Virtue Signalling in Narcissists – What is It and How It’s Done?
Let’s talk about something I see all the time in clinical conversations and public life but rarely see dissected in a meaningful way—narcissists using virtue as a weapon.
When we think of narcissists, we often picture arrogance, entitlement, and the desperate need for admiration. But here’s where it gets slippery: some narcissists don’t flaunt their success or beauty—they flaunt their “goodness.” Their brand of superiority isn’t built on vanity or intellect, but on being the “most ethical,” the “most progressive,” or the “most compassionate.”
This isn’t about genuinely held values. It’s performance. A show of moral virtue carefully curated for external validation. We’re not just dealing with people who think they’re better than others—we’re dealing with people who think they’re better because they’re better people. That’s a more manipulative, and frankly more dangerous, flavor of narcissism.
And it hides in plain sight.
Let’s dig into what’s going on under the surface.
What’s Actually Going On in Their Heads
They’re not being good—they just need to look good
Most narcissists don’t care about morality in itself. What they care about is appearing moral in ways that keep their self-image intact and fuel their need for admiration. That’s their oxygen. And in a world where social capital often revolves around ethics—being woke, being kind, being inclusive—they know exactly what image to adopt.
I’ve had clients who’ve raged against a friend’s “insensitivity” toward a social issue, only to immediately go do something equally insensitive behind closed doors. Why? Because the outrage wasn’t about the issue. It was about the narcissist looking like they were on the right side of it.
Virtue becomes a performance piece. Think of it like PR, not ethics. It’s not the cause that matters—it’s the applause.
Narcissistic supply, just wrapped in moral paper
If you’ve studied narcissism, you know about narcissistic supply—attention, praise, control, admiration. Virtue signalling is just a fancier delivery mechanism for that same old need. Only now, it comes dressed up as integrity.
Let me give you a real-world example. I worked with someone in a leadership role who constantly posted about mental health awareness—moving stuff, really. But in the office? He belittled subordinates who took mental health days. He even penalized one for being “too emotionally sensitive.”
That’s not hypocrisy—it’s strategy. His public displays served to maintain a pristine persona, one that earned praise and admiration. His private behavior never needed to match it, because it wasn’t about being good—it was about looking good to the right people.
They need control, and morality is power
This part doesn’t get talked about enough: moral authority is social currency. When someone appears morally righteous, they get to control the narrative. They can frame others as “less evolved,” “ignorant,” or “toxic,” and position themselves as the voice of reason or progress.
Narcissists absolutely thrive in these dynamics because they let them assert dominance without appearing aggressive. Instead of shouting “I’m better than you,” they whisper, “I just care more.”
Let’s say a narcissist publicly calls out a co-worker for not sharing a charity campaign. Sounds noble, right? But the real goal isn’t charity—it’s social leverage. That act makes them look like the hero and the other person like the villain. And the best part? They get to do it while wearing a halo.
It’s control via virtue. And people rarely see it coming.
Empathy becomes a script, not a feeling
One of the more chilling traits I’ve noticed in narcissistic virtue signallers is their use of scripted empathy. They’ve studied what empathy looks like—the tone, the language, the hashtags—but they don’t actually feel what they’re projecting.
This is especially true in vulnerable narcissists, who often oscillate between victimhood and martyrdom. They’ll share long posts about the suffering of others, sometimes even about their own trauma, but when someone close to them needs real support? They’re absent. Or worse—they center the conversation back on themselves.
There’s a kind of cold efficiency to it. They’re emotionally fluent, but emotionally detached. They know how to mimic connection without ever offering it.
I remember a client describing her ex as “the most compassionate man on social media.” But she added, “In private, I never once felt seen.” That sentence has stuck with me for years.
It’s all about the spotlight, not the cause
Finally, let’s acknowledge the performative part of all this. Narcissists don’t tend to support unpopular causes. Their moral grandstanding usually maps neatly onto what’s trending.
You’ll see them championing whatever issue is gaining momentum—not because they’ve researched it or truly care, but because it’s currently valuable for their brand. They’ll update their bios, change profile pictures, flood their feeds with takes. And once the issue cools down? Crickets.
Their activism is algorithmic. It moves with the likes, not the lives.
So what we’re looking at isn’t narcissism wearing a new mask—it’s narcissism doing what it’s always done: chasing admiration. Only now, instead of a spotlight on success, it’s a spotlight on virtue. And that makes it harder to call out, because we’re conditioned to associate moral language with moral people.
But as experts, we know better. We know that narcissism adapts. And right now, it’s wearing a virtue cloak.
How Narcissists Actually Do Virtue Signalling
Let’s get into the nitty-gritty now—the how. How does a narcissist actually go about virtue signalling? What are the common tactics they use? Once you know what to look for, the patterns become crystal clear. What makes this list particularly tricky is that a lot of these behaviors can look very similar to what empathetic, well-meaning people do. The difference is in the motive and the consistency.
These behaviors don’t necessarily show up all at once, but if you’re dealing with a narcissist—especially a communal or covert one—you’ll likely spot at least a few of these popping up regularly.
Publicly supporting causes they barely understand
This is probably the most recognizable move. A narcissist will align themselves with a cause, but not because they care about it. They care about what it does for them—how it elevates their image. So they post about it, speak on panels, maybe even fundraise. But ask them a few deeper questions, and you’ll hit a wall. They haven’t actually done the work.
It’s moral posturing, not moral depth. They’ll share infographics and retweet slogans, but there’s no substance behind it. No lived understanding. No personal growth. Just optics.
I’ve seen this with DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) efforts in workplaces, where someone loudly advocates for inclusion but privately undermines marginalized colleagues. It’s exhausting for those on the receiving end, and confusing for everyone else.
Performative outrage
Here’s where things get loud. Narcissists love taking moral high ground, and outrage gives them a pedestal to shout from. But this outrage? It’s rarely proportional or consistent. It’s selective and opportunistic.
Say someone makes a clumsy comment or missteps on a complex issue. The narcissist jumps in with full-blown fury—not to educate or clarify, but to dismantle the person publicly. It’s virtue signalling via destruction: “Look how not that person I am.”
This move is especially common on social media. But I’ve also seen it play out in therapy groups, activist circles, and even family systems. The narcissist acts as the moral enforcer—but only when it suits them.
Stealing the spotlight in moral conversations
This one’s a classic: someone brings up a personal or collective struggle, and the narcissist hijacks the conversation.
Let’s say someone’s talking about the emotional toll of caregiving. The narcissist, instead of listening, jumps in with, “You know, I went through something very similar,” and suddenly we’re off on a ten-minute monologue about their hardship or their emotional labor.
They can’t just let the focus stay on someone else’s pain—they need to insert themselves into the narrative as either a savior or a fellow sufferer. They’ll center themselves in every cause, every story, every form of empathy.
And here’s the kicker—they usually believe they’re helping.
Name-dropping values and affiliations
This one’s a bit sneakier. Instead of actions, they drop names—names of causes, organizations, ideologies, or people they associate with morally upright behavior. It’s like a resume of virtue.
“I worked with X NGO.”
“I’ve always believed in social justice.”
“I donate to [insert trendy cause].”
These statements aren’t inherently narcissistic. But when they’re used as moral currency—to prove worth rather than live it—it’s a red flag. It’s like moral credentialing instead of actual contribution. There’s usually little follow-through, just enough to maintain the image.
Public kindness, private cruelty
This one hits hard, especially for people in close relationships with narcissists. These are the individuals who post photos volunteering at shelters, advocating for kindness, sharing mental health tips—and then go home and gaslight their partner, neglect their kids, or bully colleagues.
The discrepancy is brutal. People on the outside are fooled by the curated moral image, while those on the inside are left confused, angry, and often silenced because, well… who would believe them?
“But they’re such a good person!”
Exactly. That’s the trap. Narcissists often create a moral persona so bulletproof that calling them out makes you look like the villain.
Shame as a weapon
When narcissists adopt a moral high ground, they can start using shame like a scalpel. They’ll cut others down not with insults, but with disappointment and disapproval cloaked in values.
“Wow. I didn’t expect that from someone who claims to care about people.”
“You really don’t understand what true allyship looks like.”
It sounds like guidance. It’s actually punishment. It’s about putting people in their place while reinforcing the narcissist’s own moral superiority.
This kind of shaming is particularly toxic because it leaves the target feeling guilty and inferior, while the narcissist gets to keep their hands clean.
Why This Matters in Therapy, Work, and Everyday Life
Alright, so we’ve unpacked how narcissists do it. But what’s the impact? Why should we care beyond academic curiosity? The answer’s simple: it’s messing with relationships, organizations, and even social justice movements.
This stuff doesn’t just live in theory—it plays out in real lives. And the consequences are real.
It creates confusion and erodes trust
One of the most common responses I hear from people who’ve been around narcissistic virtue signallers is: “I thought they were a good person.”
That dissonance—the gap between public persona and private behavior—is destabilizing. It makes people question their own instincts. And in therapy, this is where you see survivors of narcissistic abuse struggle the most. They know something felt wrong, but because the narcissist was “so kind” or “so caring,” they doubt themselves.
This confusion is part of the manipulation. It’s not an accident. Narcissists rely on their public goodness to invalidate criticism.
It undermines real change
When narcissists insert themselves into social causes purely for image management, they take up space meant for authentic voices. They distort the message and derail momentum.
I’ve seen DEI programs crash and burn because they were spearheaded by someone more interested in personal branding than systemic change. I’ve seen mental health panels hosted by people who mocked therapy behind the scenes.
It’s not just annoying—it’s harmful. It delegitimizes the cause. People begin to associate movements with hypocrisy. And that’s a loss for everyone.
It’s harder to challenge without looking petty
This part drives me nuts. Because of the moral language narcissists wrap themselves in, calling them out becomes socially risky.
If you say, “I think this person’s being manipulative,” you might be met with, “But they just raised money for [insert noble cause]!” Or, “They’re the most empathetic person I know!”
So what do you do? You stay quiet. Or you confront them and risk being painted as bitter, jealous, or toxic.
Narcissistic virtue signalling creates an invisible shield. And that shield protects them from accountability.
It infects teams, relationships, and communities
In workplaces, these individuals climb ranks not just with competence but with optics. They’re the ones who lead the mindfulness workshops and then explode on interns. They talk about “bringing your whole self to work” while undermining anyone who challenges them.
In romantic relationships, they use moral ideals to guilt partners into silence. “How can you say that? After everything I’ve done for you? I’m the one who’s always been patient, supportive, etc.”
In families, they become the “golden child” or the “model parent”—roles that make any critique seem outrageous.
It’s systemic. And it’s slippery.
So what do we do with this?
We name it. We talk about it. We stop confusing virtue signalling with virtue. And we learn to hold people accountable not for what they say, but what they consistently do.
In clinical settings, this means getting curious when a client presents as overly moralistic or performatively empathetic. It doesn’t mean assuming narcissism—but it does mean looking for congruence between values and actions.
In life? It means trusting your gut when someone’s kindness feels hollow. It means listening to how people treat those with less power. And yes—it means being willing to question even the most “admirable” among us.
Final Thoughts
Virtue signalling isn’t new. But when narcissists weaponize it, it becomes something else entirely—a form of control dressed up as goodness.
What makes it so dangerous is that it hides in the very places we expect to find safety and empathy.
In social justice.
In therapy.
In community.
In relationships.
As experts, we’ve got to keep asking hard questions. Not just “Is this person saying the right thing?” but “Do their values cost them anything?” If not, if it’s all reward and no risk, all spotlight and no service—then what we’re seeing might not be virtue at all. It might just be narcissism in a very convincing costume.
