What is Empathetic Narcissism | Key Signs and Theoretical Foundations
Empathetic Narcissism?
Is it even possible?
At first, it sounded like a total contradiction, right?
I mean, we’re used to hearing that narcissists lack empathy by definition. But then I came across people—especially in leadership, therapy, even activism—who are incredibly emotionally tuned in… yet somehow, everything still revolves around them.
What if empathy isn’t always about care, but sometimes a tool for control or admiration?
Take the “woke CEO” who cries on stage about employee wellness but shuts down unions. Or that friend who always feels your pain—but turns every convo back to their own growth journey. That’s not classic NPD, but it’s not selfless either.
So this post dives into that gray zone—how empathy can actually enhance narcissistic strategies, not cancel them out. It’s a twist in the narcissism story I didn’t see coming, and I think it’s worth unpacking.
Theoretical Foundations – Mapping the Empathy-Narcissism Overlap
So here’s where things start to get interesting. If you’ve studied narcissism, you probably know the drill: empathy and narcissism are opposites, right?
That’s the classic line. But dig into Kohut, Kernberg, or even more recent dimensional models, and the story’s a lot messier—and way more compelling.
Let’s start with Kohut’s Self Psychology.
His view of narcissism wasn’t all about grandiosity or aggression. It was about self-regulation—people developing a “cohesive self” through mirroring, idealization, and twinship. That “twinship” part? It requires empathy. In this model, narcissistic individuals don’t lack empathy across the board—they may be empathically attuned to others, especially if it helps regulate their own sense of identity. That was kind of a lightbulb moment for me.
Then there’s the whole idea of cognitive vs. affective empathy. Narcissists, particularly those with higher-functioning traits, can be high in cognitive empathy—they understand what you feel, but they don’t feel it with you.
And here’s the twist: that cognitive empathy becomes a precision tool. It allows them to anticipate reactions, mirror emotions, and curate their persona—whether that’s to charm, lead, seduce, or manipulate. In short: they “get” you, but it’s still about them.
Think about people in the “healer” space—coaches, spiritual leaders, therapists even.
Some of them are emotionally brilliant. They’ll reflect your pain, cry with you, and say just the right thing. But if you look closer, their empathy often reinforces their status as the one who “guides,” who “knows,” who “heals.” That’s not incidental. It’s strategic empathy.
Psychologist Scott Barry Kaufman once wrote about “communal narcissists”—folks who see themselves as extraordinarily caring, giving, or moral. And yeah, they often are!
But it’s their identity as the “empathic one” that becomes the source of validation. These aren’t just wolves in sheep’s clothing—they’re wolves in therapist’s robes, sometimes completely unaware that their empathy is performative.
This is where the Pathological Narcissism Inventory (PNI) gives us a leg up over the DSM-5’s relatively rigid criteria. The PNI highlights vulnerable traits—like contingent self-esteem and hiding the self—that actually require some degree of emotional attunement to others.
If you’re trying to manage how others see you, you need to understand what they value emotionally. That’s not a lack of empathy. That’s an overinvestment in perception.
And when you start seeing empathy as a form of narcissistic supply, things click into place. Some people don’t dominate by ignoring others’ emotions—they dominate by owning the emotional space. They become the center by being the one who “understands everyone.”
Honestly, that’s why this idea of empathetic narcissism doesn’t feel like a contradiction anymore.
It feels like an evolution.
Narcissism isn’t always about the loud, brash grandiosity. Sometimes, it’s in the soft voice, the head tilt, the perfect emotional validation—followed by the subtle shift back to how they’ve grown, or how they can help others.
So yeah, I’m not saying these folks are faking it. Some of them absolutely believe they’re being empathic—and they are, in a sense. But intent and impact are doing very different things here. The empathy might be real on the surface, but its function is still self-centric.
And that, to me, is where the real tension lies. It’s empathy that serves the self, not the other. And that flips a lot of assumptions on their head.
Key Signs of Empathetic Narcissism in Practice
So now that we’ve laid the theoretical groundwork, let’s talk real-world patterns—those specific behaviors that make empathetic narcissism not just a clinical curiosity, but a lived experience that shows up in therapy sessions, boardrooms, relationships, and, let’s be honest, probably a few dinner tables too.
What’s so compelling (and tricky) about empathetic narcissists is that they don’t “look” narcissistic at first glance. They’re emotionally attuned, socially skilled, sometimes even profoundly helpful. But beneath that, their empathy isn’t operating in service of connection—it’s operating in service of the self. It’s curated. That’s the critical distinction.
Below, I’ve broken down six core markers of empathetic narcissism that I kept running into over and over again in interviews, clinical case studies, and personal accounts. Some of them might sound familiar—maybe even uncomfortably familiar.
1. Hyper-Attunement to Emotional States – But Only When It Serves Them
Empathetic narcissists often have a near-psychic ability to sense what others are feeling. They’ll pick up on your mood shifts, micro-expressions, or even tone of voice faster than most people. But here’s the kicker: this isn’t always about care—it’s about control or calibration.
Let’s say you’re upset. A healthy empath might sit with your feelings. The empathetic narcissist, on the other hand, might zero in on your distress and immediately work to fix it—not because they can’t bear your pain, but because your discomfort disrupts the emotional environment they want to dominate. They can’t stand dissonance unless they’re the ones creating it.
And if your emotional state doesn’t feed their narrative or importance? Don’t expect the same level of attunement. Their radar goes dark.
2. Selective Empathy – Empathy as Social Currency
This one’s a big giveaway: their empathy is highly conditional. They’ll be deeply moved by the pain of a friend, client, or colleague—as long as that person is someone they admire, want validation from, or can leverage socially.
But when someone who isn’t “useful” is struggling? Crickets. Or worse—minimizing, deflection, or subtle belittling disguised as “tough love.” I’ve seen this show up a lot in spiritual communities where the “empathic leader” is moved to tears during someone’s breakthrough, but completely dismissive when another person’s pain doesn’t match their preferred narrative.
That’s because their empathy isn’t about relational equity—it’s about emotional ROI.
3. Narrative Hijacking – Empathy That Becomes Self-Centered
This is such a classic move that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Empathetic narcissists will mirror your story… and then shift it back to themselves. You’ll share a vulnerable moment, and they’ll respond with, “Wow, I totally get that—when I went through something similar…” and suddenly, they’re the main character.
It’s cloaked in connection. It feels like empathy. But the function? It’s to reorient attention back to their identity as someone wise, experienced, or emotionally evolved.
To be fair, we all do this from time to time. But in empathetic narcissism, it’s chronic, patterned, and usually unconscious. Your vulnerability becomes a mirror for their reflection.
4. Performative Compassion – Empathy That’s Built for Optics
Social media has made this easier than ever to spot. These are the people who publicly mourn tragedies, who amplify causes, who post vulnerable confessions—not always out of genuine solidarity, but because being seen as compassionate feeds their identity.
This doesn’t mean they don’t care at all—but their visibility as a caring person often matters more than the impact of their actions. They may even unconsciously perform empathy to maintain their image as “the emotionally intelligent one.”
You’ll often find this in corporate leadership, where “empathy” is part of the brand—but only as long as it doesn’t challenge power structures. Or in influencers who “hold space” publicly but dismiss critical feedback as toxicity. If the emotional expression feels too rehearsed, too polished, or too convenient—it probably is.
5. Emotional Mimicry Without Emotional Reciprocity
Empathetic narcissists are incredibly good at mimicking emotional depth. They’ll match your tone, your expressions, sometimes even your body language. It can feel like they really get you. But over time, you’ll notice something’s missing: reciprocity.
They’re absorbing your emotions, but not truly sharing theirs. Or if they do share, it’s in a way that maintains their superior emotional status. Vulnerability becomes a performance, not a shared risk.
One therapist I spoke to described it as “emotional cosplay.” They’re wearing empathy like a costume—one they’ve tailored extremely well. But try getting underneath it, and it’s hard to tell where their feelings actually begin.
6. Therapeutic Mimicry – Playing the Role of the Empathic Expert
This one really got under my skin because it’s so sneaky: empathetic narcissists often end up in healing or helping roles. Coaching, therapy, mentorship, activism—they’re drawn to spaces where empathy is the currency of power.
And sometimes, they are helpful! They give great advice, they help people transform, they seem to care deeply. But their position as “the one who knows” is often central. If you challenge their authority or step outside the dynamic where they’re the guide, things get tense—fast.
The empathy was never fully about you. It was about being seen as someone who helps.
A Word About Self-Awareness
Here’s the complicated bit: many empathetic narcissists aren’t trying to manipulate people. Some are genuinely convinced they’re deeply empathic. And in many ways, they are! But they’re also trapped in an identity that relies on being needed, admired, or emotionally superior.
That’s why confronting these behaviors—either in others or ourselves—requires more nuance than just calling someone a narcissist. It’s about tracking where empathy ends and ego begins. And honestly, that line can be razor-thin.
If you’re trying to spot empathetic narcissism in real time (or doing some self-inquiry), here’s a distilled version of what we’ve covered:
- Emotionally attuned, but only when it serves their self-image
- Empathy is contingent on social value or proximity
- Tendency to shift conversations back to their experiences
- Public compassion exceeds private accountability
- Excellent at emotional mimicry, but struggles with vulnerability
- Thrives in “helper” roles, but resists emotional equality
If five or six of these hit?
You’re probably not dealing with just a standard empath.
Clinical and Social Implications
Recognizing empathetic narcissism as a pattern—not just an odd personality quirk—has major implications, especially for clinicians, therapists, and anyone in emotionally intimate relationships. It’s not just a theoretical wrinkle; it actually complicates how we diagnose, relate, and treat.
The biggest challenge?
They don’t look like narcissists.
Classic NPD presentations (grandiosity, lack of empathy, entitlement) are easier to spot, and they often trigger immediate relational or social friction. But empathetic narcissists are charming, emotionally articulate, and often genuinely helpful—at least on the surface.
They tend to slip under the radar, especially in professions where empathy is prized.
In therapy, this can create a diagnostic blind spot. A clinician may see emotional fluency and interpersonal sensitivity and miss the deeper patterns of self-enhancing empathy or covert control.
If someone cries with their therapist, validates others’ emotions, and expresses a deep desire to “heal,” it’s easy to assume their empathy is authentic. But dig deeper, and you may find their vulnerability functions as performance—more about managing image than forming connection.
A few clinical pitfalls to be aware of:
- Therapists can be pulled into the narrative. If a client continually frames themselves as the empathic victim—especially with a history of “toxic” others—it can take a long time to see the underlying narcissistic traits.
- The therapeutic alliance can feel strong but may be built on performance, not true self-exposure.
- Attempts to confront deeper narcissistic tendencies may be met with empathic protest: “How could I be narcissistic when I care so much about people?”
- These clients may overidentify with the ‘wounded healer’ archetype, resisting accountability by retreating into emotional martyrdom.
And in relationships? Things can get even murkier.
Partners, friends, or colleagues often describe a strange kind of emotional whiplash: “I feel seen… until I don’t.”
These individuals often lead with deep empathy and connection, but when the emotional focus shifts away from them, they can become distant, defensive, or even cold.
It’s not emotional availability—it’s emotional centering.
This creates a confusing dynamic where their partners may doubt their own instincts. “They’re so caring—maybe I am being too sensitive.” That self-doubt only reinforces the narcissistic structure, creating emotional dependency masked as closeness.
And here’s where things get even more complicated…
Some research suggests that not all narcissism is fixed. Certain subtypes—particularly those high in vulnerable traits—may be capable of developing more stable, reciprocal empathy over time.
But the question becomes: Are they growing—or just getting better at mimicking growth?
There’s no easy answer, but it’s a tension worth sitting with.
Key Clinical and Relational Implications (Bullet Style for the TL;DR Crew):
- Diagnostic complexity: High emotional intelligence and cognitive empathy can obscure narcissistic traits during intake or early therapy.
- Risk of underdiagnosis: Especially in leaders, therapists, or “helpers” whose empathy serves a self-enhancing identity.
- Therapeutic alliance distortion: Strong initial rapport can mask deeper relational control dynamics or emotional avoidance.
- Relationship confusion: Partners feel emotionally “met” at first—but end up feeling emotionally sidelined or unseen.
- Resistance to confrontation: Empathetic narcissists may deflect accountability by over-empathizing with their own pain.
- Need for updated models: Dimensional approaches like the PNI (Pathological Narcissism Inventory) help track empathy and self-focus together, unlike binary DSM models.
- Hope for growth—with caution: Some may develop more authentic empathy… but clinicians must discern between transformation and refined masking.
Empathetic narcissism doesn’t break the narcissism mold—it stretches it. And for those of us trying to understand human behavior in all its nuance and contradiction, that’s not a threat to clarity. It’s an invitation to dig deeper.
