Wanted secular miracle worker

THE COUNTRY THAT became a world power with Horatio Alger in its collective book bag has evolved into a nation seeking secular miracle workers. While laughing at the implicit (and occasionally explicit) lures in advertisements, the general public nonetheless seems to find the promise of youth, beauty, sex, privilege, and prestige that are claimed to accompany many consumer goods to be an irresistible siren song.

The same public that mocks traditional women's magazines--with their cover promises of a beach-ready body in four weeks or less aside a close-up photograph of a decadent dessert--now has begun feeding upon the television version of this myth.

One of the more popular versions of the secular miracle worker is featured on the shows "Nanny 911" and "Supernanny." In each episode, a trained British nanny descends into a hellish family situation and, in a week or so, drives off into the sunset, leaving a well-functioning, affectionate family in her wake.

Nannies merely are one type of secular miracle worker within a much larger phenomenon. Experts in nearly every sphere of daily life are featured on television programs that presume to "'make over" their charges. Whether the theme is interior decoration, home organization, fashion sense, or parenting, the approach is the same: The objects to be changed are videotaped, either surreptitiously or at their own hands: the experts review the footage, with appropriate expressions of horror and the occasional witty aside. Moreover, the poor souls are accosted either by sneak attack or directly--at their own pleading no less. Then the experts presumably overhaul the external and internal features of the blessed ones, healing them of all personal history, detects, fears, and insecurities that led to their ineptitude.

Whether this takes the form of custom-built shelves, remarkably dark interior paint, a stylish wardrobe, or a crash course in parenting skills, the outcome is predictable. The victim is tearful, breathless, and grateful: the victim's friends and acquaintances are amazed and thankful, and we are left assured that the external remodeling is matched by an internal metanoia that ensures the change will be permanent.

From the perspective of a psychotherapist, these shows have a certain fascination. That they are popular and have broad appeal is doubtless. The desire to improve our environment and ourselves is a good one, but there are hazards afoot. The proposition that external changes, especially speedy ones, are the means to achieve--rather than the result of-internal changes rarely is borne out in real life. (Real life is not the Wizard of Oz: diplomas do not make us smart: bestowed honors do not make us kind, nor do medals make us courageous.)

There is nothing inherently unhealthy in the drive for self-improvement. Adam and Eve undoubtedly made improvements in the Garden--or at least they thought them so. For millennia, the desire to decorate the human body and environment has thrived. Men and women have worked to master new skills as much for pleasure as for their usefulness. Notice the words "work" and "master." These phrases are missing from the TV programs in question. Someone else does most of the work, and mastery over oneself is a matter of spackle and paint.

Sometimes, crime sprees lead to speculation on the motivation of the thieves. What did they imagine they would do with items like Super Bowl rings or expensive cars they cannot use or sell? A flaw in many people's thinking may spur the act--the belief that, by acquiring someone's lavish possessions, one can acquire something of that person's nature. This is the 21st-century version of an ancient warrior eating his enemy's heart.

If they only knew. Burglars do not desire to emulate the moment-by-moment decisions that enable life's possibilities through hard work and mastery. Generally, thieves have no desire to get up before dawn and run long miles, volunteer as a coach and mentor to underprivileged children, learn skilled trades, or acquire professional credentials. They seek the decorations of a successful life without the structure or will to create and support them. Arguably, they do not grasp the philosophical distinction and, more important, they do not care.

The playacting of children, in which the surface accoutrements of some role are worn and the apparent behaviors enacted in play, is a healthy and innocent part of development. In their heroic games, children experiment with courage, loyalty, teamwork, leadership, and nurturance. Although they are "playing2' the act can help create the reality it imitates. In adult culture, however, we see a bizarre flip side of this--supposedly mature people seem to imagine that, by adopting some surface change, they will be what they imitate.

One false promise of the secular miracle worker is that, by changing the exterior, mastery will be gained over the interior life of the object of expert attention. In reality, a woman who has dealt with insecurity, pain, and rejection by virtually becoming invisible will not develop a healthy self-respect that carries over to her work and social circles simply by buying new clothes and having an expensive haircut-and-color treatment. We dishonor the complexity of the human psyche when we suggest that changing costume is the solution for, rather than a manifestation of, internal change.