Narcissism is everywhere these days. Anyone who spends time on social media knows that terms like “narcissistic personality disorder” and related toxic behaviors—gaslighting, flying monkeys, emotional manipulation—have become part of our collective vocabulary.
Countless creators, videos, and posts focus on narcissism in relationships, families, and workplaces. And more and more people are speaking openly about their painful experiences with emotional, psychological, and even abusive mistreatment.
Many are taking action: adult children cut ties with their parents. Couples separate.
Yet something else is happening at the same time: people are trivializing narcissistic abuse. They criticize how quickly the “narcissist” label is applied and insist that there simply can’t be that many narcissists out there.
Or can there?
Objectively speaking, not every difficult ex-partner or unpleasant coworker is a narcissist. But if we listen closely to the stories of those who have survived emotional abuse, one thing becomes clear: not everyone is a narcissist—but there are far more than we’d like to admit.
Why is that?
To understand this, we need to go beyond individual behavior and look at society itself. And then an interesting question emerges: Where does the topic of narcissistic abuse show up most prominently?
The answer: in Germany and the United States.
If we look at the cultural structures of both countries, it makes sense. They are individualistic societies—cultures in which the individual’s well-being takes precedence over the collective. People are encouraged to express themselves freely, pursue their personal path, and follow their own truth.
But in individualistic systems, something else also happens: a person does not necessarily need to contribute to the community in order to be socially accepted.
In contrast, Scandinavian and many Asian societies follow a more collectivist model. Here, the well-being of the community is valued more than that of the individual. Contributing to society is not optional—it is expected. In Norway, for example, it’s normal for young people to volunteer. Giving back to the community is a social standard. Those who don’t participate stand out negatively.
It’s no coincidence that these societies do not seem to struggle with narcissism to the same extent. Of course, collectivist cultures have their own shadows—especially visible in parts of Asia, where individuals who cannot contribute to the system because of long-term illness or mental health struggles may fall completely through the cracks. They are essentially invisible—unless they have enough financial resources to remain included.
So while collectivist cultures do not appear to foster widespread narcissistic behavior, individualistic ones clearly do. From this perspective, it seems almost obvious: isn’t narcissism simply an unhealthy extension of individualism?
In a society where the community comes first, narcissistic behavior would be immediately noticeable—and disruptive. But in a culture where everyone stands alone, it often blends in unnoticed.
What began as a celebration of personal freedom has, in many places, turned into entitlement, disregard, and the quiet belief that I matter more than the person in front of me.
To understand why narcissism has become such a major issue in Germany in particular, we also need to look at history. The post-war generation—our grandparents and great-grandparents—were focused entirely on survival. Their daily reality offered no room for emotional connection or gentle parenting. Unconditional love was replaced by emotional distance. From trauma, a lack of interest in the lives of others. From rigid role assignments, unhealthy hierarchies that did not allow for reflection or appropriate criticism.Children grew up carrying the unprocessed trauma of adults who were simply trying to endure their circumstances.
From this generation emerged adults who survived—but did not experience genuine love. Their needs did not matter. And those patterns were then passed on to the next generation. The cycle continued: a collective existence shaped by survival, not emotional presence.
Today, many people are not just trying to survive a narcissistic partner—they are trying to survive narcissistic parents, narcissistic siblings, narcissistic workplaces. They are trying to continue their lives after being deprived of something fundamental—love—and even having it used as a weapon against them.
While other societies have built unspoken rules of care and responsibility toward their most vulnerable members, what we often see here is the fragmented reflection of a fragile society. Those who disclose narcissistic abuse risk being criticized for it. Children who cut contact with their parents are blamed. Those who leave an abusive partner are often defamed or even legally pursued years later.
In the end, the same dynamics that define narcissistic abuse repeat themselves on a societal level: a distortion of reality, misplaced blame, and the constant reversal of victim and perpetrator. Perpetrators who are always innocent. Victims who are “too sensitive.”
Narcissism is not an isolated family issue. It is not something that affects only certain people.
Narcissism is a societal problem.
A reflection of the collective.
No, not everyone is a narcissist—
but many are.
The deeper question is this: How do we free ourselves from these patterns? How do we step out of a life shaped by generational survival and a sense of responsibility that was never truly ours?
There are no quick or simple answers to problems rooted in structures that have hardened over decades.
But there are ways forward.
And they often begin more quietly than we expect.
It begins with us.
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