APA Citation
Hepper, E., Hart, C., & Sedikides, C. (2014). Moving Narcissus: Can Narcissists Be Empathic?. *Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin*, 40(9), 1079-1091. https://doi.org/10.1177/0146167214535812
Summary
This groundbreaking research asks a question survivors desperately need answered: Can narcissists feel empathy, or are they simply incapable? Across four carefully designed studies, Hepper and colleagues reveal a nuanced and ultimately sobering truth: narcissists possess the neural circuitry for empathy, but it does not activate automatically when they witness suffering. Unlike most people, who feel moved by another's distress without conscious effort, narcissists require explicit instruction to engage their empathic capacity. When told to imagine themselves in the other person's shoes, or specifically prompted to consider how the suffering person feels, narcissists can show normal empathic responses—including physiological changes in heart rate that indicate genuine emotional engagement. But without such prompting, they observe pain without being moved by it. The implication is profound: narcissists must choose to feel, which means they must be motivated to feel. And in most situations, they are not.
Why This Matters for Survivors
For survivors of narcissistic abuse, this research answers one of the most haunting questions: "Could they have treated me differently?" The answer is yes—neurologically, they could have. The machinery for empathy exists. What is missing is automatic activation. Unlike you, who feels another's pain without deciding to, the narcissist must consciously choose to engage empathy. This means the countless moments when they witnessed your distress and responded with indifference, criticism, or rage were not because they lacked the capacity to feel with you. The capacity was there. They simply did not deploy it. This research liberates you from the exhausting work of trying to explain your pain more effectively—they understood. And it forces an uncomfortable reckoning: their failure to empathise was, in some meaningful sense, a choice. They chose not to feel.
What This Research Found
Erica Hepper and colleagues conducted a systematic investigation into a question that haunts survivors and challenges clinicians: Can narcissists be moved to feel empathy? Across four carefully designed studies published in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, they revealed a nuanced and consequential truth: narcissists possess the capacity for empathy, but that capacity requires effortful, conscious activation rather than engaging automatically when they witness another’s suffering.
The baseline finding confirmed prior research: narcissists show lower dispositional empathy. Study 1 established that narcissism, measured through validated personality assessments, was associated with reduced self-reported empathy. This replicated what clinicians and survivors already knew—narcissistic individuals do not readily report feeling moved by others’ distress. The question was whether this reflected fundamental incapacity or something more conditional.
When narcissists witnessed distress, they reported less empathy than controls—but this deficit was eliminated by simple instruction. Study 2 presented participants with a distressed person and measured their empathic responses. High-narcissism individuals showed significantly reduced empathy compared to low-narcissism participants. However, when explicitly instructed to take the distressed person’s perspective—to imagine themselves in that person’s situation—the narcissists’ empathy scores rose to match those of non-narcissistic participants. The capacity was there; automatic activation was not.
The effect was not merely self-report performance—physiological measures confirmed genuine empathic engagement. Study 3 extended these findings by measuring heart rate deceleration, a physiological marker of empathic response that cannot be consciously controlled or faked. Typically, when people witness someone in distress, their heart rate briefly decelerates as they engage empathically with the suffering. High-narcissism participants showed reduced heart rate deceleration when viewing distress—their bodies were not engaging empathically. But when instructed to take the other’s perspective, their physiological responses normalised. Their bodies showed the signature of genuine empathic engagement. The machinery worked when consciously activated.
The pattern held even for severe real-world suffering. Study 4 tested whether the findings would extend to more emotionally intense content—a video of a domestic violence victim describing her experiences. Again, narcissistic participants showed reduced empathy. Again, perspective-taking instructions eliminated the deficit. Even in the face of serious suffering, the narcissist’s empathy required prompting to engage.
The conclusion was clear: narcissists have the capacity for empathy, but it does not automatically activate. The neural circuitry exists. The physiological machinery is present. What is missing is the spontaneous engagement that characterises normal empathic responding. Most people feel moved by another’s distress without deciding to; for narcissists, feeling moved requires conscious choice. They must choose to feel, which means they must be motivated to feel. In most situations, that motivation is absent.
How This Research Is Used in the Book
Hepper et al.’s research appears in key chapters of Narcissus and the Child, providing empirical grounding for understanding both the nature of narcissistic empathy deficits and the sobering implications for treatment.
In Chapter 10: Building the Maze (Diamorphic Scales), the research illuminates how empathy circuits develop differently in narcissistic individuals and why healing from narcissistic abuse is so neurobiologically challenging:
“Research shows that narcissists can show affective empathy when instructed to do so.”
“The circuitry exists but requires effortful activation rather than automatic resonance. They must choose to feel, which means they must be motivated to feel.”
The book explains that this finding reflects the selective morphing of empathy circuits in response to early relational environments. The child who must hypervigilantly read a narcissistic parent’s states develops strong cognitive empathy (understanding what others think and feel), but receives no empathic mirroring themselves—so affective empathy (automatically feeling with others) never develops proper automatic activation.
The chapter further notes:
“Under specific conditions, narcissists may show affective empathy responses.”
This observation anchors the discussion of why narcissistic empathy appears conditional and context-dependent. The narcissist can feel with you when something triggers effortful perspective-taking, but cannot be counted upon to feel with you simply because you are suffering.
In Chapter 18: Can Narcissus Be Healed?, the research informs the sobering assessment of treatment possibilities and limitations:
“The picture is more complex than simple brain deficits. Some research suggests narcissists can empathise when specifically instructed to do so—their empathy requires conscious, effortful engagement rather than automatic activation.”
The book notes that this finding offers theoretical hope (the circuitry exists) while explaining why that hope rarely translates into sustained change:
“This implies potential for therapeutic intervention: teaching narcissists to deliberately activate empathic processing that does not occur automatically. Whether they would maintain such effortful empathy outside therapy remains doubtful, but narcissistic empathy deficits may not be completely hardwired.”
The chapter places this research within the broader context of NPD treatment challenges, noting that motivation remains the fundamental barrier: the narcissist must want to develop empathy for others’ benefit, which the disorder itself makes unlikely. The finding that empathy can be activated when instructed does not mean it will be activated in the absence of external prompting.
Why This Matters for Survivors
If you have loved someone who seemed capable of understanding your pain but never seemed to feel it, this research provides both validation and difficult clarity.
The capacity existed—they could have felt with you. This may be the hardest truth this research reveals. When you needed empathy and received coldness, when you explained your suffering and saw no response, when you wondered if you had married a robot or loved someone fundamentally broken, the answer is more complicated than incapacity. The machinery for empathy was present. Hepper’s research shows that with the right instruction, narcissists demonstrate genuine physiological empathic responses. Their heart rates change. Their bodies engage. They can feel. But they did not feel with you, not because they could not, but because the automatic activation that would have made that feeling effortless simply did not occur.
Your explanations were never going to work. Many survivors describe exhausting years of trying to communicate their pain more effectively, believing that if they could just find the right words, the right metaphor, the right approach, the narcissist would finally understand and respond with empathy. This research shows why that effort was doomed. The narcissist already understood—cognitive empathy remains intact in narcissism. What was missing was affective empathy, and no amount of explanation can create automatic emotional resonance. The studies required explicit instruction to take another’s perspective—not explanation of pain, but directive to engage empathically. In real relationships, no one provides such instructions, and the narcissist has no internal motivation to give themselves such instructions.
The empathy gaps were their deficit, not your failure. If you blamed yourself for not being able to reach them, for not being able to make them care, this research liberates you from that self-blame. Their empathy required effortful activation—a step they had to take, motivated by concern for you that the disorder precludes. You could not take that step for them. No amount of worthiness on your part, no excellence of communication, no adjustment of your needs could compensate for the absence of automatic empathic activation. The problem was never you.
The conditional moments were real but unsustainable. Many survivors describe confusing episodes of genuine-seeming empathy followed by baffling coldness. This research explains the inconsistency. Under certain conditions—when something triggers effortful perspective-taking—narcissists can and do show genuine empathic response. Those moments were not fake. But they were conditional, depending on factors beyond your suffering itself. Without the trigger (whatever it was in that moment), automatic empathy does not engage. You were not imagining the warmth you sometimes felt; you simply could not count on it.
This information is not about blame but about informed decision-making. Whether to call conditional empathy a “choice” involves philosophical questions this research does not resolve. What it does provide is clarity about what narcissistic relationships can and cannot offer. Automatic, consistent empathic attunement—the kind of connection where your suffering is felt by another without prompting—is not available from a narcissistic partner, parent, or friend. That may or may not be their “fault” in a moral sense. What matters for your life is that it is real, and you deserve relationships where empathy does not require prompting.
Clinical Implications
For psychiatrists, psychologists, and trauma-informed clinicians, Hepper et al.’s research has significant implications for assessment, treatment planning, and supporting survivors.
Distinguish capacity from automatic activation in assessment. Narcissistic patients may demonstrate empathic understanding in clinical settings, particularly when the therapeutic frame implicitly or explicitly prompts perspective-taking. This does not mean they will show empathic responses in natural contexts. Clinicians should assess not just whether the patient can empathise when prompted but whether empathic engagement occurs spontaneously when others’ distress is presented without instruction. A patient who demonstrates excellent mentalising in session but whose partner reports complete absence of empathic response at home is showing the conditional pattern this research documents.
Consider whether therapeutic interventions can shift empathy from effortful to automatic. This research suggests a theoretical pathway: if narcissists can activate empathy when instructed, perhaps sustained practice could strengthen automatic activation over time. Interventions might include repeated perspective-taking exercises (imagining others’ situations in vivid, embodied detail), body-based approaches that enhance interoceptive awareness and anterior insula function, mindfulness practices that increase awareness of emotional states (both one’s own and others’), and relational approaches that require sustained empathic engagement. However, clinicians should maintain realistic expectations—there is no evidence yet that such interventions produce lasting automatic empathy, and the motivation to undertake sustained empathy development is precisely what the disorder precludes.
Assess motivation with particular care. The finding that narcissists can empathise when instructed means that therapeutic demonstrations of empathy may not generalise. The narcissist who learns to appear empathic when it serves their goals (maintaining a relationship, satisfying a court requirement, pleasing a therapist) may be deploying empathy strategically rather than developing automatic resonance. The clinical question is whether the patient is motivated to develop empathy for others’ benefit—a motivation narcissistic personality disorder by definition undermines.
Prepare survivors for realistic expectations. Survivors often hope that treatment will transform the narcissist into someone capable of consistent empathic attunement. This research informs a more nuanced conversation. The capacity exists, so complete hopelessness is not warranted. But automatic activation is missing, and developing it would require sustained motivation to practice empathy for others’ benefit—motivation the narcissist is unlikely to maintain. Treatment might produce improved empathic behaviour when the narcissist perceives benefit to themselves. Genuine transformation to automatic empathic resonance remains extremely rare.
Validate survivors’ experiences of conditional empathy. Many survivors describe confusion about moments of genuine-seeming connection followed by coldness. This research provides a framework for validation: those moments were probably real, reflecting conditions that triggered effortful perspective-taking. The coldness was also real, reflecting the absence of automatic activation. Survivors are not imagining things; they are accurately perceiving a genuinely inconsistent pattern. This validation can help survivors stop searching for what they did differently to cause the coldness—the variation reflected the narcissist’s internal state, not the survivor’s behaviour.
Broader Implications
Hepper et al.’s findings extend beyond individual clinical work to illuminate patterns across relationships, organisations, and society.
The Mechanics of Conditional Connection
This research reveals why narcissistic relationships feel so confusing: the empathy is real but unsustainable. When conditions trigger effortful perspective-taking—perhaps early in a relationship when the narcissist is motivated to secure connection, or when the partner’s situation evokes the narcissist’s own experiences, or when external observers require a caring performance—genuine empathic engagement can occur. But these conditions are inherently unstable. As the relationship progresses and the narcissist’s motivation shifts, the empathic engagement disappears. The partner is left wondering what happened to the person who seemed so attuned. The answer: that person required specific conditions to exist, and those conditions are gone.
Parenting and Child Development
For children of narcissistic parents, the implications are profound. Children need consistent empathic attunement from caregivers—their developing brains require the experience of being felt with, not just understood, to develop their own empathy circuits properly. A parent whose empathy requires effortful activation will not provide this consistent attunement. The child may experience moments of apparent empathy when circumstances trigger the parent’s perspective-taking, but cannot count on empathic response when they need it. This inconsistency may be more damaging than simple neglect because it teaches the child that their worthiness of empathy is conditional and unpredictable. The research helps explain intergenerational patterns: the parent who received conditional empathy develops conditional empathy themselves, and the pattern transmits.
Workplace and Organisational Dynamics
Corporate environments often reward the pattern this research documents. The executive who can demonstrate empathic leadership when stakeholders are watching, while showing no spontaneous concern for employees’ wellbeing in daily operations, exemplifies conditional empathy. The research suggests such individuals are not simply hypocritical—they may genuinely be activating empathy when circumstances (evaluation by superiors, media presence, employee engagement surveys) trigger perspective-taking, while showing no empathy when those triggers are absent. Organisations seeking genuine empathic leadership should assess not just demonstrated empathy in high-visibility moments but spontaneous empathic response in routine operations.
Political and Social Manipulation
Leaders who can perform empathy when advantageous while showing no genuine concern for constituents’ suffering exploit this conditional pattern. The politician who demonstrates moving empathy during campaign events—when the spotlight triggers perspective-taking—may show complete indifference to the same suffering when cameras are off. This is not necessarily conscious hypocrisy; it may reflect genuine conditional empathy activation. Understanding this pattern helps explain why such leaders’ followers often feel genuine connection during rallies and speeches while the leader’s policies demonstrate no actual concern for their wellbeing.
The Limits of “Empathy Training”
Many well-meaning interventions attempt to increase empathy through education and instruction. This research suggests why such approaches may have limited impact on narcissistic individuals. Narcissists can already activate empathy when instructed—the problem is not that they do not know how, but that automatic activation does not occur. Teaching perspective-taking to someone who already does it when prompted does not address the fundamental deficit. Interventions would need to somehow shift empathy from effortful to automatic, a much more challenging goal requiring sustained practice over years—practice the narcissist must be motivated to undertake for others’ benefit.
The Question of Responsibility
This research has implications for moral and legal judgments about narcissistic harm. If narcissists have the capacity for empathy but do not automatically activate it, their harmful behaviour occupies an ambiguous moral space. They are not like someone with complete empathy absence who literally cannot feel others’ pain. They can feel it—if they make the effort. Is failure to make that effort a choice they are morally responsible for? The research does not answer this question, but it reframes it. The narcissist who harms you while witnessing your distress has not failed to perceive your suffering (cognitive empathy is intact) or lacked the machinery to feel it (affective empathy can be activated). They have failed to take the step required to activate that machinery. Whether that failure is culpable depends on questions about free will, moral responsibility, and the nature of personality disorder that extend beyond psychological research.
Limitations and Considerations
Responsible engagement with this important research requires acknowledging several limitations and contextual factors.
Laboratory conditions differ from real relationships. The studies prompted perspective-taking through explicit experimental instruction. In actual relationships, no one provides such instruction. The narcissist must self-generate motivation to take another’s perspective, which the research did not test. The finding that instructed perspective-taking produces empathic response does not mean spontaneous perspective-taking will occur in natural contexts.
Sample characteristics may limit generalisability. Participants were primarily university students with varying levels of narcissistic traits, not clinically diagnosed NPD patients. Findings may differ for clinical populations with more severe pathology. The conditional empathy pattern observed in subclinical narcissism may be more or less pronounced in full personality disorder.
Short-term activation does not guarantee sustained empathy. The studies measured empathic response at a single time point. Whether activated empathy can be maintained over time, generalise across situations, or become more automatic with practice was not tested. The finding that narcissists can empathise when instructed does not mean they will sustain empathic engagement in ongoing relationships.
Physiological measures have limitations. While heart rate deceleration is an established marker of empathic engagement, physiological responses do not directly measure subjective experience. It remains possible that narcissists show the physiological signature of empathy without experiencing the motivational consequences that normally follow (the desire to help, the aversion to causing further harm).
Self-report empathy measures may not capture the full picture. Some studies relied on participants reporting their own empathic responses, which narcissists might overstate (to appear normal) or understate (if they do not recognise their own empathic responses). The physiological measures in Study 3 partially address this, but the complexity of empathic experience may not be fully captured by any single measure.
The research does not address whether activated empathy translates to changed behaviour. Feeling moved by someone’s distress and acting to reduce that distress are different. Even if narcissists can be moved to feel empathy, whether they would act on that feeling to benefit the other person rather than themselves was not tested.
Historical Context
The 2014 publication of Hepper et al.’s research arrived at a pivotal moment in scientific understanding of narcissistic empathy. The preceding decades had established that narcissism involves empathy deficits, but the nature of those deficits remained unclear. Were narcissists fundamentally incapable of empathy? Did they possess the machinery but lack motivation? Could the right conditions unlock empathic capacity?
Prior research had documented the cognitive-affective empathy distinction in narcissism. Work by Ritter et al. (2011) showed that narcissists could accurately identify others’ emotions but were not moved by them. Decety and Jackson’s (2004) influential model of empathy architecture provided a framework for understanding how cognitive and affective components could be selectively impaired. But these studies did not directly test whether affective empathy could be activated under specific conditions.
Hepper and colleagues designed their research specifically to address this question. Their finding that explicit perspective-taking instructions eliminated the empathy deficit was groundbreaking because it showed the circuitry was present—just not automatically engaged. This moved the field from a simple deficit model (narcissists lack empathy) to a conditional model (narcissists have empathy capacity that requires effortful activation).
The paper has been cited over 400 times and has significantly influenced both research and clinical understanding. For researchers, it refined theoretical models of narcissistic empathy. For clinicians, it informed treatment approaches and expectations. For survivors, it provided validating explanation for the confusing pattern of conditional empathy they experienced. The finding that narcissists “must choose to feel” has become one of the most quoted insights in contemporary narcissism literature.
The research also connected to broader questions about empathy, motivation, and moral responsibility. If empathy can be activated when one chooses to make the effort, what does it mean when that choice is not made? The paper contributed to ongoing philosophical and psychological discussions about the relationship between capacity, motivation, and culpability—discussions that remain active today.
Further Reading
- Ritter, K., Dziobek, I., Preissler, S., et al. (2011). Lack of empathy in patients with narcissistic personality disorder. Psychiatry Research, 187, 241-247.
- Baskin-Sommers, A., Krusemark, E., & Ronningstam, E. (2014). Empathy in narcissistic personality disorder: From clinical and empirical perspectives. Personality Disorders: Theory, Research, and Treatment, 5(3), 323-333.
- Decety, J. & Jackson, P.L. (2004). The functional architecture of human empathy. Behavioral and Cognitive Neuroscience Reviews, 3(2), 71-100.
- Wai, M. & Tiliopoulos, N. (2012). The affective and cognitive empathic nature of the dark triad of personality. Personality and Individual Differences, 52(7), 794-799.
- Shamay-Tsoory, S.G. (2011). The neural bases for empathy. The Neuroscientist, 17(1), 18-24.
- Schulze, L., Dziobek, I., Vater, A., et al. (2013). Gray matter abnormalities in patients with narcissistic personality disorder. Journal of Psychiatric Research, 47(10), 1363-1369.
- Fan, Y., Duncan, N.W., de Greck, M., & Northoff, G. (2011). Is there a core neural network in empathy? An fMRI based quantitative meta-analysis. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 35(3), 903-911.
Abstract
Four studies examined whether individuals high in narcissism can be moved to experience empathy. Study 1 demonstrated that narcissism was associated with lower dispositional empathy. Study 2 showed that high-narcissism individuals reported less empathy for a person in distress, but this deficit was eliminated when they were instructed to take the other's perspective. Study 3 replicated this finding using a different empathy induction (imagining being the distressed person) and extended it by showing that narcissists also displayed reduced physiological empathy (heart rate deceleration) unless instructed to empathise. Study 4 demonstrated that narcissists showed reduced empathy in response to a video of a domestic violence victim but that perspective-taking instructions again eliminated this deficit. Together, these findings suggest that narcissists have the capacity for empathy but that empathic responses are not automatically triggered by witnessing another's suffering.
About the Author
Erica G. Hepper, PhD is a Senior Lecturer in Psychology at the University of Surrey, UK. Her research focuses on self and identity, particularly narcissism, nostalgia, and self-enhancement. She completed her doctorate at the University of Southampton under the supervision of Constantine Sedikides, one of the world's leading researchers on narcissism and the self.
Dr Hepper's work has been particularly influential in nuancing our understanding of narcissistic empathy—moving beyond simple deficit models to understand the conditional and motivated nature of narcissistic emotional engagement. Her research has been covered extensively in media outlets and has influenced clinical approaches to working with narcissistic individuals.
Claire M. Hart, PhD is Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Southampton, UK. Her research examines self-enhancement, narcissism, and interpersonal relationships, with particular focus on how narcissistic traits affect relationship outcomes and partner wellbeing.
Constantine Sedikides, PhD is Professor of Social and Personality Psychology at the University of Southampton and one of the most cited researchers in social psychology. He has published over 300 articles on self-processes, narcissism, and nostalgia. His work on narcissism spans four decades and has fundamentally shaped our scientific understanding of narcissistic personality and its interpersonal consequences.
Historical Context
Published in 2014 in the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, this research arrived at a crucial moment in the scientific understanding of narcissistic empathy. Previous studies, including the influential work by Ritter et al. (2011), had documented that narcissists show deficits in affective empathy while retaining cognitive empathy—they understand what others feel but are not moved by it. However, this left open the question of whether the affective empathy deficit reflected a fundamental incapacity or something more nuanced. Hepper and colleagues designed this research specifically to test whether narcissists could be "moved to empathise" under the right conditions. The finding that explicit perspective-taking instructions eliminated the empathy deficit was groundbreaking because it suggested the neural circuitry for affective empathy exists but requires effortful, conscious activation rather than operating automatically as it does in most people. This distinction between capacity and automatic activation has proven enormously influential. It has shaped clinical thinking about treatment (the circuitry exists, so perhaps it can be strengthened), informed survivor understanding (they could have empathised but did not), and refined theoretical models of narcissism (empathy is conditionally suppressed rather than absent). The paper has been cited over 400 times and continues to be a primary reference in both research and clinical discussions of narcissistic empathy.
Frequently Asked Questions
The research reveals something more nuanced than simple choice. For most people, empathy activates automatically—you see someone in distress, and before you consciously decide anything, you feel something. For narcissists, this automatic activation does not occur. They must consciously engage perspective-taking to feel with another person. So in one sense, yes, their failure to empathise involves something like choice—the choice not to make the effort required to activate empathy. But it is not quite the same as consciously deciding to be cruel. It is more like not bothering to take the step that would produce caring. The distinction matters for your healing: you were not unworthy of empathy, and you were not failing to communicate. The capacity existed. The automatic motivation to use it did not. Whether you call that choice or deficit, the practical implication is the same: you cannot count on their empathy being available when you need it.
This is one of the most painful implications of the research. When you explained your suffering, you were providing information. But information alone does not activate the effortful perspective-taking that the study showed could produce empathic response. The instruction in these experiments was not 'understand that this person is suffering' (cognitive empathy, which narcissists already possess) but 'imagine you are in their shoes' or 'try to feel what they feel' (affective empathy, which requires activation). Your explanations gave them data; what would have been needed was motivation to engage with that data emotionally. And here is the cruel truth: the motivation to effortfully activate empathy typically comes from already caring about the person. It is a catch-22. They would need to care about your suffering to be motivated to feel it, but they need to feel it to care. Without automatic activation, the circle does not complete. Your explanations were never going to work because the problem was never understanding.
This research suggests a theoretical pathway: if narcissists can activate empathy when instructed, perhaps sustained practice could make that activation more automatic over time. Neuroplasticity supports this possibility—repeated activation of neural circuits can strengthen them. However, significant barriers remain. First, the narcissist must be motivated to undertake years of deliberate empathy practice for others' benefit, not their own. This motivation is precisely what the disorder precludes. Second, therapy dropout rates for NPD exceed 60%, with most patients attending only when external crises force them. Third, even when narcissists do engage in treatment, the gains tend to be behavioural (learning to act more empathically when strategically useful) rather than characterological (developing genuine automatic resonance). The honest clinical assessment is that while the research offers theoretical hope, translating that hope into consistent empathic capacity in real-world relationships remains extremely rare.
Several clinical implications emerge. First, expect discrepancy between empathy on demand and automatic empathy. A narcissistic patient who demonstrates perspective-taking in session when prompted may show no empathic response in natural contexts. This is not deception—it reflects the conditional activation pattern the research documents. Second, consider interventions that might strengthen automatic empathy activation: body-based therapies that enhance interoceptive awareness, sustained perspective-taking exercises, practices that repeatedly engage affective empathy circuits. Third, assess motivation carefully—the narcissist who enters treatment to maintain a relationship or avoid consequences may perform empathy without developing it. Fourth, prepare for the long haul—if automatic activation can be developed, it will likely require years of consistent practice, far exceeding typical treatment duration. Finally, be cautious about interpreting demonstrated empathy as changed character. The capacity was always there; the question is whether it will be deployed outside therapeutic contexts where instruction prompts it.
Many survivors describe confusing moments when the narcissist seemed genuinely moved by their distress, making the subsequent coldness even more disorienting. This research helps explain the inconsistency. Narcissists can activate empathy when something triggers effortful perspective-taking—perhaps when the survivor's situation reminds them of their own experience, when appearing caring serves their image, when external observers are present, or when the relationship's continuation depends on demonstrating concern. In these moments, the empathy may be genuine—the physiological measures in this study showed real heart rate changes, not just performed caring. But without the external or internal trigger, the automatic activation that would sustain empathic engagement does not occur. The narcissist's empathy is not fake but conditional. This explains why you may have seen real warmth sometimes: you did. But you could not count on it, because it depended on factors beyond your suffering itself.
This research does not prescribe what you should do—that depends on your circumstances, safety, and what you can sustain. But it does inform your decision. The finding that narcissists can activate empathy under instruction might seem hopeful: the capacity exists, so perhaps with enough effort, enough explanation, enough patience, they could develop consistent empathic response. However, consider what the research actually shows: empathy activated only under explicit experimental instruction in a laboratory setting. In real relationships, no one stands by instructing 'now imagine yourself in their position.' The narcissist must be self-motivated to engage that perspective-taking—motivated by genuine care for your wellbeing rather than external prompting. This motivation is precisely what narcissistic personality disorder precludes. You cannot provide from outside what must come from within. The research frees you from the belief that you failed to find the right approach. The machinery is there; the motivation to use it for your benefit is not. What you do with that knowledge is yours to decide.
This research complements brain imaging studies showing structural and functional differences in narcissistic individuals. Studies have found reduced grey matter volume in the anterior insula (critical for affective empathy) and altered connectivity between emotional processing regions. What Hepper and colleagues add is behavioural evidence that these differences manifest as conditional rather than absent empathy. The anterior insula and related circuits can be activated—when instructed, narcissists showed physiological empathic responses including heart rate deceleration, a marker of genuine emotional engagement. But unlike in neurotypical individuals, this activation requires conscious effort rather than occurring automatically. The neural architecture is present but differently calibrated: set to require explicit engagement rather than responding spontaneously to others' distress. This aligns with developmental models suggesting that empathy circuits develop through early mirroring experiences—when caregivers do not consistently mirror the child's emotional states, the automatic activation pathways may not form properly even as the underlying capacity remains.
Several important questions remain. First, can sustained practice actually shift empathic responses from effortful to automatic, and if so, what conditions and duration are required? Second, does this conditional empathy pattern differ between grandiose and vulnerable narcissism subtypes? Third, what determines which situations trigger effortful perspective-taking in narcissists—is this predictable or essentially random from the partner's perspective? Fourth, can motivational interventions (perhaps making empathy instrumentally useful to the narcissist's goals) produce more consistent empathic engagement, and would that be genuine or merely strategic? Fifth, how do narcissists experience their own empathic responses—do they recognise when they are not engaging empathy, or does it feel to them like they are responding appropriately? Finally, what are the implications for children of narcissistic parents, who need consistent empathic attunement that conditional empathy cannot provide? These questions point toward future research that could further illuminate both the possibilities and limits of narcissistic empathy.
This research serves healing in several ways. First, it validates your experience: the empathy gaps you felt were real and neurologically grounded, not imagined or caused by your communication failures. Second, it releases you from the endless work of trying to explain your pain more effectively—they understood, the problem was not understanding. Third, it helps you grieve what the relationship could never provide: automatic, consistent empathic attunement. Narcissists can deploy empathy conditionally, but you needed someone who would feel with you without being prompted. Fourth, it informs your future choices: understanding that narcissistic empathy requires effortful activation, dependent on their motivation in the moment, helps you decide whether a relationship can ever meet your needs. Finally, it may help you feel less crazy about the good moments—those moments when they seemed genuinely moved were probably real, just not sustainable. This information is not meant to excuse or encourage reconciliation. It is meant to help you understand what you experienced and make informed decisions about your future.