The extrovert is the easy-to-spot type, the one whose ego is presented in vivid colors, the arrogant, manipulative person we’re all too familiar with. The introvert (also called the “covert narcissist”) is more confusing because he lacks outward bravado and may have a humble or vulnerable demeanor that belies the way he feels superior to everyone else. But the collective narcissist is something else entirely. I hadn’t heard of this category until I read Malkin’s descriptions, and you probably haven’t either. This third type of narcissist is relatively new to the group; the label is only a little over a decade old. Surprisingly, this narcissist shares some traits with the other two types—they’re all people who are constantly trying to prove their greatness, worth, worth, and power—but this type focuses on promoting themselves through commitment to others, societal goals, and a supposed ability to listen and communicate. Yes, this is largely counterintuitive (aren’t narcissists supposed to care about themselves?), but there’s a strong case for these supposedly do-gooder types. “This is how Malkin explains these traits in his book: “[They] see themselves as particularly understanding and empathetic. They proudly announce how much they donate to charity or how much they spend on themselves. They corner you at a party and whisper excitedly about how much they care about their grieving neighbor. That’s me—I’m a natural listener!” They think they’re better than the rest of us, but they value their status as givers, not takers.”

Sound familiar?

You’ve known people like this. They’re people who talk about having a “mission” or being “committed to a cause,” and who make it clear that while your life and concerns are trivial and superficial, theirs have deep meaning and purpose. You’ve probably encountered them at a parent-teacher association, a charity event, a booster club, or a fundraiser. You’ve probably been surprised when one of them shows his or her true colors by becoming quite territorial, more interested in personal expansion and recognition than in the societal cause you thought you were all working toward. Then there’s some terrible political hype: Bingo!

The researchers developed a questionnaire for societal narcissism, which asks participants to express their agreement or disagreement with the following statements about themselves on a scale of 1 to 7, with 1 being strongly disagreeable and 7 being strongly agreeable:

I am the most helpful person I know.

I will bring peace and justice to the world.

I am the best friend anyone could have.

I will be known for the good deeds I do.

I will be (will be) the best parent on the planet.

I am the most caring person in my social circle.

In the future, I will be known for solving the world’s problems.

I will greatly enrich the lives of others.

I will bring freedom to people.

I am a great listener.

I will be able to solve the problem of poverty in the world.

I have a very positive influence on others.

I am generally the most understanding person.

I will make the world a more beautiful place.

I am unusually trustworthy.

I will be known for increasing people’s well-being.

Some of these things may seem like overkill (solving the world’s problems or global poverty) until you realize that anyone running for office—maybe president, maybe even PTA president—makes a lot of statements that sound exactly like this: promising to fix what no one else has been able to fix. Other self-flattering statements are undoubtedly just flattering to the narcissist’s ego and don’t seem far off the mark. After all, don’t we all think we’re trustworthy and good listeners?

Keep in mind that this is how the narcissist likes to think of himself. The truth is that he cannot empathize, is still a player, and exhibits all the other traits commonly associated with narcissism. He participates in society only to prove himself.

Understanding communal narcissism explains why women and men who are widely viewed as “pillars of society” and known for their dedication to charity and other causes can be so destructive and unloving in their roles as friends, husbands, wives, and parents. Friends, spouses, and children of social narcissists find themselves in a certain predicament because who would ever believe them?

This is exactly what one of my daughters admitted:

“My mother was the perfect hostess, a skilled housekeeper, sang in the church choir, and ran every fundraiser in our town. She was in high demand, though there was always drama in her wake. She was also cold, manipulative, and unloving with me, but I didn’t tell anyone until I was an adult. By then, she had become so territorial that invitations to chair this or that fell through and even family members were finally able to hear my side of the story. But my mother, of course, never admitted to her behavior. She believed the hype around her.

In their article on collective narcissism, Jochen Gebaur and colleagues note that just as the agentic narcissist (who defines himself through actions that show he is superior) is admired and even adored until people realize it, the collective narcissist also enjoys initial admiration but will fall out of favor more dramatically because of the hypocritical nature of his motives.

But none of this seems to matter, because as a recent study has claimed, narcissists of every type report high levels of subjective well-being (SWB)—what you and I might call happiness. So in the end, it’s just the rest of the chickens who haven’t had the good fortune to find one type or another of narcissists in our lives who are experiencing a clear loss of subjective well-being.

Doesn’t seem fair, does it?

Still, especially in an important election year, acknowledging communal narcissism has value, don’t you think?