In a marble hall with ceilings so high the sound of a whisper took its time returning, the emperor held court. His advisers lined up, not to counsel but to compliment. Each offered praise dressed as insight, careful never to contradict, never to challenge. To do so was to risk exile or, worse, irrelevance.

Beyond the palace walls, cracks widened. Crops failed, trade routes frayed, morale dipped.

But inside the hall, there was only agreement. The emperor believed all was well.

How could he not? All he heard was applause.

In 2017, then-President Donald Trump convened a televised Cabinet meeting where members queued up to praise him. One called it “the greatest privilege” of their life. Another, “deeply honoured.”

It was awkward to watch and familiar to anyone who’s worked under a power-heavy leader.

This wasn’t leadership. It was theatre. A performance to preserve a fragile fiction: that everything was fine, that the leader was brilliant, that dissent was unnecessary.

This dynamic isn’t confined to politics. In corporate environments – especially those shaped by hierarchy, metrics and image management – the same choreography plays out. Staff nod through meetings, managers sanitise upward feedback, and silence becomes a survival strategy.

At the centre of it all often sits a leader with a particular psychological profile: high in traits psychologists call the Dark Triad:  narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy.

The Dark Triad: Not all darkness is destructive

The term Dark Triad has an ominous ring. But these traits exist on a spectrum – dimensions, not diagnoses. Most people display them to some degree, and in moderation, they can serve functional roles in leadership:

• Narcissism brings charisma, ambition, and self-confidence. Narcissistic leaders often appear bold and inspiring, especially in uncertain times. Their optimism, resilience and refusal to accept limits can galvanise teams.
• Machiavellianism enables long-range thinking, political dexterity, and influence-building. These leaders read social dynamics acutely and manoeuvre with intent. In turbulent or politically complex systems, this can be a survival skill.
• Psychopathy, in its subclinical form, is associated with composure under pressure, high stress tolerance, and risk-taking. These leaders can compartmentalise, remain calm in crisis, and act without emotional interference.

These traits can resemble what might be called “toxic competence”: behaviours that deliver short-term results but corrode the culture that sustains long-term health.

They help people ascend but, as Tomas Chamorro-Premuzic (2013) observes, they often undermine effectiveness once power is secured:

“The very traits that help people get to the top often hinder their ability to lead well once they get there.”

Unchecked, narcissism becomes hypersensitivity to criticism. Machiavellianism morphs into manipulation. Psychopathy drifts toward cruelty.

When this happens, a different fuel begins to drive the leader: not impact, not legacy, but narcissistic supply.

Narcissistic supply and the need for applause

Narcissistic supply refers to the emotional sustenance narcissistic individuals gain from admiration, recognition, and validation. For some leaders, applause is not a bonus; it’s oxygen.

Rather than seeking truth, they seek reinforcement. They surround themselves with those who agree, comply, and admire. Over time, this distorts decision-making. Not because leaders don’t want to know the truth, but because they’ve engineered an environment where they never have to hear it.

This supply isn’t just about ego. It becomes entwined with identity. Contradictory feedback doesn’t just challenge a decision; it threatens the self.

Echo chambers don’t build themselves

To understand how narcissistic leaders become cut off from truth, we need to look beyond their personality and into their ecosystem.

Workplace culture teaches people what is safe to say and what isn’t. Over time, pluralistic ignorance sets in: people privately disagree but assume others don’t, so they stay silent. Silence looks like consensus, and the illusion becomes self-reinforcing.

Solomon Asch’s famous conformity experiments (1951) showed how people offered obviously wrong answers just to match group consensus. Not due to ignorance, but to avoid the social cost of dissent.

In organisations, that cost might include career stagnation, project removal, subtle discrediting, or emotional retaliation.

Machiavellian leaders may not shout dissent down, but they mute it through more covert mechanisms: rerouting work, withholding credit, or creating ambiguity that punishes honesty and rewards compliance.

In contact centres and similar environments, the signs are often hiding in plain sight:

• Team meetings where no one questions obviously unrealistic KPIs.
• Coaching sessions where advisers give the answers managers want — not the truth.
• Feedback loops where honest input is edited for tone before it reaches the top.
• Exit interviews that surface critical truths far too late to act on them.

In these cultures, the issue isn’t so much a lack of insight than a lack of safety. Amy Edmondson (1999) calls this low psychological safety: an environment where the interpersonal risk of speaking up outweighs the benefit.

Worse still, some teams develop what Bandura (1997) calls collective low self-efficacy: a shared belief that speaking up won’t change anything, so why bother?

So the system adjusts. Language is massaged. Data is curated. Morale issues are “reframed” as resilience challenges. Eventually, people stop trying.

Culture becomes a co-conspirator, adapting to leadership’s blind spots. It stops reflecting reality and starts reflecting the ruler.

Teams learn what gets rewarded, what gets punished, and what gets ignored. Over time, they internalise the message: truth is risky, challenge is unwelcome, praise is profitable.

This is the Emperor’s Echo Chamber: a culture that doesn’t just tolerate delusion but actually sustains it.

In highly metricised environments, the illusion becomes harder to break. If AHT is down, NPS is up, and CSAT hits target, who questions what’s missing? The green dashboard becomes a shield that deflects doubt and validates silence.

Speak up, and you’re branded “negative” or “not a team player.” Stay silent, and you’re safe — but complicit.

The voices that remain are agreeable, filtered, and focused on survival. Leaders mistake this for loyalty. In truth, it’s learned compliance.

Why narcissists stop listening

Narcissistic leaders don’t silence dissent because they’re malicious. Often, they’re protecting a fragile identity.

Self-verification theory (Swann et al., 1992) shows that people seek feedback that confirms their existing self-views – even when those views are distorted. For narcissistic leaders, criticism doesn’t just threaten decisions; it threatens the self.

This is why they interpret challenge not as collaboration, but as betrayal. When faced with questions, they have an urge to respond with compulsion – to argue the merits of the decision – rather curiosity.

Over time, the echo chamber becomes a form of self-soothing. A way to reduce cognitive dissonance. A filter to keep the identity intact.

But the longer the truth is suppressed, the more destabilising it becomes when it finally arrives.

Can the chamber be broken?

Yes. But not by accident.

Breaking an echo chamber requires structural courage and cultural redesign. Not just encouraging feedback but building systems that demand it.

That starts with redesigning feedback loops to surface dissent before disaster, to normalise difference before deviation, and to reward honesty before harmony.

Organisational strategies might include:

• Pre-Mortems: Reverse-engineered planning sessions that assume failure and explore what might have caused it (Klein, 2007)
• Red Teams: Groups explicitly tasked with challenging assumptions and surfacing flaws.
• Anonymous Feedback Platforms: Digital tools for surfacing truth without fear of retribution.
• Speak-Up Champions: Trained team members who act as conduits for concerns and ensure they’re heard.
• 360° Feedback and Reputation Audits: Regular reviews from peers, reports, and external partners to check for distortion.
• Leader Humility Coaching: Support for leaders high in confidence but low in receptivity, to help them develop emotional flexibility and ego regulation.

Equally vital is the application of high-quality leader–follower relationships, which lead to increased openness, performance, and trust. Research into Leader–Member Exchange (LMX) theory models shows that leaders who build differentiated, trust-based connections with team members foster cultures of safety, where feedback is possible even when it’s painful (Graen, 1995).

This doesn’t mean removing confidence. It means pairing it with humility. Because when confidence calcifies into fragility, it breeds denial.

While systems, rituals and roles shape the environment, accountability still begins with the leader. A title doesn’t grant truth immunity. Leaders must cultivate self-awareness, ask better questions, and create space for uncomfortable answers.

When they don’t, the system learns to lie to them.

Removing the echo: Leadership with ears open

Not every emperor is doomed to delusion. Not every narcissistic leader becomes a tyrant.

Some learn – through failure, through coaching, through the brave honesty of others – that real power lies not in commanding applause, but in creating space for truth.

They understand that vision without challenge becomes vanity; that confidence without feedback becomes fragility; that leadership isn’t about silencing the room but about listening for what’s missing.

In the end, the strongest leaders aren’t those who need the echo.

They’re the ones who choose truth over theatre and who lead with their ears, not their ego.

References

Asch, S. E. (1951). Effects of group pressure upon the modification and distortion of judgments.

Bandura, A. (1997). Self-Efficacy: The Exercise of Control.

Chamorro-Premuzic, T. (2013). Why Do So Many Incompetent Men Become Leaders? Harvard Business Review.

Edmondson, A. C. (1999). Psychological safety and learning behavior in work teams. Administrative Science Quarterly, 44(2), 350–383.

Graen, G. B., & Uhl-Bien, M. (1995). Relationship-based approach to leadership: Development of leader–member exchange (LMX) theory. Leadership Quarterly, 6(2), 219–247.

Klein, G. (2007). Performing a project premortem. Harvard Business Review. https://hbr.org/2007/09/performing-a-project-premortem

Swann, W. B., Stein-Seroussi, A., & Giesler, R. B. (1992). Why people self-verify. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 62(3), 392.