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Review by Anne Ruth Frank-Strauss
The title and subtitle of this new book about Krishnamurti
are likely to raise some eyebrows in the K-world. Roughly
two thirds of this extensive text is a lengthy narrative
of Krishnamurti's early years under the wings of the Theosophical
Society, brought to a close by his official resignation
from his role as the new Messiah in 1929, while only the
remaining part is dedicated to the more than fifty years
of his mature life and teaching. Why is so much emphasis
laid on a period in Krishnamurti's life that in later years
he himself dismissed as irrelevant? The author, Roland Vernon,
argues that the Theosophical Society was "one of the
principal agents facilitating the spread of non-affiliated
religious philosophies in the 20th century, which eventually
transformed into contemporary New Age thinking." He
maintains that a direct connection exists between the life
and work of the founder of Theosophy, Madame Blavatsky,
and that of Jiddu Krishnamurti. He was, Vernon concludes,
"one of the first and most widely publicised figures
to present eastern spirituality in a context comprehensible
to those conditioned by western theological and philosophical
traditions." Roland Vernon, born in 1961, is a young
author who never met Krishnamurti and, unlike Mary Lutyens,
the meticulous chronicler of Krishnamurti's life and work,
he was not an eye-witness, but rather represents the first
of the posthumous generations who have to rely on the testimony
of survivors and written and recorded documents to find
their own way to an understanding of the "Krishnamurti
phenomenon". For him Krishnamurti is above all else
a historical figure, which leads him to pose the question:
who was Krishnamurti and how did his role as the world-wide
and most respected spiritual teacher of the 20th century
come about? Vernon approaches this ambitious enterprise
as an adventure, with an open and curious mind, in a brilliant
writing style and, in spite of his obvious fascination with
his subject, with a firm commitment to impartiality. But,
he confesses in his Author's Note and Acknowledgments: "There
is no immunity from his [K's] demand that a reader probe
and question the deepest reaches of his or her accepted
world view, and one cannot but emerge at the other end of
a journey such as this with a readjusted perspective of
life and living."
He retells with some relish the fantastic and by now legendary
story of the neglected Brahmin boy whose apparent emptiness
and selflessness provided his Theosophical patrons with
the perfect vessel for their World Teacher project. And,
until the age of 34, Krishnamurti remained, at least outwardly
and notwithstanding his rising doubts and rebellion, under
the patronage of the eminent Theosophical leaders C.W.L.
Leadbeater and Annie Besant. Supported by thousands of believers,
he displayed all the qualities of a beautiful Christ-like
figure. His teaching took on the messianic style that was
expected of him and his own inner development followed a
corresponding series of moments of transformation ("And
I come to those who want sympathy, who want happiness, who
are longing to be released ...") when his charisma
was so overwhelming that crowds of devotees prostrated before
him. In contrast, there were periods of conflict and revolt,
when he seemed unwilling to accept the burden of his role
and he came to be seen, in the eyes of the world, as an
elegant young socialite, playful and humorous, living in
idleness and luxury, surrounded by adoring women.
Beginning in 1922, the experience generally known as the
"process", unsettling and puzzling as it was for
his Theosophical guides, was the first decisive step away
from their control. "On a personal level, he felt for
the first time a reconciliation between his private searching
self and his public theosophical profile", writes Vernon.
"It provided Krishna with the soil in which his new-found
spirit of confidence and independence could take root."
This experience foreshadowed the official break with Theosophy
in his later pronouncement dissolving the Order of the Star.
It was "the defining moment of his life and the final
curtain of his epic Theosophical drama."
But after this turning point of his life and teaching, the
World Teacher project was far from dead, stresses Vernon,
"and although use of the term was tactfully withdrawn
by those loyal to his wishes, much messianic speculation
continued to be centred on the figure of Krishnamurti well
beyond the 1930s, and continues to this day."
Krishnamurti pursued his life's work, now free from the
sectarian restraints of the Theosophical Society, and became
an "international statesman of spirituality",
always sensitive to the rapidly changing cultural and social
values in different parts of the world. After his retreat
at Ojai, California, during World War II, Krishnamurti adopted
a new teaching style characterised by a total abandonment
of mystery. Gone from his speech was the poetic messianic
imagery and from then on he referred to himself as K. Again
and again he implored his audience to listen and question,
"rather than stare in meditative wonder at 'the speaker'".
From being the Saviour uttering cosmic truth, he became
a personal counselor, responding to the crisis within each
individual psyche.
On the occasion of his visits to India, beginning right
after Independence in 1947, K found a fresh audience who
welcomed him as "a new type of guru, emancipated and
free of superstition, yet still, to their minds, steeped
in the Vedantic philosophy of their fathers." In the
Western world the stage was set for Krishnamurti's message
in the '50s and '60s, when rebellious young people began
questioning any form of authority. Krishnamurti's contempt
for organised religion, nationalism, nine-to-five jobs and
bourgeois respectability fell on fertile ground, though
his point that "the only revolution" had to take
place in the mind of the individual was often missed.
Vernon does not conceal the fact that, on a human level,
Krishnamurti showed some attitudes and character traits
that contradicted his saintly image. To his credit, the
author does this in fairness, with tact and without a trace
of sensationalism. He understands that these inconsistencies
did and still do disturb many of K's adherents, who find
it hard to reconcile the love affair, the lawsuits and the
harsh side of K's nature with their projected image of a
holy man - not to mention the many paradoxes of his teachings
which one has to grapple with.
Krishnamurti claimed not to be an authority and invited
questioning of his teachings, while at the same time being
deeply convinced of the truth of his message, which admitted
no contradiction. He was "only a short step away from
the claim that K was a messenger of divine revelation whose
mission was nothing less than the redemption of mankind."
This claim the author sees mirrored up to this day in the
attitude of his "followers", who would passionately
deny that this term was applicable to them.
In his last chapter, the author tries to speculate on Krishnamurti's
future place in history and concludes: "Judgement cannot
be cast on Krishnamurti, because his historical niche is
still in the early days of construction; but it is doubtful
that he will ever rise to the cultural pre-eminence of the
great religious leaders, most obviously because it is so
clearly on record that he forbade the establishment of a
doctrinal system in his name." And, he continues: "The
great achievement of his life was not that he rejected the
throne that was Christ's (because it is questionable that
he ever did) but that he succeeded in stepping out of his
robes, adorned as he was with every sacred trapping short
of a halo, and sat down instead with ordinary human beings,
to thrash out the practicalities of living a religious life
in a modern secular society."
Anne Ruth Frank-Strauss, March 2001
[Reproduced on Alpheus with the kind permission of the
author]
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