Gurus
A resource sheet: for artists reflecting on authority, influence, and the dangers of “guru” teachers and mentors
In the arts, we value strong mentorship. Most of us have benefitted from teachers or role models who challenged us, believed in us, and helped shape our creative paths. But when authority turns into dominance, when curiosity gives way to control, the teacher-student relationship can become harmful - even abusive.
Psychiatrist Anthony Storr, in his book Feet of Clay, defines a guru as someone who “claims special knowledge of the meaning of life, and therefore feels entitled to tell others how life should be lived.” In artistic contexts, this figure often appears as the “guru teacher” — a magnetic, authoritative personality whose influence extends well beyond the lesson. What may begin as admiration can gradually shift into dependence, fear, and self-erasure.
Gurus do not operate in a vacuum. They are enabled by institutional cultures that prize charisma over accountability, traditions over transparency, and success over well-being. Whether in conservatories, competitions, or elite ensembles, guru dynamics can be hard to spot — and even harder to challenge.
Patterns of concern
Common traits observed in guru-type figures include:
Intolerance of criticism — disagreement is seen as disloyalty
Rigid ideas and methods — imposed rather than discussed
Lack of peer relationships — isolation from horizontal dialogue
Elitism and exclusivity — “Only I can guide you”
Overidentification with success — the student’s value is tied to achievement
Hostility toward outside influences — fear of losing control
These patterns often lead to closed systems that discourage healthy dialogue and make it difficult for students to seek support elsewhere.
When influence turns into harm
In music education, this can take the form of excessive control over technical development, career decisions, or personal life. As Ian Pace has written, students may be molded into extensions of the teacher’s ego — or punished for deviating:
“Many musicians are engaged as teachers primarily on the basis of their achievements as performers, and the result can at worst be disastrous. It can lead to the cultivation of entourages of adoring young students to be moulded into quasi-clones of the great guru, as extensions of his or her ego.
Sometimes, students who do not conform to these teachers’ expectations can be the subject of jealous resentment leading to callous cruelty through attempts to destroy their confidence. They dissect and amplify the student’s every fault while ignoring their strengths, sometimes in order to humiliate them in front of others.
In either case this constitutes psychological abuse in a way that would be completely unacceptable for a regular state school teacher. But institutions’ reputations are often founded on these “great musicians” and they have the power to make or break a student’s future career. Students’ desperation to please has for too long been allowed to mask a pattern of abusive behaviour“ Ian Pace
The long-term effects can include diminished confidence, susceptability to abuse, or an inability to make independent decisions. Dr. Eckart Altenmüller, in his work on musicians’ health, has named guru-teachers as a risk factor in managing injuries. When a young artist experiencing injury turns only to one teacher for answers, the lack of multidisciplinary input can lead to misdiagnosis, delayed treatment, or worsening symptoms.
Guru logic and mental toughness
These teachers are often seen as producing excellence, sometimes even “mental toughness.” But what if it’s the other way around — that extremely gifted students survive, or succeed despite the culture of control? That their resilience is misread as proof of the method?
Elite sports culture has long wrestled with this myth. In their paper The Social Construction of Mental Toughness – a Fascistoid Ideology, Caddick and Ryall argue that so-called mental toughness is often a retroactive label — a narrative built after the fact, rather than a trait developed by abuse or adversity.
Guru logic is seductive. It flatters authority and offers clarity in ambiguous systems. But at what cost?
What distinguishes great teachers from gurus?
Great teachers can be demanding. They can hold high expectations. But they operate in dialogue. They support autonomy, welcome other perspectives, and know when to step forward — and when to step back. They understand the emotional and physical toll of artistic training, and they see their students as full people, not instruments of their own legacy.
Many of us have experienced this kind of teaching. We remember the studio that also felt like a home, the mentor who introduced us to poetry or politics or bread baking, the space that encouraged curiosity alongside discipline. These relationships nourish long-term growth — not just technical skill.
Excellence can come from rigor. But it flourishes in environments of trust, respect, and mutual learning.
Moshé Feldenkrais demostrates non-guru teaching:
“I am going to be your last teacher. Not because I’ll be the greatest teacher you may ever encounter, but because from me you will learn how to learn. When you learn how to learn, you will realize that there are no teachers, that there are only people learning and people learning how to facilitate learning.”
At The Green Room
At The Green Room, we work with artists recovering from harmful pedagogical experiences, navigating power imbalances, or rethinking what authority and learning can look like.
We offer:
Individual counseling in English or German
Space to process difficult teacher-student relationships
Support in rebuilding artistic confidence and autonomy
A place to ask: What kind of learner — and teacher — do I want to be?
Whether you are disentangling from past dynamics or stepping into a teaching role yourself, you don’t have to navigate these questions alone.
Author: Heather O’Donnell - psychologist, artistic-systemic therapist and founding director of TGR The Green Room