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‘The Secret’ of Self-Reliance

What the self-help movement reveals about Americans’ attitudes towards social mobility

By Will E. Johnston

Does old wine taste better in a new bottle?

The readers and viewers of Rhonda Byrne’s “The Secret,” a self-help book/DVD combo that extols the virtues of positive thinking, would say yes. Simon & Schuster recently ordered a reprint of two million copies, as the book’s chipper readers have spread the gospel of optimism at office water coolers throughout the country. The current frenzy erupted after Oprah hosted Byrne and several other self-help savants on her show last month.

Maureen Dowd, on the other hand, says no. In her caustic Feb. 17 column in The New York Times, written after watching Oprah, Dowd muses whether more good vibrations could remedy the serial incompetence of the Bush administration.

While some editorialists heap on the derision, others just puzzle over how a metaphysical twist on a familiar idea—long available in books like Napoleon Hill’s “Think and Grow Rich” and Norman Vincent Peale’s “Power of Positive Thinking”—is able to occupy the number two spot on the Amazon.com bestsellers list.

There should be little surprise that a new vintage of this genre was due. Hill’s book on personal achievement is based on portraits of a long departed generation, men like John D. Rockefeller and Thomas Edison. And Peale, a Christian minister, appealed to a straight-laced 50s set. “The Secret,” in contrast, has a slick, contemporary feel: light on the religion, heavy on the spirituality, and sprinkled with allusions to quantum physics.

The message is no doubt appealing. One of the guests on Oprah says “The Secret” “means that everyone…can release themselves from being a victim and begin to take control of their life’s destiny.” The book offers salvation on a variety of fronts—love, weight, and friendship. Yet the prospect of moving ahead financially is what seems to entice most readers.

Self-help books are instruction manuals for social mobility. There is something quintessentially American about the whole genre: rugged individualism repackaged for suburban moms. They resonate with Americans’ conviction that economic success is available to everyone; the key is just the right attitude.

Indeed, this belief is so unshakeable that it often defies reality. In a 2005 New York Times poll, 80 percent of respondents answered “yes” to the question, “Do you think it’s still possible to start out poor in this country, work hard, and become rich?”

Contrast those upbeat numbers with the ones found in a 2006 study authored by Thomas Hertz for the Center for American Progress: Individuals born into the bottom 20 percent of income earners have only a one percent chance of ending up in the top five percent.

Another of the study’s findings is that levels of social mobility in America are far lower than those in Europe. This is surprising because Europe, it is commonly thought, has sacrificed entrepreneurial drive and social dynamism on the altar of equality. There could never be an Andrew Carnegie or a Dave Thomas (the founder of Wendy’s) in the socialistic paradises of Scandinavia.

Thus, findings that belie such beliefs seem troubling. Don’t Americans tolerate income inequality only on the condition of high social mobility? It is only a matter of time, then, before the American middle class comes to its senses, and demands more equality of opportunity—in the form of higher taxes on the wealthy and more spending on education.

In truth, it is unlikely that many Americans will fight too hard even for this more modest form of egalitarianism. This is because many crave the self-help genre’s stern brand of personal responsibility. Lisa Nichols, an author who appeared on Oprah, says her attitude to those who attend her workshops is, “I don’t want to know [your sad story].” What can come off as callousness towards undeserved suffering, is strong medicine for others. Another popular book, “Rich Dad, Poor Dad,” published in 2000, claims the wealthy self-perpetuate not through trust funds or Ivy League degrees, but by passing down financial acumen and a general mentality of affluence—things that cannot be taught in well-funded schools.

The genre’s implicit message is that society’s background conditions can never be equal; underserved advantage (and disadvantage) will persist indefinitely. The only solution is taking control of one’s life. The upshot of this outlook is an attachment to earned wealth. Why else should 70 percent of Americans support the abolition of the estate tax (according to The Economist), when barely one in 100 pays it?

In the face of such views, someone like John Edwards might find his “Two Americas” speech falling on the ears of an embittered few, and not the sanguine many. Candidates are better off stressing future opportunities than past injustices. Many in the struggling middle class will be listening, for they are facing the following choice: trust the government to help them get ahead, or try “The Secret”? For better or worse, candidates will have to acknowledge that there is a strong tradition in America to opt for the latter.





Will Johnston ’08 is a social studies concentrator in Adams House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.

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