The power of the victim is one of the most misunderstood dynamics in human behaviour. On the surface, victimhood appears helpless or passive. But within the framework of the Karpman Drama Triangle, the victim holds immense psychological influence.
When someone is in the victim role, they often carry a perceived moral advantage – an unspoken innocence or righteousness that can unconsciously justify harmful behaviour. I will explore how people who identify as victims can unconsciously shift into the Persecutor role, while keeping the appearance of being wronged.
Understanding the Drama Triangle
The Karpman Drama Triangle is a relational model describing three roles: Victim, Persecutor and Rescuer develop by Psychiatrist Stephen Karpman in the 1960s.
These roles often emerge in emotionally charged situations and dysfunctional patterns. It is now widely used in therapy, coaching, and conflict resolution to bring awareness to unconscious relational patterns, especially in families, romantic relationships, and work environments.
It helps people see how they’re participating in drama and offers a pathway out: by reclaiming agency, setting boundaries, and taking responsibility without collapsing into blame or martyrdom.
- The Victim feels helpless, oppressed or mistreated.
- The Persecutor blames, controls, or criticises.
- The Rescuer steps in to help or fix, often from a place of guilt or over responsibility.
People can switch between these roles rapidly – sometimes within the same interaction. These shifts often happen outside of awareness, driven by unprocessed trauma, survival responses or emotional triggers.
Although it may appear the Victim is the weakest position, it’s often the most powerful. This is because it’s the position that recruits the other two. Without a Victim, there is no one to rescue or persecute.
How the Victim Becomes the Persecutor
The power of the victim emerges when someone uses their pain as justification for harmful or neglectful behaviour. This isn’t always conscious. Often, it’s a defensive pattern shaped by early relational wounds.
But the effect is the same: a person who feels victimised may exaggerate, re-frame or selectively edit their story in ways that vilify others, gaining sympathy or protection while avoiding accountability.
The Rescuer role is often occupied by those who want peace, empathy or connection. But in this dynamic, rescuers get caught in the middle. They try to validate the victim while also seeing the bigger picture. When the victim flips into persecutor mode, the rescuer may feel torn, exhausted, or guilty for not being able to fix things. Over time, they may burn out or even become the next target of blame.
This reinforces the triangle, keeping all three roles active and unresolved.
No one steps out of the pattern. Everyone becomes reactive.
Victimhood vs. Playing the Victim
There is a crucial difference between someone who has been genuinely harmed and someone who plays the Victim role to avoid self awareness.
Real victimhood deserves care, validation and safety. But playing the victim is a relational strategy. It’s a way to sidestep responsibility, shift blame and maintain control.
This often stems from trauma. People who were ignored, scapegoated or emotionally neglected may cling to the victim role because it feels safer than vulnerability. But when that role becomes fused with identity, it distorts perception. The narrative becomes rigid.
Feedback feels like attack. And any challenge to the story feels like betrayal.
Storytelling as Control
A key feature of this dynamic is narrative distortion. The story gets reshaped to emphasise harm, erase context, or cast others as villains. This doesn’t mean the person is lying; often, they believe their version of events. But their memory may be unconsciously filtered through unacknowledged rage, grief or shame.
This becomes dangerous when others are harmed by the story. When reputations are ruined, relationships are severed, or boundaries are crossed – all while the person insists on their innocence. The Victim role can give cover to the Persecutor’s actions, shielding them from reflection or consequence.
Breaking the Victim Pattern
Exploring the power of the victim is not about invalidating pain. It’s about learning to recognise when pain turns into a strategy for control. When suffering is used to justify blame, demand attention, or avoid accountability.
Inside the drama triangle, this quickly becomes a loop.
The victim feels helpless, the persecutor attacks from righteousness, and the rescuer enables both.
But healing begins when the pattern is seen for what it is: a trauma response. Not a flaw in character, but a survival strategy that’s outlived its purpose. To break this cycle means learning to sit with discomfort without collapsing into helplessness. It means holding your emotions without needing someone else to rescue you or punish others on your behalf.
True empowerment doesn’t come from winning sympathy; it comes from reclaiming responsibility.
From shifting the story. Not “I’ve been wronged, therefore I’m entitled to lash out,” but “I’ve been hurt, and I choose to respond with clarity, not projection.” That’s the moment the victim role starts to loosen.
Unhooking the Rescuer
Rescuers often carry their own unhealed wounds, helping others gives a sense of value. But beneath it, there’s often a fear of being rejected, unneeded, or powerless. The rescuer tries to fix, often at the expense of their own energy and boundaries. But in doing so, they keep the victim stuck.
The help becomes dependency. Growth is stalled.
Stepping out of the rescuer role means tolerating discomfort. Letting others struggle. Saying no. Trusting that people can find their own way, even when it’s messy.
It means shifting from “I’ll save you” to “I trust your capacity.”
This is not a withdrawal of care; it’s a redirection of power. When the rescuer steps back, they stop reinforcing helplessness. And in that space, the victim is invited to find their own strength. Both begin to heal, not by fixing each other, but by reclaiming themselves.
Final Reflections
Both roles, victim and rescuer, require stepping into a more honest kind of vulnerability.
One that no longer relies on blame, superiority, or avoidance.
Where they can sit in the discomfort of the moment without needing to control it.
The triangle dissolves the moment we begin to take responsibility for our own nervous system. When we stop outsourcing safety to others, we stop reacting, and begin responding. We name what we feel, without needing to make it someone else’s fault.
Healing comes not from performance of roles, but courage and curiosity to stay with what’s real without collapsing, fixing or fighting.
This is the repair and exit from the drama cycles.
