The most dangerous form of flattery is excessive self-admiration. It carries all the risks of having others flatter you, with one added danger: you take it with you everywhere, and it becomes a substitute for your eyes and ears.
Yet those excessively enamored with themselves are not content with their own self-flattery. They seek an equivalent measure of admiration in the eyes of others. When they fail to find it, they assume they are not receiving the recognition they deserve. Sometimes, this drives them to prove themselves, turning into an engine of ambition. At other times, it becomes a source of aggression toward those whose eyes are apparently too clouded to see their greatness and uniqueness. They can find no explanation for such behavior other than that these people are either conspiring against them or simply ignorant. This can have serious consequences when the person in question is a political leader, for example. But it does not necessarily spell failure.
When, then, does a leader's self-admiration cease to be a potential problem and become an obstacle to continued success?
When a political leader assumes that others hold him in the same high regard in which he holds himself, this trait turns from a problem into a calamity. It clouds the possibility of self-correction and creates recurring patterns of failure. It reduces political life to empty rhetoric and decision-making to an exercise in futility. It separates the leader from the public behind a glass wall, through which he sees only his own reflection. Every decision is a triumph. Its quality derives from his own excellence, its brilliance from his own brilliance. Whether it is accepted depends on the public's regard for him, not on its actual results. A leader who thinks this way will not be moved by criticism to test or reconsider a decision. In a democracy, this is a world of delusion; in an autocracy, it is a vicious cycle with no end in sight.
Such a leader often begins his career surrounded by a circle of talented people who help him succeed. But once in power, he declares that he owes his success to no one. Then, one by one, the talented people around him disappear: some are pushed out, others walk away, and still others are gradually stripped of their individuality. He is eventually left with people who feed off his power rather than contribute to it through their abilities. This is a downward spiral that sooner or later ends in administrative failure in a democracy, or the failure of the country itself under autocratic rule.
Those who monopolize credit soon come to monopolize knowledge as well. They imagine they know more than the experts and understand more than the specialists. Their interference in every minor and major matter is not merely a management problem, a case of excessive micromanagement. It stems from a deeper conviction about the source of success and where it comes from: the belief that they themselves are the model to be replicated in every position.
What remains hidden in the biographies of leaders is their psychological makeup and emotional culture. It is relatively easy to provide politicians with the highest standards of medical care. Far harder is to cultivate in them an aversion to the maladies of the human psyche, and an understanding of the practical value and tangible benefits of avoiding them.
Excessive self-admiration comes in degrees, which makes it tempting to tolerate it in the hope that it may be a character flaw in a political leader without necessarily becoming a liability for the rest of us. Intelligent leaders, meanwhile, learn to conceal it, sometimes by playing the role of the people's hero, sometimes by performing humility. Yet it continues to reveal itself in every decision and every policy.
