Columnist Caroline Gourlay is an independent business psychologist based in Bath who writes about the application of psychology in the workplace, including its risks and limitations. She is interested in trends in psychological research as well as the nitty-gritty practicalities of using psychology at work. Caroline has worked with large corporations and in the public sector, but her real interest is in medium-sized, owner-managed businesses, including family business. She helps organisations to select the right people to fit their organisation and coaches executives to enable them to fulfil their potential.
Mindfulness, a form of in-the-moment awareness, usually practised as meditation, is all the rage. Suggested for everything from depression to insomnia to improved concentration, 2015 could be seen as the year meditation went mainstream.
I practice it myself – sometimes well, sometimes badly – and generally find it beneficial. There is reasonable scientific evidence that meditation improves concentration, helps people regulate their emotions more effectively, and may even slow down the rate at which the brain ages.
So why be wary of it? Well I’m thinking of mindfulness as an organisational level intervention not an individual choice and would highlight three concerns of increasing levels of seriousness.
1. Has it lost its meaning?
Mindfulness is derived from Buddhism, where it formed a part of an individual’s quest for enlightenment. Mindfulness, as promoted today, has been stripped of all spiritual connotations and Buddhist dogma, reducing it to a pure technique.
For many people in a secular society, that’s the attraction. A lot of us don’t want a religion – or a different one from the one we already have – so a simple technique has a more universal appeal and is more appropriate in the workplace. But has something been lost in the process?
Buddhist philosophy emphasises compassion for others and ethical living.
Being busy may be all that’s holding some people together.
If mindfulness is divorced from these principles and becomes the equivalent of a mental fitness regime, are we somehow missing the point?
Could it make people more self-absorbed, for example?
Perhaps this is just a philosophical point and it doesn’t matter much.
But it feels to me as if we’ll have gone off track if mindfulness is used to squeeze an extra drop of efficiency out of the workforce.
To take it to an extreme, if we get to the stage where someone uses mindfulness to get ‘back in the zone’ in order to more creatively design torture equipment for foreign despots, then surely something will have gone wrong with the idea?
2. Is it a sticking plaster?
Mindfulness is a fairly easy intervention to introduce. It’s been nicely packaged to make it accessible. You know what you’re buying and it’s relatively inexpensive. There are six-week mindfulness courses or, even cheaper, subscriptions to on-line mindfulness resources, such as Headspace.
There’s nothing wrong with these resources but you need to be clear what you’re using them for. What problem are you trying to solve?
Let’s imagine an organisation where people seem stressed.
There’s a spike in sick leave, morale is low, the atmosphere is tense. A well-meaning manager or HR person – perhaps someone who has tried mindfulness themselves –introduces a mindfulness programme to help people cope better. Sounds lovely. Might even help a bit.
But if people are stressed out because they have way too much work, the IT system keeps crashing, the managers model themselves on Alan Sugar and there’s a risk the operation may be relocated to Romania, then giving people a chance to sit in a quiet room for half an hour, while a welcome break, does not in any way solve the problem.
It may be easier and a lot cheaper to introduce a mindfulness programme than to investigate and fix the underlying issues.
3. Could it be harmful to some people?
It comes as no surprise to me that some people don’t take to mindfulness.
On the very first mindfulness taster session I attended, the visibly tense woman next to me rushed out of the room after the first 10-minute period of sitting in silence, muttering “I can’t do this, it’s making me anxious”.
It was pretty clear that she was a very anxious person who normally managed to keep her anxiety at bay by being busy or distracted. Sitting quietly and having to face herself meant she couldn’t avoid it any longer and she found it intolerable.
Being busy may be all that’s holding some people together.
My assumption, however, was that this would be an uncomfortable experience but do no lasting harm.
Now I’m not so sure. A recent report in the Guardian newspaper suggests mindfulness may present a risk for people with a pre-disposition towards bi-polar disorder (which, of course, they may not know about) or with something in their past traumatic enough to trigger post-traumatic stress disorder.
Stories of people suffering episodes of psychotic depression or being hospitalised with a complete mental breakdown after trying mindfulness have made me more cautious about how I recommend it.
Of course, mindfulness may not have ‘caused’ these breakdowns.
The research on its potential harmful effects is currently somewhat limited. It is possible that people with a susceptibility to these kinds of mental health issues would have faced them at some point anyway.
Mindfulness may have been the trigger. We cannot be sure. But an organisation could open itself up to all kinds of claims if someone felt compelled to participate in a mindfulness programme and then suffered ill-effects.
What is clear is that mindfulness is not the panacea it sometimes marketed as.
Even for people with no particular vulnerability to mental ill-health, meditation is not always comfortable.
Yes there can be moments of bliss, tranquillity and deep relaxation but it is just as likely that difficult feelings and unpleasant thoughts will arise. In a work context particularly, this needs to be handled with care.