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The view that we have escaped the myths and superstitions of the past is at the heart of what is understood by the term ‘de-traditionalisation’. In late modernity, individuals have learned to cultivate the self-image of escaping the burden and behavioural scripts of tradition (Giddens 1991). The decline of traditional religious and political structures has been accompanied in the public domain by the widespread conviction that there is little to be achieved by trying to revive them. In a word, their day has gone. It has become fashionable, as Frank Furedi (2013) notes, to treat traditional forms of authority – the monarchy, church and parliament – with ridicule and scepticism. The challenge to authority, and the preoccupation with the individual, has its origins in the Judeo-Christian tradition as personified by Christ. The emphasis on the rational individual to which this tradition subscribed reached its pinnacle in the Enlightenment, notably in the writings of John Locke, Adam Smith and Immanuel Kant. However, there are grounds for holding that the so-called escape from tradition is a hand overplayed by Enlightenment supporters. Since the late-1970s, the revival of Islamic fundamentalism, culminating in the project by ISIS to establish a new ‘caliphate’ of eternal certainties in Arabia, has dramatically called into question the belief in the inevitable superiority of Western Reason. Westerner’s rightly abhor the fundamentalist moral system, and particularly the use of violence by ISIS against individuals and heritage. Conversely, there was also grudging envy that the leader of the so-called caliphate, Abu Bakr Al-Baghdadi, was able to inspire levels of mass passion and certitude that some felt were absent in the West. This reaction among Westerners suggested two things. Firstly, wherever its hand had touched, the Enlightenment revolution of Reason had produced a bloodless quality in everyday life. As Weber (1905) argued, it has let predictability, routine, regimentation and standardisation out of the traps and contributed to feelings of disenchantment. Judged on an emotional level, the tolerance, mutuality and respect generated by the Enlightenment were no match for the passion and exultation produced by magic, myth and religion. Second, disquiet with the bloodless character of political life in the West provoked the insight that the Enlightenment may have been over-confident in holding that Science and Reason must necessarily diminish magic, myth and religion.

This should not be a surprise. From the very beginning, de-traditionalisation inevitably precipitated a counter-reaction. Science and technology saw no place for traditional philosophical and religious questions having to do with the meaning, purpose and the mystery of existence. The Enlightenment assumed that these questions would gradually wither and die to be universally replaced by the secular, verifiable benefits of Reason. This has not turned out to be the path that history actually followed. Despite being dismissed by strict Enlightenment values, religious belief, and various forms of myth and magic, survive. Collective emotion, thought and identity continue to be organised around the sacred and profane. This was an outcome observed by Émile Durkheim (1912) in his analysis of the religious dimensions that bind social life. The sacred is not confined to religion or tradition. It refers to the idealisation of group beliefs as manifest in the social movements, scandals and political events that characterise modern life. The non-rational factors driving these events highlight that belief in the sacred persists, contemporary social life continues to be infused with symbolic meaning, morality, affective ‘ritual-like’ practices and storytelling (Alexander et al. 2006; Baker 2014; Alexander 2017). These characteristics, together with the revolt against scientific expertise, are hallmarks of lifestyle guru sites.

The Weberian conception of modernity as governed by rationality is limiting. Today, the Enlightenment’s ethos of progress and rationality is itself subject to cynicism and distrust. A side effect of this is that the authority of professionals and scientists is questioned (Furedi 2013; Nichols 2017). Modern life is suspended between a conception of the autonomous individual emancipated from the dogmas and superstitions of tradition, domination and control, and an understanding of the individual as plagued by uncertainty, ambivalence and doubt, for which religion, myth and magic supply both comfort and a sense of purpose. Poststructuralism and postmodernism with their relativistic and deconstructivist approaches to reality have encouraged a loss of faith in Truth and grand narratives (Lyotard 1984). Societies have become more complex, differentiated and fragmented, but the need for meaning persists. In post-traditional societies, religious sects and New Age practitioners, many of whom describe themselves collectively as ‘spiritual’, have emerged, while the universal rule of Reason remains elusive. De-traditionalisation has resulted in a greater ability to construct the self through the reflexive shaping of personal biographical narratives and selecting the collectives with whom we identify. Life ceases to be understood as ‘fate’. Instead, it becomes an accumulation of changing resources designed to achieve the self-determined pursuit of living well. Lifestyle gurus assist in this process by helping people to navigate the uncertainties of life through reflexive life planning, identity reconstruction and the ongoing management of the self. Their prominence in modernity as a new alternative system of expertise is the direct result of the fluidity of the authoritative structures that traditionally characterised social life and the search for meaning and purpose that science and technology seem unable to deliver.

The challenge to authority in late modernity is also due to shifting understandings of our relationship to risk. While society is not necessarily more risky than in the past, scholars have argued that people are increasingly preoccupied with safety and mitigating risk (Giddens 1991; Beck 1992). Scientific and technological innovations have introduced unknowable and unanticipated consequences that cannot be easily calculated or assessed. To some extent, the complexity of these systems mean that there is a greater reliance on experts for knowledge and understanding of risk (Giddens 1991; Beck 1992: 1). At the same time, the increased appreciation of risk in modernity is part of what Ulrich Beck terms ‘reflexive modernisation’ where, in contrast to Industrial society’s belief in progress, a more critical perspective on science and technology is adopted (Beck 1994: 5–6). Here scepticism is extended to ‘the foundations and hazards of scientific work’ and as a result ‘science is thus both generalised and demystified’ (Beck 1992: 14 [emphasis in original]).

The source of this demystification is not only the inability of experts to calculate and control risk, but the failure of key institutions of modernity (e.g. science, business and politics) to take responsibility for them. History reveals multiple examples of corporations and governments acting unethically, succumbing to corruption and commercial interests. The Beech-Nut Fake Apple Juice Scandal in the US (1979), the emergence of Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (‘Mad Cow Disease’) scandal in Britain (1980s), the Melamine Milk Scandal in China (2008), and the Horsemeat Scandal in Europe (2013) are just a few of the scandals that have eroded trust in science and caused public disquiet (Baker and Rojek 2019). Public distrust of food corporations is particularly high in the US, where lobbyists exercise the power to influence government policies. In Risk Society (1992), Beck cites government oversight during the Chernobyl and Bhopal disasters as noteworthy incidents that lowered public trust of politicians, science and technology. Scandals involving pharmaceutical companies buying the opinions of doctors and scientists to endorse particular drugs further erodes trust relations between professionals and the public (Goldacre 2012). In these circumstances, experts themselves are condemned as a risk and hazard to well-being (Beck 2006: 336). The result is growing public scepticism of professionals that undermines the legitimacy of the institutions they represent, often referred to as ‘Big Business’, ‘Big Food’ and ‘Big Pharma’. It manifests in general feelings of distrust towards experts and elites, providing a space for alternative religious and secular voices to claim authority in opposition to received fiat. This attitude was forcefully expressed during the 2016 United States presidential election and United Kingdom European Union membership referendum in 2016 when both the Republican candidate, Donald Trump and Michael Gove, the former British Justice Secretary, attacked the sanctity of expert knowledge and practice. Late modern life, then, is characterised by a distinct set of attitudes towards professional expertise. On the one hand, we rely more on experts to help ameliorate the complexities and uncertainties of modern life; on the other, distrust of authority and expertise is part of the scepticism that characterises ‘reflexive modernity’.

Lifestyle gurus have exploited and developed these contradictions. They have emerged, with little or no formal training, to afford authoritative help to enable people to navigate their life trajectories to avoid the rock of failure. It is not that authority and expertise has altogether eroded; deference to expertise has been replaced by deference to the celebrity lifestyle guru and social media influencer. The various life courses set by professional helmsmen, have been rivalled, and in some cases outflanked, by folk heroes. The current prominence of the latter appears to negate the Enlightenment conviction that the destiny of society was to be ruled by a new priesthood organised around Reason and Science (Comte 1998). Contrarily, they also suggest that the Enlightenment was right about one thing: the crisis of trust that characterises contemporary institutions (religious, political, media institutions and even social media with the rise of ‘fake news’). Trust is socially manufactured and easily broken. When we are disillusioned, we simply seek a new celebrity influencer or lifestyle guru to follow.

Traditionally, the word expert was assigned to a narrow range of professionals. The term was typically applied to describe a person who acquired knowledge or skills in a specific area through formal training and approved certification. These credentials were a sign of quality and achievement that distinguished trustworthy knowledge from lay experience. Qualifications took the form of an apprenticeship or tertiary education, such as a law or medical degree. Conversely, what constitutes expertise in lifestyle matters has historically been more liberal and unclear. To be a good cook, a thorough cleaner, or a competent parent, is increasingly valued as expertise, particularly following the mass entrance of women into the workforce, the outsourcing of many of these traditionally ‘feminine’ practices and the rise of the middle class. The shift from credentialled knowledge to lay knowledge has been conceived as part of the growing ‘informalisation’ of everyday life, where access to advice and expertise became relatively democratised and presented in increasingly accessible, digestible forms (Lewis 2008; Wouters 2007). Informalisation teaches that you are the master of your own destiny. However, because modern life is complex, and subject to change, every master needs an authoritative compass. Lifestyle gurus fulfil this role. They are ‘information providers’ who offer advice and guidance about how to manage oneself and navigate personal problems in everyday life (Hanusch 2013). The online ethos in which this is nurtured is one of non-hierarchical, alternative, co-operative labour. Most lifestyle gurus make a virtue of rejecting the ‘master–servant’ relationships of professional life as bad practice. Instead, in line with Enlightenment precedents, they cultivate an ethos of mutuality, informality, tolerance and openness. Getting the most out of yourself is typically presented as a ludic experience rather than a draft of medicine. The play form of self-motivation and self-construction allows life lessons to be learned in a non-hierarchical, enjoyable fashion. However, concomitant with this is the commodification of lifestyle, whereby ordinary life skills have become packaged and monetised (Fürsich 2012). True to their commercial roots, lifestyle gurus generally take it for granted that the best things in life do not come free. To be an optimal individual requires the cultivation and practice of positive ‘self-feeling’. The positive thinking strategies and methods of practice developed by online lifestyle gurus are commercially packaged to bring this within the reach of their subscribers.