Owen and Davidson propose the following as a basis for determining whether a leader suffers from this disorder, maintaining that the presence of three or more of the fourteen criteria would indicate a positive diagnosis:

 

A pattern of behaviour in a person who (i) sees the world as a place for self-glorification through the use of power; (ii) has a tendency to take action primarily to enhance personal image: (iii) shows disproportionate concern for image and presentation; (iv) exhibits messianic zeal and exaltation in speech; (v) conflates self with nation or organization; (vi) uses the royal ‘we’ in conversation; (vii) shows excessive self-confidence; (viii) manifestly has contempt for others; (ix) shows accountability only to a higher court (history or God); (x) displays unshakeable belief that they will be vindicated in that court; (xi) loses contact with reality; (xii) resorts to restlessness, recklessness and impulsive actions; (xiii) allows moral rectitude to obviate consideration of practicality, cost or outcome; and (xiv) displays incompetence with disregard for nuts and bolts of policy making.

 

In today’s world of vastly hyped pop culture, however, the opportunities for developing Acquired Narcissism extend beyond the corridors of political power to the groups mentioned by Sherrill: famous actors, sports figures, rock and country stars, and other types of celebrities. He observes, “People who aspire to stardom tend to be more narcissistic than others, but they don’t develop a true narcissistic personality disorder until they begin to achieve success: the first platinum album, the first appearance in Vanity Fair’s ‘Young Hollywood’ issue, the first public fling with Winona Ryder.”

 

 

 

As in the classic Greek myth (Narcissus, from which the name of this disorder derives, was a beautiful youth who fell in love with his own reflection as punishment for his vanity by Nemesis, the goddess of retribution), the seeds of self-destruction are often contained in the very hubris that fuels the narcissist. “If you don’t have people around you who will tell you the truth, you will eventually blow up,” says Stokes. Tiger Woods’ bafflingly bone-headed and indiscreet infidelity is one example. John Edwards’ head-scratching antics are another. Rules, morals, conventions, and laws are considered to be inapplicable to someone who believes they’re above such things; yet it often seems that some drive (perhaps we could call it The Nemesis Impulse) exists alongside the narcissism as a way to achieve some sort of balance and accountability. Unfortunately for the narcissist, as Kirwan-Taylor points out, “the same public that worships you when you’re going up will kick you on the way down.”  

 

Sherrill writes that acquired narcissism is a problem only for the situational narcissists themselves: “Their marriages fall apart, they make lousy parents, they take copious quantities of drugs, they get into trouble with the law.” But I believe that anyone who has been subjected to the brunt of a narcissist’s lack of empathy and breath-taking egocentrism might argue otherwise. Moreover, I suspect that the human ego is more vulnerable to the development of acquired narcissism than is generally recognized. Individuals with an ego that is either unhealthily inflated or undermined by insecurity can latch onto just about any perceived superiority, to the detriment of themselves and those who try to have a relationship with them, either personal or professional. A vulnerable ego is adept at resizing its context when assessing its importance.

 

I will never forget a botany professor I encountered in graduate school, an expert on some of the most obscure plants in the world, who took routine pleasure in abusing his students and extracting gestures of obeisance, his ego puffed up to monstrous proportions by his publication record. On these extremely obscure plants. Ironically, I had gone into botany because I was put off by the behavior of some of the pre-med students I took classes with during my undergraduate education—students who sabotaged classmates’ lab experiments and stole required reading left on reserve at the library for an upcoming exam. Their egos and sense of entitlement, even before they were physicians, with simply the promise of the special treatment and deference they expected to receive, were enormous. Surely, I thought, in the quiet backwater of botany, for heaven’s sake, egos would be contained.

 

I was wrong.

 

Some of us have no doubt had some experience with the “big fish in a little pond” syndrome, where the daughter or son of the most prominent citizen in a small town has an ego the size of Jupiter, or with someone we thought was a friend who suddenly experiences success, whether big-city-sized or small town, and we come to realize that we’re no longer considered friends but fans, and we’re expected to behave accordingly.

 

Even in these cases, though, I think the toxic culture of celebrity may play a role. Our society uses celebrity to sell everything imaginable, from breakfast cereals to golf clubs, so that we’re steeped in celebrity worship. Yet, everyone’s ego is wired to want attention and to feel important. Those who feel that they’ll never be able to attain celebrity status themselves will often transfer these feelings onto their celebrity of choice, blurring the lines of identity between themselves and the object of their admiration. (Ironically, this type of adulation feeds the narcissism of the celebrity, which increases the gulf between the fan and the idol as far as the idol is concerned. It’s perhaps this imbalance that fuels the secret or not-so-secret desire of fans to see their idols knocked off their pedestal.)

 

But few even “regular” egos truly find projection onto a celebrity satisfying. Buried underneath this false relationship lies hope that someday we’ll be the object of super-sized admiration and desire, especially since we’re constantly encouraged to believe that this will bring us fulfillment. In our culture, we’re taught that happiness can be bought or achieved via something that our commercial culture can offer us: great wealth, beauty (if not bestowed on us at birth, then attainable through cosmetic surgery), achievement, or power. If circumstances bring some of these prizes within our grasp, an inflated or damaged ego is capable of instantly elevating its own status. An unconscious belief may even be held that some of the “rewards” that come with achievement are entitlement to special treatment, even in the face of arrogant or atrocious behavior, and the right to objectify and look down on others—particularly when we see this acted out so often in the public arena, with divas getting their way, their outrageous demands met.

 

Given the propensity for narcissism in predisposed individuals and the pain that they can cause others, not to mention the suffering that they themselves can experience when their hubristic behavior finally catches up with them, it seems to me that this is something we should all be on guard for. If we observe it in others, there’s unfortunately not much we can do. Any attempt to discuss it is likely to be met with rage and banishment, if not retaliation. Sucking up doesn’t work; a narcissist feels entitled to it and whatever favor you might curry with them is temporary at best. As with conventional narcissism, your best defense is avoidance.

 

 

So Acquired Situational Narcissism can be altered, evidently, and as such, it would also be amenable to fending off. It can be tempting to succumb to hubris if or when we experience great or even, in some cases, modest success, but the end stages are rarely pretty. If we’re using external measures in order to feel important or worthwhile, we’ll feel driven to keep acquiring more and more. However, even the most fabulously successful celebrities are rarely happy or content. By the end of his life, was anyone really envying poor, tortured Michael Jackson?  On a more mundane level, many of us have been acquainted with local celebrities or big wigs who end up alone, bewildered, and bitter once their star has faded.

 

Our commercial culture has a vested interest in cultivating our inner narcissist—next to fear, vanity and the desire for status are some of the most effective ways of selling stuff that there are. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be so manipulated, to the detriment of ourselves and those we interact with. Commercial culture doesn’t care if we crash and burn, if we make a fool out of ourselves, if we alienate all our true friends and loved ones while keeping the sycophants—who will desert us as soon as we start to lose our mojo.  

 

But we should care, if we want the kind of happiness that lasts, that will stay with us through any reversal of fortune. Humility seems downright quaint these days, in a culture that worships power and hype. But it can actually lend quite a bit of power. I’ve always liked that line from the song, “Me and Bobby McGee:” “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” If we don’t allow our self-image to get entangled with phony, superficial criteria, we won’t care enough about them to be manipulated by them. And if we don’t feed our egos, they won’t be beefy enough to lead us around by the nose.