The Spotlight Syndrome

Once upon a time, community work was humble. Quiet. It was led by those who believed in service, not in selfies. There were potlucks, prayers, fundraisers, and friendships. No titles, no trophies. But times have changed. Somewhere in the folds of global migration and local ambition, community service transformed into a spotlight sport.

These days, in diaspora circles especially, starting an association has become the new social ladder. You don’t join a club anymore—you launch one, with a press release. You don’t serve the people—you gather them like a following. “Founding President,” “Convenor,” “Chairperson”—not so much roles as badges of importance, carefully stitched onto Facebook bios and WhatsApp groups.
At first glance, these gatherings appear noble—forums for cultural preservation, youth empowerment, and social bonding. But peel the layers and often you’ll find an exhausting game of visibility, control, and ego management. What used to be a shared platform is now a stage for personal branding. A single charity event results in twenty curated photos, complete with spiritual quotes and political hashtags. A group discussion is followed by subtle social media monologues—those cryptic posts meant for everyone and no one, laced with enough bitterness to fuel community gossip for weeks.
Strangely, unity is the word most uttered by those who divide the fastest. Today’s “brother” becomes tomorrow’s “betrayer” if he dares to think differently. Disagreement is no longer dialogue—it’s disloyalty. And once the fallout happens, you’ll see a familiar dance: vague accusations, moral lectures, selective outrage… all performed before a digital audience that is slowly growing tired.
And yet, these figures endure. Because the game isn’t just about ethics, it’s about entertainment. It’s about appearing righteous. It’s about being seen as the torchbearer of culture, even while the flame quietly burns bridges behind the scenes.

Not all community leaders fall into this pattern, of course. There are many who work silently, sincerely, and without ego. But there is a particular type—charismatic, loud, and addicted to applause—who slips into leadership not to uplift others, but to be elevated. They use the language of service and the logic of self-interest. They charm with borrowed quotes and clash with those who threaten their script.
Psychologists might call it narcissism. Others might call it hypocrisy. But the truth is more complex. These are people who want to be loved, respected, and followed—not for what they give, but for who they believe they are. And when that belief is questioned, they lash out—not directly, but through public sermons with private targets. They hold grudges like trophies and friendships like contracts. They demand loyalty, not dialogue.

They speak loudly about peace and inclusiveness but quietly enforce divisions—of caste, of ideology, of obedience. One day they are patriotic to the core, posting fervently in support of governments back home. The next day, they sit on primetime panels, denouncing the same ideologies they once embraced. And when questioned, they say it’s about truth. But somehow, that truth always aligns with their convenience.

Good people in the community begin to step back. They stay silent not out of weakness, but out of exhaustion. Because arguing with someone who thrives on attention is like throwing logs into their fire. Better to quietly build something new, away from the noise.
And so, the circus continues. New associations form. Old ones fracture. Speeches are made. Events are held. The mic changes hands—but the story remains the same.

The irony? These self-declared torchbearers often forget the very light they claim to carry has long since dimmed in the eyes of those who once respected them. They mistake likes for love, followers for friends, and noise for impact.
And in the end, while they sit crafting the next great post—yet again beginning with, “Not naming anyone but...”

The community moves on—quieter, wiser, and thankfully, a little less fooled.

Disclaimer: If you think this post is about you—relax, it’s not. Unless, of course, you accidentally walked past a mirror and found yourself nodding. In that case… do wave at the reflection. It’s been dying for attention.