Philadelphia Weekly

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Part of the problem: Oprah peddles an unrelentingly conservative view of the American dream.

The intellectual backlash against Oprah Winfrey and the entire self-help industry has begun. And despite the Oprah Book Club's chokehold on publishing, it's the book world that's leading the charge.

On the surface, Oprah is riding high. Her balance sheet sure looks good. O Magazine has a circulation of 2.4 million, the Oprah Winfrey Show makes $6 million a week for its licensee (K World, part-owned by Harpo) and Forbes estimates the host's personal fortune at $2.5 billion. On the cultural front, Oprah's endorsement of Barack Obama once again put her at the epicenter of national conversation.

But brave sociologists are leading a counterattack. In a new book called The Oprah Phenomenon (edited by Jennifer Harris and Elwood Watson), academic critics accuse Oprah of not only being a self-help snake oil peddler, but also chief salesman for an unrelentingly conservative view of the American dream.

The argument goes like this: In all of Oprah's ventures, her message is: "If you are self-actualized and work hard, good things will come to you." Well, that's all great and empowering. But it begs the question: What if good things aren't coming to you? What if, after all these years of Oprah afternoons, you're still poor, overworked and marginalized?

The critics charge that Oprah doesn't have much to say about the real-life barriers to success and opportunity confronted by many in her audience. Her unspoken answer seems to be: Either you didn't find yourself, or you didn't work hard enough. Either way, the problem was you. The individual gets the blame and an unjust and unfair society gets away scot-free.

The Oprah Phenomenon is part of a wider war being fought against the self-help swindle. Authors like Barbara Ehrenreich (Nickel and Dimed) and Micki McGee (Self-Help, Inc.) argue that "motivational" writing like The Secret or The Purpose Driven Life isn't just harmless junk reading for the gullible. Instead, self-help books are unconsciously political works that turn Americans away from collective action and community engagement, and guide them inward, focusing on the individual, the personal and their own Horatio Alger journey.

McGee thinks the self-help culture is a response to economic insecurity, and the more motivational books are sold, the more we can expect layoffs and economic turmoil. If that's true, we're in for tough times. The advice category of The New York Times bestseller list was topped for 40 weeks by The Secret (thesis: You can achieve anything you want by visualizing it really hard), and includes The Astonishing Power of Emotions and a title that speaks for itself: Change Your Feelings, Change Your Life.

Barbara Ehrenreich says if you really want to change your circumstances, put down the self-help garbage and join a union. She's a director and co-founder of United Professionals, a union for white-collar workers that gives professionals (many of them unsalaried) access to health insurance, legal support and a place to advocate collectively for better conditions.

And while Ehrenreich runs the union drive, writers like Stephen Duncombe are learning how to use self-help's appeal for progressive ends. His book Dream: Re-Imagining Progressive Politics in an Age of Fantasy draws a roadmap for turning the nation's sick addiction to self-help lit into a healthy desire for political change. He might be on to something big. After all, Bill Clinton famously won by convincing us he felt our pain.

The next president just might be the politician who talks self-help but campaigns like a union drive. And even Oprah couldn't beat a candidate like that.