Self-Help Won’t Save You
Why fixing the self is the great distraction of our time
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One of the major reasons I wrote Inheritocracy was to call out the bullshit around self-made myths—including my own. We love a good origin story in the UK as much as in the US, the home of the American Dream. Nearly half of Brits identify as working class, even when their wealth and income suggest otherwise. Why? In Britain, class is cultural as much as economic. Do you say ‘loo’ or ‘toilet’? Many also reject middle-class labels as a way of saying, “I haven’t sold out.” But fundamentally, I believe we cling to the idea that success is self-made and mobility is possible, because we want, maybe need, to believe it’s true.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in narratives around entrepreneurship (especially male ones). Tales of ‘against all odds’ triumph abound. But scratch beneath the surface, and you often find friends-and-family investment rounds, well-connected schoolmates, and safety nets that make ‘risk’ possible. There are exceptions, Ben Francis of Gymshark, for example. But the broader trend is clear: we’re no longer in the age of the self-made. We are in the age of the already-resourced.
Still, we cling to the fantasy that success is just a mindset shift or manifestation away. That you alone are responsible for your fate. That’s the insidious power of modern individualism; the lie at the heart of the self-help industrial complex.
Back in 1859, at the heart of the Industrial Revolution, Samuel Smiles published Self-Help, a bestseller that championed hard work, character, and pioneering spirit. Wealth was virtue; poverty, failure. This ethos underpinned Victorian capitalism, and it’s never really left us.
Between the Second World War and the 1980s, there was a brief historical window where social mobility and egalitarianism held sway. Then the meritocratic matriarch Margaret Thatcher reignited the individualist flame. “Economics is the method; the object is to change the soul,” she declared. Unions declined. Apprenticeships vanished. Education became an uber-competitive, individualistic endeavour. From league tables to streaming within classrooms, we were raised on comparison and evaluation. Millennials and Gen Z were primed for the likes, clicks, and competition of social media long before they picked up a smartphone.
It shouldn’t be controversial to say that young people born today are more individualistic than previous generations. In today’s era of supposed ally-ship, we in fact increasingly struggle to empathise with those different from us. Dr. Sara Konrath at the University of Michigan has found that modern college grads are 40% less empathetic than their 1980s counterparts. It’s not hard to see why. When life feels like a zero-sum game, when every moment is a chance to fall behind, competition erodes compassion. And it’s not just the young. Older generations have mirrored their children and become more individualistic, not less.
Millennials and Gen Z were primed for the likes, clicks, and competition of social media long before they picked up a smartphone.
As
observes in Selfie: How the West became self-obsessed, neoliberalism gave us a new kind of society: one where “everything is based on competition,” and “the modern world is giving us more opportunities to feel like failures.”Digital culture, of course, turbocharged this. Social media lures you in by making you feel like you are important, and then shows you just how irrelevant you are. I feel this vicious cycle every time I check my notifications and then scroll through what other people are up to. A dopamine hit and then a drop. Today, self-esteem and success are measured by amplified output: posts, hustle, content, metrics. That’s why people make videos about not making videos. Why we post about taking breaks from posting. Even our absence must be witnessed.
We’ve become algorithms of the self, and in doing so, we’ve lost something essential to society - and probably democracy: a shared culture. You can see the signs of hyper-individualism everywhere. In the decline of bands. The death of organised religion. The increasingly unusual names we are giving our babies. Boomers grew up with three verified TV channels; Gen Z have their own channel. Try grabbing someone else’s phone and scrolling through their TikTok FYP, LinkedIn or Substack — it’s a parallel universe. Media once offered shared moments and language. Now, it atomises us into competing spheres of selfhood. It’s no wonder that parents can’t keep up with their children’s digital diets; they are inhabiting different ecosystems.
In an era when economic forces feel beyond our control, we’ve not only fixated on the self, but we’ve become obsessed with fixing the self. Self-help in the millennial era has been about contorting ourselves, keeping ourselves optimised, in check and on time: hacks, tricks, podcasts, apps, memoirs and manifestos to help us realise who we are, how to meet our significant other, how to nail that promotion, how to navigate our twenties, how to achieve the perfect body, how to self-regulate and optimise everything – our REM sleep, steps, calories, hormonal cycle, social media consumption. Everything. Influencer culture thrives on this dynamic, selling the unobtainable that feels just within reach (if only we were disciplined enough). We are so immersed in this culture of control that, as
correctly surmises, it is little wonder we became the burnout generation.As we know, the algorithm is designed to exploit the gnawing sensation that fuels consumer capitalism: the feeling that something is missing and others have it. This becomes especially acute in your late twenties, when the milestone race begins, and those with parental help start to surge ahead (even though they rarely declare it). Social media isn’t a glimpse into our real lives; it’s a leaderboard. Everyone lined up in their digital lanes, peering into each other’s: who’s ahead, who’s behind, who’s pulled a metaphorical ligament. And this race isn’t just against your friends or professional peers. It’s against everyone you’ve ever followed, envied, liked, or once drunkenly befriended in a club toilet, as well as global superstars.
But what happens when the cult of perfectionism and competition collides with a realisation that we are living in an Inheritocracy? It’s a relief and a wake-up call. A couple of weeks ago, I received a DM on Instagram which perfectly articulated this:
That’s the true inheritance of our time. Not just wealth or property, but a system that continues to reward the already-resourced, disguises privilege as merit, and sells self-discipline as the answer to inequality. It’s time we stopped blaming and fixing ourselves—and started naming the game.
A Culture Fit or Culture Fix?
Lots going on at EFA this month. Read my latest City AM article here on why Gary Stevenson exists and why it matters. Two podcast appearances out this week too: Great to be back on Jimmy’s Jobs and had a lovely conversation on Teenagers Untangled about the future of education and AI. It was great to work with BNY Mellon on their ‘rethinking retirement’ project, which launched this week.
We’re about to appoint a head of data, which is very exciting, and we’re gearing up to launch the It’s All Relative series on YouTube shortly. There have been workshops aplenty in March, and I am booked out for workshops in April. But I have some spaces for May, so do reach out if you are interested in bringing our Generational Blueprint to your organisation, designed to alleviate the intergenerational pain point in teams.
One encounter stood out this month. A junior who was invited to a client dinner; a great opportunity, on paper. She didn’t drink, checked her phone under the table, and left early. The next day, her senior said, “She’s not client-ready.”
But when I asked her, she told a different side to the same story: she didn’t drink because she didn’t want to be the only woman tipsy at a table of senior men; she checked her phone because her flatmate was unwell; she left early after a ten-hour day with more work waiting. She was making an effort, just not according to her elders.
It may seem trivial, but these are the quiet, consequential generational disconnects that shape trust, opportunity, and culture. It's why I created The Generational Blueprint to help organisations surface the implicit and build bridges where misunderstanding too easily takes root.
The Reading Room
Are Gen Z giving up on work?
A recent PwC study reveals that 37% of 18- to 24-year-olds in the UK have considered leaving their jobs in the past year and claiming benefits. This is in addition to the nearly 1 million under-25s who are out of work. This trend is echoed in the U.S., where over 4 million Gen Z individuals are neither in school nor employed. Expect AI to make these figures even worse very soon….. universal basic income anyone?
Best Invest
Nearly a third of Gen Z are investing before they even leave university, more than any previous generation at the same age, according to a new World Economic Forum survey. Thirty per cent of 18 to 27-year-olds have entered the capital markets in early adulthood, compared with just 15% of millennials and 5% of baby boomers. The poll, which covered 13,000 people across 13 countries—including the US, UK, Brazil, China, and India—highlights a new wave of financial savviness in Gen Z and the rise of online financial advice. In the UK, Gen Z are especially hands-on: 64% review and adjust their portfolios monthly, compared to just 34% of boomers.
A One Person LLM
How long before we see the first billion-dollar company with just one employee? Not long, I suspect. And when it happens, it will turn the traditional narrative of entrepreneurship on its head. For years, we’ve been sold the idea that entrepreneurs are both wealth creators and job creators, but that model is fracturing. The new wave of AI-native, hyper-efficient companies are generating astronomical revenues with few employees. Take Cursor: $100 million in annual recurring revenue (ARR) within just 21 months, powered by a team of only 20. Midjourney hit $50 million with just 11 employees. Cal AI reached $21 million ARR in 10 months with a team of two. Who knows, the unicorns of the future might not have HR departments. Or offices at all.
I’m taking two weeks off this newsletter to recharge my batteries over Easter, back on the 25th April.
Thanks for reading,
Eliza