A critical analysis of the mindfulness program and other mental health supports at U of T Law
‘Believe, and you shall receive’—a great deal of time has been spent in prayer on the basis of this promise, I’m sure. Some certainly are rewarded, but belief in itself is not always enough to keep the illusion going for the rest of us. What inference are we to draw if we aren’t receiving, then? That we aren’t thinking hard enough? Perhaps our belief is simply insufficient?
Unfortunately, that seems like a valid conclusion to be drawn by those who do not find reprieve in mindfulness practices. Mindfulness, we’re told, is “the act of paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, without judgement.” The very mantra makes one wonder—is the implication that suffering, anxieties, pain, etc. are completely internal? What if external factors are the source of those maladies? Is the call to exercise non-judgement and objective observation telling us our problems are fundamentally a matter of interpretation or perspective?
Mindfulness champions perhaps never intended their philosophy to invoke such pessimisms, but they seem inevitable wherever an overemphasis on mindfulness is coupled with a lack of alternative mental health supports. I fear this may be the case at our Faculty, where mindfulness has been positioned as a tool that can accomplish more than it’s capable of.
Let me be perfectly clear. I think mindfulness is helpful for those encumbered by day-to-day stresses, anxieties, and depressions. There is also a wealth of knowledge supporting the efficacy of mindfulness. This is by no means a scientific rebuttal of the practice. Mindfulness has become generally accepted over the past decades, becoming increasingly commonplace in academic environments. Mindfulness practices have been integrated in various therapy models (MBCT, MBSR), and such therapies have been shown to moderately reduce depressive symptoms and symptoms of anxiety. Mindfulness has done undoubtable good—but it is not immune from criticism.
My concern lies in the positioning of mindfulness. Mindfulness is sometimes suggested to students seeking mental health supports and so it’s worth briefly noting a few criticisms that have surfaced in the last several years. Writers have pointed out semantic and methodological problems in assessing the actual efficacy of mindfulness, noting the limited body of research conducted outside research contexts. Others have noted insufficient active measurement of adverse effects, pointing out the potential for mindfulness to exacerbate deep-seated psychological issues. I’m not suggesting these flaws can be found in the Faculty’s mindfulness program, but I do think they reinforce the need for stronger alternative supports.
In addition to the typical purported effects, the U of T Law website claims the practice of mindfulness has been shown to positively benefit, amongst other things, “empathy, concentration, reaction time, memory recall, and academic performance.” Though there may be some basis to these grand claims, there also seems to be a degree of exaggeration at play. For example, some recent studies have pushed back on the notion that brief mindfulness sessions increase empathy, and even favourable studies advise caution in drawing connections. While studies acknowledge some positive psychological effects from short mindfulness practices, studies substantiating the Faculty’s claims typically involve mindfulness therapies and programs delivered in multiple sessions over a dedicated period.
By positioning mindfulness as a general therapeutic technique of wide application, are we obscuring the need for comprehensive, individualized mental health supports? Particularly for students struggling with mental illness, the presentation of a ‘one-size-fits-all’ model—one that suggests a person can reorient themselves by looking inward—may be unhelpful at best and damaging at worst.
This raises more questions. Is mindfulness outsourcing the burden of stress onto the sufferers? Divorced from its ethical and religious roots, is it functioning as a tool to make sure you’re just well enough to do your job? Ronald Purser, author of McMindfulness, certainly seems to think so, going so far as to characterize the ways in which corporations and institutions have adopted general catch-all mindfulness programs as an expression of ‘capitalist spirituality.’ Having exploded in popularity and becoming a multi-billion dollar industry in the past decade, it’s difficult to call his claims baseless.
The availability of comprehensive mental health supports would render the crux of my complaints a non-issue. Where can we turn to if mindfulness is not for us? To my knowledge, the Faculty has one dedicated on-location mental health counsellor to support over 600 students. It’s no surprise that appointments are rationed out, with each student able to access the service only a handful of times. Law Chats and the Peer Mental Health Support Program are admirable efforts, carried out by compassionate members of our community, but much like mindfulness, they should be viewed as helpful accompaniments to professional mental health services, not appropriate substitutes for them. Of course, outside support can be engaged with health insurance, but to say the lack of internal supports is justified simply because others exist elsewhere is a weak deflection of responsibility.
I hope you will take away from this article the state of our mental health supports. Though mindfulness has caught a few stray bullets here, my criticisms were intended to highlight the general lack of comprehensive mental health support and not to repudiate the program altogether. I’ll reiterate—mindfulness is a solid practice, with proven effects that many would, and do, benefit from. However, we must be careful to ensure it does not assume a role as a viable replacement for professional support services. We should also discuss mindfulness with nuance and acknowledge its limitations, or else we risk students internalizing failure when it simply doesn’t work for them. If you’re sinking, there’s little value in being told to visualize yourself as a stone at the bottom of a lake. That’s the last place you’d want to be.
