I was initially drawn to IFS because of its “spiritual” component, which no other psychological modality seemed to offer. At first, it appeared to be a compelling blend of psychology (the workings of the mind/psyche) and spirituality (the transpersonal, beyond-the-mind aspect of our being). But the more I studied IFS, the less convinced I became of its core premises. If you like, read more on this in my other post.
Initially, I liked the idea of The Self because of its compassionate nature, but I struggled to see how it aligned with concepts like Brahman, Atman, or Buddha Nature - terms borrowed from spiritual traditions. IFS adopted these ideas, labelled them “The Self,” and presented this construct as the healing agent for our troubled parts. Over time, The Self was further defined by the so-called Eight Cs: Compassion, Courage, Curiosity, Clarity, Creativity, Calm, Confidence, and Connectedness.
While these are undoubtedly positive qualities that can help us cultivate a more peaceful and loving state of mind, I disagree that they are synonymous with what spiritual traditions mean by Brahman or Buddha Nature. Even these traditional terms can be problematic because, the moment we name something, we assume we understand it. But in truth, the mind cannot fully grasp the fundamental consciousness or energy that underlies and gives rise to everything. To even get a glimpse of it, we must go beyond the mind.
Experienced meditators who practice for hours daily often reach expanded states of consciousness, gaining insights that transcend the mind’s ability to describe. Similarly, psychedelics can sometimes facilitate such experiences - though they don’t always lead to states of bliss and can even have the opposite effect. This is why, to me, the Eight Cs - and the entire construct of The Self as a healing agent - are nothing more than mental constructs. There is nothing wrong with using qualities like compassion, curiosity, and creativity as catalysts for change. What I find problematic is IFS’s claim that it has mapped out the nature of consciousness and how it works. If we truly believe we’ve grasped the nature of consciousness simply by assigning it eight labels, we are mistaken - and far from achieving genuine spiritual insight and realisation.
I also believe IFS unintentionally does the opposite of deepening spirituality by keeping people stuck in the complex world of parts. In my view, IFS parts are simply stored information - memories, beliefs shaped by experience, habits, and defence mechanisms. There are as many “parts” as there are moments in our lives, and these parts - mental representations of past experiences - are not fixed or static but fluid, changing with every new experience. This is well-documented in memory research. Experts like Elizabeth Loftus have shown that memories are highly fallible, easily manipulated, and subject to change. Given this, I would not place too much trust in the “wisdom” and memories of parts.
The mind is an incredibly complex collection of thoughts - some useful (such as knowledge-based or values-aligned thoughts), but also many contradictory thoughts that fight one another. If you take a moment to observe your inner dialogue, you will notice that it is nothing more than constant chatter - verbal diarrhoea with no true owner. You are the owner, but you did not consciously create this chatter. It emerged over years of accumulated knowledge and experience.
Spiritual traditions emphasize detaching from thoughts, stepping beyond the mind, and not taking the mind too seriously. In contrast, IFS - and psychotherapy in general - tends to do the opposite. It keeps people entangled in the mind and lost in an endless maze of parts. I once heard Richard Schwartz admit that he felt he was doing too much introspection. And this, I believe, is precisely where we can go wrong - when we overanalyze, over-introspect, and become so preoccupied with negotiating with our parts that we stop living fully.
That being said, I do not wish to oversimplify matters because some thoughts, particularly those linked to significant life experiences, need our attention. Those who have experienced severe trauma often need more than meditation and non-engagement with thoughts. Some Buddhist practices, like those described by Thich Nhat Hanh, invite us to be present with what arises in the mind, to notice and attend to these thoughts, and to bring compassion and loving-kindness to them.
Not long ago, I had a conversation with a Buddhist nun and asked her whether psychotherapy and Buddhism could be combined to bring more peace to the mind. She told me that for a period of time, a therapist used to come to their community and had therapy sessions with the monks. They found it very useful to gain insights and understand the links between past events and present states of mind. She said they would take these insights into their meditations, process them, drop them into Silence, and try not to return to them. A friend of mine, who is a Catholic priest, does something similar in a slightly different way—he gives all painful thoughts and experiences he encounters during the day, as well as the painful thoughts shared with him in confession, to God. He believes that once they are given to God, that is where they should remain, and he does not return to them.
Furthermore, there are other traditions that do not engage with thoughts at all. They simply notice them but treat them purely as movements of the mind - fleeting and continuously replaced by other thoughts. From a neuroscience perspective, this approach might help loosen neural structures associated with certain thinking patterns, and I believe that over time, non-engagement can lead to the dissolution of troubling thoughts. However, I think these practices are useful for some thoughts but not all. They are beneficial for thoughts that arise from habitual overthinking and no longer serve a purpose. Other thoughts, however, can act as useful signposts, guiding us toward resolving problems, addressing guilt, or taking action to repair relationships. Because of this, I believe it is crucial to discern which thoughts need our attention and which should be left alone.
Returning to IFS, I believe we naturally have deep compassion for what has happened to us in the past. We can reconsolidate troubling memories and release their emotional charge without being tethered to the limitless world of parts. And I believe we can achieve far more profound and healing insights into our true nature than by convincing ourselves that we are in The Self simply because we notice the eight Cs are present. As I mentioned earlier, the eight Cs and The Self, in my opinion, are merely concepts that belong to the mind - not pure consciousness.
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