable to find anyone in their sample who met all the conditions for the diagnosis, while another found that NPD described 6.2% of their sample.¹¹ Men are more likely to meet the criteria than women, and narcissism is more common among extraverts than introverts. However, as we’ve discussed, the criteria used for NPD in these studies is based on DSM criteria emphasizing the grandiose features of narcissism. Grandiosity is more socially condoned for men, and, as an outward-directed trait, is more associated with extraversion. When research incorporates “vulnerable” forms of narcissism—which we will discuss later in this chapter—more women and introverts meet the criteria.¹²

When the Lack of a Problem Is the Problem

Though the DSM-5 provides a useful diagnostic template, pathological narcissism may be present without the diagnosis of NPD. To receive a psychiatric diagnosis, one has to present as sick—the person either feels bad or has a life that isn’t working. People with personality impairments, especially those of a narcissistic variety, don’t usually feel sick—though the people around them may feel quite ill. The personality dysfunction may disrupt the person’s life and relationships, but the one with the problem often seems the most oblivious of trouble. Franz Alexander offered a useful distinction between disorders that locate the problem within—autoplastic disorders—and those that locate the problem outside the person—alloplastic disorders.¹³ Whereas autoplastic disorders like depression and anxiety disorders create suffering in the diagnosed person, personality disorders represent a way of defending against, or walling-off, the distress that might be imposed by life and relationships. The disorder may be the very thing holding the person together—while at the same time holding that person in dysfunctional patterns and away from help. Pathological narcissism is not a temporary ailment but rather a reliable way of being in the world. It is ego-syntonic. The ego—referring here to the executive function of the personality—is in on it. Far from feeling a need to change, the afflicted person may revel in the very characteristics that cause distress to others.

Interestingly, a large, nationally representative study by Stinson and his associates found a significant negative relationship between NPD and dysthymic disorder—a chronic form of depression—among their study subjects.¹⁴ Narcissism seems to repel depression. In fact, therapists see it as a positive sign when a narcissistic person feels distress and motivation to change. Like an alcoholic who “hits bottom,” a hurting narcissist has the best chance of seeking help.

Though our conversations tend to isolate and focus on its pathological extreme, narcissism comes in many varieties and intensities. In the next chapter, we’ll explore these complexities along with a model for understanding how they relate—the fragile bully matrix.

2

THE FRAGILE BULLY MATRIX

The Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now,
in this very room. You can see it when you look out your
window or when you turn on your television.

–MORPHEUS, The Matrix (1999)

The proliferation of articles on narcissism reveal our fascination with the subject, while our discussions of narcissists tend to cut them off from the rest of humanity. When people use the word “narcissist,” they conjure a certain image: puffed chest, bold, showy, big talker—probably male and probably an extravert. In other words, a grandiose narcissist. We also tend to see narcissism as a pathology rather than what it is: a quality of personality we all exhibit in varying degrees. Narcissism becomes pathological only at its extremes, when it either defines the personality or is notable for its absence. More and more, clinicians and researchers are revealing that narcissism comes in more than one variety and in a range of intensities. Understanding narcissism means seeing where each of us falls within the complex matrix of these dimensions.

The Two Sides of Narcissism

A review of the literature on pathological narcissism reveals a number of different classifications, some wit...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Acknowledgments
• Contents
• Foreword by Paul L. Wachtel
• Introduction
• PART I
• PART II
• PART III
• Endnotes
• About the Author