Triangulation in Relationships: The Victim, the Rescuer, and the Scapegoat

Triangulation is one of the most common but least recognized patterns that lead to emotional chaos in families and intimate relationships. It describes what happens when two people in tension or conflict draw a third person into their emotional system in order to reduce anxiety or avoid direct communication. Psychiatrist Murray Bowen, the founder of Family Systems Theory, coined the term to describe how families manage stress through triangles instead of straightforward resolution.

While a triangle may temporarily relieve tension for one or two members, it always comes at a cost. The roles within a triangle — the victim, the rescuer, and the scapegoat (or persecutor) — create a repeating cycle of blame, control, and dependency that prevents true intimacy or accountability. Over time, each person loses emotional clarity and begins to act from reactivity rather than authenticity.

The Triangular Structure

In its simplest form, triangulation starts when two people (often partners or family members) experience conflict or tension they cannot handle directly. Instead of resolving it together, one person recruits a third to take sides or mediate. That third person becomes emotionally involved, creating a triangle of shifting alliances and grievances.

The most well-known version of this dynamic appears in Stephen Karpman’s “Drama Triangle,” which identifies the three roles that emerge in conflict:

1. Victim – feels powerless, mistreated, or misunderstood.

2. Rescuer – tries to save, fix, or protect the victim.

3. Persecutor (or scapegoat) – is blamed as the source of the problem.

These roles are not fixed; they rotate. The rescuer can become the persecutor, the victim can become the rescuer, and so on. The movement keeps everyone locked in dysfunction while maintaining emotional distance from the real issue — such as fear, insecurity, or lack of direct communication.

The Victim: “Why is this happening to me?”

The victim in a triangle is not necessarily a true victim of abuse or injustice, though that can happen. In the dysfunctional sense, the victim role describes someone who sees themselves as powerless, wronged, or helpless — someone who avoids responsibility for their emotions or behavior. The victim seeks rescue and sympathy but resists change or self-reflection.

In family or partner relationships, this often looks like one person who complains endlessly about another but never sets clear boundaries or takes direct action.

Example: The Partner as Victim

Consider Anna and Jake, a married couple. Jake feels ignored and unappreciated by Anna, who works long hours. Instead of discussing his feelings with her, Jake calls his sister to vent. “She doesn’t care about me anymore,” he says. “She only cares about her job.” The sister, trying to help, listens sympathetically and tells him he deserves better.

Here, Jake is in the victim role, his sister becomes the rescuer, and Anna, though unaware, becomes the persecutor — the one being blamed for Jake’s unhappiness. The emotional energy that belongs between husband and wife is now spread across three people. The sister feels involved and important; Jake feels temporarily validated; Anna feels confused by the growing distance.

The triangle gives everyone short-term relief but long-term dysfunction. Jake avoids vulnerability by not speaking directly to Anna. His sister feels protective but also burdened. Anna senses judgment and pulls away, confirming Jake’s story that she is cold. The triangle reinforces itself through repetition.

The Rescuer: “Let me fix it for you.”

The rescuer is often the most socially rewarded role. Rescuers appear kind, loyal, and helpful. They jump in to soothe tension, mediate, or take sides — but their help is actually a form of control. By taking responsibility for others’ emotions, the rescuer prevents both the victim and the scapegoat from developing emotional maturity.

In many families, the rescuer is the “glue” who keeps everyone from falling apart. They mediate arguments, defend the more fragile members, and smooth over conflict. But because rescuers often struggle with guilt and anxiety, their caretaking becomes compulsive rather than compassionate.

Example: The Parent as Rescuer

In a family of four, the father tends to criticize the teenage son for his grades. The mother, fearing conflict, immediately steps in:

“Don’t talk to him like that, he’s doing his best!”

The mother becomes the rescuer, the son becomes the victim, and the father the persecutor. The immediate tension decreases — the mother feels she’s defended her child, and the son feels protected. But the deeper problem remains: the father feels undermined and unheard, and the son never learns how to face feedback or responsibility.

Over time, the mother’s rescuing becomes its own source of resentment. She feels unappreciated for always “keeping the peace.” The father begins to withdraw emotionally, and the son learns that conflict can always be escaped if he appears wounded. The family’s equilibrium depends on one person staying anxious enough to manage everyone else’s feelings.

Rescuers mean well, but they perpetuate helplessness and dependency. Their internal message is: “If I don’t fix this, everything will fall apart.” This belief keeps them over-functioning while others under-function.

The Scapegoat (Persecutor): “It’s your fault.”

The scapegoat or persecutor is the one blamed for the family or relationship’s distress. This person often becomes the emotional container for unspoken anger, guilt, or shame. In some triangles, the persecutor truly behaves badly; in others, they are simply the one who refuses to play along with denial or avoidance.

In family systems, the scapegoat is usually the one who points out what others don’t want to see — the drinking problem, the favoritism, the passive aggression. Because the truth is uncomfortable, others project their frustration onto the scapegoat, labeling them as “difficult,” “angry,” or “selfish.”

Example: The Adult Child as Scapegoat

In one family, the oldest daughter, Emily, confronts her mother about her father’s emotional neglect. “You always pretend everything’s fine,” she says. “Dad shuts everyone out and you just make excuses.” The mother, feeling exposed, bursts into tears and says, “You always attack me. I can never do anything right.” The father joins in: “You’re too dramatic. Can’t you just let things go?”

Now the triangle is complete:

• The mother becomes the victim,

• The father becomes the rescuer, defending the mother,

• And Emily becomes the persecutor, the one to blame for everyone’s discomfort.

In reality, Emily is the truth-teller, but within the family’s emotional logic, she’s “the problem.” Over time, she may distance herself or internalize the family’s projection, believing she truly is too emotional or too demanding.

The scapegoat often carries the emotional health of the family by refusing to participate in denial. Ironically, the one labeled as the troublemaker is usually the healthiest member trying to push the system toward honesty.

The Cycle and the Switch

One of the most confusing aspects of triangulation is how fluid the roles are. A person can move from rescuer to victim in an instant. For example, a partner who constantly saves the other from financial mistakes (rescuer) may later explode in resentment and accuse the partner of using them (persecutor). The partner then becomes the victim, and the cycle begins again.

Each role is driven by anxiety and a lack of emotional differentiation — the ability to stay connected to others while maintaining one’s own identity. In Bowen’s theory, low differentiation leads to emotional fusion, where people absorb each other’s moods and can’t tolerate tension. Triangulation becomes a way to disperse that tension rather than resolve it.

Breaking the Triangle

Healing from triangulation requires awareness, boundaries, and emotional maturity. The first step is recognizing when you are being pulled into a triangle or creating one yourself. Ask:

• Am I talking about someone instead of to them?

• Am I taking responsibility for feelings that are not mine?

• Do I feel a sense of power or importance by rescuing or being rescued?

• Am I blaming one person as “the problem” rather than addressing the pattern?

Once awareness emerges, the antidote is direct communication and emotional boundaries. The rescuer must step back and allow others to experience discomfort. The victim must learn to take responsibility for choices and emotions. The scapegoat must refuse to carry blame that doesn’t belong to them and stay grounded in truth rather than guilt.

Example of Resolution

Returning to Anna and Jake: once Jake realizes he’s triangulating his sister, he decides to have a direct conversation with Anna. “I’ve been talking to my sister instead of you about how distant I feel,” he admits. “That wasn’t fair to you or to us. I want to work on this together.”

Anna, though hurt, feels relieved by the honesty. The sister, though initially uncomfortable, feels freed from being the emotional middleman. With boundaries restored, the couple can address the real issue — emotional disconnection — without dragging others into it.

Final Thoughts

Triangulation thrives wherever people fear direct conflict or vulnerability. It’s a pattern built on avoidance, not malice. Each role — victim, rescuer, and scapegoat — arises from human anxiety and the deep wish to belong and feel safe. Yet, when people act from these roles, relationships become performances rather than connections.

True intimacy requires stepping out of the triangle and standing on solid emotional ground. It means tolerating discomfort, speaking honestly, and respecting that each person is responsible for their own feelings and growth.

As Bowen observed, “When one can see the system, one can choose not to play the game.” The goal isn’t to blame any role but to recognize the dance — and choose to stop dancing in circles.