Politics through the Prism of the Arts: PART I: The Theater of Malignant Narcissism

In the grand tradition of the stage, playwrights have always been the unsparing chroniclers of human folly. They wield their quills like scalpels, slicing through the façades of power to reveal the festering rot within.

Among the most infamous of their subjects are those whose personalities ooze with the toxic cocktail we now term "malignant narcissism" ~ a delightful blend of Machiavellianism, narcissism, psychopathy, and antisocial behavior, all garnished with a paranoid outlook and a grandiose sense of self.

This potent brew, which in lesser hands might simply result in a tedious dinner party guest, has been the fuel for developing some of the most chilling and corrupt characters in dramatic literature.

And, as it happens, today’s political landscape is littered with self-possessed wannabe authoritarians who exhibit the very traits that the following dramatists so vividly skewered.

So, for some salient examples of the best and most piercing political satires, return with me now to those thrilling theatrical days of yesteryear…starting with Ancient Greece.

Aristophanes, the father of comedy, aimed his stylus against Cleon, the leader of the Athenian democracy (429 BCE). In The Knights, Cleon is portrayed as a corrupt and manipulative demagogue who panders to the masses while pursuing his own selfish ends. Aristophanes skewers Cleon’s self-indulgence, obsession with power, and Machiavellian (an early precursor of McCarthyism) tactics.

In an analysis of the play, Edith Foster, a classical studies scholar, observes that Aristophanes has depicted Cleon as “an obnoxious bane to the whole state, a politician of limited skills who masks his corruption and greed by threatening to denounce and prosecute his opponents. His crimes against Athens are much greater than his supposed service.” To wit…imagine this, dear reader…he scuttled a peace with Sparta for the sake of personal profit and, as a result, caused the Athenians to continue to live in wartime poverty while he benefited.

Let’s sail along now to Rome in the first century CE. There, the philosopher and dramatist Seneca’s play, Thyestes, focuses on a mythological figure, Atreus, who is another embodiment of malignant narcissism…but, at its most terrifying.  This fellow is a ruthless avenger. He is consumed by grievances against his brother, Thyestes, who had seduced Atreus’s wife and stolen his kingdom. In a diabolical and grotesque scheme to get revenge, Atreus kidnaps Thyestes's sons, kills them, cooks them, and tricks his brother into eating them. Can you imagine, dear reader, that any “leader” would have such a mad need to dominate and such a psychopathic lack of empathy in order to assert his dominance in the corridors of power?

Moving on to England. 1592. Shakespeare, quill in hand, writes Richard III. Richard, the hunchbacked king whose twisted spine is the least of his deformities. is the poster child for malignant narcissism. He delights in his own cunning as he schemes, murders, and manipulates his way to the throne. He is a man who believes in his divine right to rule, not through merit or popular support, but through sheer force of will ~ and a well-placed dagger. Richard’s utter lack of conscience, combined with his pathological need for power, makes him a harbinger of doom for anyone foolish enough to trust him. As Shakespeare deftly illustrates, when such a person ascends to power, the results are catastrophic ~ not just for the victims of his purges, but for the entire kingdom, which is plunged into chaos and bloodshed.

Nearly fourteen years later, the Bard introduces us to Macbeth. Here’s a fellow that starts out as a relatively decent chap, but once a prophecy of his greatness is whispered into his ear, his latent malignancy begins to grow. His psychopathy is nurtured by his wife’s own ambitions…and the pair spiral into a murderous frenzy. Macbeth’s descent into madness and tyranny is another master class in how the mad pursuit of power leads not only to the destruction of others but to that of oneself.

In 1664, the French playwright Molière introduced the figure of the pious fraud: Tartuffe. The character is what these days we might call a wannabe influencer, a treacherous weasel, who uses his faux religious fervor as a means to manipulate and control those around him. (By the way, it turns out that Tartuffe has a long criminal history.) The adoration of his duped followers feeds his sense of grandiosity. His manipulations and dissimulations serve to extract wealth and power from his benefactors. His lack of conscience and obsession for power make him a parasite on the body politic. Interestingly. the word "tartuffe" entered the modern lexicon to denote a hypocrite who pretends to religious piety!

Let me skip a century to the United States and Gore Vidal’s The Best Man.

The setting is a party convention where two candidates vie for the presidential nomination. One of the candidates, Secretary of State William Russell, is a principled man whose health problems threaten his candidacy. His rival, Senator Joe Cantwell, is a classic example of a Machiavellian figure ~ cunning, manipulative, and willing to use any means necessary to achieve power. Cantwell presents himself as the people's candidate, but his image is blemished by the revelation of sexual indiscretions. While it is, on the one hand, a play that explores the ruthless elements of American political campaigns, it is also a stark profile of the toxic figures that can infiltrate an otherwise healthy political process.

Forty-six years later, Peter Morgan’s Frost/Nixon (dramatizing the interviews between British talk show host David Frost and the former President) delves into Nixon's complex personality, portraying him as a deeply flawed leader whose narcissism and paranoia led to the Watergate scandal and his eventual resignation. Nixon’s sense of entitlement, his bigotry, his attempts to manipulate public perception, and his refusal to admit wrongdoing are all hallmarks of malignant narcissism.

THE BOTTOM LINES!

Good enough! It seems, don’t you think, that these playwrights ~ across the centuries and the seas ~ have merely prepared us for the theater of modern politics, where malignant narcissists don’t just play roles ~ they’re vigorously vying to run the whole show?

Today’s Richards and Macbeths see the Presidency as their crown and the executive order as their dagger. Their objectives remain the same: to amass power, control, and adulation at any cost. Absent of conscience, they would dismantle democratic institutions in order to secure their own power. They stoke the fires of paranoia, convincing their followers that they alone can save the nation from its myriad enemies ~ enemies that they themselves invent. Their sense of grandiosity knows no bounds; they believe they are the embodiment of the state, that their will is the law. And, like Richard and Macbeth, they leave a trail of destruction in their wake ~ divided societies, weakened alliances, and a populace left to pick up the pieces.

What these playwrights understood ~ and what we need to remember ~ is that malignant narcissism is not just a personal flaw; it is a societal cancer. When such individuals rise to power, they do not merely corrupt themselves; they corrupt the very fabric of society. The damage they inflict can last for generations, as their policies, their rhetoric, and their very presence in the halls of power erode the norms and values that hold society together.

So, as we watch the modern stage of politics ~ and, specifically, a national election unfold ~ let’s recognize the malignant narcissists in our midst for what they are: dangerous actors in a tragicomedy that threatens to leave us all as unwitting extras in a play with no happy ending. And let us act in a way that ensures that they’re cut from the production before the final act.