A woman recounted to me a marriage of alternating abuse and abandonment. I asked her how she'd met him and what led her to marry him. She said so innocently, "He was so nice then." I can't count how many times I've heard that.
Admittedly, I was taught to be the same as a young woman. Women in general are raised to be nice and respond to those who are nice to us. I distinctly remember my aunt telling me, "Nice girls don't speak like that." (I had entered an adult conversation with a strong opinion of my own and called an elder to task on his point of view.) And I can't tell you how many times I put myself in danger because it wouldn't have been "nice" of me to walk away from a man who was trying to talk to me, even though I knew in my body that something was terribly wrong. I was very lucky. Not all are.
We can all remember being told that someone we knew (or knew of) had gotten in trouble, been arrested for drug use, or in some way found with their pants literally or figuratively down. And we can all remember saying, "How could that be? He was so nice!"
We can all recall the television interviews of neighbors and co-workers after some ghastly disaster sends them all reeling into the streets with their pajamas on, some shooting spree or child molestation. And all of them have the same comment: "I don't understand it. He was such a nice, quiet guy!"
Bundy was so nice, women got into his Volkswagen ignoring or failing to even notice that there was no front seat. Charles Manson, psychotic that he was, still sweetly lured the innocent and isolated into his cache of horrors.
Over coffee, my friend and colleague, Kevin Rexroad, M.D., attempted to define the terms. Even though I'm a psychotherapist and Kevin's a psychiatrist, it wasn't as easy as we had expected. We had both had recent personal experiences with narcissistic individuals who made the difference vividly and viscerally clear, yet it was hard to quantify.
"With nice," he mused, "it's usually so nice that a part of me knows it's too nice to be true. Good is different. It has a more obviously average quality about it."
I defined that further. Good is humble. There is no pretense. No boasting. No need for approval or accolades. It does what it does because it seeks to do the right thing. Period.
So, on a rather large Starbucks napkin, I drew two columns.
Good People
Super Nice People
As I wrote that last one, I told Kevin, "I know one woman who is constantly telling me (and anyone else who will listen) how humble and spiritual she is."
He called her statements "self-contradictory." But only someone who is paying attention can see that. It stunned me to think of how many people actually took (and continue to take) her at her word without taking the time to look and see the incongruity of a person boasting about their humility.
As we scrolled through the list, we realized that almost all sales were based in "niceness."
"It's like the old pharmaceutical reps," Kevin recalled. "They'd come in and give you a pen and be super sweet and figure you now owed them something and had to write scrips for whatever meds they were selling."
In The Gift of Fear (1997) Gavin De Becker wrote, "Charm is another overrated ability. Note that I called it an ability, not an inherent feature of one's personality. Charm is almost always a directed instrument" (p. 66).
He suggests we see charm as a verb rather than a noun or adjective so that instead of a man being so charming, we can see him as trying to charm us. He likens niceness to a decision and warns us that it is not the same as a character trait. It is a strategic form of social interaction. Niceness is conscious and deliberate. It is a social skill that is turned on and off, a vehicle for self-enhancement. Niceness is persuasive.
Perhaps it should not go without saying that a nice man may in fact be a very good man. Not all charm is a cover for sadism or cruelty, although very often it is. Good and nice can coexist. A good man may be quite charming and engaging. But not always. Only in the right circumstances and for the right reasons. In the choice between what is right and what is "nice," a good man will choose what is right. He knows that true goodness is a grace bestowed in brief moments. Sometimes a good man will say and do things that may offend, hurt someone's feelings, or even lead to battle.
I imagine Chamberlain thought he was being quite nice with Hitler. I don't believe anyone in Czechoslovakia would have thought it was very good.
Narcissism and the Niceness of Wickedness
Nice can't be discussed without at least mentioning narcissism. This is especially the case with unsolicited and seemingly inappropriate niceness.
Narcissists are very nice until they don't get their way. They are great charmers and can get most people to do and accept things that they wouldn't in their wildest dreams imagine themselves doing or accepting. Narcissists are often very adept con artists.
Narcissism, in psycho-therapeutic parlance, is a term used to indicate a superficial personality type with a hyper-inflated sense of self to compensate for a grievously wounded core. They need a huge amount of support and reinforcement or applause to feel that they have any existence at all. These are people you will often find in the media, in Hollywood, in politics, in positions where they are leading, lording over, or performing for many people. We may understandably expect them there. But we will also find them in car dealerships, in schools, and in our neighborhood associations, because a narcissist is simply someone who puts himself in the center of the universe and fully, comfortably, and syntonically expects you to do the same for him.
As a result, what they want is paramount in any relationship -- intimate or fleeting. They are people who don't accept "no" for an answer easily because it so threatens either their plan, their sense of self-worth (which is actually quite flimsy), or both. In order to keep things moving where they want them to go, they will manipulate with sweetness and charm. If that doesn't work, they will lie. And if that doesn't work, in many cases (though not all) they will rage. Sometimes that rage is malignant and can result in profound emotional or bodily harm to others.
An example of emotional harm is a simple story: Jane was once married to a narcissist. The ex-husband, Charlie, regularly demeaned and verbally abused Jane while they were married. He cheated on her. He had literally no empathy and no respect for her needs. This continued past their divorce. Some years ago, Charlie had their son call Jane to demand that Jane let Charlie and his new girlfriend stay at her house until their new home was painted, knowing that Jane was terrified of losing the affection of her son. She allowed herself to be manipulated and humiliated this way because she was made to feel like the perpetrator every time she tried to say no. Unlike narcissists, people who are trying to be good often have consciences and more highly developed senses of guilt.
An example of physical harm is something we hear about nearly every day in the news. It is a particularly malignant form of narcissism that extends into sociopathy or psychosis. A woman or child is abducted by someone who looked so "normal" or seemed so "nice." They are deliberately and skillfully lured in with requests for help, invitations to look at a puppy, or by making small-talk and not letting it end in a normal fashion and pushing themselves on people who are timid or afraid of hurting someone else' feelings. As De Becker points out, narcissists do not accept the word "no" because they need control.
It was about a week after the terrorist attack in New York. I was walking my dogs -- two large and not-terribly-benign rescues who loved me and were initially cautious with everyone else -- down the small, winding street that led to our home. It was not a through street, so strangers were usually quite noticeable.
It was 7:00 a.m. when a man in a silver Jaguar pulled in front of us at a diagonal, blocking our passage. He stopped and got out of the car. A sheep dog was in the back of the car with his paws on the top of the seat peering out at us. The man walked toward us wearing an FBI hat (ridiculous looking) and a silver running suit. At the time I was working with an NYPD group (POPPA) as a counselor, and immediately I committed his license plate to memory.
I put my hands forward in a "stop" position as my dogs started barking and twitching. He didn't stop quickly enough, and I knew something was amiss.
"Hi there!" he chirped sweetly. Anyone would have said he was being quite nice. "I just moved into the neighborhood, and I was hoping we could get a play date for the dogs..."
He would've kept talking and he was slowly moving closer and closer. Amazingly, my two barking and animated, 80-pound dogs didn't deter him. So I did.
"Get back in your car now. They're not friendly, and neither am I." (Actually, they were both quite friendly with people they trusted. They were clearly on alert.)
"You don't have to be like that!" he said and nearly pouted, trying to make me feel awful for hurting his feelings and rejecting him.
"Yes, I do. I'm warning you. They don't take to strangers," I moved forward with them and slackened my leashes so the dogs could lunge forward.
He stomped off after he gave me a tongue lashing for being rude. Mind you, I didn't feel all that good about being "rude" at all and wondered for a day or so whether I had been too quick to judge or if I was just plain ol' mean -- until I found out that his plates were from a town about 100 miles away and nowhere near where we lived. So much for welcome to the neighborhood! If he had not been looking to perpetrate some harm, he would never have been so indignant about being told "no." If he had been a good man, he would have realized he'd overstepped a boundary and apologized (and meant it).
Narcissism is unfortunately one of the marks of success in modern Western culture. If you are sufficiently self-important to be important to others, you've made it. You're on the cover of Time or People or Us. (Ironically, for a narcissist there is no "us." It is the epitome of the royal "we" in which their "I" includes everyone else.)
Sounding the Cultural Alarm: Discernment
In 1940 C.S. Lewis was already sounding the alarm about this radical change in modern society. He stated emphatically that kindness (or niceness) was not the measure of goodness, just as apparent cruelty was not the measure of evil. For as Russ Murray points out in his blog, someone can be quite nice and have the most base of intentions, citing as an example how Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss. Doctors do the opposite all the time: they reset broken bones, suture ruptured skin, and remove decayed teeth using methods that sometimes cause awful (albeit temporary) pain in order to facilitate proper healing. Is it nice? Hell, no. Is it good? Until we have better means, yes, it is very good.
Because our culture puts such a premium on niceness, charm, and pleasure, ordinary, good people are put at a disadvantage when it comes to discernment. A narcissist can appear quite innocent because she has so mastered the technique of ingratiation, so much so that she can make you feel that you have somehow committed a terrible injustice by denying her X or Y or Z as she positions herself as the victim.
As Gavin De Becker points out, this failure to see behind the mask of niceness can make the difference between life and death. World-wide, the crime records attest to the danger. A woman who can't say "no" to a nice stranger's unsolicited offer to escort her to her car at night, even though she doesn't like him, may wind up filing reports of assault, rape, and attempted murder. This is not to blame the victim, rather to point out how charming that charm can be and how carefully we need to pay attention to the differences.
So, what does a person do? How do you tell the difference?
When I teach Verbal First Aid to emergency workers, a communication protocol used to facilitate healing in traumatic situations, I ask them what they think their most important tool is. Inevitably the hands go up: the defibrillator, the oxygen tank, the Jaws of Life.
I tell them: No. Your most important and most healing instrument is you.
What makes them -- or any of us -- healing is at least in part what makes us good: the ability to develop rapport, our integrity and compassion, our benevolent presence and support. To be healing (or good) one must respect the patient (or person) before him and do what is necessary, even if it is not "nice" to deal with the disease or the injury. Part of what is necessary in Verbal First Aid, of course, is dealing with the patient honestly and with a gentle, but firm authority. Manipulating and healing are mutually exclusive.
The Bible defines goodness for us as "an inherent rightness of being." It never ever mentions niceness. It never equates it with beauty or talent. It never, ever mistakes it for showmanship. (Moses himself had a lisp and timidly refused his mandate by God to lead the Jews out of Egypt.) If anything, it warns us from the very beginning to beware of pretense.
We can start to tell the difference by remembering that there is a difference.
Follow Judith Acosta, LISW, CHT on Twitter: www.twitter.com/VerbalFirstAid
Judith Acosta, LISW, CHT: Self-Defense Against Narcissists: Why 'No' Is So Hard to Say
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Derek Rydall
www.DerekRydall.com
www.LawOfEmergence.com.
I got curious because my daughter had added me as a friend several months ago, but had not added me as her parent. She has her dad, who has spent a less than an hour with her in 11 years. .I scrolled down the page, and saw where she had called me "big as a whale", I didn't say anything, but looked at more of her comments.
She didn't put her son down as her child until just recently, and he is going to be 3 years old in a couple of months. Mostly minor, no big deal things.
Then it got more interesting
She "likes" all of her own comments
She makes no mention of that fact that her child almost died early this year, and her comments during the 10 days he was in the hospital were all about herself and her interests.
Last year when she was making a big deal about something and got herself so worked up that we called EMS, her comments do not reflect any of the emotional issues that she says she was going through at the time.
When we had to do a huge project last year, she took the sole credit, even though everyone else did most of the work
It's a good thing, ain't it?
Best,
Judith
I see very few claims of 'my dad was a narcissist', even though dad may have been just as emotionally unavailable as mom. Is it because traditionally we expect and demand less from our fathers regarding our emotional states?
I wish the writer of this blog, and anyone else in the psychological field, would comment on this.
You've made an interesting observation. Two thoughts: One, it's a very small sample from a fairly narrow audience (Internet readers/Huffingtonpost.com/those who comment/those who clicked on this article/those with resonating personal histories who actually commented). So, I would hesitate to generalize too far although it is a curious statement and may be explained by your thoughts. I sure wouldn't rule it out. Two, in my actual practice, I actually see far more clients who complain about narcissistic fathers. So, the examples you're seeing actually are somewhat different than the ones I see from day to day.
The truth, though, remains consistent regardless of who the narcissist is: It damages people in insidious and painful ways. If we are fortunate enough to see them for what they are and learn how to deal with them, life can be made much better (and safer). There's no avoiding them, I know that much.
The next piece is going to focus on the "dealing-with-them" part of the picture. It's not a perfect answer, but it's a good start, I hope?
Thanks for reading it and your comment.
Judith
Your response (the self-reflection, the consideration of others, etc...) is decidedly NOT narcissistic. People seemed to sometimes misinterpret what I was saying: Good and Nice are not mutually exclusive. We just need a little discernment to know when we're on the receiving end of a manipulation.
On this cursory level, via the internet, I'd have to say you lean the way of Good, not Narcissistic.
Great comment and thoughts. As one beloved friend, Tully, used to say, "Put your foot on the gas and keep going."
Judith
Impossible to tell which is more of a determinant--nature/nurture. I know, though, that living with one can be hell. The hardest part is that all too often they are just as you described: beautiful, brilliant, charming. It confounds us. How could someone who was (as I described) so "nice", so charming, so attentive suddenly turn into such a hurtful person?
There's a lot to be gleaned from the material on attachment disorders in children. When left untreated, unhealed, children who are raised...well, actually, not raised at all..just left to grow on their own, or abused, grow up with tremendous difficulties in intimate relationships, if they're able to have any at all. It might be worth a peak at some of the work by Gary Sibcy. Brilliant guy.
Thanks for sharing.
Judith
This is where I am at in my life right now. I'm 22 (now away from home), but spent the first 18 years with a BPD mom and a father who was never around. I take medication, I go to therapy, I read tons of self-help and study psychology (such as DBT) on my own time. Still, time and again, I find myself having tremendous difficulties in intimate relationships...
What can I do? I don't want to be like this forever...
Please help.
Holly
http://www.halcyon.com/jmashmun/npd/
Great on the narcissism, too. Thanks for helping me recognize the difference between "nice" and "good".