I recently read an article claiming that mainstream mindfulness practices are bad. The article has a fairly conspiratorial tone, but the core argument is that
- Many changes in society can only happen via changing the environment.
- Mindfulness practices teach people that the problem is within, not outside.
- Therefore mindfulness practices are not a net good for society [?].
The question of whether promoting detachment/disengagement in people is a net good for society isn't a new one, nor is it a critique that is merely relevant to mindfulness practices. Others have questioned the value of various other practices that promote disengagement from society at some level (e.g. digital minimalism, essentialism, Buddhism).
I have been rather occupied thinking about these criticisms, given that I personally practice some of these things. Probably I'm overthinking it, since the best counter-argument to this is that many people take part in these practices and are still as effective in engaging with the world. However, I would not feel comfortable unless I had a philosophical bedrock on which I could base these practices on.
I reason about this by dividing philosophies into two camps based on how they view the world - idealistic or tragic. Idealism assumes the perfectability of humans and predicates itself on the idea that improvement is always possible. Conversely, the tragic worldview assumes flawed, limited and unchangeable human beings. Venkatesh Rao points out the paradox inherent in this dichotomy:
"Idealism believes in change and creates unchanging human beings. Tragedism believes humans cannot change their fundamental natures, yet believing in it actually transforms humans far more radically than the idealist view."
He also provides an interesting argument as to why this could be true. To summarize, it is not that idealistic philosophies intentionally stifle change. Rather, it is that in practice, idealist models of human change merely help believers conform to their environment rather than changing something around them or engendering deep personal change (sounds familiar?). For me, the core insight comes from the justification for this paradox: if one adopts a philosophically tragic stance, and stubbornly sticks to the idea that humans cannot change, then improving one's life means changing one's environment.
Prima facie, mindfulness hews to an idealistic view of humanity. By meditating for X minutes a day, modern mindfulness gurus promise us gradual self-improvement - continuously evolving perfection[?] as it were. However, what the mainstream peddlers of mindfulness may not explicitly tell us (except perhaps Sam Harris' Waking Up) is that the act of mindfulness itself is about getting at certain truths about consciousness. Tragic truths.
Being able to accept and observe the contents of your mind is inherently tragic because at some point you have to accept that you have no control over your mind. Not only are you not the "CEO" that controls your mind, there is in fact a parliament of selves, all trying to surface their own thoughts into consciousness. Observe closely enough, and you realize that consciousness is all there is, and everything else is truly out of your control.
What does this mean for the world we live in? In the idealistic stance, we become slightly more patient, understanding, and accepting of others and ourselves. The tragic stance takes it once step further and suggests that by gaining a bit of distance from your own ego and thoughts, you may act in the world more freely. You are now free to go out and change the world instead of waiting for permission from someone. You are no longer inadequate for the task and there is no more need to try too hard to change things about yourself.
So the trick here seems to be this: whatever you choose practice — be it mindfulness, minimalism or some other practice that may fall prey to this problem — you need to think long and hard about whether the practice can get you closer to discovering certain truths about the world. It's kind of like dipping your hand into a bowl of water with a layer of oil above it. You need to go deep enough to get at the water or you might just end up with the oil.