Wanted secular miracle worker.

• Author: Puterbaugh, Dolores
• Position: Life in America

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...