Hekster, O. (2002) | References | Narcissus and the Child

What This Study Reveals

Olivier Hekster's Commodus: An Emperor at the Crossroads fundamentally reframes our understanding of one of Rome's most notorious rulers. Where previous accounts dismissed Marcus Aurelius Commodus Antoninus (ruled 180-192 CE) as simply mad, Hekster reveals a calculating image-maker whose every public act served to generate the external validation his fragile sense of self required. This scholarly study illuminates how narcissistic pathology manifests when combined with absolute power, how narcissistic supply seeking can reshape institutions and societies, and how the developmental failures of childhood produce the adult hunger for continuous mirroring.

The puzzle of privilege: Commodus presents a developmental paradox that Hekster's analysis helps resolve. Unlike Caligula, whose family was systematically destroyed, or Nero, whose mother manipulated him as vehicle for her own ambition, Commodus appeared to have every advantage. His father was Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor whose Meditations remain a guide to wisdom and self-control two millennia later. Commodus was acknowledged heir from birth, educated by the finest tutors, given every material privilege. He was not orphaned, persecuted, or raised in terror. What went wrong?

The answer lies not in external circumstances but in the quality of relational attunement. Marcus Aurelius, for all his philosophical wisdom, was absent for most of his son's childhood, fighting wars on the Danube frontier and managing an empire in perpetual crisis. The emperor's own writings mention Commodus rarely and without warmth, a striking omission in a work of autobiographical reflection. Young Commodus was valued as symbol, as proof of dynastic continuity, as the imperial heir whose existence secured succession. He was not seen, known, or responded to as an autonomous person with authentic needs.

This is what Heinz Kohut identified as failure of the idealising selfobject: the powerful, admired figure the child needs to merge with and later internalise was physically and emotionally unavailable. Without this developmental experience, the capacity for stable self-esteem never consolidates. The child, and later the adult, requires continuous external validation because no internal conviction of worth has ever formed. Commodus was special because he was heir, not because anyone truly saw him. This is overvaluation without genuine mirroring, the precise configuration that produces narcissistic personality structure.

The imperial image-maker: When Marcus Aurelius died in 180 CE, the eighteen-year-old Commodus inherited absolute power over the known world. Hekster documents how he immediately demonstrated complete disinterest in actual governance, unlike his father who had spent decades managing administrative details. What Commodus cared about was spectacle, specifically spectacles that placed him at the centre of visible admiration.

His identification with Hercules was not random eccentricity but systematic propaganda. Hekster traces how coins, sculptures, inscriptions, and public appearances consistently reinforced this divine identification. Commodus appeared in public wearing the lion skin and carrying the club. He was portrayed in marble and bronze as the divine hero. He claimed to be Hercules's earthly embodiment, defender of civilisation against chaos.

This Herculean programme served specific psychological functions. By claiming divine ancestry and superhuman strength, Commodus asserted a grandiose self-image that demanded the world's acknowledgment. Each visual representation provided momentary validation, but the emptiness always returned. The narcissist's fundamental problem is not vanity but structural deficit. Where healthy self-esteem operates autonomously, the narcissistic self requires continuous external reflection. Commodus's Herculean iconography was not evidence of stable grandiosity but of its desperate absence. He could only feel like Hercules when the entire Roman world was confirming it.

The gladiatorial compulsion: Hekster's analysis of Commodus's gladiatorial performances reveals the narcissistic supply dynamic at its most transparent. Emperors sponsored games; they did not fight in them. The arena was associated with slaves and condemned criminals, the lowest social categories. By fighting publicly, Commodus violated every convention of imperial dignity.

Yet he fought hundreds of times, always winning because opponents were forced to use wooden weapons while he wielded steel. He killed wounded gladiators and disabled prisoners to simulate martial prowess. He charged the treasury enormous fees for his performances, demanding payment as both participant and spectator. The entire Roman elite was compelled to watch and applaud what they despised.

This behaviour displays core narcissistic dynamics with clinical clarity:

Rigged competition: Commodus needed visible proof of physical superiority but could not tolerate the risk of actual competition. The guaranteed victories provided validation without vulnerability.
Captive audience: The Colosseum became a controlled environment where the entire Roman world was forced to mirror Commodus's grandiose self-concept. No one could look away, criticise, or fail to applaud.
Demand for payment: By charging fees for his performances, Commodus made Rome literally pay for the privilege of validating him, the narcissist's fantasy of extracting tribute for being who they are.
Violation of convention: The very impropriety of imperial gladiatorial performance intensified its validation function. By forcing senators to applaud what they considered shameful, Commodus demonstrated that their standards meant nothing. Only his need for admiration mattered.

This is what survivors of narcissistic abuse encounter at intimate scale: the narcissist who demands validation for accomplishments that weren't accomplished, requires praise that cannot be withheld, and insists the entire environment reorganise around their supply needs.

The renaming of reality: Perhaps the most revealing manifestation of Commodus's pathology was his systematic renaming of Roman institutions after himself. Hekster documents how he renamed Rome itself "Colonia Commodiana," ordered that all months of the year bear his names and titles, renamed the legions after himself, and demanded the Senate formally recognise these changes.

This represents the narcissistic demand that reality conform to preferred self-image. The narcissist cannot simply exist within shared reality; they must make reality continuously acknowledge their specialness. Normal time, with months named for gods and ancient tradition, implicitly suggested that something existed before and apart from the narcissist. Commodian time, with every month bearing his titles, made the calendar itself a mirror reflecting his grandiosity.

Survivors may recognise this dynamic in narcissistic family systems where history is rewritten to suit the narcissist's narrative, where shared reality must constantly be renegotiated to align with what the narcissist needs to believe, where even objective facts become subordinate to narcissistic self-presentation.

How This Study Is Used in the Book

Narcissus and the Child draws extensively on Hekster's analysis to illuminate the developmental origins and operational dynamics of narcissistic pathology. In Chapter 12: The Historical Narcissus, Commodus serves as a paradigmatic case study of how narcissistic personality disorder manifests when combined with absolute power:

"Marcus Aurelius Commodus Antoninus (ruled 180-192 CE) embodies a third narcissistic variant: the grandiose narcissist who sought validation through displays of physical strength and martial prowess. His reign, and the developmental contrast with his father Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, illuminates how narcissistic pathology can emerge even in apparently optimal circumstances."

The book uses Hekster's analysis to explore the critical distinction between external privilege and developmental attunement:

"On the surface, Commodus's childhood should have produced stability. His father Marcus Aurelius was by all accounts genuinely thoughtful, moderate, and self-reflective... Unlike Caligula and Nero, Commodus was not orphaned, persecuted, or raised by murderous schemers. He was acknowledged heir from birth, educated by the finest tutors, given every advantage. What went wrong?"

Hekster's documentation of the gladiatorial obsession illuminates the narcissistic supply dynamic:

"His primary preoccupation was performing as a gladiator in the Colosseum. This was obsessive compulsion, far beyond occasional spectacle: he fought hundreds of times, always winning because opponents were forced to use wooden weapons while he used steel... The combination of rigged competition and demand for payment reveals the narcissistic supply dynamic at its most transparent."

The book traces how Commodus's need for validation degraded Roman institutions:

"His administration devolved into kleptocracy as he lost interest in ruling. He delegated power to freedmen and prefects who systematically looted the empire, the flying monkeys and enablers... exploiting proximity to narcissistic power."

Why This Matters for Survivors

If you experienced narcissistic abuse, Hekster's analysis of Commodus offers insights into dynamics you encountered, not because your abuser was an emperor, but because the psychological patterns transcend historical context.

Privilege does not protect against narcissistic development. Commodus had every external advantage, yet developed severe narcissistic pathology. This illuminates something survivors often struggle to understand: how their abuser, who may have had loving parents, material security, or social success, could nonetheless be profoundly damaged. The answer lies in the quality of attunement, not the presence of advantages. A child can be surrounded by wealth, education, and apparent care while never being truly seen, known, and responded to as an autonomous person. Commodus was valued as heir; no one valued who he actually was.

The narcissist's need for validation is bottomless. Commodus commanded an empire of sixty million people, possessed unlimited wealth, and could demand anything from anyone. Yet he still required constant proof of his specialness, still needed to fight in the arena and watch the crowd applaud, still demanded that time itself be renamed to reflect his grandiosity. This reveals that narcissistic supply-seeking cannot be satisfied because it addresses a structural deficit, not a temporary need. The survivor who believes that if they just give enough praise, enough attention, enough validation, the narcissist will finally be satisfied, is pursuing an impossibility. The emptiness that drives narcissistic demand has no bottom.

Image matters more than reality. Commodus fought hundreds of gladiatorial bouts but never commanded armies in actual combat. He claimed to be Hercules but demonstrated none of the hero's qualities beyond physical strength in rigged contests. The image of martial prowess substituted for its reality; the appearance of divine heroism replaced genuine achievement. Survivors may recognise this pattern: the narcissist who presents an elaborate public persona that bears no relationship to how they behave in private, the parent who demands recognition for parenting they never actually performed, the partner who insists on credit for contributions they never made. Image is everything because there is nothing beneath it.

The narcissist cannot tolerate genuine competition. Commodus's gladiatorial victories required opponents using wooden weapons against his steel. He killed the wounded and disabled to simulate prowess. Genuine contest, with its risk of defeat and exposure, was intolerable. This illuminates the narcissist's relationship to achievement: they require visible evidence of superiority but cannot bear the vulnerability that genuine competition entails. The narcissistic parent who sabotages a child's achievements, the narcissistic partner who cannot celebrate your successes, the narcissistic colleague who claims credit for your work, all display this dynamic. Your genuine achievement threatens them because it represents the real accomplishment they cannot risk pursuing.

Systems reorganise around narcissistic needs. Hekster documents how Roman institutions degraded as they became organised around servicing Commodus's supply needs. The treasury funded his performances. The Senate validated his delusions. The calendar itself was renamed to reflect his grandiosity. This is what happens in narcissistic families and organisations: the system's actual purpose becomes secondary to managing the narcissist's psychological needs. The family that should nurture children's development instead organises around preventing the narcissistic parent's rage. The workplace that should accomplish its mission instead devotes resources to placating the narcissistic leader. Understanding this systemic dimension helps explain why others in your environment may have failed to protect you. They were not necessarily endorsing the abuse; they were caught in a system organised around the narcissist's needs.

Clinical Implications

For psychiatrists, psychologists, and trauma-informed clinicians, Hekster's study offers valuable clinical material.

The developmental puzzle of privilege: Commodus's case challenges assumptions that narcissistic pathology requires obvious trauma or deprivation. Clinicians working with patients from apparently privileged backgrounds may use this historical example to illustrate how mirroring failure can occur even amid material abundance. The question is not whether the child's environment provided advantages but whether it provided attuned responsiveness to the child's authentic self.

Narcissistic supply as structural deficit: Hekster's documentation of Commodus's insatiable need for validation illustrates the structural nature of narcissistic supply-seeking. Clinicians can help patients understand that no amount of validation can fill the narcissist's emptiness because the emptiness is structural, not circumstantial. This understanding supports boundary-setting by removing the fantasy that sufficient accommodation might produce change.

Image versus reality dissociation: Commodus's Herculean identification demonstrates how grandiose self-presentation can become elaborately systematised while remaining disconnected from actual achievement. Clinicians may recognise this pattern in narcissistic patients whose self-presentation bears little relationship to their actual capabilities or history. The therapeutic task is not to challenge the grandiose presentation directly (which triggers narcissistic injury and defensive rage) but to understand what developmental failures required its construction.

Enabling systems: Hekster's analysis of Roman complicity in Commodus's reign illuminates the systemic dynamics that maintain narcissistic abuse. The senators who applauded, the priests who sacrificed, the artists who created Herculean iconography, all participated in maintaining delusions. Clinicians working with survivors can use this historical parallel to validate the patient's experience of system-wide complicity while helping them understand the power dynamics that produce such complicity.

The trajectory of escalation: Hekster documents how Commodus's grandiosity and paranoia intensified over time, culminating in the systematic purges and reality-distortion of his final years. This trajectory, narcissistic pathology worsening with time and power, helps clinicians set realistic expectations for patients hoping their narcissistic family member might moderate. Without intervention (which narcissists rarely accept), the pattern typically escalates.

The Case Study of Narcissistic Supply and Imperial Image-Making

Hekster's study provides detailed documentation of how narcissistic supply-seeking operates at every scale from intimate relationships to imperial authority. Several patterns emerge that illuminate narcissistic dynamics universally.

The Absence Behind the Grandiosity

Hekster's developmental analysis reveals that Commodus's grandiose performances emerged from absence, not abundance. The boy who was valued as symbol but never seen as person developed no stable internal self-worth. The adult emperor's elaborate Herculean identification, his gladiatorial compulsion, his renaming of reality, all represented desperate attempts to make the external world continuously reflect back a sense of significance that could not be sustained from within.

This insight is crucial for survivors attempting to understand narcissistic behaviour. The narcissist's demands for validation, their grandiose self-presentation, their inability to tolerate any failure of mirroring, do not reflect confidence but its absence. The apparently powerful figure terrorising a family or dominating an organisation is psychologically fragile, dependent on external supplies that can never adequately compensate for what was never developed internally. Understanding this does not excuse abuse, but it reframes the narcissist's behaviour as compensation for deficit rather than expression of strength.

The Captive Audience Dynamic

Commodus's gladiatorial performances exemplify the narcissistic supply environment at its purest: a captive audience forced to watch and applaud, unable to leave or withdraw validation. The Colosseum became a controlled space where the entire Roman world was compelled to mirror Commodus's grandiose self-concept.

This dynamic appears in narcissistic abuse at every scale. The child who cannot leave home becomes captive audience to the narcissistic parent's self-presentation. The partner economically dependent on the narcissist cannot withhold the validation demanded. The employee in a dysfunctional workplace must participate in flattering the narcissistic leader or face retaliation. Understanding the captive audience dynamic helps survivors recognise that their participation in validating the narcissist reflected their constrained circumstances, not endorsement of the narcissist's self-image.

Rigged Competition and Fear of Exposure

Hekster documents that Commodus's gladiatorial victories were systematically rigged, opponents given wooden weapons against his steel, contests against the wounded and disabled staged as demonstrations of prowess. Despite commanding armies, Commodus never engaged in actual combat where genuine risk existed.

This reveals the narcissist's fundamental relationship to achievement: they require visible evidence of superiority but cannot tolerate the vulnerability that genuine competition entails. The risk of failure, of being exposed as ordinary, is unbearable because the grandiose self has no foundation that could survive such exposure. Survivors may recognise this in narcissists who claim credit for others' work, sabotage potential competitors, or construct elaborate credentials that cannot withstand scrutiny. The presentation of excellence substitutes for its reality because actual excellence requires accepting the possibility of failure.

The Enabling System

Hekster raises uncomfortable questions about collective complicity that illuminate narcissistic systems universally. The senators who applauded Commodus, the artists who created his Herculean iconography, the priests who performed sacrifices at his temples, the population that attended his spectacles, all participated in maintaining a system they likely recognised as destructive. Some participated from fear, some from self-interest, some from inertia. The result was the same: the narcissist's pathology flourished because the system organised to service it.

This dynamic appears in narcissistic families where the non-narcissistic parent fails to protect children, in workplaces where colleagues enable narcissistic leaders, in communities that look away from obvious abuse. Understanding this systemic complicity helps survivors recognise two important truths: first, that others' failure to intervene does not validate the abuse; second, that escaping a narcissistic system often requires escaping not just the narcissist but the entire enabling structure that has organised around them.

The Intergenerational Pattern

Hekster's analysis places Commodus within the broader pattern of the Antonine and subsequent dynasties. Marcus Aurelius's emotional absence during Commodus's childhood, whatever its practical justifications, created developmental conditions that produced narcissistic pathology in the next generation. Commodus's reign, had it produced acknowledged heirs, would likely have transmitted similar patterns forward.

This intergenerational dimension illuminates dynamics in narcissistic families. The narcissistic parent almost certainly experienced their own developmental failures, their own absent or conditional attachment figures, their own environments that rewarded false-self construction. Understanding this transmission does not excuse abuse, but it places it in developmental context. Breaking the cycle requires conscious work: recognising inherited patterns, processing the trauma that created them, and making deliberate choices to parent differently than one was parented.

The Inevitability of Collapse

Commodus's reign ended in assassination by his inner circle, the people closest to him and most dependent on his favour. His paranoid purges had created the very conspiracies he feared. His cruel treatment of those around him united enemies against him. The wrestler Narcissus who strangled him in his bath had been brought in specifically for this purpose by Commodus's own mistress and chamberlain.

This ending illustrates a pattern that appears throughout history: narcissistic systems are inherently unstable. The narcissist's inability to perceive that others possess agency, that actions have consequences, that even absolute power has limits, eventually produces the conditions for their downfall. For survivors, this provides complicated perspective. The timeline of narcissistic collapse may not align with your needs. You may never witness accountability. But the historical record demonstrates that narcissistic systems contain the seeds of their own destruction, even when those systems command empires.

Limitations and Scholarly Context

Hekster's study, like all historical work, requires contextual understanding.

Source limitations: Our knowledge of Commodus derives primarily from Cassius Dio, Herodian, and the Historia Augusta, sources written decades after his death with their own biases. Cassius Dio was a senator who survived Commodus's purges and had reason to portray the emperor negatively. Herodian wrote for a Greek audience with literary agendas. The Historia Augusta is notoriously unreliable. Hekster's methodological innovation was supplementing these hostile literary sources with material evidence, coins, sculptures, inscriptions, that reveal systematic image-making rather than random madness. Still, confident claims about Commodus's inner psychology remain speculative.

The revisionist question: Hekster's interpretation, that Commodus's behaviour represented calculated image-making rather than insanity, may over-rationalise pathological behaviour. The narcissist's actions often display a terrible logic that nonetheless emerges from disordered cognition. Commodus may have been both calculating and disturbed; systematic self-presentation can coexist with psychological fragility. The categories are not mutually exclusive.

Retrospective interpretation: Applying concepts like "narcissistic supply" or "grandiose self" to a Roman emperor requires translation across cultural contexts. What Romans meant by divine identification, what gladiatorial performance signified in their honour system, how grandiosity functioned in their moral framework, all differ from modern equivalents. The patterns we identify are genuine, but their cultural expression takes forms specific to their historical moment.

The value of pattern over precision: Despite these limitations, Hekster's study illuminates patterns that transcend the specific historical details. The documented behaviours, the insatiable need for validation, the grandiose self-presentation, the rigged competitions, the captive audiences, the systemic complicity, the eventual collapse, display dynamics consistent with modern clinical understanding of narcissistic personality disorder. The precise psychological diagnosis of someone dead for eighteen centuries is impossible and unnecessary. What matters is recognising patterns that illuminate narcissistic dynamics wherever they appear.

The Broader Significance

Hekster's Commodus: An Emperor at the Crossroads contributes to scholarly understanding of how narcissistic pathology manifests in positions of power, but its significance extends beyond ancient history.

Power reveals, it does not create: Commodus's pathology existed before his reign; imperial authority simply removed the constraints that would have limited its expression in ordinary circumstances. This principle applies to narcissistic dynamics at every scale. The narcissistic partner whose behaviour worsens after marriage, the narcissistic parent whose control intensifies as children become more dependent, the narcissistic leader whose demands escalate with each promotion, all demonstrate power as revelation rather than cause.

Image-making as survival strategy: Hekster's analysis of Commodus's systematic self-presentation illuminates how grandiose image-making functions as psychological survival. The elaborate Herculean programme, the gladiatorial spectacles, the renaming of reality, all addressed the fundamental terror of the narcissistic self: that without continuous external validation, the sense of significance will collapse into the emptiness it defends against. Understanding this helps reframe narcissistic behaviour as desperate compensation rather than confident assertion.

Systems organise around narcissistic needs: Roman institutions during Commodus's reign became organised around servicing his supply needs rather than performing their governmental functions. This systemic dimension appears in every context where narcissistic individuals gain authority. Families reorganise around managing the narcissist's moods. Organisations prioritise placating narcissistic leaders over accomplishing their missions. Understanding this systemic dynamic helps survivors recognise that their environment's failure to protect them reflected systemic capture, not endorsement of the abuse.

The transhistorical consistency of narcissistic patterns: Hekster's Commodus, Winterling's Caligula, Champlin's Nero, the revisionist scholarship on Rome's "bad emperors" reveals consistent psychological patterns across different individuals, periods, and circumstances. This consistency supports the validity of narcissistic personality disorder as describing a fundamental human pattern rather than a culturally constructed category. The dynamics you experienced have ancient precedent because they emerge from developmental configurations that have appeared throughout human history.

For survivors of narcissistic abuse, Hekster's study offers recognition and perspective. The desperate need for validation you witnessed, the grandiose self-presentation you were required to mirror, the rigged competitions where the narcissist could not lose, the captive audience you were forced to be, these patterns appeared in imperial Rome as they appear in families, workplaces, and relationships today. Understanding this historical dimension supports the work of recovery: you were not uniquely defective or deserving of mistreatment. You encountered dynamics as old as civilisation, patterns that emerge whenever narcissistic individuals gain power over others.

Commodus: An Emperor at the Crossroads

APA Citation