Selling Enlightenment: On The Dangers Of Commercialising Spirituality

“(…) what is deceptively being presented to the general public as a viable and appealing alternative to mainstream religious institutions is largely owned by corporations and individuals looking to profit from people’s natural interest in spirituality, making it nothing more than a cleverly disguised offshoot of the mainstream itself.” — Vida Narovski, Conscious Reporter

The era of paying the Catholic Church for salvation seems to be over and long forgotten. Yet, what we observe today with mindfulness gurus and transformational coaches charging heavily for helping us to achieve enlightenment, is not all that different.

What’s remarkable is that we are more than willing to pay for this kind of service.

The number of people who identify themselves as “spiritual, but not religious” seems to be increasing. This phenomenon, combined with the rise of depression and commonly shared feelings of overwhelm and inadequacy, have created a peculiar market for a product that would be unthinkable through most of human history.

The new enticing commodity is spirituality.

The expansion of the young — but already well-established — spiritual industry is most easily observed online. I see the ads being thrown into my face pretty much everywhere I turn: in my email inbox, on Youtube, in Google Ads and in pop-up subscription windows. Fair enough: I am interested in spiritual work.

I can certainly identify as “spiritual, but not religious”. I guess this itself makes me the perfect target audience. Or even a model marketing persona. So the marketers are actually doing a great job.

And that’s the problem.

The advertisers doing a good job of selling spirituality means that, as a society, we are slowly but steadily transforming our understanding of what spirituality is.

I fear that, ultimately, we will trivialise it as nothing more than yet another commodity to consume. And that would mean that we get rid of the last bastion of human experience that’s free of comparisons, the success-failure spectrum and the endless quest to achieve.

Not sure about you — but to me, this seems like a dramatic loss to our culture.

“Please, don’t talk to me about ‘Pure Awareness’ or ‘Dwelling in the Absolute.’ I want to see how you treat your partner, your kids, your parents, your precious body.

Please, don’t lecture me about ‘the illusion of the separate self’ or how you achieved permanent bliss in just seven days. I want to feel a genuine warmth radiating from your heart. I want to hear how well you listen, take in information that doesn’t fit your personal philosophy. I want to see how you deal with people who disagree with you.

Don’t tell me how awakened you are, how free you are from ego. I want to know you beneath the words. I want to know what you’re like when troubles befall you. If you can fully allow your pain and not pretend to be invulnerable. If you can feel your anger yet not step into violence. If you can grant safe passage to your sorrow yet not be its slave. (…)

Don’t talk to me about your spirituality, friend. I’m really not that interested.” — Jeff Foster

There is the experience of spirituality and the narrative around it. These are two very different things.

The experience of spirituality is personal and unlimited. It doesn’t serve any other purpose than an inner exploration of an individual. It offers insight — while refraining from giving “one-size-fits-all” happiness prescriptions and cultivating dogmas.

The narrative around spirituality emerges naturally, as we feel the need to share our experiences with others. This is, of course, natural. But nowadays, this narrative is often being abused in the context of commercialized spirituality.

To illustrate how this abuse works, I will give you an example. Recently I have been chased by Mindvalley ads all around the Internet: my inbox, Youtube and on random websites. One day, when the commercial yet again popped up before a video I wanted to see on Youtube, I decided not to touch the “skip ad” button. I actually watched it.

The narrative I was fed was the quintessence of what I mean when I say “the dangers of commercialising spirituality”. You may want to spare 2,5 minutes to watch it too, so that you have a bit of a context. Here it is:

Spirituality: the universal, fast-acting pill for all your problems

Throughout the video, Vishen Lakhiani (the founder and CEO of Mindvalley) mentions a few times that the concept of “hard work” as a means to achieve success is a “bullshit idea”. As an observant viewer noted in the comments below, Vishen covers his mouth as he pronounces “hard work” — and he does that twice.

Anyone skilled in reading body language here? Even if you are not, as soon as you notice this gesture, you probably feel that there is something odd about it. And I don’t think it is a coincidence that it happens twice throughout the video, both times “covering up” the same lie:

You don’t need to work hard in order to succeed.

In the context of the ad, this lie becomes a selling slogan for a spiritual product — the Mindvalley masterclass. Trying to reinforce a false idea by someone who claims to be a spiritual teacher is sad in itself. But how this kind of narrative frames spirituality as an experience is even sadder — especially when we look at the long-term consequences of such rhetoric.

In this commercial’s narrative, spiritual work is worth only as much as it can fix your way of approaching personal accomplishment. Only stupid people work hard to achieve something. If you are smart and can see through the lies, you will choose inner work instead of hard work — and enroll in the masterclass. And of course you want to consider yourself smart, don’t you?

To me, this is not just an ugly way to manipulate the customer — which maybe I should get used to by now, taking that manipulation is what the advertising industry stands on. But this also strips the spiritual experience of any sort of depth and effort, presenting it merely as an easy way to achieve your goals.

The Mindvalley ad is, of course, only one of many examples. Another selling pitch that made me laugh was this description of a 2-hour meeting with Eckhart Tolle and Marianne Williamson, during which you are pretty much promised to attain enlightenment.

Such promises are possible to make because the marketers extract only some chosen aspects of the spiritual traditions — the ones that will make the product attractive in the eyes of the customer. Usually, these are pleasant aspects: the promise of enlightenment, bliss, tapping into your inner powers, and so on. But taking a small part of spiritual teachings and presenting them out of their traditional context often distorts their meaning — up to the point when it becomes almost the opposite of the original message.

One of the most prevalent examples these days is the practice of mindfulness, as marketed in the mainstream.

“(…) in the societies where it originated, mindfulness meditation is part of a larger system of Buddhist belief and practice with strong ethical and moral dimensions. Extracting techniques like mindfulness meditation from the social contexts in which they originate may change the nature and effects of the practice.” — Laurence J. Kirmayer, McGill University

The most commonly omitted aspect of the original context of mindfulness is ethics. As mindfulness became treated as a tool to improve focus, productivity and individual well-being, it became akin to western psychotherapy — also in the sense that it doesn’t concern itself with setting moral values that would navigate the practice.

The effect? Mindfulness is widely practised in armies — in a context that, by default, contradicts the ethical principles of Buddhism. This turns what once was a spiritual journey into a mere tool of the establishment to maintain the status quo by training its soldiers to kill more efficiently.

Now, you decide whether this is a problem or not.

Blurring the line between the spiritual and the material

Have you realised how spirituality is by now blurred with the self-help, productivity and even entrepreneurship industries? It is often hard to tell the difference between spiritual practice and a hack to get more done at work.

We are sold on morning routines, drinking lemon water, meditating and aligning with our higher selves — all standing side by side on one shelf, as tools that we can reach for if we want to achieve our ego-driven goals. There is an obvious conflict here and, sooner or later, we feel it — even if we don’t intellectually understand where this conflict is coming from.

“spirituality (…) turns more into an alluring commodity to be bought and sold instead of a way of life.” — Vida Narovski, Conscious Reporter

The “spirituality” as framed by the commercial narrative reflects the values of the mainstream, consumption-driven culture. It is, of course, disguised as an “alternative way of life” or — like in the Mindvalley commercial — a way to access some undefined “higher levels of consciousness”. But beneath that narrative, the most prevalent message that consumer capitalism feeds on stays the same: if you want to be happy, buy.

This makes it the opposite of the spiritual path as it was traditionally understood: a turn away from the material values in search for deeper meaning within. But instead of looking within, the commercialized spirituality encourages us to keep looking for “salvation” outside of ourselves.

Enrolling in an online course. Going on a life-changing retreat. Buying an illuminating book.

To fully grasp the absurdity of this, you might check out some gadgets sold under the label of “spirituality”. Like, for example, the Deepak Chopra Dream Weaver for $199 only.

Should we even pay for spiritual teachings?

“Freely ye have received, freely give.” — Jesus, Gospel of Matthew 10:8

In most of the spiritual traditions, it was obvious that teachings and wisdom should be shared free of charge. For one thing, it was commonly believed that the motivation of a teacher shouldn’t be rooted in a desire for superficial rewards. Instead, it should sprout from a sincere willingness to serve the well-being of the whole world.

“Some help others in order to receive blessings and admiration. This is simply meaningless. Some cultivate themselves in part to serve others, in part to serve their own pride. They will understand, at best, half of the truth. But those who improve themselves for the sake of the world — to these, the whole truth of the universe will be revealed. So seek this whole truth, practice it in your daily life, and humbly share it with others. You will enter the realm of the divine.” — Lao-Tzu, Hua Hu Ching, Chapter 16. Translated by Brian Walker

Also, as anyone who was born into the consumer capitalism can realise, having to pay for spiritual teachings makes them exclusive. The consequences of this are two-fold. First and foremost, we deny access to spiritual wisdom to those who simply can’t afford it. We also further strengthen the established inequalities by granting those who are already privileged to be more privileged in the future.

Bringing money into the spiritual equation is not a new phenomenon. It is enough to remember the 16th-century Reformation, which was, for the most part, ignited by Martin Luther’s non-conformity to the indulgences sold by the Catholic Church. So does it mean that we should start another revolution against the commercialisation of spirituality?

Not necessarily. We obviously live in times that are dramatically different from the life circumstances of Lao Tzu or Jesus. Capitalism is a fact. And a decent life in a capitalist-driven society requires an individual to spend money. Even if this individual is a spiritual teacher.

The point is not whether we should pay for spiritual teachings or not. The real question is: should spiritual teaching be treated as a career at all? Or should it rather be seen as a multi-dimensional path of life that encompasses much more than just a job?

The interesting thing is: it is not the teachers who get to answer this question. In the reality we created, it is the consumer who decides. The power is in your hands. You make a choice whether you pay for the spiritual teachings or not — and if you do, what kind of teachings they are.

But how do you make the right choice? How do you differentiate between authentic spirituality and a cleverly packaged product? Well, I don’t have any good answer to that. Maybe there’s just one tip I can share.

If you consider yourself an honest spiritual seeker — don’t pay for something that is called Sexy Soul Masterclass. Chances are, this is not what you are looking for.

This story is published in The Startup, Medium’s largest entrepreneurship publication followed by +417,678 people.

Subscribe to receive our top stories here.