In one of my recent cross-border assignments, I flew to the Middle East to guide a third generation family conglomerate through their strategic planning. The work was intense — an exhausting yet deeply fulfilling engagement. Just as I was preparing to return home, I received an urgent request from a long-time governance colleague: could I make a brief detour to Europe?
I obliged — and soon found myself immersed in one of the most delicate interventions of my career. Alongside two seasoned governance professionals, we formed a three-man team with one mission: dissect, understand and stabilize a once-proud family enterprise teetering on collapse. At its core? A successor who had morphed into a textbook narcissist.
No names. No countries. In this field, confidentiality is non-negotiable. But the lessons? They are universal—and increasingly common in family business transitions across the globe.
The silent implosion
The warning signs were unmistakable:
Inflated self-importance.
A complete inability to accept feedback.
A deep-seated belief in personal infallibility.
And most damaging of all: a pattern of rewriting events to evade accountability.
This wasn’t just poor leadership. It was dangerous leadership — the kind that doesn’t just erode trust but destroys culture, strips competence and dismantles legacies painstakingly built over generations.
Family businesses are emotional ecosystems. They thrive on shared memories, implicit trust and generational pride. But when narcissism takes root, that same emotional bond becomes the very shield that prevents the family from intervening. Love turns into silence. Silence, into complicity.
How did it get this bad?
It started with good intentions. The father — an ambitious, visionary founder — had long planned to prepare his son for succession. But in his quest to empower, he overindulged. Too much praise, too few boundaries. Too much control handed over, too little oversight in place.
By the time the son assumed full leadership, there was no effective check on his authority. Siblings were pushed aside. Senior executives were either replaced or silenced. The board existed only on paper. To challenge him was to betray him.
Image, not impact, became the obsession. The successor surrounded himself with loyalists who applauded every move — while those with real experience either resigned quietly or emotionally checked out. The remaining few stayed silent, too afraid to speak, too loyal to leave.
Most painful of all? The founder saw it happening. He knew. But guilt, fear and a lifetime of emotional investment rendered him motionless.
Understanding the narcissism trap
Narcissism in family business doesn’t start with ego — it starts with overprotection. When successors are groomed without exposure to hardship, without experiencing the consequences of failure, they develop a fragile sense of invincibility. That fragility is masked by confidence, but it’s easily threatened — and violently defended.
There are two types of successors in family enterprises:
Those forged in fire — who’ve faced adversity, accepted accountability, and earned respect.
And those handed the crown — who demand loyalty, avoid challenge, and expect applause.
The latter often confuse leadership with dominance and succession with entitlement. For them, the business becomes an extension of self, not a shared legacy to the steward.
What can be done?
The antidote is not confrontation. It’s governance.
Strong governance frameworks act as institutional guardrails.
Independent board members who challenge constructively.
Clearly defined roles and performance expectations —even for family.
Transparent succession plans that involve multiple stakeholders.
Advisory councils that bring wisdom without emotional entanglement.
After a brief but intensive five-day visit, we plunged headfirst into a comprehensive process of interviews, system audits, and cultural diagnostics.
Our mission extended far beyond merely stemming the immediate crisis; we aimed to reconnect the business with the fundamental values that once fueled its success. Restoring trust — among family members, leadership, and employees alike — was paramount. Only by rebuilding this fragile foundation could the enterprise hope to regain its stability and chart a sustainable path forward.
Can this family business be saved? Yes — but only if its leadership is willing to do what narcissists resist most: listen, reflect and share power.
In my next article, I’ll walk you through the chilling yet predictable logic of a narcissist’s mind. How they distort reality. How they punish honesty. And how families can reclaim their narrative—before it’s too late.
Because in family business, legacy is never just about wealth. It’s about wisdom. And wisdom demands structure.
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The W+B Family Governance Leadership Masterclass: Securing your legacy for generations In response to the growing need for clarity and direction among family-owned businesses, the W+B Family Governance Leadership Masterclass returns for its second edition, now set for a new schedule on July 9 and 12, with graduations in Cebu, Manila and Iloilo (Dates TBA).
This immersive three-day program is designed to help participants uncover tailored solutions to their most pressing challenges while equipping them with the knowledge and skills essential for long-term success. Through a combination of virtual sessions and an in-person graduation event, this Masterclass will guide participants in:
• Unraveling the fundamentals of family business governance
• Developing strategies for fostering a harmonious family culture
• Mastering succession planning and leadership development
Take the first step in securing your family business legacy. Few slots available—reserve your place now at 09173247216 or email service@wbadvisoryasia.com. Look for Julia!