When Advocacy Becomes a Mask: Malignant Narcissism in Activist and Altruistic Roles
On the surface, it seems paradoxical: how can someone so self-absorbed, exploitative, and controlling as a malignant narcissist convincingly occupy a role that appears selfless, compassionate, and justice-driven? And yet, this is not only possible—it is common. Malignant narcissists are often drawn to advocacy work, social causes, and leadership in charitable or activist spaces. But their motivation is not healing or justice. It is dominance, admiration, and self-preservation. As Dr. Ramani Durvasula (2019) states, “The narcissist’s goal is not to help others, it’s to help themselves feel superior for helping others.”
This essay explores the psychological underpinnings of this behaviour, its impacts on authentic advocacy movements, and the red flags that distinguish true advocates from narcissistic impostors.
Understanding Malignant Narcissism
The term malignant narcissism was introduced by psychoanalyst Erich Fromm (1964), who defined it as “the most severe pathology of the human character,” combining narcissistic personality traits with antisocial behaviour, sadism, and paranoia. Unlike more benign narcissism, malignant narcissists exhibit cruelty, manipulation, and a lack of empathy while maintaining a grandiose self-image.
According to Kernberg (1992), these individuals “present as charming, often idealistic,” but are prone to “splitting, devaluation, and destructive envy.” This makes them uniquely dangerous in positions of power, particularly within advocacy work, where emotional influence and performative empathy can mask exploitative intentions.
Why Advocacy Attracts Narcissists
There are several psychological reasons advocacy work appeals to malignant narcissists:
Admiration and Image Management: Advocacy offers narcissists the “narcissistic supply” they crave: applause, admiration, and moral high ground. As Dr. Craig Malkin (2015) explains, “They hunger for validation and adoration, and in many circles, activism offers them just that.”
Control and Power Over Others: Leading a cause gives the narcissist control over narratives, people, and decisions. They can manipulate outcomes and silence dissent while appearing virtuous. Vulnerable populations, by nature of needing support, are often easily exploited in these dynamics.
Deflection and Immunity from Criticism: Public advocacy work creates an armour of perceived goodness. Any critique is often met with disbelief: “But they do so much for the community.” This offers narcissists cover for abuse. As Vaknin (2003) notes, “Narcissists frequently inhabit moral vocations because it gives them plausible deniability for their misdeeds.”
Projection and Rewriting of Their Narrative: Malignant narcissists often advocate in areas that mirror their own unresolved shame. For example, an abuser may become an outspoken advocate against abuse—not to heal others, but to rewrite their own story, project their guilt outward, and maintain dominance over the narrative.
The Impact on Movements and Victims
When a malignant narcissist infiltrates advocacy, the result is often toxicity disguised as leadership. These individuals may:
Use survivors’ stories for clout while minimizing their pain,
Silence whistleblowers to protect their image,
Turn movements into personal brands,
Or retraumatize victims by centering themselves in spaces meant for healing.
This is particularly dangerous in advocacy spaces that deal with trauma, justice, and marginalization. As journalist and activist Tarana Burke, founder of the #MeToo movement, once said, “If your activism centers your own ego more than the people you claim to serve, it’s not activism. It’s performance” (Burke, 2018).
Red Flags and Recovery
How can we distinguish a true advocate from a narcissistic performer? Clinical psychologist Dr. Ramani Durvasula suggests looking for patterns:
Do they deflect accountability when questioned?
Are they obsessed with their own narrative?
Do they compete with the very people they claim to support?
Are they cruel behind closed doors but saintly in public?
When narcissists are exposed, they often respond with rage, smear campaigns, or victim-playing, all classic signs of narcissistic injury (Kohut, 1971).
Recovering from exposure to a narcissist in an advocacy space can be deeply disillusioning. But naming the truth is the first act of healing—and resistance.
Conclusion
Malignant narcissists do not wear horns. They wear halos. They speak the language of justice, but only to be crowned saviours of a struggle they never truly joined. Their presence in advocacy is not a reflection of healing, but a performance of it—one that centres power, not people.
Recognizing this pattern is not cynicism. It is clarity. And it is the first step toward building advocacy spaces that are not just loud, but authentic, accountable, and rooted in love—not ego.
References
Burke, T. (2018). Tarana Burke’s keynote speech at Facing Race Conference. Race Forward.
Durvasula, R. (2019). Don’t You Know Who I Am? Surviving Narcissists in the Era of Self-Importance. Post Hill Press.
Fromm, E. (1964). The Heart of Man: Its Genius for Good and Evil. Harper & Row.
Kernberg, O. F. (1992). Aggression in Personality Disorders and Perversions. Yale University Press.
Kohut, H. (1971). The Analysis of the Self. International Universities Press.
Malkin, C. (2015). Rethinking Narcissism: The Bad—and Surprising Good—About Feeling Special. HarperWave.
Vaknin, S. (2003). Malignant Self-Love: Narcissism Revisited. Narcissus Publications.
