Doubt, Authority, and P.T. Barnum
What sacrifices will you make to attain success? Is anything morally justified to win?
Last week, in Cheeseburgers Vs Sardines, I confessed to not being a guru and not being an all knowing expert. Any expertise I conveying comes from direct experience I am still reacting to, because this is Fighting the Good Fight. This is an active experience and not a claim to some perfect guide for your life, your career, or the arts.
According to every newsletter writing guide I encounter, it’s the profession that I am still learning, too, which is what holds me back from wild success. What even is wild success, though? Sure, I’d love to have hundreds of thousands of subscribers reading, sharing, and interacting with these newsletters. Sure, if this newsletter transformed into a major source of income, that would be phenomenal. Even if I strive for continued growth, and aim high, I probably won’t end up in the top one percent of writers on this platform. We live in an era of rampant gig work, widespread lack of financial and creative safety nets, and deeply American fueled lust for success in what is ultimately a lottery.
Finding ourselves in cushy, comfortable, and wildly financially successful situations is rare. It’s idolized, especially here, in the United States. To be someone with wide reaching influence and piles of cash is often the moral and personal goal post in our society. Every little guide and guru, like each lottery ticket and scratch card assures us wild success is just inches away. We need only to want it bad enough. We need only to express our expertise and connect with people. Once we connect those things, we will have yachts and easy healthcare, too.
All of this leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it activates several red flags that sends my skepticism into overdrive. We all have volumes of lived experience. We’ve all been through different things, and we’ve formed different conclusions. This diversity is the crux of storytelling. Ultimately storytelling is about survival, and if we can help each other, we should. But, even finding expertise in something doesn’t make any one of us the authority on the subject. And, ultimately, it does not make us an authority on everything.
Most Substack guides that I read tell me that I need to convince you that I am a definitive authority on something. Then, I need to tell you how I have experienced a problem you’ve experienced, too. Then, I need to tell you that, through my unique expertise, I have come up with a novel solution. In just a few easy steps you can win like me!
Just become a paid subscriber to keep reading.
I think about these steps a lot. I don’t want to conceal my best content from you. If this is the only entry you read, I want it to be accessible. I’ve put behind the scenes content behind a paywall, sure. I’ve never done it with the bulk of my content. I don’t see my work providing real value if I have to hide the actual content behind a paywall.
My skepticism snaps back hard on this approach. It rings of gurus. It smells of self-help books. It's a diet book. Its extreme workout videos. It’s car sales. It’s fortune cookies. It’s horseshit.
When I look at this approach to content creation, or being an influencer (whatever that means), I see the intersections of two fallacies that are really easy to fall for. The first of these fallacies is the Argument from Authority. In an Argument from Authority, the opinion of a figure of authority, or the expert, is taken as evidence of truth. In its worst case, it can be used to mislead by putting forth an expert in one subject and rely on their claim about a subject they know little about. An example might be, “My dentist has a doctorate, and she thinks the Earth is flat.” Dentists are smart people, sure. But an expert in oral health is not necessarily an expert on geology or astrophysics. The Argument from Authority can be easily transmitted by an online personality through looking the part. Want to sell a workout plan? You better be shredded and talk like a gym bro. Want to sell how your several step meditation plan can make people happy? You have to put that makeup on perfectly, subtly, and look awake with a big grin. It sells the expertise!
The second fallacy is the Barnum Effect, named for P.T. Barnum, famous circus founder and hoaxter. When deploying the Barnum Effect, the practitioner wants to convince their audience they understand them. You might hear phrases like, “you have good taste, but you’re not sure what you’re looking for,” or, “you’re outgoing and love to be around people, but sometimes you can be shy and reserved.” These statements probably feel true for you right now. They’re true for me, too! Because they’re, generally, true for all of us. Barnum Statements, as phrases like these are often called, are generalizations that are designed to fit everyone. Of course you have good taste, it’s your taste! Sure, we’ve all been indecisive before. It’s not special to be told Barnum Statements, but if our guard isn’t up, they can work really well for making it feel like we’re connecting with someone. It’s important to remember that if something sounds like it’s from a horoscope or fortune cookie, it’s probably just as sincere.
Whenever I read a guide to growth, or when I review new sales and advertising strategies, I constantly see these fallacies being touted as virtues. We all want success, security, and community, so why does it matter if we win over readers, viewers, and buyers with a few appeals to baloney?
I don’t want to appeal to baloney, because my community matters. I don’t tousle my hair because I want to look like an underdog in a fight to sell you an image of someone in the trenches, too. I don’t assume I know something secret about you to get you on my side because I think you genuinely matter. Measured doubt and skepticism is important and healthy. I don’t want to be fooled into thinking that one simple trick is going to make my healthcare more affordable and my life more comfortable. I don’t want to be convinced by any clever mountebank that the body I want is hidden behind a perfectly placed paywall. My problems are real and not insignificant, and that’s why they deserve respect and accessible solutions. At the same time I don’t want to fool you, and I don’t want you to be deceived in winning the American Dream for me by hiding what I mean behind a paywall.
Am I abandoning an amazing pathway to success by striving to not manipulate my audience? Probably. In fact, most likely, I am. If I accept the perspective that the only moral option is to maximize income, then I should master these fallacies instead of avoiding them. Skepticism in ecosystems like the internet can easily breed poverty. I’m a niche creator with a niche audience and I’m doing everything in my power to stay real and sincere with them. It’s no wonder my experience is a slow one. It’s incumbent on me to maintain my momentum and not interpret its speed as grueling.
I have to admit, on any given Monday when I face down all my online presence, I am tempted to change my appearance. I’m tempted to put on a sparkling suit and quiff my hair and remind you that I know — like you know — that you have a great deal of untapped potential, which you have not turned to your potential. My unique and tailored perspective has lent me the ability to solve this problem once and for all. All you have to do is:
Embrace doubt and question everything.
How did you know I’m outgoing, but shy?