Be it election campaigns, Brexit or the war on terror, it’s safe to say that the world faces a plethora of issues on which people are divided. The fate of what is rightfully ‘ours’ and ‘theirs’ echoes in the streets, whether expressed around the state of border controls, proclaiming intellectual superiority over our neighbours, or using milkshakes as missiles to bolster our ideals - as British right-wing politician Nigel Farage experienced to his cost in May of 2019.
At the same time, we are supposedly in the midst of a ‘mindfulness revolution,’ through which a spirit of calm, focus and non-judgement will come to reverberate around our classrooms, courtrooms, parliaments, global conglomerates and even the NHS. But what of the people who are supposed to populate this revolution? Are we really creating individuals who can focus on improving their capacities for engagement and mediation while simultaneously pushing back against the wider socio-economic decline that surrounds them? What is it about political life that turns so often and so quickly to violence instead of love?
I think there’s a missing link in this equation that’s best described as cultivating equanimity. Equanimity runs deeper than the attitudes of non-judgmental acceptance and open curiosity that are advocated by most contemporary enthusiasts for mindfulness. It can buffer people against the harsh political and economic frameworks within which they live and work by offering each individual a unique intelligence. With more equanimity, mindfulness turns increasingly towards the needs of others, but why, and what exactly is it?
