The Changing Role of the Teacher
From Guru to Facilitator
In many of the spiritual traditions of South Asia, the role of the teacher, or the guru is paramount. The word guru, usually translated as “the one who carries [the student] from darkness to light” or “the one who is heavy” is used not only to describe the spiritual teacher, but all facilitators of learning. Some might express concerns that this weighty word has been watered down in the contemporary world, as shown in expressions like “fashion-guru.” Others assert that it has been exaggerated or glorified, leading people to surrender their autonomy, their money, and their common sense to gain the grace of a self-proclaimed enlightened master. Regardless, the word remains a reminder of a relationship and a process; between not-knowing and the gradual revealing of knowledge, of mastery, and of embodiment.
Relationships, of course, are fragile and malleable, and change in accord with other structures of society. It is not uncommon in the spiritual world, nor in any other student- teacher relationship, that the student treats the teacher like a parent. Because of that, students become dependent on the teacher´s care and affirmation or, in other cases, revolt against her authority. This happens even more so if the teacher encourages these roles, consciously or unconsciously, which, of course, functions as a highly effective means to cultivate attachment in students. But in our times, it seems that roles based on patriarchal relational structures are no longer necessarily perceived as the norm. Instead, those structures are slowly giving way to new ones, causing the various relationships where power asymmetry was once apparent, as between parent and child, or men and women, to change. It is sometimes talked about as a movement from vertical relationships to horizontal ones. In the case of student-teacher relationship, it entails a displacement of responsibility onto the student, who loses her passivity. It also assigns more power and dignity to the student, while it invites (or sometimes forces) the teacher to greater accountability. Just as for a non-authoritarian parent, the question for the teacher then becomes - what needs to be taught? Where is there a genuine lack of knowledge or life experience that needs to be attended to, and where do we simply uphold cultural restrictions and familial codes that would be more fittingly abandoned as relics of a past time?
Within the academic study of religions, a similar shift has been described as a movement from vertical to horizontal transcendence, or maybe even from transcendence to immanence. It has been called “the subjective turn,” “the turn to life,” or “the turn to the autonomous self.” It implies that fewer and fewer individuals are interested in religion or spiritual traditions which promise a way out of the world and rely on authoritarian structures. Instead, more are seeking liberation through the worldly, material, the physical and the relational, creating what historian Wouter J. Hanegraff has called “a postmodern spirituality.”
This shift gets even more interesting, and problematic, when we consider the fact that many people who identify as “spiritual but not religious,” and who engage in embodied practices like yoga, are women. In contemporary spirituality, especially circles that are devoted to the so-called “divine feminine”, women are sometimes understood to carry a stronger connection to the earth. But identifying women with the physical world and assuming that they are comfortable being identified as more material and relational than men might prove to be problematic, especially since that is the claim so many patriarchal traditions have made throughout the ages. What we can ascertain is that increasing amounts of people are drawn to a yoga practice or somatic experience that reveres the body; that neither oppresses nor suppresses, but allows. These practices ask people to respect a body that is correct, in a non-moralistic sense, or always-knowing, as I recently heard one teacher express it. This is a long way from Patanjali´s classical yoga and the philosophical system (darśana) of sāṃkhya where prakṛti, (translated to matter or energy) is described as blind, or unable to see, and lacking consciousness. As students are expected to listen to their “knowing” bodies, the role of the teacher changes. She is no longer in a position to correct or judge. Instead the teacher is transformed into a witness, a space-holder and an observer, who might make suggestions and ask questions, but expects the student to find the subjective answer.
Over the last decade, more and more scandals have been unveiled around numerous spiritual traditions and their leading teachers. Maybe it is a direct result of a more horizontal world, where women, children, and other groups who have been in an inferior position of power, dare share their experiences, and hold their abusers accountable. In conjunction with all this, the term somatic dominance has gained influence. The term can be applied broadly onto transcendental traditions who have tried to control, mortify, and ignore the body (which a little too often seem to coincide with a will to control, mortify or ignore women). Of course, the term also applies to the control of bodies in Modern Postural Yoga, and to the teacher controlling the body of the student. There have been multiple reports of teachers’ lack of respect for personal boundaries in relation to students’ bodies, ranging from sexual assaults to uncareful adjustments, from corrections with a stick to an inappropriate caress. From a loud reprimand to numerous ways of saying- your body is wrong, and I will fix it. Maybe they are the leftovers of authoritarian structures where older men disciplined younger men, the leftovers of structures where men learned to despise women, or the leftovers of structures where the body was in a binary opposition to the soul/self (as in some Indian philosophical traditions) or the mind (as in some western philosophical traditions).
I am not suggesting that the time of somatic dominance is completely over yet. But, more and more, people seem to be asking themselves questions about power, authority, and consent. Not only in relation to another, as the teacher, but also in relation to their own body. With what result do we discipline or impose control on the body, as if it were “other”?
Personally, I will always love the teacher. In Swedish, my mother tongue, the academic supervisor is called “the one who leads you by the hand.” The word paints a beautiful picture of being accompanied by somebody who has already walked the path, and who knows its difficulties: someone who is heavy with experience. If we find the right balance between trust and criticism, I believe the teacher can point our attention to new areas, and, in that way, lead us from darkness to light. Maybe, in order to be teachable, we have to be able to accept and respect authority, without falling for authoritarianism. Maybe, the future of teaching is a horizontal hall of mirrors where we all reflect each other, where we dare to ask questions and have the courage to express the validity of our experiences, while also enjoying the knowledge of others. Perhaps, this is the way to true receptivity, which looks nothing like submission or passivity, but which actively receives the world, and then responds.
