The cult of success: how illusions are sold to us

“Strive not to be a success,
but rather to make your life meaningful”

Albert Einstein

It’s pleasant to sip a couple of cocktails while gazing at the Caribbean coastline, leaning against the rail of your own yacht. Or to cruise through the flashy hotspots of Las Vegas, scattering banknotes like candy wrappers. Or simply to live denying yourself nothing. Isn’t that what success looks like? And you’ve probably caught yourself secretly dreaming that someday…

Well, there are plenty of people in the world who are eager to turn that vague “someday” into a hopeful “tomorrow.” They skillfully wrap your desires in the glossy packaging of empty promises—and sell them right back to you, at a high price. But isn’t your dream worth that “modest” cost?

Of course it is. And you’re probably already ready to pay. Success attracts people more strongly than a magnet draws iron filings.

Snap—and suddenly your personal garage gleams with freshly polished luxury cars. Instead of commuting in a stuffy bus, you’re flying business class, receiving invitations to fashion shows, wearing designer clothes—just like “normal” people. And before that snap happens, you’re just a failure who can’t and won’t do anything. You’re unworthy of respect—because that belongs to successful people.

That’s roughly the story told to us by media, advertising, social networks, and the self-improvement industry.

Content has to provoke emotion. The stronger the emotional reaction to what you see or read, the better: admiration, envy, and fear are exactly what’s needed. Watch just one video overflowing with flashy luxury, and the algorithms will serve you two more, then four—and soon your entire feed, like a fresh wound, is oozing success. You don’t notice how these vivid images harden in your mind into an unshakable norm, while your self-esteem withers in the shadow of other people’s visualized achievements.

And suddenly, a life without external symbols of wealth no longer feels like a life at all. You brand yourself with the stigma of being “less than,” and in order to get rid of it, you exhaust your body with toxic productivity, never pausing for rest or reflection.

What is this cult built on? Success stories. We read, watch, and listen to tales of some unknown kid from Africa, Brazil, or a neighboring town who made millions by the age of twenty—and we surrender to the cold grip of anxiety. How long can we sit still? Give us a solution—sell it to us—urgently! Even if it’s impulsive or foolish, we have to catch up somehow.

But how? Real success requires time, effort, education, trial and error, failures, and trying again. It’s difficult and intimidating. But the cult is merciful to its followers—it offers simple solutions and glossy, accessible success: “3 steps to a million,” “The secret of productivity in one day,” and so on.

Do these quick methods actually work? Perhaps thousands of people use them and don’t complain. A group can’t be wrong, and any doubts are blown away like ashes from a fire under the gusts of “successful case studies.”

And now you believe in the magic pill, ready to grab life by the reins and gallop toward a fairy tale. But every single one of those case studies falls into just two categories: survivorship bias or outright fabrication. Your vision is narrowed by a stream of positive examples shaped by confirmation bias—and the reins aren’t in your hands at all.

Take a closer look: there’s probably already someone hovering nearby with an open, slightly naive smile—the kind typical of scam gurus. Each self-proclaimed life coach is unique, but the telltale marks of this dubious trade can’t be hidden beneath layers of polished words. You can sketch a general portrait in broad strokes, and it will fit almost any “guru.”

Stroke one: charisma and showmanship. A seller of success must know how to attract and hold attention—speaking confidently, tossing out vivid metaphors and emotional stories, building a personal connection with every potential victim.

Stroke two: minimal expertise, maximum promises. Diplomas, successful cases, real-world experience—none of it stands up to serious scrutiny. And the result? You’ll have it tomorrow. At worst, by a rainy Thursday.

Stroke three: loud, flashy luxury. The symbols of success are displayed obsessively, at every convenient—and inconvenient—moment. Everything, from shoes to hairstyle, is meant to scream that the method works and your fairy tale is within arm’s reach.

Stroke four: a cult of personality. Leave criticism at the door. Believe, obey without question, and your devotion will pay off.

Stroke five: manipulation and zero responsibility. Gurus create artificial scarcity, humiliate, and pressure emotions. And once the client is “ripe,” they hand over a contract—one that inevitably states that saving the drowning is the drowning person’s own responsibility.

That’s the composite sketch. But if you look more closely, you can learn to distinguish the individual “artists” of deception. Let’s meet them.

Business coaches. These warriors of success feed on aspiring entrepreneurs and those desperate for fast, high-quality extra income. Their slogans: “Make a million in a month,” “Build passive income from scratch,” “Scale your business in 3 days.” Their tools? Marked cards—multi-level marketing schemes, questionable investments, and “unique strategies” that sound like they were scribbled half-asleep at 3 a.m.

Personal growth coaches. Their niche is people in crisis, the insecure, and believers in magic pills. They’ll buttonhole you and lead you into a bright, wondrous world where you’ll unlock your potential, conquer fears, and change your life in a single weekend. Their weapons: motivational speeches, meditations, visualizations, and proprietary exercises.

Relationship experts. Their target audience: lonely people, women aged 25–40, and those disillusioned with relationships. They specialize in building castles in the air and promising to teach you how to manipulate the opposite sex, find a wealthy partner, and attract the ideal match through the power of thought. In their sessions, you’ll learn pseudo-psychological techniques, mythical laws of attraction, and receive signed lists of “correct” behaviors.

Spiritual mentors. Almost real gurus—for fans of New Age ideas, seekers of meaning, and those in existential crisis. To their followers, they reveal the “secrets” of esotericism, quantum practices, energy work, and hidden rituals. They teach you to reshape reality with your mind, guide you toward enlightenment, and hand out what might as well be promo codes for controlling the universe.

Astrologers and numerologists. They expertly interpret the positions of the stars at your birth, calculate your personal “wealth codes,” and tell you which energies you need to work through to correct an unfortunate fate. Their tools: natal charts, compatibility tables, and endless forecasts. Their usual audience: lovers of mysticism, signs, esoteric ideas, and simple answers to complex questions.

All of them promise quick results. Yes—you’ll have that same yacht and Rolex. You just need to jump onto the last carriage (only 3 spots left!) and avoid asking unnecessary questions. Everything will work out—as long as you don’t check your mentor’s education, don’t probe with inconvenient questions, and definitely don’t read the fine print in the contract (you know, the part where the results depend entirely on you and the information is “for reference only”).

Otherwise, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin before the ball even begins—and you might just get a glimpse of the charlatan hiding beneath the fairy godmother’s mask.

The cult of success does not demand sacrifices—but its followers end up making them anyway. Devotees lay their lives on the altar, letting in financial losses, emotional damage, physical harm, and social problems.

In Russia, a participant in a “wealth attraction” marathon took out a loan of 500,000 rubles and, following a coach’s advice, invested it in a dubious project—losing everything. Six months later, overwhelmed by debt and guilt toward her family, she attempted suicide.

A young entrepreneur took out several loans totaling 1.5 million rubles to join an “elite business club.” When the get-rich-quick scheme collapsed, he took his own life, unable to repay the debts.

At a personal growth training in the United States, participants were asked to overcome fear by jumping from a platform into the arms of fellow attendees. One participant suffered a spinal fracture.

A well-known “spiritual mentor” from Kazakhstan recommended fasting as a way to “cleanse karma.” A woman with an eating disorder followed the advice and was hospitalized in a state of extreme exhaustion.

In Australia, a group attending a “superhuman abilities” training underwent guided “past life regressions”—and returned to reality with panic attacks and dissociative disorders.

This list could go on indefinitely. But each case is just an echo of the scandals that inevitably erupt around self-proclaimed gurus.

In the United States, Bernard Madoff was sentenced to 150 years in prison for creating what he claimed was an effective system of universal enrichment—later exposed as a massive Ponzi scheme. The coaching organization NXIVM promoted “personal growth” through coercion, blackmail, and sexual abuse. Its leader, Keith Raniere, received a 120-year sentence.

In Russia, criminal cases have been opened involving damages to the state exceeding one billion rubles. The total amount allegedly extracted from the public by Ayaz Shabutdinov, Alexandra Mitroshina, Valeria Chekalina, Artyom Chekalin, and Elena Blinovskaya exceeds three billion rubles.

In the United Kingdom, Tony Collins was fined £45,000 for misleading financial advertising, while Sarah Jones was fined £30,000 for promising to “attract money through the power of thought.”

In Australia, numerologist Jane Harris was fined $120,000 for selling “wealth codes” based on birth dates. The Sydney-based Prosperity Academy was fined $250,000 and ordered to refund 89 clients for courses in “quantum manifestation.”

The cult of success has spread across the globe: scandals erupt in India, Kazakhstan, the UAE, Brazil, and South Africa. No country has been left untouched—because the desire to become successful without effort knows no borders.

The guru radiates friendliness, sometimes even refusing money at first and inviting you to a completely free webinar. At the webinar, they work on you through language. You’re wrapped in vague, flowing promises: you will awaken your energy, reach new heights, unlock your potential, change your life… You’re fed false analogies and metaphors: “An ant can carry 50 times its weight—so you can earn 50 times more. My course is your runway before takeoff.” They appeal to authority: “I made a billion, Forbes quotes me, and even Elon Musk asks for my advice.”

You’re shown people who have “made it.” You’re buried under piles of glowing testimonials. You’re praised for your courage and determination. Authority is reinforced with famous names, diplomas, certificates, and awards. You’re lulled by a monotonous voice, perfectly chosen music, and breathing exercises. The goal is to put you into a trance-like state—turn off critical thinking and make you believe.

Then come the marketing tricks: artificial scarcity, exclusive offers, the fear of missing out. You’re gradually led from free webinars and cheap products to the main target. Eventually, you give in and hand over your money—encouraged by the unanimous approval of those already caught in the web of “success.”

And then the “work” begins. The real value of the content is often close to zero, but this is cleverly disguised with points awarded for completing tasks, with levels and achievements that push participants into competition with one another.

All of this is generously spiced with psychological pressure: the guru attacks your self-esteem through humiliation and devaluation, manipulates your sense of guilt for “not trying hard enough,” and cultivates a false sense of belonging through group chants, dances, and hugs.

You’re promised that success is just around the corner—but if it hasn’t arrived, it’s your fault: you didn’t try hard enough. But the kind mentor will give you another chance—not for free, of course, though there are only three discounted spots left…

Set a goal. Identify the tasks required to reach it. Break them down into concrete steps and move forward one by one. You will make mistakes, lose motivation, and doubt yourself—but those who don’t give up and keep going eventually reach their summit.

And this isn’t about easy money or instant happiness. It’s about the ability to think critically, to learn, to adapt, and to follow your own path. It’s about a life that brings satisfaction and joy—not disappointment, debt, and the loss of yourself in the pursuit of quick success.