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Interesting article I found on the MSN website. It just adds to the theory of whether or not the O has NPD.
Notes Toward a Theory of Obama
What we've learned so far about the president.
By Jacob Weisberg
Posted Saturday, May 16, 2009, at 7:11 AM ET
Barack Obama began his presidency with an unusual attribute: that the country already understood him, or thought it did, from his books. The story he told in Dreams From My Father and reinforced in The Audacity of Hope was about a man of multiple worlds who struggles to come to terms with his father's abandonment and a confounding racial identity. Obama resolves his rootlessness and anger by committing himself socially, religiously, and, eventually, politically. He depicts his mature self as unusually grounded, able to see other points of view and to bridge chasms.
The protagonist of these books is a persuasive and appealing character—so much so that he left little demand for alternative explanations. As time goes by, though, Obama's Obama feels less and less satisfying. It's not that the author's projection of himself is distorted in any obvious way, but rather that it leaves too much unexplained—his ambition, his aloofness, his fundamental beliefs, if any. It's too soon to offer an interpretation of our president. But after four months in office, we can see some emerging themes.
He sees the middle ground as high ground. Candidates who talk about bringing people together, being uniters not dividers, or changing the tone in Washington are usually blowing happy smoke. At this point, however, Obama's focus on reconciliation is clearly more than shtick. We saw this impulse at work when he made pre-emptive concessions on his stimulus package in an unsuccessful effort to win Republican support. We saw it in another way when he personally brokered a compromise between the French and Chinese presidents at the G20 summit in London. Every few days, it seems, Obama, tries for a "new beginning"—with Iran, Cuba, the Muslim world, even Paul Krugman. Engaging with opponents animates him more than hanging with friends.
This is a wonderful instinct that is bettering America's image and making domestic politics more civil. But listening is not a moral stance, and elevating it to one only highlights the question of what Obama really stands for. The consensus-seeker repudiates torture but doesn't want to investigate it; he endorses gay equality but not in marriage or the military; he thinks government's role is to do whatever works. I continue to suspect him of harboring deeper convictions.
He's the decider for real. Accounts of Obama's decision-making depict him driving process as well as result. Faced with a tough call about whether to declassify additional Bush administration torture memos, Obama called a debate, listened intently, and finished by dictating the next day's press release announcing the release of the documents. Another insider ticktock has him personally directing the futures of GM and Chrysler. Advisers who play what are supposed to be honest-broker, facilitating roles at the White House either play different roles (Larry Summers) or don't play much role at all (Jim Jones). Obama sees himself as ringmaster as well as star performer.
The president's knack for deep dives into policy questions is undeniably impressive. But as quick a study as he is, his supreme self-confidence may shade into overconfidence. He shows signs of suffering from the arrogance that often accompanies brilliance. It's unlikely, for instance, that Obama can function as his own grand strategy guru on foreign policy. But he doesn't seem inclined to give that job to anyone else.
He likes it hot. If you have a friendly conversation with someone close to Obama, he or she is likely to marvel at the president's comfort level with crisis. This is a man who plays it cool at all times but has never liked standing still. He ran for Congress prematurely and lost, then ran for the Senate prematurely and got lucky. He was quickly bored in the Senate, where it took too long to get things done. When he was thinking about running for president, his question was whether the moment would be ripe for a great leader.
He needn't have worried. Obama has more troubles to deal with, foreign and domestic, than any president since FDR. One day last month, he faced decisions about the fate of the auto industry, a new strategy for the war in Afghanistan, a North Korean missile threat, and a flood in Fargo, N.D. "What is this, a West Wing episode?" David Axelrod quipped, according to the New York Times. The question here is capacity, not capability. Can any one person simultaneously manage so many issues in the hands-on way Obama insists on managing them?
He's ruthless. In a recent interview with the New York Times, Obama described his economic policy as "ruthless pragmatism." Interesting choice of modifiers. Obama has a healthy disdain for the overrated virtue of political loyalty. Around the nomination process, this has been slightly chilling to watch. If you're useful, you can hang around with him. If you start to look like a liability, enjoy your time with the wolves. Before the inauguration, Christopher Hitchens described Obama as feline in his demeanor. The president is catlike also in his lack of evident affection for the people who take care of him. His cracks at the White House Correspondents' Dinner about Hillary Clinton being an envious loser, Larry Summers' woman problem, and training his dog not to pee on Tim Geithner skirted cruelty. Obama's jokes about himself were about how great everyone thinks he is.
A version of this article also appears in this week's issue of Newsweek.
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Comments:
Throughout the years, I have known two older women who are bi-monthly clients. One had a mother that was diagnosed by a psychiatrist as being the worst case of narcissism that he had seen.This was before the term NPD was coined. She took care of her mother until the day she died, as her other siblings would have nothing to do with their mother.The other woman, I know, was married to a man that was also very narcissistic, very abusive and manipulating.No doubt an NPD. Both these women are some of the sweetest ladies I know.When Barack Hussein Obama II won the presidency and I happened to mention to them that he was a textbook case of NPD, both of them exclaimed that they saw the same thing,that he is textbook NPD.I recall one of them saying "It's the way he walks,talks,smiles,moves,,just the air about him says that he's an extreme narcissist." They see it plain as day because they know the disorder so well.They know it because they have lived it.
From my own personal experience with people that are NPD I have found that their is a genetic bent toward the disorder. But it is also a disorder of choices one makes that will take you down a path which leads further into the mental sickness. Also,as I have stated before, I think that there is some demonic influences involved.It is a very hard to understand this mental/spiritual illness unless you have seen it and lived it first hand.Barack Hussein Obama II definitely is NPD. His father had it,his mother had it,it's as if he was destined to become one himself,go figure,it's beyond me.But he is our president and as a Christian I believe God has allowed him to be our president for His overall plan.
Foreword from the book Malignant Self Love
Narcissism Revisited
by Sam Vaknin
"Hello. Recognise me? No? Well, you see me all the time. You read my books, watch me on the big screen, feast on my art, cheer at my games, use my inventions, vote me into office, follow me into battle, take notes at my lectures, laugh at my jokes, marvel at my successes, admire my appearance, listen to my stories, discuss my politics, enjoy my music, excuse my faults, envy me my blessings. No? Still doesn't ring a bell? Well, you have seen me. Of that I am positive. In fact, if there is one thing I am absolutely sure of, it is that. You have seen me.
Perhaps our paths crossed more privately. Perhaps I am the one who came along and built you up when you were down, employed you when you were out of a job, showed the way when you were lost, offered confidence when you were doubting, made you laugh when you were blue, sparked your interest when you were bored, listened to you and understood, saw you for what you really are, felt your pain and found the answers, made you want to be alive. Of course you recognise me. I am your inspiration, your role model, your saviour, your leader, your best friend, the one you aspire to emulate, the one whose favour makes you glow.
But I can also be your worst nightmare. First I build you up because that's what you need. Your skies are blue. Then, out of the blue, I start tearing you down. You let me do it because that's what you are used to and you are dumfounded. I was wrong to take pity on you. You really are incompetent, disrespectful, untrustworthy, immoral, ignorant, inept, egotistical, constrained, disgusting. You are a social embarrassment, an unappreciative partner, an inadequate parent, a disappointment, a sexual flop, a financial liability. I tell you this to your face. I must. It is my right, because it is. I behave, at home and away, any way I want to, with total disregard for conventions, mores, or the feelings of others. It is my right, because it is. I lie to your face, without a twitch or a twitter, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. In fact, my lies are not lies at all. They are the truth, my truth. And you believe them, because you do, because they do not sound or feel like lies, because to do otherwise would make you question your own sanity, which you have a tendency to do anyway, because from the very beginning of our relationship you placed your trust and hopes in me, derived your energy from me, gave me power over you.
Run to our friends. Go. See what that will get you. Ridicule. I am to them what I originally was to you. They believe what they see and that's what they see, and they also see the very mixed up person that you obviously have become. The more you plead for understanding, the more convinced they will be that you are crazy, the more isolated you will feel, and the harder you will try to make things right again, by accepting my criticisms and by striving to improve yourself. Could it be that you were wrong about me in the beginning? So wrong as that? Not an easy pill to swallow, is it? How do you think our friends will react if you try to cram it down their throats? After all, it really is you who have thwarted my progress, tainted my reputation, thrown me off course. There is an escape from the frustrations you cause me and, fortunately, my reputation provides enough insulation from the outside world so I can indulge in this escape with impunity. What escape? Those eruptions of anger you dread and fear, my rages. Ah, it feels so good to rage. It is the expression of and the confirmation of my power over you. Lying feels good too, for the same reason, but nothing compares to the pleasure of exploding for no material reason and venting my anger like a lunatic, all the time a spectator at my own show and seeing your helplessness, pain, fear, frustration, and dependence. Go ahead. Tell our friends about it. See if they can imagine it, let alone believe it. The more outrageous your account of what happened, the more convinced they will be that the crazy one is you. And don't expect much more from your therapist either. Surely it is easier to live my lie and see where that takes you. You might even acquire some of the behaviour you find so objectionable in me.
But you know what? This may come as a surprise, but I can also be my own worst nightmare. I can and I am. You see, at heart my life is nothing more than illusion-clad confusion. I have no idea why I do what I do, nor do I care to find out. In fact, the mere notion of asking the question is so repulsive to me that I employ all of my resources to repel it. I reconstruct facts, fabricate illusions, act them out, and thus create my own reality. It is a precarious state of existence indeed, so I am careful to include enough demonstrable truth in my illusions to ensure their credibility. And I am forever testing that credibility against the reactions of others. Fortunately my real attributes and accomplishments are in sufficient abundance to fuel my illusions seemingly forever. And modern society, blessed/cursed modern society, values most what I do best and thus serves as my accomplice. Even I get lost in my own illusions, swept away by their magic.
So, not to worry if you still do not recognise me. I don't recognise me either. In fact, I regard myself as like everyone else, only perhaps a little better. Put another way, I end up thinking that everyone else is like me, only not quite as good. After all, that's what the universe is telling me.
Ah, there's the rub. THE universe or MY universe? As long as the magic of my illusions works on me too, the distinction is immaterial. Hence my need for a fan club. And I am constantly taking fan club inventory, testing the loyalty of present members with challenges of abuse, writing off defectors with total indifference, and scouting the landscape for new recruits. Do you see my dilemma? I use people who are dependent on me to keep my illusions alive. In actuality it is I who am dependent on them. Even the rage, that orgasmic release of pain and anger, doesn't work without an audience. On some level I am aware of my illusions, but to admit that would spoil the magic. And that I couldn't bear. So I proclaim that what I do is of no consequence and no different from what others do, and thus I create an illusion about my creating illusions. So, no, I don't recognise me any better than you do. I wouldn't dare. I need the magic. For the same reason I also fail to recognise others who behave as I do. In fact, they sometimes recruit me into their fan clubs. As long as we feed off of each other, who's the worse for wear? It only confirms my illusion about my illusions: that I am no different from most other people, just a bit better.
But I AM different and we both know it. Therein lies the root of my hostility. I tear you down because in reality I am envious of you BECAUSE I am different. At that haunting level where I see my illusions for what they are, the illusion that you too create illusions collapses, leaving me in a state of despair, confusion, panic, isolation, and envy. You, and others, accuse me of all sorts of horrible things. I am totally baffled, clueless. I have done nothing wrong. The injustice is too much. It only makes the confusion worse. Or is this too merely another illusion?
How many others like me are there? More than you might think, and our numbers are increasing. Take twenty people off the street and you will find one whose mind ticks so much like mine that you could consider us clones. Impossible, you say. It is simply not possible for that many people – highly accomplished, respected, and visible people – to be out there replacing reality with illusions, each in the same way and for reasons they know not why. It is simply not possible for so many robots of havoc and chaos, as I describe them, to function daily midst other educated, intelligent, and experienced individuals, and pass for normal. It is simply not possible for such an aberration of human cognition and behaviour to infiltrate and infect the population in such numbers, virtually undetected by the radar of mental health professionals. It is simply not possible for so much visible positive to contain so much concealed negative. It is simply not possible.
But it is. That is the enlightenment of Narcissism Revisited by Sam Vaknin. Sam is himself one such clone. What distinguishes him is his uncharacteristic courage to confront, and his uncanny understanding of, that which makes us tick, himself included. Not only does Sam dare ask and then answer the question we clones avoid like the plague, he does so with relentless, laser-like precision. Read his book. Take your seat at the double-headed microscope and let Sam guide you through the dissection. Like a brain surgeon operating on himself, Sam explores and exposes the alien among us, hoping beyond hope for a respectable tumour but finding instead each and every cell teaming with the same resistant virus. The operation is long and tedious, and at times frightening and hard to believe. Read on. The parts exposed are as they are, despite what may seem hyperbolic or far-fetched. Their validity might not hit home until later, when coupled with memories of past events and experiences.
I am, as I said, my own worst nightmare. True, the world is replete with my contributions, and I am lots of fun to be around. And true, most contributions like mine are not the result of troubled souls. But many more than you might want to believe are. And if by chance you get caught in my Web, I can make your life a living hell. But remember this. I am in that Web too. The difference between you and me is that you can get out."
Ken Heilbrunn, M.D.
Seattle, Washington, USA
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