The Narcissist Test: How to spot outsized egos ... and the surprising things we can learn from them. Dr Malkin Craig
it can, by inspiring our imagination and sparking a passion for life, open up our experience and expand our sense of our own potential. It can even deepen our love for family, friends, and partners. By far, the most powerful predictor of success in romantic relationships is our tendency to view our partners as better than they actually are. I call this “feeling special by association.”
Psychologists Benjamin Le of Haverford College and Natalie Dove of Eastern Michigan University recently reviewed more than 100 studies involving nearly 40,000 people in romantic relationships and found that whether a couple stayed together beyond a few weeks or months depended most strongly not on partners having winning personalities, robust self-esteem, or feelings of closeness, but on one or both people holding positive illusions—that is, they viewed their partners as smarter, more talented, and more beautiful than they were by objective standards. Believing that we’re holding hands with the most amazing person in the room makes us feel special, too.
But while moderate narcissism can enhance love, too much can diminish or even destroy it. When people grow dependent on feeling special, they become grandiose and arrogant. They stop thinking that their partners are the best or most important people in the room because they need to claim that distinction for themselves. And they lose the capacity to see the world from any point of view other than their own. These are the true narcissists, and at their worst, they also display two other traits of a so-called “dark triad”: a complete lack of remorse and a penchant for manipulation.
Surprisingly, too little narcissism can be harmful as well. Remember Echo? She’s the part of the myth we usually forget. She has no voice of her own. She’s self-abnegating, nearly invisible. The less people feel special, the more self-effacing they become until, at last, they have so little sense of self they feel worthless and impotent. I call these people echoists.
Danger, then, lurks toward the ends of the narcissism spectrum. Only in the middle, where the need to stand out from 7 billion other humans doesn’t blind us to the needs and feelings of others, lies health and happiness.
Another notion that we’ve mistakenly become wedded to is that our degree of narcissism is fixed throughout our lifetime. The fact is even healthy narcissism typically waxes and wanes, subsides and erupts, depending on our life circumstances and our age. When we’re sick, for example, we normally move up the spectrum; we’ll feel more deserving of others’ time and care, even more entitled to it, than our healthier peers and family members. Similarly at work, when we feel the need to be recognized, admired, and appreciated—say when we’re gunning for promotion—our narcissism spikes. In such instances, our hopes for the future ride on standing out from the herd. There are also specific life stages during which we need to see ourselves as special, such as pregnancy and adolescence; and others that move us toward Echo’s end of the continuum, such as caring for a newborn or deferring our dreams to help support a partner’s career. Both of these circumstances demand that we scale back our need to be in the spotlight.
But these peaks and valleys generally don’t last forever. The crisis or transition passes and the drive to feel special returns to a healthy level. If we’ve moved closer to Echo’s end of the spectrum, we find our voice again. And even if we’ve won the work promotion and quietly think we’re better than our colleagues, the need to prove that to ourselves—and the world—isn’t nearly as pressing. If it is, we’re no longer in healthy territory.
Another common—and wrong—assumption is that damaging narcissists are always easy to spot. Yes, the loud, vain, self-aggrandizing ones who daily pop on our TV screens and stream through social media certainly are. They stick out like sore thumbs—which is probably a good thing; the truth is you’ll find more narcissists in your life than echoists, and they’ll be more of a concern (narcissists inflict damage on others, while echoists primarily hurt themselves). But not all narcissists advertise themselves so brazenly—some aren’t even especially flashy or outgoing. And that makes recognizing them a lot harder.
There are also lower-profile subtle narcissists who are more difficult to detect, more common, and more likely to wreak havoc in our lives. They’re the people we see every day: they’re our lovers, spouses, friends, and bosses. Their unhealthy narcissism is often masked by their manner; they’re often quiet, charming, capable of warmth, and even occasional empathy. Their signs are harder to spot—but they’re still there. And if you’re familiar with them, you can tease out the signals, including a tendency to flee emotions. In Chapter 7 we’ll take a closer look at the signs that may be red flags, to help you evaluate your relationship with a subtle narcissist.
The idea that the person you sleep with or work beside might be a narcissist is shocking and depressing. Even more depressing is recalling the accepted wisdom that narcissism is a fixed personality trait or character flaw that never improves. But here, too, thinking has begun to shift. Many extreme narcissists do seem to be stuck (thankfully they’re rare, only an estimated 1 percent to 3 percent of the US population). But some, milder narcissists may be able to change. Stripped down to its basic action, narcissism is a learned response, that is, a habit and, like any habit, it gets stronger or weaker depending on circumstances.
Narcissists bury normal emotions like fear, sadness, loneliness, and shame because they’re afraid they’ll be rejected for having them; the greater their fear, the more they shield themselves with the belief that they’re special. Unhealthy narcissism isn’t an easy habit to break, but people can become healthier by learning to accept and share the emotions they usually hide. And their loved ones can help them shift to the healthy center of the spectrum by opening up in the exact same way.
Just like most things in life, healthy narcissism boils down to striking the right balance. At the heart of narcissism lies an ancient conundrum: how much should we love ourselves and how much should we love others? The Judaic sage and scholar Hillel the Elder summarized the dilemma this way: “If I am not for myself, who am I? And if I am only for myself, then what am I?” To remain healthy and happy, we all need a certain amount of investment in ourselves. We need a voice, a presence of our own, to make an impact on the world and people around us or else, like Echo, we eventually become nothing at all.
We all sail between the Scylla of enervating self-denial and Charybdis of soul-killing self-importance. That’s what narcissism is really all about—and you’ll learn how to safely navigate the passage as we go along. But first, we have to untangle a mystery. If feeling special can be good for us, how on earth did we end up so obsessed with the idea that it’s bad? Why are we so focused on the dangers of narcissism?
How Narcissism Became a Dirty Word and We Found an Epidemic
Many years ago, a close friend of mine, Tara, called me about an incident with her father and her two-year-old daughter, Nina. They’d been out for a stroll in the park when Nina suddenly became unglued, screaming and wailing to go home. Tara did what she could, but Nina remained inconsolable. After about half an hour, Tara announced, “We have to go, I’m sorry.” Her father shot her a stern look, warning: “If you leave every time she pitches a fit, she’ll think the world revolves around her!” Tara, fuming, fired back. “Yes. Yes, she will. And I think that’s a good thing! Don’t you?”
On the surface, this father-daughter quarrel was a generational battle over how to raise a child. But at a deeper level, their argument reflects two radically different views of human nature. Tara’s dad seems to believe people are easily corruptible, requiring constant reining in to avoid becoming hopelessly self-centered, while Tara thinks we’re all made of sturdier stuff and actually benefit from a little self-absorption now and then. The first position inevitably adopts a rather dim view of humanity, the latter a more optimistic one.
Without realizing it, Tara and her father had squared off in one of the oldest debates in history, one that’s central to the confusion surrounding narcissism today.
The Birth of Narcissism
Long