False Prophets and Stolen Wisdom: The Dark Side of Self Help

I wouldn’t have known about Mel Robbins’ latest grift if I hadn’t seen a post on Threads linking to this article by Sage Justice. Once I read it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Robbins, the queen of repackaged motivation, didn’t just borrow an idea, she flat-out stole it. Her viral mantra, “Let Them,” comes directly from Cassie Phillips, a writer who first crafted a poem around the concept. Robbins took that work, scrubbed Phillips’ name from the equation, and ran with it like it was her own.
Phillips doesn’t claim to have “invented” the concept of Let Them. She’s acknowledged that the philosophies of Buddhism and Stoicism have long emphasized non-attachment and accepting what’s outside our control as pathways to inner peace. . . But creating a piece of art around an idea is not the same as what Robbins did. Phillips expanded on it, gave it meaning for people, and shared it with the world. Robbins took it, stripped away any attribution, and built it into her brand.
This isn’t about inspiration. It’s about plagiarism.
Sage Justice lays out the receipts in detail here, and if you want to support the actual writer who started the “Let Them” movement, you should preorder Phillips’ book, Let Them: Words of Hope and Healing for the Soul on Amazon.
But this whole situation is bigger than just one stolen idea. It’s about privilege, the self-help industry’s obsession with ‘personal brands’, and the way we let “gurus” get away with things we’d never tolerate from anyone else.
Mel Robbins’ Privilege and the Self-Help Shortcut
Robbins isn’t the first person to take an existing idea, slap a catchy phrase on it, and sell it as a breakthrough. But what makes her case particularly egregious is the complete intentional erasure of Phillips as the source of the inspiration. Why does she get away with it? Because privilege allows her to.
Wait a sec, let’s back up.
Who the Hell is Mel Robbins, Anyhow?
Robbins was born Melanie Lee Schneeberger in Missouri, and grew up in Michigan. Her father was an osteopathic doctor, and her mother a stay-at-home parent. She married Christopher Robbins in 1996, on the tennis court of her family’s home, “a large gray clapboard house on Bear Lake in North Muskegon, Michigan,” according to their delightful piece in the New York Times. Oh, in case you’re wondering how they ended up in the New York Times wedding section, it wasn’t fate, those are paid articles rich people love to flaunt as status symbols.
Her husband, a self-described “Father,” “Seeker,” and “Deathcare worker,” is a certified death doula, and launched Soul Degree, a personal development program for men, in 2016. The program offers wilderness-based retreats and programs designed to “help men slow down, reflect, and cultivate a more mindful approach to life”. Men who pay to play get to engage in activities like “nature immersion”, group discussions, and self-reflection exercises. So, they’re both in the business of repackaging other people’s ideas and selling them.
Before Robbins became a self-help personality, she worked for the Legal Aid Society in New York in the mid-90s and later became a CNN legal correspondent. After a failed restaurant venture left the couple with financial struggles, Robbins claims she hit “rock bottom.”
Sure, money might have been tight, but let’s be real, neither of them came from nothing.
During this time, Robbins claims she discovered (or, more accurately, branded) the “5-Second Rule,” a life-changing tool which launched her career in motivational speaking, book deals, and corporate coaching.
“My past was full of shitty behavior,” she said. “I used to be a real competitive, insecure asshole. I hurt people I loved and I made my life a mess. I cheated. I lied. I was petty and self centered. And I regret it.” (source)
Hmmm.
So, in short: lawyer → failed entrepreneur → media analyst → self-help guru. Basically, she’s a wealthy, well-connected white woman with a polished media persona.
The publishing world, corporate speaking circuit, and mainstream media love figures like her: people who can water down psychology, package it neatly, and market it as if they’ve discovered fire. Meanwhile, smaller creators, researchers, and non-Western thinkers have been exploring these ideas for years without the same recognition (or million-dollar book deals). If someone else had pulled this stunt, especially a lesser-known writer or a person of colour, the backlash would have been swift. But for Robbins, it’s just another day in the self-help machine.
And that’s the problem. The industry rewards confidence over credibility and marketing over originality.
Self-Help Isn’t Original, But It Should Be Ethical
Most self-help isn’t original, and that’s fine. The best self-help books distill big ideas into digestible wisdom, but the ethical ones give credit. Mel Robbins trademarks concepts she didn’t invent. The difference between ethical and unethical self-help comes down to:
Acknowledgment: Ethical authors cite sources, build on research, and credit thinkers before them. Unethical ones act like they invented universal truths.
Depth: Good self-help admits nuance. Bad self-help oversimplifies to the point of misinformation.
Intent: Some people genuinely want to help. Others want to hustle. And it’s pretty clear from Mel Robbins’ track record which one she’s doing.
Instead of being a guide to existing ideas, she brands them as proprietary insights, ones you can conveniently access through buying her books, her courses, and her high-priced speaking gigs.
Sure, she’s far from the only one, but does that make it okay?
The Problem with Idolizing Self-Help Gurus
The self-help industry doesn’t really sell novel ideas, it sells flashy personalities. Anyone with some confidence and moxie can charm a crowd, and that’s where things get dangerous. The moment people stop questioning the message because they worship the messenger, critical thinking goes out the window.
We’ve seen it over and over again:
Tony Robbins: Accused of sexual misconduct, toxic workplace behaviour, and victim-blaming. He tells abuse survivors they need to “change their mindset.”
Oprah Winfrey: While widely beloved, she’s also responsible for platforming frauds like Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil, and The Secret. Her endorsements have made pseudoscience and dangerous wellness practices wildly profitable.
Rachel Hollis: Built a brand on “relatability,” then turned around and mocked her own audience for not being as rich as her.
Gabby Bernstein: Pushes expensive programs that subtly blame people for their own struggles under the guise of “manifestation.”
Jordan Peterson: Packages extreme conservative ideology as self-improvement, pseudoscience, and rigid gender roles. Appeals to struggling young men while growing increasingly radicalized.
Deepak Chopra: A master of vague, spiritual-sounding phrases that make no real sense, convincing people they can “vibrate” their way to health and success.
Rhonda Byrne (The Secret): Convinced millions that thinking about wealth will make them rich while she profited off the fantasy.
Eckhart Tolle: Preaches about detachment while raking in millions. His “present moment” philosophy is mostly just watered-down Buddhism marketed to the affluent.
Jay Shetty: A former monk turned influencer who plagiarized quotes, rebranded ancient wisdom as his own, and built an empire on feel-good fluff.
These figures aren’t selling wisdom, they’re selling themselves. And once a guru reaches celebrity status, their audience stops questioning and starts defending them at all costs. Not every self-help figure is a scam artist, but plenty follow a formula designed to hook you and keep you dependent.
Why Do People Fall for False Prophets?
Self-help thrives on hope. People want to believe there’s a simple solution to their problems, and charismatic gurus are happy to sell it to them. Why?
The Promise of a Shortcut
Life’s messy. Real growth takes time, effort, and a whole lot of discomfort. But gurus package success, happiness, and healing into easy, digestible formulas. Five seconds to courage! One book to change your life! A weekend retreat to find your purpose! It’s appealing because it removes hard work from the equation.
The Illusion of Expertise
Many self-help figures sound scientific and authoritative without having real credentials. They misuse psychology, neuroscience, and even quantum physics to give their advice a veneer of credibility. Throw in a TED Talk, a bestselling book, and a few media appearances, and suddenly they’re seen as “thought leaders”, even if their advice is just well-marketed common sense.
Emotional Manipulation
Gurus don’t sell unique advice, they sell feelings. They tell personal, dramatic stories about hitting rock bottom and bouncing back, making their journey feel universal. If they overcame their struggles with a simple trick, you can too. Their message isn’t about facts, it’s about making you feel like transformation is juuuust within reach.
The Cult of Personality
Once a guru gains a devoted following, critical thinking disappears. The audience starts defending them no matter what. If their methods don’t work, it’s never the guru’s fault, it’s yours for not believing hard enough, trying hard enough, or buying the next course.
The Sunk Cost Fallacy
People invest time, money, and belief into self-help programs. When the promised transformation doesn’t happen, admitting it was a scam feels impossible. Instead, they double down by buying more, defending the guru, and convincing themselves they just need to try harder.
The Fear of Missing Out
Many self-help figures create a sense of urgency, and that’s always a marketing win.
Only 100 spots left!
Join the movement!
Your best life is waiting! Don’t miss this chance!
It plays on people’s fear that if they don’t buy right now, they’ll stay stuck forever.
A Broken System That Leaves People Desperate
Mental health care is expensive and largely inaccessible. Traditional education doesn’t teach emotional intelligence. Work is unfulfilling. People are lost. Self-help fills the gap. Even when the advice is repackaged nonsense, people cling to it, because in a broken system, even bad answers feel better than none.
Beyond the Guru Mentality
The truth is no one owns ideas like “Let Them”. Not Cassie Phillips. Definitely not Mel Robbins. Probably not even the ancient Buddhist teachers it may have originated from. But there’s a massive difference between building on an idea and stealing someone’s work. Cassie Phillips took a concept and made it into art. Mel Robbins saw that art, erased the original creator, and turned it into a business opportunity.
If you’re going to invest in self-improvement, invest in thinkers who respect the process. Find the ones who give credit, encourage questioning, and don’t sell shortcuts wrapped in self-importance.
Personal growth should expand your mind, not just someone else’s profit margins.