Let me tell you about David. For a long time, he had been on quite a high. Everything in his behavior indicated that he liked the smell of success, and in particular, he liked to be the center of attention. I remember him telling me how pleased he was to be named businessman of the year. But what had really put him in the public eye was when his picture appeared on the front cover of the country’s major business magazine. His reputation was also boosted by his role as a regular commentator on a general interest TV program. David liked the admiration; he liked to be recognized. Recognition had always been a major theme in his inner theater. Everyone knew he was no stranger to narcissism. And the press intensified his feeling of being special. Many articles portrayed him as the person who had “reframed the industry.” His numerous successes encouraged him to make his boldest move: the takeover of his largest competitor.
But then the wheel of fortune changed direction. The trouble started when one industry analyst commented that he had paid far too much money for the newly acquired company. Once the golden boy, David was increasingly criticized and attacked. His difficulties were aggravated by the banks’ demands, as they became nervous about his credit line. David would work himself up over the stupidity of these bankers, saying, “They should know a good deal when they see one.” But what really got his goat was when the newspapers joined the fray, writing that “it had been painful to watch his degree of self-sabotage, after his many truly remarkable successes.” According to David, these comments were blatantly unfair, as was another biting remark: “not only has his latest takeover been a mistake, but his endless side ventures, like buying an upscale star restaurant in London and a linked catering business, the sponsoring of a football club, and the financing of a private clinic, seem to have become too great a drain on the company’s resources.”
According to David, the media were distorting the facts. Right or wrong, however, the damage was done. After so many magazines had fêted him as a poster boy for entrepreneurship, he was once again front-page news, but this time as an example of someone who had flown too high. I remember reading the commentary of one business analyst, who wrote that David’s “air of superiority, his dismissiveness of the opinions of others, and his endless pursuit of new acquisitions, had made his fall to earth inevitable.” The article added that “his fall from grace was an extremely expensive one, costing the jobs of thousands of people.”
Wax and Wings
In Greek mythology, Icarus and his father, Daedalus, were imprisoned on the island of Crete by King Minos. To escape, Daedalus created two sets of wings made from wax and feathers for himself and his son. Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, as the wax would melt, and not too low, as the feathers would get wet with sea water. But Icarus, overcome with the excitement of flying, ignored his father’s advice. Intoxicated by the experience, he flew higher and higher, and closer and closer to the sun. And when he was too close, the wax in his wings melted. He tumbled out of the sky, fell into the sea, and drowned. Icarus and his fate became bywords for recklessness and overestimation of human strengths and abilities.
I have seen many manifestations of the Icarus Syndrome. It’s what occurs when leaders, seduced by success, embark on overly ambitious projects that come to nothing, and in doing so cause harm to themselves and others. Fueled by the excitement of their ambitions, these people fail to rein in their misguided enthusiasm until it is too late to avoid disaster. This syndrome afflicts leaders who have an insatiable desire for recognition and applause. Narcissism, not uncommon among executives, goes to their head. They become too full of themselves. Their grandiose sense of self-importance and their feelings of entitlement are ultimately self-damaging.1 They may fly for a while, but eventually reality strikes, and they find themselves crashing to earth. Unfortunately, in many instances, this crash involves significant collateral damage for everyone in their sphere.
Many of us associate successful leadership with charisma, charm, the ability to inspire, persuasiveness, breadth of vision, willingness to take risks, grandiose aspirations, and bold self-confidence. However, there is a flip side to this profile. Excessive confidence in their own judgment and the associated feelings of omnipotence may lead to reckless and restless behavior; contempt for the advice and criticism of others; and make such leaders ignore the practicality, cost, or damaging consequences of their actions. The arrogance associated with this syndrome can be blinding. The Icarus Syndrome has felled many executives who planned too grandly but failed miserably by overestimating their knowledge, foresight, and ability.
Folktales, Biblical stories, and the world’s literature are full of descriptions of people falling victim to the Icarus Syndrome—think of Captain Ahab in Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, and Satan in John Milton’s Paradise Lost . In all these tales, the dark themes of pride, vanity, ambition, power, insolence, disdain, defiance, rage, and retribution are ubiquitous.
All of us can cite many contemporary political and business leaders who have flown or are flying too close to the sun. Prime examples are Mohammed bin Salman (MbS), the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia; Carlos Ghosn (the former chairman of the Renault-Nissan-Mitsubishi Alliance); and Mark Zuckerberg, the chairman and CEO of Facebook. The case of MbS speaks for itself. Actions like the terrible war in Yemen, picking a fight with Canada, and his alleged complicity in the murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi, have seriously endangered his quest to reshape the Middle East. In the case of Ghosn, Nissan (the Japanese carmaker he once helped to rescue) abruptly accused him of significant acts of financial misconduct, including the personal use of corporate assets and the understatement of his compensation. His daring escape to Lebanon may be his swan song. As for Mark Zuckerberg, the jury is still out, but his case illustrates that there are clear limits to feeling omnipotent. Many media outlets have described him not only as a member of the arrogant corporate elite but also as a coward, who has been reluctant to face up to the many data privacy problems his company has created.
A positive self-image is psychologically healthy, and self-confidence, proper ambition, and authentic pride are necessary qualities for any successful leader. Unfortunately, as these various examples show, these qualities can become excessive, turning into contempt for others. The ancient Greeks called this hubris, the dangerous cocktail of overconfidence, overambition, arrogance, and pride that led heroes to defy the gods and bring disaster down upon them. Hubristic leaders have an inflated view of their capabilities and they expose themselves to terrible danger by overlooking the evident risks they take for themselves and others.
Colorful details aside, the trajectory of these leaders suggest that all of us should be on guard against the Icarus Syndrome. But many leaders, who have floated too long in a gilded bubble, untethered from reality, are unable to do so.
Preventive Measures
The million-dollar question is how to prevent the Icarus Syndrome and the damage it can create from coming to the fore. Is preventive maintenance possible? Sadly enough, from my own observations, the Icarus Syndrome remains an occupational hazard for many business leaders and top politicians. But is it an inevitable aspect of those who crave power, or simply the extreme manifestation of normal behavior along a spectrum of narcissism?
For reasons of mental health, we all need a healthy dose of self-confidence. When this self-confidence becomes too inflated, however, it can turn into unrestrained narcissism. In light of this risk factor and given the very negative repercussions of the Icarus Syndrome, every executive would do well to recognize the signs that trouble is on its way. For example, as I have often discovered the hard way in my work with executives, one indicator of the Icarus Syndrome is an executive’s excessive confidence in his or her own judgment. Another indicator is an executive’s exaggerated or unrealistic self-belief in what he or she can achieve. Leaders who make all of their own decisions without consulting others are also asking for trouble. Solo performances can lead to poor decisions and put their organizations at risk. Another danger sign is when subordinates hesitantly agree with the leader’s excesses, indicating that leaders have created a no-bad-news culture. Their subordinates have learned to fear the leader’s response to disagreement. By behaving in this way, leaders demoralize and disempower their teams, which may contribute to psychological disengagement. One of the consequences of such behavior is that their most capable employees will leave. People who are subject to the Icarus Syndrome, seem unwilling to accept that candor can be cleansing, in that it clears out the haze of smoke and mirrors that they create.
An effective countermeasure to the Icarus Syndrome is to aim for diversity. On many occasions, I have seen how diversity in a leadership team can turn into a highly effective way to prevent groupthink2—to help in boundary setting if a member of a team has Icarus tendencies. Although it may be true that management teams with common backgrounds and perspectives make faster decisions, this doesn’t mean that they make quality decisions. On the contrary, quick decisions made by teams that are too uniform increases the likelihood that data that do not fit their preconceived ideas will be filtered, meaning alternatives worthy of consideration are overlooked. Too much groupthink may occur. This pattern of decision making is less likely to occur in diverse teams.3 Preventing the Icarus Syndrome ultimately demands a culture where people are prepared to tell the leader uncomfortable truths—an environment where people can disagree without the fear of reprisal. It requires a culture where people feel safe and where there is a minimum of fear.
Non-executive members of Boards of Directors can exert power here. When faced with early signs of the Icarus Syndrome, independent directors have the power to address the issue and suggest some form of intervention. But corporate governance notwithstanding, we should not be overoptimistic that they will act. Generally speaking, some great drama is needed before these watchdogs take any countervailing actions, and usually do so only when things have already gone too far. More often, both the victims of the Icarus Syndrome and the people around them fail to see that matters are getting out of hand, mesmerized as they are by their leaders’ seductive behavior.
Here’s a cautionary folk tale for these executive Icaruses:
Once upon a time, there was a bird that was told that it had to fly south for the winter. But the bird thought it knew better and in spite of the warnings from all the other birds, it decided that there was no hurry. When the other birds left, it stayed put. Then, as they had warned, the weather turned icy. Assailed by the cold wind, the little bird froze and fell to earth. As it lay on the ground, a cow came by and dropped some dung on the bird. The warm dung thawed the bird out, making it feel warm and happy, and it began to sing for joy. A passing fox heard the bird’s song and came to investigate. Clearing away the manure, the fox discovered the little bird and gobbled it up.
Unfortunately, this ending is typical of people prone to the Icarus Syndrome. Many suffer an ignominious downfall due to overconfidence, self-importance, boasting, or generally speaking, hubris. All C-suite executives should remember that the sweet smell of success can easily turn toxic. For those in a top position, excessive narcissism will always be an occupational hazard, and arrogance a sign that they need to do some sharp work on their mental health.