Self-Esteem Movement Gains Mainstream Respect

It once was the stuff of snickers, the butt of those “only-in-California” jokes, like hot tubs and vanity plates and goat cheese pizza. But they’re not laughing any more. The gospel of self-esteem has gone mainstream, and that makes John Vasconcellos feel good.

Nine years ago Assemblyman Vasconcellos hatched a state task force to improve Californians’ self-esteem. His theory: People with a strong self-image are more likely to live productive, moral, law-abiding lives.

It wasn’t a radical thought, but the task force drew sneers from coast to coast. Garry Trudeau took the most memorable potshots, lampooning California’s latest goofy obsession in his “Doonesbury” cartoons.

Today, however, faith in self-esteem as a weapon against social ills seems ubiquitous. In schools, on the job, in church, in prisons, at the dinner table and, yes, on the therapist’s couch, millions of Americans are working on improving their sense of self-worth.

Reflecting this preoccupation, there are special toys billed as “self-esteem enhancing” and even a song, by the rock group Offspring, called “Self Esteem.” Pitchmen peddling programs to boost self-esteem are ever-multiplying, while Oprah and others in talk show land rarely go a day without touting the importance of taking care of No. 1.

“At first everyone thought our concept was California-freaky and weird,” said Vasconcellos, a Democrat from San Jose serving what will be his last of 30 years in the Assembly. “But that’s no longer the case. Our major accomplishment was to legitimate self-esteem as a force in people’s lives.”

This does not mean, mind you, that the self-esteem crowd is one big happy family. There are raging disagreements over how best to raise self-esteem, and also a backlash by some who blame the movement for an assortment of sins, including lower academic standards and inflated grades in schools. These critics say misguided self-esteem apostles are showering kids with empty praise that makes them self-absorbed and ill-equipped to handle the potholes of life.

“I don’t disagree that self-esteem is important, but you don’t help children by giving them a ‘You’re Special’ certificate for doing nothing at all,” said Lilian Katz, a professor of early childhood education at the University of Illinois. “That’s nonsense, silly flattery. It leads not to self-esteem but narcissism.”

Vasconcellos has heard such criticism, and he admits some self-esteem gurus have gone too far. It’s like many things, he argues: “When you’re starved for it for years, at first you eat too much.”

The assemblyman also concedes that much work remains to be done. When the task force issued its 144-page report in 1990, Vasconcellos declared the self-esteem movement “a modern-day miracle” and made grand predictions about its potential to heal America. Six years later, our nation’s social problems--from teen pregnancy to violence, poverty, drug and alcohol addiction and child abuse--seem more vexing than ever.

“We asked the right question--’Is self-esteem important?’--and the answer was clearly yes,” Vasconcellos said. “Now we have to do the tough work, to make all the possibilities a reality.”

It was his own personal odyssey, as much as anything, that turned Vasconcellos into California’s sultan of self-esteem. The eldest son of a school principal, he was raised a strict Catholic, laden with “guilt and shame and all of that ‘I’m not worthy’ stuff.”

For awhile, the formula worked, as Vasconcellos excelled as high school valedictorian, buttoned-down lawyer and finally, state assemblyman. But in his early 30s, he recalled in an interview, “I cracked. And then it took 20 years of therapy to make me whole”--to help him grow some self-esteem.

Today, Vasconcellos is 63 and therapist-free. Once known for turbulent moods and quirks such as not cutting his hair for months on end, the tall, sad-eyed assemblyman says he now feels “grounded.” Occasionally he loses his grip, like last summer, when he flipped off a female colleague on the Assembly floor. So he still pays close attention to his inner self, practicing bioenergetics--”basically breathing, stretching, muscle work”--each day to help him deal with “the unpleasantries of life.”

It was no easy victory, winning legislative support for a task force on self-esteem. Vasconcellos tried twice and failed before Gov. George Deukmejian finally signed a bill that brought the panel to life in 1987.

Once assembled, the task force took a load of abuse, much of it aimed at its eclectic membership. Among the 25 panelists were a neuroscientist who taught kundalini yoga, an “ultra-marathoner” who described himself as a “recovering expert,” a pioneer in self-hypnosis, and the editor of a book titled “Gourmet Parenting.” (In “Doonesbury,” Trudeau appointed another panelist--Boopsie, a “channeler” who had out-of-body experiences.)

After three years and $735,000, the task force issued a report. Its broad conclusion was that self-esteem amounts to a vital “social vaccine,” inoculating us against dysfunctional behaviors. There were 46 recommendations, some specific, others vague.

Legislative efforts to carry out those recommendations have fallen somewhat short. For example, only a few California universities have formally incorporated self-esteem into their teacher training curriculum, and Vasconcellos lost his bid to hire a self-esteem ombudsman to push the philosophy within state agencies.

But the task force members succeeded, indisputably, in one sense: They lodged the concept of self-esteem into the national consciousness, and encouraged like-minded Americans--in industry, education, the prison system and other arenas--to take up the cause.

The latest converts to the wonders of self-esteem are in the business world. No matter how small their work force, companies are increasingly recognizing the payoff in “empowered” employees who are self-confident and feel valued. Self-esteem training isn’t cheap, costing perhaps $500 per employee for a two-day seminar. But studies estimate that for each dollar companies invest, they get back up to $18 through increased productivity.

Bob Moawad, chairman of Edge Learning Institute in Tacoma, Wash., has been helping industry develop employees’ inner fitness for 20 years. Moawad, who is also president of the National Assn. for Self-Esteem, is like a human beam of sunshine, aglow with enthusiasm for life. His business cards feature an assortment of messages, including: “How long will it take you to stop, smile and lift someone’s spirits? Just a tiny little minute. But Eternity is in it.”

Moawad, whose clients have included Boeing, Motorola, Ford Motors and Hallmark, said corporate interest in boosting employees’ sense of self-worth has surged “like a tidal wave. I see true enlightenment now, a recognition that it’s not only the right thing to do but also helps the bottom line.”

Jim Miller is one of Moawad’s satisfied customers. He works for AT & T, and has taught Moawad’s secrets to 900 employees of the telecommunications giant. The training has paid off handsomely, Miller said, in lower absenteeism, increased productivity and a dramatic rise in workers’ contentment with themselves and AT & T--a finding tracked in company surveys.

Perhaps nowhere is the goal of self-esteem enhancement so widely embraced as in the schools. Indeed, few educators dispute the link between academic success and a student’s self-confidence and self-regard.

Some of the earliest evidence supporting this thesis came out of the Moreland School District in San Jose, where Robert Reasoner, former superintendent, introduced a self-esteem-based program in 1985. Among other things, Reasoner’s program sought to help students develop a sense of purpose, feelings of competence and a strong identity through acknowledging their strengths and weaknesses.

After five years, the results were in. Academically, Moreland had become the highest-achieving of 29 districts in Santa Clara County, and the percentage of students going to college had risen markedly, to 89%. The dropout rate fell dramatically, while attendance rates soared. Annual vandalism declined from $1,000 per school to $178 per school.

Moreland’s results--coupled with the task force report--helped spawn self-esteem programs in schools across the country. While many have proven a success, critics say others are ill-conceived, relying too heavily on gold stars and “I’m-wonderful-just-because-I’m-me” affirmations.

B. David Brooks sees a distinction between “feel-good” programs and “do-good” programs. Brooks, who served on the self-esteem task force, is president of the Pasadena-based Jefferson Center for Character Education. He is squarely in the do-good camp.

“Some people believe if you simply make kids feel good, they’ll study, graduate and get a job,” said Brooks, whose center supplies about 6,000 schools--including many in Los Angeles--with a curriculum teaching core values. “I think that’s wrong. We need to teach people to do good, and out of that will follow self-esteem.”

Nancy E. Curry, a Pittsburgh child psychologist, sees the pitfalls of the “feel-good” approach in her practice. She says parents desperate to build their children’s self-esteem “go overboard and praise them simply for walking across a room.”

“The word I use is overvalued,” said Curry, co-author of “Beyond Self-Esteem: Developing a Genuine Sense of Human Value.” While there is nothing wrong with “loving your children to death, some parents make their kids feel so special that they think society’s rules don’t apply to them.”

Pioneers of the self-esteem movement acknowledge that many well-intentioned people have misinterpreted the concept. Marilyn Lane, president of the California Center for Self-Esteem, also frets about the TV hucksters who “promise to give you self-esteem in 15 days if you just send in your $19.95.”

Earlier this month, Lane and other self-esteem boosters gathered in Sacramento to discuss such worries and assess the state of their movement.

In opening remarks, Vasconcellos warned about a backlash among Americans pushing a different antidote to society’s woes.

“There is a great movement today in America to go back to shame,” he said, citing as an example a fellow assemblyman’s effort to revive corporal punishment. “That’s one approach. But I spent 30 years burdened by that approach and I don’t want to go back to it.

“It’s either shame or self-esteem for the future. Let’s make the right choice.”