Richard Kyte: The true secret to happiness lies in helping others

The self-help movement, which began five decades ago, has been accelerating in recent years. In publishing alone, the number of self-help titles tripled between 2013 and 2019, and today totals about 15,000 books a year. But there are also websites, smartphone apps, seminars, personal coaches and motivational speakers, all contributing to an estimated $13 billion annually.

The largest purchasers of self-help books are young adults, who also happen to be the demographic most afflicted by rising anxiety, depression and loneliness.

Even though the self-help movement began relatively recently in human history, its roots go back much further, to a little book titled “The Enchiridion (or Handbook)” by the Greek Stoic philosopher Epictetus. The book consists of pithy practical advice for achieving satisfaction by changing how one thinks.

The enduring popularity of the book is testimony to its simplicity and brilliance, but much of what Epictetus says is also troubling. The book’s strengths and shortcomings illustrate why the modern self-help industry continues to entice its followers with the promise of a better life and why it ultimately fails to deliver on that promise.

The central theme of “The Enchiridion” is that to be satisfied with one’s life one must distinguish between the internal things over which one has control (like thoughts, attitudes, fears, and desires) and external things (like possessions, health, and reputation) over which one has no control. Then one must focus attention on deepening one’s capacity for controlling internal things and stop caring about external things.

Much of what Epictetus says is sound. For example, he says, “Do not seek to have events happen as you want them to, but instead want them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go well.” And my favorite, “If someone reports back to you that so-and-so is saying bad things about you, just say, ‘Obviously he didn’t know my other bad characteristics.’”

The troubling aspect of his advice is that he is entirely self-focused. Because other people are outside of one’s control, he urges his readers to let go of emotional attachments to friends and family. There is no room for love — and the kinds of dependency that go along with love — as a defining feature of the good life.

Even though many strands of the contemporary self-help movement are decidedly anti-Stoic — they urge people to pursue external conditions such as success, wealth and health — they still share with the Stoics the idea that the “self” one seeks to improve is an independent being, essentially characterized not by relationship but by achievement. That is why so many self-help titles focus on “getting ahead,” “making it to the top,” “winning.”

If you think you have a substantial private identity that needs to be “expressed” in some way so that people know who you are, you will devote your energy to making your mark upon the world through actions that reveal your unique characteristics. You might find ways of doing that by any number of means: the possessions with which you surround yourself, the latest clothing styles, unique tattoos, exotic travel. The varieties of self-expression are endless.

But if you don’t think of yourself in that way — if you think your identity resides, say, in the many relationships you develop over time — then it simply won’t be much of a concern to you whether you stand out in a crowd. You will be focused on other things, like how the people close to you are feeling, whether they have what they need, what you can contribute to your workplace, how you can help people in your community. That kind of life may look uninteresting from the outside, but it is a rich and deeply gratifying way to live.

Such a life is not so much chosen as discovered. It unfolds in our relationships with others. Who are you? You might be a son or daughter, a spouse, uncle, niece, neighbor, friend, colleague, citizen, teammate, member or guest. You may choose to enter some of these relationships; others are chosen for you. But together, they constitute who you are. If your relationships to others are rich and meaningful, then your identity is robust.

When George MacDonald wrote that “love of others is the only way out of the dungeon of the self,” he was expressing a fundamental truth: We are deeply relational beings. We are not individuals; we are persons. And the fulfillment of life for a person comes through the growth that takes place when you invest yourself fully into the love of others.

None of this is to say that there are not times when we need to separate ourselves from others for the sake of our own well-being. Relationships characterized by abuse, manipulation or dishonesty are not healthy because they do not allow for genuine reciprocity. But to think that one can withdraw entirely from relationships with others because some relationships are toxic is like deciding not to eat food because some of it is contaminated.

The key is participating in healthy communities. If you come from a dysfunctional family, look to those families who support and encourage one another and imitate their behavior. Get a job at a company where people laugh and enjoy working together. Join a church or service organization where the focus is on deepening friendships and helping neighbors. Pay attention to those who know how to live well in relationship with others and either join them or do what they do.

The paradox of self-help is that the more we focus on improvement of self, the less “self” there is to improve. The only way to discover the person you are capable of being at your fullest is by investing in relationships.