While many social critics and journalists have commented on the concerning rise of anti-intellectualism within the American public, there has been less of a focus on the noticeable popularity of pseudo-intellectualism in the cultural sphere. The realm of the internet has exposed all of us to distorted images of wealth, beauty and wellness; we see curated snippets of the lives of the rich and “successful,” leading many to become more insecure with their own personal struggles and shortcomings. This process also may lead social media users to adopt an idealized view of certain creators or images of success, with individuals desperately craving some sort of guidance or special solution to their problems. It is at this moment of insecurity and desperation that the vultures known as self-help authors descend, selling pseudo-intellectual ideas to an eager audience.
In seventh grade, while other homeroom supervisors let students prepare for their classes and socialize, my homeroom advisor insisted that the class spend each morning reading from a book called Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance. Written by psychologist Angela Duckworth, the book deals with the titular virtue of “grit.” Throughout the school year, the teacher recited Duckworth’s assertions that “grit” rather than intelligence or social status was the greatest predictor of success, reading out lengthy examples of anecdotal evidence (rather than statistical evidence) about the power of resilience and determination.
Even at the age of twelve, I remember viewing Grit’s main thesis as a rather pitiful attempt at providing advice and guidance to the general public. The main argument that “being resilient is important for achieving long-term goals” seemed like something you would read after tearing open a fortune cookie or the main message of a Disney Channel original movie rather than a genuinely academic explanation for why some people succeed and others fail. Singling out the trait of “grit” ignores the prevalence of hard-working individuals who have not been able to climb the social ladder as a result of systemic issues, socioeconomic background, and family support. Duckworth implicitly asserts the just-world hypothesis, which posits that people generally get what they deserve as a result of their actions and work levels. This conception places disproportionate responsibility on the part of people, essentially blaming an individual for their lack of ability to achieve a goal rather than emphasizing the powerful environmental and genetic factors that have influenced them.
This “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality pervades the self-help genre, likely for two main reasons. First, the idea that people can overcome broad barriers and challenges through mere self-guided lifestyle changes is essential to the commercial success of self-help content. If people did not believe in simple solutions to their problems, they would not flock to books that sell generalizations and platitudes rather than personalized care and guidance. Second, many self-help authors are wealthy entrepreneurs or celebrities. These “authors” — many of these celebrities use ghostwriters — simultaneously use the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality to present themselves as self-made, hardworking people while also positioning themselves as experts who know some sort of secret to success. When viewing the work of these celebrities, a pressing concern becomes readily apparent. Why must they only offer “life-changing” advice in exchange for money? If these celebrities were truly concerned with spreading helpful ideas that could lift people out of difficult situations, you would think they would offer it for free; after all, it would seem they already have the stable lifestyle to offer such advice without expecting anything in return. However, the self-help genre exists as a system that people must buy into, showing that profit exists as the main incentive of authors rather than altruism.
While the authors of success and business-oriented self-help books exist as some of the most successful and popular grifters of the genre, even more concerning is the prevalence of authors who promote faulty and insufficient mental health advice on a mass scale. These authors function as modern snake oil salesmen, peddling empty promises to people in desperate situations. Self-help books focused on mental help distract people from the far superior method of pursuing personalized guidance and care from a trained professional. These mental health “resources” may offer some basic advice on improving wellness, such as exercising more, improving sleeping and eating habits and engaging in stress-relieving rituals like meditation, but these steps are a simple Google search away. The advice provided by these books focused on mental wellness also may lead people into a trap of thinking they no longer need to pursue more specialized guidance, leading a person further away from getting adequate mental health support.
Although the self-help genre has been around for decades now, its growing popularity in the content market represents a concerning trend in the general populace. I sympathize with the desire to receive an accessible form of guidance in the issues of our lives, but self-help books are a mirage rather than an oasis of actual growth.
Matthew Rentezelas is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be reached at mmr255@cornell.edu.
