By a team that will never understand why people do this, but is equally fascinated and annoyed by it.

You know the kind of people we're talking about — the ones who seem to exist for no other reason than to twist your guts into knots. They’re not the outright villains; they’re the accomplices, the subtle assassins of peace. Picture this: a so-called friend who nods along when your ex pins the blame squarely on you — yeah, you were the problem all along, didn’t you know? And while they’re agreeing with your ex, they’re still freeloading off your Netflix login, grinning like they’re owed something. These are the pros of petty. The virtuosos of veiled sabotage. The kind of people who make you wonder how a soul can bend and warp itself into such a conniving little shape without breaking entirely.

And then there’s the office variety, those sly coworkers who suck up to the boss like their life depends on it — fetching coffee with one hand and chucking you under the bus with the other. All the while, they keep this angelic, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile plastered on their face, like they’ve got innocence bottled up and sold on discount. They’re not the storm, but they’re the wind that howls around it, stirring up chaos wherever they tread. Flying monkeys, every last one of them. You’ve seen ’em. Maybe you’ve even been one once upon a time, God help you. They’re the enablers, the henchpeople, the loyal sidekicks of every narcissist, bully, and manipulative jerk you’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. They’re not content to just survive the madness — no, they amplify it, spin it, feed off it like moths gorging on the flame.

They’re called “flying monkeys,” and for good reason. Remember those flapping pests in The Wizard of Oz? The ones who carried out every vile command of the Wicked Witch with grotesque gusto? Yeah, that’s them. But real-life flying monkeys? Oh, they’re worse. There’s no bucket of water here to make them melt away into a harmless puddle. I’ve thought about it, trust me, but it doesn’t work. They just keep flapping around, carrying chaos on their wings, leaving little trails of discord wherever they land. These people thrive on allegiance — not to goodness, not to reason, but to someone with a cruel streak a mile wide. That’s their beacon, their compass: the narcissist, the bully, the boss with too much power and not enough soul.

And why? Why the hell do they do it? Why spend your days bowing and scraping and backstabbing for someone who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire? That’s the question, isn’t it? What makes someone trade their integrity for a front-row seat to someone else’s destruction? It’s worth picking apart, peeling back the layers, trying to see what’s really writhing underneath all that smug loyalty.

The Flying Monkey Mindset

If you dig deep enough — deeper than you probably want to go — you’ll find that flying monkeys are just as much a product of manipulation as the poor souls they torment. Psychologists have a fancy way of putting it: they’re enablers, pawns in a narcissist’s twisted chess game. They’re not pulling the strings; they’re just the marionettes, dancing to someone else’s tune. What’s wild is that half of them don’t even know it. They’ve convinced themselves they’re heroes in the story. They’re “helping” the misunderstood narcissist, or they’re simply “taking sides” in a way that feels righteous. Ignorance wrapped in arrogance — a dangerous combination if ever there was one.

You see, it’s fear that keeps them loyal. Fear of conflict. Fear of falling out of favor. Fear of the narcissist turning their wrath on them. And there’s insecurity, too, a gnawing need to belong, to be on the “right” side of the power dynamic, even if that means playing second fiddle to a tyrant. They’re scared little creatures at heart, really, scurrying around trying to survive in a world that feels too big and too cruel. But their survival comes at a cost — your peace, your sanity, your stability.

They’re not just complicit; they’re necessary. The narcissist’s whole game depends on them. The lies don’t stick without someone to repeat them. The chaos doesn’t spread without someone to fan the flames. The cruelty doesn’t bite as hard without someone to add a little extra venom. Flying monkeys are the grease in the machine, the co-conspirators in a toxic opera where you never wanted a ticket to begin with.

And so, they flap on, adding layer upon layer of drama to a world already buckling under the weight of its own nonsense. They’re the architects of unnecessary complication, the stewards of dysfunction, the evangelists of entropy. What do you do with people like that? How do you fend them off when they’re so damn good at what they do?

Maybe you can’t. Maybe you just have to recognize them for what they are — flapping little chaos agents, too scared or too stupid to see the damage they leave in their wake. You don’t have to fight them. You just have to get out of their path and let them burn themselves out. Because they will, eventually. The fire always consumes its own, even if it takes a while. And when it does, maybe then you’ll finally find a little peace.

Why Do People Become Flying Monkeys?

1. Low Self-Esteem

One of the primary reasons people become flying monkeys is low self-esteem. Studies suggest that individuals with a poor sense of self-worth are particularly vulnerable to manipulation. A 2019 study in Personality and Individual Differences found that people with low confidence are more susceptible to flattery and guilt-tripping — two manipulation tactics that narcissists often deploy. For these individuals, aligning themselves with a seemingly powerful figure provides a sense of validation they’re otherwise lacking.

Imagine a person who constantly doubts their own abilities or struggles to feel important. When a narcissist offers them attention or assigns them tasks, it can feel like an opportunity to prove their worth. This dynamic is especially common in workplaces, where hierarchies make it easy for narcissists to exploit those who are desperate for approval.

2. Social Dynamics

Flying monkeys also emerge from group dynamics, particularly in environments where loyalty to a dominant figure is rewarded. Sociological studies have shown that in hierarchical systems, such as workplaces or tight-knit social circles, individuals often prioritize group loyalty over personal morality. A 2020 study published in Group Processes & Intergroup Relationsrevealed how this loyalty can lead to moral disengagement, creating flying monkey-like behavior.

For example, consider a workplace where a narcissistic boss wields power through favoritism and fear. Employees quickly learn that siding with the boss, even at the expense of their colleagues, can lead to better opportunities or protection from retaliation. Over time, this culture of loyalty to the dominant figure creates an environment where flying monkeys thrive.

3. Fear of Retaliation

Fear is another powerful motivator for flying monkeys. Some individuals align themselves with a bully or narcissist simply to avoid becoming the next target. This phenomenon is akin to the behavior of the hyenas in The Lion King who, while laughing at Scar’s jokes, are secretly terrified of him. Self-preservation often outweighs ethical considerations in these situations.

This dynamic is particularly harmful in social or professional settings, where flying monkeys may perpetuate toxic behavior not because they believe in it, but because they’re afraid of what will happen if they don’t. Their silence or complicity makes it easier for the narcissist to continue their abusive tactics, further isolating the victim.

Flying Monkeys at Work: The Office Winged Brigade

The workplace is a breeding ground for flying monkeys. With its structured hierarchies and performance-driven culture, corporate environments often reward those who align themselves with authority figures, even if it means betraying their peers.

Flying Monkeys at Work: The Office Winged Brigade

The pandemic gave us a taste of freedom — a desk by the window, coffee that doesn’t taste like battery acid, and the rare pleasure of working in sweatpants. But then came the calls to “return to the office.” Not from the bosses — that would be too obvious. No, the first cries came from the flying monkeys, those eager little sycophants who can’t stand the thought of anyone breaking the chains.

Picture it:
The boss floats the idea in a meeting, the kind of passive-aggressive suggestion that reeks of “non-negotiable.” Before you can even process the words, a monkey is already chiming in:

“Oh, I miss the office! Don’t you all miss the energy? The collaboration? It’s just not the same over Zoom!”

Miss the office? You think about the buzzing fluorescents, the endless chatter of sales calls, the smell of someone’s microwave fish wafting down the hallway. The energy? Sure, if you count the adrenaline rush of pretending to be busy whenever the boss strolls by. Collaboration? Maybe they mean being interrupted every five minutes for questions that could’ve been an email.

But the monkey doesn’t care about any of that. What they care about is being seen — being the first to cheer for the new-old status quo. They’ll wax poetic about watercooler chats and “team synergy” while secretly hoping the boss remembers who was on board from day one.

And let’s not pretend they don’t know what they’re doing. They’re staking their claim, trying to drag the rest of us back into the office trenches because misery loves company. The thought of someone else enjoying a commute-free life burns them up inside. If they’re stuck in the hamster wheel, we all have to be.

It’s not just annoying; it’s a betrayal. A war cry for bad coffee and worse conditions, dressed up as nostalgia. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left scrambling to justify why we’d rather work from home, as if it’s a crime to value your sanity over a forced march to the office. And the boss? They’re sitting back, letting the monkeys do the dirty work, nodding along like this wasn’t the plan all along.

The flying monkeys don’t just toe the company line — they take the line, frame it, and hang it on the wall like it’s something to be proud of. And the rest of us? We’re left staring at our laptops, wondering how the hell we let them set the rules.

Flying Monkeys in Real Life: Street-Level Chaos

These monkeys don’t just swing through the office jungle. They’re everywhere — buzzing around the neighborhoods, circling family dinners, crowding the street corners. They show up to back the loudest, most toxic voices in the room, throwing logic and decency straight out the window.

Case in point:
You’re standing in line at a coffee shop, waiting for your overpriced caffeine hit, when a Karen strikes. She’s spitting venom at the barista for putting too much foam in her macchiato. You can feel the room shift — uneasy glances, the tension of people too polite to intervene.

And then, like clockwork, a flying monkey steps up. Some random fool with a chip on their shoulder and too much time on their hands mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Well, maybe the barista should pay more attention to orders.”

Just like that, the monkey hands Karen her second wind. The barista shrinks, their face flushing under the assault. The rest of the crowd? They stay quiet now, second-guessing their own instincts. One voice emboldens the bully. One voice cuts the legs out from under any real accountability.

This is what flying monkeys do. They don’t just stand by — they pile on. They tilt the scales, normalizing garbage behavior while the rest of us are left picking up the pieces. And it’s not just the barista who suffers. We all walk out of that shop a little more defeated, a little less likely to stand up the next time it happens.

Why Flying Monkeys Enable Bullies and Narcissists

Flying monkeys are crucial to a narcissist’s success. Without them, the narcissist would be little more than a loud voice in a quiet room. But with their enablers, they gain power and influence that extends far beyond their own actions.

How They Help Bullies

1. Amplifying the Narcissist’s Power Flying monkeys give the appearance of widespread support for the narcissist’s behavior. Their actions make it seem as though the bully’s views are validated by others, further intimidating the victim.
2. Gaslighting Victims These enablers excel at making victims question their own reality. Statements like “Maybe you’re overreacting” or “You should give them another chance” are designed to sow doubt and isolation, leaving the victim feeling powerless.
3. Providing Social Proof When a group sides with a narcissist, it creates the illusion that the bully’s actions are justified. This dynamic, known as groupthink, reinforces harmful behavior while silencing dissent.

How to Handle Flying Monkeys

So, what can you do when flying monkeys start circling?

1. Set Boundaries

Refuse to engage with the drama. Flying monkeys thrive on conflict and emotional reactions. By keeping interactions brief and neutral, you can deprive them of the energy they seek.

2. Call Out the Manipulation

Many flying monkeys don’t realize they’re being used. Politely but firmly point out the dynamic, saying something like, “It seems like you’re echoing someone else’s perspective. Is this really how you feel?”

3. Build Allies

Seek support from others who understand the situation. Whether it’s coworkers, friends, or family members, having allies can help you counteract the flying monkeys’ influence and protect your own mental health.

The Bigger Picture

Flying monkeys aren’t just nuisances; they’re a symptom of larger societal issues like hierarchical abuse, misplaced loyalty, and the human tendency to prioritize self-preservation over ethics. By recognizing their behavior for what it is, we can begin to challenge the systems that enable it.

Understanding the role flying monkeys play is the first step toward dismantling the power structures that support narcissists and bullies. The next step is refusing to participate in their games — and ensuring that you’re never the one flapping your wings for someone else’s drama.

This content is © 2024 Tantrum Media Store. All rights reserved.

Sources

• Janis, I. L. (1972). Groupthink.
• Lyons, M., & Rice, H. (2019). “Self-esteem and susceptibility to manipulation.” Personality and Individual Differences.
• Smith, A. (2020). “Group loyalty and moral disengagement.” Group Processes & Intergroup Relations.
• Tepper, B. J. (2021). “Workplace narcissism and its effects on employee turnover.” The Leadership Quarterly.

In the end, the only thing worse than a narcissist is a narcissist with an army. And the only thing worse than a flying monkey is realizing you’ve been one. So, let’s all take a moment to ask ourselves: Am I the monkey? If the answer is yes, maybe it’s time to fly away.