By Suhotra Maharaja
Part Three: The Eternal Enemy
When one forgets his identity in deep sleep, he becomes absorbed in dreams, and he may think himself a different person or may think himself lost. But actually his identity is intact. This concept of being lost is due to false ego, and it continues as long as one is not awakened to the sense of his existence as an eternal servitor of the Lord. The Mayavadi philosophers' concept of becoming one with the Supreme Lord is another symptom of being lost in false ego. One may falsely claim that he is the Supreme Lord, but actually he is not. This is the last snare of maya's influence upon the living entity.
--Srimad-Bhagavatam 3. 27. 15, purport
Devotee 1: One of our friends went to hear Chinmayananda, and he came back to the temple and he said, "Oh, he was speaking very nicely. "
Prabhupada: Hm.
Devotee 1: So one of our swamijis said, "What did he say?"
Prabhupada: Hm.
Devotee 1: "I do not know. "
Prabhupada: That is the disease.
Devotee 1: Yes.
Devotee 2: They just speak very big words so that the language looks very nice, but people don't understand a word what they are saying.
Prabhupada: (Prabhupada talks meaningless words, imitating the rascals; devotees laugh) They go on speaking like this. And people, "Oh, how amazing!" Simply give some grammatical form and talk all nonsense, people will appreciate. Jugglery. This is called jugglery. The Mayavadi panditas also do that.
--Morning walk, Hyderabad 24 April 1974
A mind steeped in Cartesian rationalism, certain that its university-certified powers of analysis are the only means to real knowledge. A mind zealous to unleash this knowledge upon its proper object, the external world, eradicating ignorance in every corner until that mind proudly ascends the shining throne of maitre et proprietaire de la nature (Descartes' own words: "master and proprietor of nature"). A mind without a shred of doubt about itself, without the slightest qualm about inner imperfections, mistakes, illusions, self-deceptions, nor about irrational monsters that at any moment may lunge from the murk of the subconscious to wrest control from reason's grasp.
Such is a mind lost in false ego.
A mind that, as it becomes inescapably evident its "knowledge" of the external world is but at assemblage of sensory and mental representations that may have nothing to do with reality at all, decides that if it can make no sense of the world, then there can be no sense in the world.
Such is a mind lost in false ego.
A mind that discovers an inverse, perverse absolute in senselessness: "I am absolutely free!" For even better than to become master and proprietor of nature is to become the irresponsible enjoyer of nature.
Such is a mind lost in false ego.
A mind that dresses up senselessness with misological rhetoric to appear as wisdom. A mind that, on the basis of that senseless wisdom, denies the existence of an absolute truth. A mind that uses the same misological rhetoric to deviously protect the one absolute it most cherishes: its own freedom.
Such is a mind lost in false ego.
A mind that fears no consequence of its actions due to the "knowledge" gained by rationalism that the field of activities (the world) is mere appearance with no substance; for in the end, the world will dissolve into the absolute senselessness of The Void.
Such is a mind lost in false ego.
Puffed-up Western rationalism is but an introductory phase of nirvisesa and sunyavadi philosophy, which is characterized by nonsensical relativistic talk. A Mayavadi, whether dressed like a Hindu sadhu or a Western scholar, is dangerous association for a devotee, especially when the Mayavadi comes to "discuss" topics of Sri Krsna and His philosophy.
So avaisnava-mukhodgirna puta-hari-kathamrtam, sravanam na kartavyam. And it is forbidden, "Don't hear. " Why? "Hari-kathamrta, krsna-katha, the message of God, the words of God, Bhagavad-gita? He may be anything, but the katha is the same; so what is the harm to hear from an avaisnava?"
Sanatana Gosvami gives the example: sarpocchistha-payo yatha. Sarpocchista-payo yatha. Sarpocchistha. . . Just like milk, everyone knows, a very nice food, most nutritious food, but if it is touched by the life of a serpent, immediately spoiled. Immediately. Another place, Caitanya Mahaprabhu says, mayavadi-bhasya sunile haya sarva nasa. If we hear Mayavadi-bhasya, commentaries by the Mayavadis, those who do not accept the Personality of Godhead. . . They are called Mayavadis. Mayavadi means they see everything maya. Even Krsna is maya. That is called Mayavadi.
--Bhagavad-gita lecture in Ahmedabad, 14 December 1972
Mayavadi philosophy is dangerous because its influence spreads in tandem with the eternal enemy of the soul, lust.
svagamaih kalpitais tvam ca
janan mad-vimukhan kuru
mam ca gopaya yena syat
srstir esottarottara
Addressing Lord Siva, the Supreme Personality of Godhead said, "Please make the general populace averse to Me by imagining your own interpretation of the Vedas. Also, cover Me in such a way that peopIe will take more interest in advancing material civilization just to propagate a population bereft of spiritual knowledge. "
--Padma-Purana as quoted by Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu,
C. c. Madhya 6. 181
The phrase, "advancing material civilization just to propagate a population bereft of spiritual knowledge", neatly summarizes modern Western culture. The bodily comforts, the sensual excitants, the mental titillations and diversions provided for by science and technology are stimuli for lust. There's just no denying it: in modern civilization, science and technology are more the servants of sexuality than any other human interest. Thus the largest Internet enterprise by far is pornography. The population born out of such artificially stimulated, wildly exaggerated lust is varnasankara, a herd of beasts in human form with practically no inclination to spiritual knowledge.
Predominant in the mentality of such a culture of widespread sense gratification is aversion to the devotional service of the Supreme Personality of Godhead. By such service, the fangs of the serpents of the lusty senses are broken. Srila Prabhupada explains in his purport to Srimad-Bhagavatam 5. 1. 17:
The sense organs are certainly our greatest enemies, and they are therefore compared to venomous serpents. However, if a venomous serpent is bereft of its poison fangs, it is no longer fearful. Similarly, if the senses are engaged in the service of the Lord, there is no need to fear their activities. The devotees in the Krsna consciousness movement move within this material world, but because their senses are fully engaged in the service of the Lord, they are always aloof from the material world. They are always living in a transcendental position.
Mayavadi philosophy, whether in Hindu, Buddhist or Western garb, denies that God is a person. Hence He has no senses. The raison d'ętre of engaging our senses in the service of the Lord is that by His mercy we come in contact with His transcendental senses. This is so very evident in Deity worship, for example. By contacting the spiritual senses of the Lord, our material senses, dangerous as serpents, are purified. Their fangs of lust are broken, and we may live in a transcendental position even while carrying on in the material body. But when the heart is darkened by the Mayavadi contamination, service to the Lord is dampened while the fires of sensuality are stoked.
Mayavadi philosophy stimulates lust in another way:
Sukadeva Gosvami concludes this episode of rasa-lila by pointing out that if a person hears from the right source of the pastimes of Krsna, who is Visnu Himself, and the gopis, who are expansions of His energy, then he will be relieved of the most dangerous type of disease, namely lust. If one actually hears rasa-lila, he will become completely freed from the lusty desire of sex life and elevated to the highest level of spiritual understanding. Generally, because they hear from Mayavadis and they themselves are Mayavadis, people become more and more implicated in sex life. The conditioned soul should hear the rasa-lila dance from an authorized spiritual master and be trained by him so that he can understand the whole situation; thus one can be elevated to the highest standard of spiritual life, otherwise one will be implicated. Material lust is a kind of heart disease, and to cure the material heart disease of the conditioned soul, it is recommended that one should hear, but not from the impersonalist rascals.
--Krsna, Chapter Thirty-two
The history of Gaudiya Vaisnavism in India has seen the rise of many apasampradayas like the Auls, Bauls, Ativadis, Smartas, Sahajiyas, Kartabhajas and so on. All of them are in some way compromised with Mayavadi philosophy. In and around ISKCON in recent decades, different schools of thought and practice have been springing up. The taint of Mayavada can be seen in many; and apropos to the theme of this essay, many--most, I would say--are tainted in particular by the Western scholarly version of Mayavada.
Krsna consciousness is not aimed at the end of knowledge in the Cartesian sense. It is aimed at the end of lust, which in turn spells the end of a most profound, inward and deep ignorance that a Cartesian is simply not equipped to deal with. Those who are unwilling to relinquish the Cartesian bias are invited by Srila Prabhupada to follow their path wholeheartedly: give up Krsna consciousness, do your business, earn money and enjoy.
November 28, 2010
November 25, 2010
Are Academic Scholars like Snakes?
by Suhotra Maharaja
Part Two: The Poison of Relativism
Science and all secular scholarship is pervaded by other atheistic assumptions. It's hard to find a "serious" book about any intellectual topic today that does not unquestioningly submit its readers to the doctrine of evolution. Evolutionism spawns an extremely warped, materialistic account of what religion is and how it came to be. Here's a quotation from a 1995 book entitled Soul Searching by Nicholas Humphrey:
No doubt our ancestors needed some rational skills to survive, but. . . the human brain evolved more as a religious than a rational organ. . . Rational science is a minority interest. . . It is likely therefore that the first human brains evolved to impose symbolic meaning on the external world, and the scientific virus later infected a minority of their descendents, where it now flourishes in nerve circuits that originally evolved to carry other ideas.
At first blush we might take what Nicholas Humphrey says as validation for a religious mindset. The human brain is really meant for generating religious thoughts! Scientific thinking is just an aberration of the brain function! Wow! Go get 'em, Bhakta Nick! But without the slightest pause for doubt he asserts that the brain evolved. Hence religion is merely a product of evolutionary biology. Awww. . . Bhakta Nick, you blooped.
Of course there are those--even in and around ISKCON--who will argue that what Nicholas Humphrey states above is not necessarily atheistic. Lately even the Catholic Church agrees with evolution. "What if," the argument goes, "the actual state of affairs in this universe of ours is more Deistic than Theistic? In other words, suppose we put the theological accent on God (Krsna) as being disconnected and aloof from the material world. He's so transcendental that He doesn't involve himself in creation at all, except to lay down the ground rules of nature and to give an initial push to get things going. Thereafter, automatically, mechanistically, the universe comes into being and runs onward according to the impersonal laws that modern science has discovered. Ergo, man was not created, he evolved. Why can't this be the will of God (Krsna)? I mean, He can do anything He wants, right? And if man's brain is hard-wired by evolution for religion, that much the better!" So concludes the argument: "You can believe in evolution and believe in God. "
I'd want to know what is the exact advantage of this is. I predict, based upon a bit of personal experience, that answer will be something like this:
"Well, it saves you from having to be a fundamentalist. "
And what, pray tell, is a fundamentalist?
"Oh, anyone who literally believes without reservation any of the creation scenarios of the different scriptures of the world, which are all in contradiction with one another. The fundamentalist rejects science altogether and just accepts everything scripture says! He's out of step with today's world. And that, that's not a Good Thing. "
So what do you propose to do with the Bhagavatam descriptions of creation?
"Well, we'll just consider that allegorical, like the story of Maharaja Puranjana told to King Pracinabarhisat by Narada Muni. "
I see. The creation account becomes a pious myth, then.
"Yes, exactly. "
This brings us to the point made by my sannyasi Godbrother that mundane scholars are snakes who are so dangerous they can infect devotees with a poison that slackens their grasp of the absolute truth: "Their apparent reasonableness and open mindedness is a sham masking their dogmatic and unreasonable refusal to accept any position as absolute. "
It's a no-brainer that as soon as scripture is re-evaluated from the inherently uncertain standpoint of science--"this chapter I accept, but that chapter can't be correct because it is 'disproven'"--then the line drawn between what is "really true" and what is only "pious myth" will just waver ever more dizzily. It won't take long before nobody knows what scripture is really meant to teach us.
Therefore this itch that agitates certain minds to bend scripture to fit scientific theories is no itch for real knowledge. It's an itch to keep up with the times. Scientists themselves are busy scratching the same itch. "Science, like democratic politics, is a social activity," argues physicist Alan Cromer in Uncommon Sense. He calls science "an extension of rhetoric. " The hope is that by the democratic exchange of viewpoints through the medium of language we can arrive at unified knowledge. The trouble is that scientific knowledge is not unified; in fact, as we saw in Part One of this essay, scientists very often resent being classed as a group with a unified point of view. If science is a social activity, then like all things in mundane society, the information that is generated by that activity--information that is taught in schools as proven knowledge--is constantly being debated and altered. "Facts" fifty years old and less are at this moment being modified or replaced by "new discoveries. " Fifty years from now, many of these new discoveries will be similarly modified or discarded. The factors behind this constant updating of knowledge include lust for profit, fame, and adoration, a polluted desire to be right, ignorance, blind following, vanity, error, cultural bias, dogmatism, jealousy, corner-cutting and cheating as well as the more typical list of noble qualities ascribed to the scientific community. Scientists are only human, after all.
When theologians trade spiritual conviction for changing social fashions, the same sort of rapid-fire revolutions of "knowledge" take place in scriptural understanding. A while back a panel of up-to-date Christian theologians published a special edition of the New Testament. The passages spoken by Jesus Christ were printed in either red, gray, or black typeface as per a vote the panel had taken: red if the majority was of the opinion Christ did not speak those words, gray if the vote was tied, and black if the majority was of the opinion that he did speak those words.
For mundane scholars, though, that's a Good Thing. Why? Because then they have something to "discuss. " Note it well that such discussion is supposed to be conducted with as little conviction as possible. Oh, sure, you can be convinced that here and there in the scripture are glimmers of truth--perceived by you as an individual--but it's a total faux pas to have an a priori conviction that every word of scripture tells the same non-negotiable truth to everybody. Oh no! That's absolutism. That's dangerous! Why, it's. . . it's police state mentality!
In chapter 5 of Truth--A History, historian Fernandez-Armesto has some interesting things to say about how and what "truth" has came to mean today. The chapter is entitled "The Death of Conviction. "
In recent years, historians of late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Europe have been fascinated by the deceits to which evasive minds were driven by religious persecution. Crypto-Jews had to conceal their beliefs under inquisitorial interrogation, confessional minorities had to equivocate under torture during the conflicts of Catholics and Protestants.
. . . Today, equivocation has disappeared from the witness-stand. . . Equivocation was a necessary resource against interrogation in a world of strong convictions, when deponents were not in any serious doubt about the truth or falsehood of what they said. It is no longer necessary because today, when you swear to tell the truth, I do not know what you mean by it, though if the scene is laid in court we all know what the court understands by truth and what evasions will be punished as perjury or contempt. I do not even know whether you recognize truth as a meaningful concept. Instead of equivocating, you can dodge the interrogator's probes by the relativist's evasion: "what is true for you is not true for me. " Or you can give him an answer true, you think, in a different sense from that of the truth he wants to hear; or you can offer truth of a different type, which you may choose to call a higher type; or you can console yourself that you are not lying to the judge--merely using a different language from him, or interpreting differently the words you have in common, or "deferring" or denying their meaning; or you can reject the distinction he assumes between truth and falsehood as invalid, or tendentious, or oppressive. You can say, as most interlocutors have said to me while I have been writing this book, "Truth? There is no such thing. " A character in a strip in Radical American Comic asks, "Hey God, what is Truth? Eh? "No idea," replies God. "Get lost. "
Truth-evaders of our time are really doing nothing new. Fernandez-Armesto says: ". . . all the ingredients of this modern substitute for equivocation were available in western tradition from the time of Plato. " In The Tragedy of Reason (1990, pgs. 94-95), David Roochnik tells us more about the philosophical conflict over truth that can be traced in the West back to the days of Plato:
The reason that this dispute is so old, so fundamental, is that it is between two of the most basically different and extreme views of the human world that can be held. Is the world made by human productive energy, or is it somehow structured by entities that exist independently of human choice? Is man the measure? If so, then the human world is subject to endless shifts and changes. Human freedom and the power to create become the most cherished of gifts. Or is the world constituted by a stable set of objective standards that somehow reside in the world outside of human agency and thus function as natural goals by which we can measure our activity?
It's a dispute, Roochnik says, between advocates of logos, an ultimate, non-negotiable reality behind the changing appearance of things, and the advocates of misology, the view that there is no definite purpose behind the world as we see it, because this world is an ongoing creative process in which we all take part.
It is instructive to take a closer look at Roochnik's terms--logos and misology--which come from ancient Greek philosophy. The primary definition of the Greek word logos is "word. " Thus logos occupies the same conceptual space as the Sanskrit word sabda, which likewise means "word" but is also the eternal Vedic vibration from which the world we perceive arose. Sabda, like logos, is transcendental sound vibration that gives the world its meaning. A misologist, in Vedic terms, is a nastika, a person who does not believe the world came to be by a divine order spoken in eternity.
Misology appears today in the philosophical evasion of the truth known as relativism, the theory that conceptions of truth and moral values are not absolute but are relative to the persons or groups holding them. In ancient Greece, a kind of relativism was propagated by the sophists, of whom Protagoras was the leading teacher. Against the sophists Socrates was the exponent of logos. Socrates summed up relativism thus: "things are for me such as they appear to me, and things are for you such as they appear to you. "
Plato records Socrates challenging Protagoras, "Do you really mean that? That my opinion is true by virtue of its being my opinion?"
"Indeed I do," Protagoras answered.
"My opinion," Socrates then asserted, "is that truth is absolute, not opinion, and that you, Protagoras, are absolutely in error. Since this is my opinion, then you must grant that it is true according to your philosophy. "
And Protagoras did agree with Socrates here. It's a little naive, though, to conclude that Protagoras accepted defeat by Socrates. Socrates certainly showed that relativism is self-contradictory; but, you see, self-contradiction may be the very reason why Protagoras agreed. The more contradictions the better for the relativist. Contradictions demonstrate, in the mind of the relativist, that truth is not universal. It is individual. Each individual swims like a goldfish in his own glass bowl of personal truth. Though Socrates intended to trounce Protagoras, he allowed space for relativism to continue to play when he told him, "Since this is my opinion, then you must grant that it is true according to your philosophy. " We can imagine a cynical smile breaking out on Protagoras' face. Behind the smile, perhaps, he was thinking, "By our agreement now, Socrates, we are confirming that truth is just an opinion that some men consider correct. "
It is doubtful that Socrates took much comfort in his opponent's agreement, for he confessed to experiencing "vexation and actual fear" during his dialogues with Protagoras. He said Protagoras "drags his arguments up and down because he is so stupid that he cannot be convinced and is hardly to be induced to give up any one of them".
That a proponent of logos finds relativism difficult to refute does not mean that the latter has real strength as a philosophical position. In fact it is a position of non-position that normal people can't live by. David Roochnik (The Tragedy of Reason, pg. 41) explains.
. . . relativism is untenable; it is a position that cannot be coherently held. It is a position whose consequences few, if any, can actually live. For the relativist, all value judgments are ultimately equal in the sense that none can muster a final defense of itself. This implies that if person A makes judgment P, and person B makes judgment R, and P is directly opposed to R, A (according to the relativist) must accord to B full equality with himself. . . . Such a view is at odds with the way people live.
Suppose A himself is an intellectual relativist. He is of the "opinion" that the automobile he purchased with his own money and legally registered in his name is his private property. Suppose B, whose mind usually dwells on matters less exalted than philosophy, is of the "opinion" that A's car is simply too cool for A to own; better B takes it from him. Do you think A, as he looked out the window of his house to see B forcing open the door of his car, would give much thought to the problem? "How can I claim absolute ownership of that car? How can I absolutely deny that B has a right to that car? Hmmm. . . maybe B and I ought to share it. " In a real-world situation, A wouldn't miss a beat before telephoning the police to report grand theft auto.
While it's very hard to picture A adhering to relativistic morality when faced with the practical situation of B stealing his car, it isn't hard to envision B resorting to relativism to defend himself when being interrogated by the police.
"Why did you steal A's car?"
"It's not his car!"
"Of course it is his car. He paid for it and he's the registered owner. "
"That has validity only under the laws of this police state!"
"Are you telling us you didn't steal his car?"
"I'm telling you that what you call stealing is a social construct that I do not accept!"
Suppose B belongs to a minority community that is acknowledged in society as having been historically oppressed. His relativistic arguments might generate political sympathy for his cause. A "Free B" movement might swell; defense funds might be raised; a high-priced Dream Team phalanx of lawyers might be assembled; and who knows? In today's relativistic climate, B might very well be found innocent.
Relativism is a theme of Mayavadi philosophy. Srila Prabhupada (Mauritius 3 October 1975):
Yatha mat tatha path ["Each man's opinion is his own path to the truth. "] This is going on. Everyone will say something, and it is all right. However nonsense it may be, it is all right. Even Gandhi followed that philosophy. Therefore he invented one, another philosophy, nonviolence, which is impossible. When Hindus approached him, that "You have got so much influence over the Mohammedans, so why not stop cow killing?" he said, "It is their religious principle. How can I interfere?" Just see.
Just see. Relativism is successful in the modern world not because it is convincing in its own right (in fact, it is a philosophy of lack of conviction). It is successful because people in general have lost sight of the Absolute Truth. It is successful because due to accepting bodily upadhis, people in general are divided into groups of conflicting interests. It is successful because people in general are trying to possess this world as their own. The absolute truth is that this world, at every level and nuance, is completely under the control of Krsna. And that, that is what people in general do not want to see.
Part Two: The Poison of Relativism
Science and all secular scholarship is pervaded by other atheistic assumptions. It's hard to find a "serious" book about any intellectual topic today that does not unquestioningly submit its readers to the doctrine of evolution. Evolutionism spawns an extremely warped, materialistic account of what religion is and how it came to be. Here's a quotation from a 1995 book entitled Soul Searching by Nicholas Humphrey:
No doubt our ancestors needed some rational skills to survive, but. . . the human brain evolved more as a religious than a rational organ. . . Rational science is a minority interest. . . It is likely therefore that the first human brains evolved to impose symbolic meaning on the external world, and the scientific virus later infected a minority of their descendents, where it now flourishes in nerve circuits that originally evolved to carry other ideas.
At first blush we might take what Nicholas Humphrey says as validation for a religious mindset. The human brain is really meant for generating religious thoughts! Scientific thinking is just an aberration of the brain function! Wow! Go get 'em, Bhakta Nick! But without the slightest pause for doubt he asserts that the brain evolved. Hence religion is merely a product of evolutionary biology. Awww. . . Bhakta Nick, you blooped.
Of course there are those--even in and around ISKCON--who will argue that what Nicholas Humphrey states above is not necessarily atheistic. Lately even the Catholic Church agrees with evolution. "What if," the argument goes, "the actual state of affairs in this universe of ours is more Deistic than Theistic? In other words, suppose we put the theological accent on God (Krsna) as being disconnected and aloof from the material world. He's so transcendental that He doesn't involve himself in creation at all, except to lay down the ground rules of nature and to give an initial push to get things going. Thereafter, automatically, mechanistically, the universe comes into being and runs onward according to the impersonal laws that modern science has discovered. Ergo, man was not created, he evolved. Why can't this be the will of God (Krsna)? I mean, He can do anything He wants, right? And if man's brain is hard-wired by evolution for religion, that much the better!" So concludes the argument: "You can believe in evolution and believe in God. "
I'd want to know what is the exact advantage of this is. I predict, based upon a bit of personal experience, that answer will be something like this:
"Well, it saves you from having to be a fundamentalist. "
And what, pray tell, is a fundamentalist?
"Oh, anyone who literally believes without reservation any of the creation scenarios of the different scriptures of the world, which are all in contradiction with one another. The fundamentalist rejects science altogether and just accepts everything scripture says! He's out of step with today's world. And that, that's not a Good Thing. "
So what do you propose to do with the Bhagavatam descriptions of creation?
"Well, we'll just consider that allegorical, like the story of Maharaja Puranjana told to King Pracinabarhisat by Narada Muni. "
I see. The creation account becomes a pious myth, then.
"Yes, exactly. "
This brings us to the point made by my sannyasi Godbrother that mundane scholars are snakes who are so dangerous they can infect devotees with a poison that slackens their grasp of the absolute truth: "Their apparent reasonableness and open mindedness is a sham masking their dogmatic and unreasonable refusal to accept any position as absolute. "
It's a no-brainer that as soon as scripture is re-evaluated from the inherently uncertain standpoint of science--"this chapter I accept, but that chapter can't be correct because it is 'disproven'"--then the line drawn between what is "really true" and what is only "pious myth" will just waver ever more dizzily. It won't take long before nobody knows what scripture is really meant to teach us.
Therefore this itch that agitates certain minds to bend scripture to fit scientific theories is no itch for real knowledge. It's an itch to keep up with the times. Scientists themselves are busy scratching the same itch. "Science, like democratic politics, is a social activity," argues physicist Alan Cromer in Uncommon Sense. He calls science "an extension of rhetoric. " The hope is that by the democratic exchange of viewpoints through the medium of language we can arrive at unified knowledge. The trouble is that scientific knowledge is not unified; in fact, as we saw in Part One of this essay, scientists very often resent being classed as a group with a unified point of view. If science is a social activity, then like all things in mundane society, the information that is generated by that activity--information that is taught in schools as proven knowledge--is constantly being debated and altered. "Facts" fifty years old and less are at this moment being modified or replaced by "new discoveries. " Fifty years from now, many of these new discoveries will be similarly modified or discarded. The factors behind this constant updating of knowledge include lust for profit, fame, and adoration, a polluted desire to be right, ignorance, blind following, vanity, error, cultural bias, dogmatism, jealousy, corner-cutting and cheating as well as the more typical list of noble qualities ascribed to the scientific community. Scientists are only human, after all.
When theologians trade spiritual conviction for changing social fashions, the same sort of rapid-fire revolutions of "knowledge" take place in scriptural understanding. A while back a panel of up-to-date Christian theologians published a special edition of the New Testament. The passages spoken by Jesus Christ were printed in either red, gray, or black typeface as per a vote the panel had taken: red if the majority was of the opinion Christ did not speak those words, gray if the vote was tied, and black if the majority was of the opinion that he did speak those words.
For mundane scholars, though, that's a Good Thing. Why? Because then they have something to "discuss. " Note it well that such discussion is supposed to be conducted with as little conviction as possible. Oh, sure, you can be convinced that here and there in the scripture are glimmers of truth--perceived by you as an individual--but it's a total faux pas to have an a priori conviction that every word of scripture tells the same non-negotiable truth to everybody. Oh no! That's absolutism. That's dangerous! Why, it's. . . it's police state mentality!
In chapter 5 of Truth--A History, historian Fernandez-Armesto has some interesting things to say about how and what "truth" has came to mean today. The chapter is entitled "The Death of Conviction. "
In recent years, historians of late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Europe have been fascinated by the deceits to which evasive minds were driven by religious persecution. Crypto-Jews had to conceal their beliefs under inquisitorial interrogation, confessional minorities had to equivocate under torture during the conflicts of Catholics and Protestants.
. . . Today, equivocation has disappeared from the witness-stand. . . Equivocation was a necessary resource against interrogation in a world of strong convictions, when deponents were not in any serious doubt about the truth or falsehood of what they said. It is no longer necessary because today, when you swear to tell the truth, I do not know what you mean by it, though if the scene is laid in court we all know what the court understands by truth and what evasions will be punished as perjury or contempt. I do not even know whether you recognize truth as a meaningful concept. Instead of equivocating, you can dodge the interrogator's probes by the relativist's evasion: "what is true for you is not true for me. " Or you can give him an answer true, you think, in a different sense from that of the truth he wants to hear; or you can offer truth of a different type, which you may choose to call a higher type; or you can console yourself that you are not lying to the judge--merely using a different language from him, or interpreting differently the words you have in common, or "deferring" or denying their meaning; or you can reject the distinction he assumes between truth and falsehood as invalid, or tendentious, or oppressive. You can say, as most interlocutors have said to me while I have been writing this book, "Truth? There is no such thing. " A character in a strip in Radical American Comic asks, "Hey God, what is Truth? Eh? "No idea," replies God. "Get lost. "
Truth-evaders of our time are really doing nothing new. Fernandez-Armesto says: ". . . all the ingredients of this modern substitute for equivocation were available in western tradition from the time of Plato. " In The Tragedy of Reason (1990, pgs. 94-95), David Roochnik tells us more about the philosophical conflict over truth that can be traced in the West back to the days of Plato:
The reason that this dispute is so old, so fundamental, is that it is between two of the most basically different and extreme views of the human world that can be held. Is the world made by human productive energy, or is it somehow structured by entities that exist independently of human choice? Is man the measure? If so, then the human world is subject to endless shifts and changes. Human freedom and the power to create become the most cherished of gifts. Or is the world constituted by a stable set of objective standards that somehow reside in the world outside of human agency and thus function as natural goals by which we can measure our activity?
It's a dispute, Roochnik says, between advocates of logos, an ultimate, non-negotiable reality behind the changing appearance of things, and the advocates of misology, the view that there is no definite purpose behind the world as we see it, because this world is an ongoing creative process in which we all take part.
It is instructive to take a closer look at Roochnik's terms--logos and misology--which come from ancient Greek philosophy. The primary definition of the Greek word logos is "word. " Thus logos occupies the same conceptual space as the Sanskrit word sabda, which likewise means "word" but is also the eternal Vedic vibration from which the world we perceive arose. Sabda, like logos, is transcendental sound vibration that gives the world its meaning. A misologist, in Vedic terms, is a nastika, a person who does not believe the world came to be by a divine order spoken in eternity.
Misology appears today in the philosophical evasion of the truth known as relativism, the theory that conceptions of truth and moral values are not absolute but are relative to the persons or groups holding them. In ancient Greece, a kind of relativism was propagated by the sophists, of whom Protagoras was the leading teacher. Against the sophists Socrates was the exponent of logos. Socrates summed up relativism thus: "things are for me such as they appear to me, and things are for you such as they appear to you. "
Plato records Socrates challenging Protagoras, "Do you really mean that? That my opinion is true by virtue of its being my opinion?"
"Indeed I do," Protagoras answered.
"My opinion," Socrates then asserted, "is that truth is absolute, not opinion, and that you, Protagoras, are absolutely in error. Since this is my opinion, then you must grant that it is true according to your philosophy. "
And Protagoras did agree with Socrates here. It's a little naive, though, to conclude that Protagoras accepted defeat by Socrates. Socrates certainly showed that relativism is self-contradictory; but, you see, self-contradiction may be the very reason why Protagoras agreed. The more contradictions the better for the relativist. Contradictions demonstrate, in the mind of the relativist, that truth is not universal. It is individual. Each individual swims like a goldfish in his own glass bowl of personal truth. Though Socrates intended to trounce Protagoras, he allowed space for relativism to continue to play when he told him, "Since this is my opinion, then you must grant that it is true according to your philosophy. " We can imagine a cynical smile breaking out on Protagoras' face. Behind the smile, perhaps, he was thinking, "By our agreement now, Socrates, we are confirming that truth is just an opinion that some men consider correct. "
It is doubtful that Socrates took much comfort in his opponent's agreement, for he confessed to experiencing "vexation and actual fear" during his dialogues with Protagoras. He said Protagoras "drags his arguments up and down because he is so stupid that he cannot be convinced and is hardly to be induced to give up any one of them".
That a proponent of logos finds relativism difficult to refute does not mean that the latter has real strength as a philosophical position. In fact it is a position of non-position that normal people can't live by. David Roochnik (The Tragedy of Reason, pg. 41) explains.
. . . relativism is untenable; it is a position that cannot be coherently held. It is a position whose consequences few, if any, can actually live. For the relativist, all value judgments are ultimately equal in the sense that none can muster a final defense of itself. This implies that if person A makes judgment P, and person B makes judgment R, and P is directly opposed to R, A (according to the relativist) must accord to B full equality with himself. . . . Such a view is at odds with the way people live.
Suppose A himself is an intellectual relativist. He is of the "opinion" that the automobile he purchased with his own money and legally registered in his name is his private property. Suppose B, whose mind usually dwells on matters less exalted than philosophy, is of the "opinion" that A's car is simply too cool for A to own; better B takes it from him. Do you think A, as he looked out the window of his house to see B forcing open the door of his car, would give much thought to the problem? "How can I claim absolute ownership of that car? How can I absolutely deny that B has a right to that car? Hmmm. . . maybe B and I ought to share it. " In a real-world situation, A wouldn't miss a beat before telephoning the police to report grand theft auto.
While it's very hard to picture A adhering to relativistic morality when faced with the practical situation of B stealing his car, it isn't hard to envision B resorting to relativism to defend himself when being interrogated by the police.
"Why did you steal A's car?"
"It's not his car!"
"Of course it is his car. He paid for it and he's the registered owner. "
"That has validity only under the laws of this police state!"
"Are you telling us you didn't steal his car?"
"I'm telling you that what you call stealing is a social construct that I do not accept!"
Suppose B belongs to a minority community that is acknowledged in society as having been historically oppressed. His relativistic arguments might generate political sympathy for his cause. A "Free B" movement might swell; defense funds might be raised; a high-priced Dream Team phalanx of lawyers might be assembled; and who knows? In today's relativistic climate, B might very well be found innocent.
Relativism is a theme of Mayavadi philosophy. Srila Prabhupada (Mauritius 3 October 1975):
Yatha mat tatha path ["Each man's opinion is his own path to the truth. "] This is going on. Everyone will say something, and it is all right. However nonsense it may be, it is all right. Even Gandhi followed that philosophy. Therefore he invented one, another philosophy, nonviolence, which is impossible. When Hindus approached him, that "You have got so much influence over the Mohammedans, so why not stop cow killing?" he said, "It is their religious principle. How can I interfere?" Just see.
Just see. Relativism is successful in the modern world not because it is convincing in its own right (in fact, it is a philosophy of lack of conviction). It is successful because people in general have lost sight of the Absolute Truth. It is successful because due to accepting bodily upadhis, people in general are divided into groups of conflicting interests. It is successful because people in general are trying to possess this world as their own. The absolute truth is that this world, at every level and nuance, is completely under the control of Krsna. And that, that is what people in general do not want to see.
November 23, 2010
Are Academic Scholars like Snakes?
by Suhotra Maharaja
Part One: Assumptions that Go Nowhere
The day before yesterday one of my sannyasi Godbrothers sent me these thoughts about "mundane scholars. "
Mundane scholars may appear open minded as they are open to hearing all kinds of opinions. But actually they are close minded because they are closed to accepting any path as absolute. They are shut off from even the possibility of attaining the absolute truth, due to their conviction that such truth cannot exist. Although they may appear to be open minded, friendly, and sympathetic toward devotees, their congeniality remains only as long as a devotee panders to their relativistic mindset. As soon as a devotee presents Krsna consciousness as it is, as the absolute truth, then the open minded friendliness of mundane scholars ceases and is replaced with rabid disapproval. Thus devotees make friends with mundane scholars at great risk of compromising their own position by being bitten by the snake of relativism. For a mundane scholar, especially a student of Indology or Vaisnavism, is by definition a snake, for he deigns to speak on Krsna and Krsna consciousness without surrendering to Him. avaisnava mukhodgirnam. . .
Some studies and perspectives of mundane scholars may be useful to devotees, who however to avoid being poisoned must be as expert as snake charmers in controlling snakes. Snakes are either controlled or they bite; a devotee who would deal with mundane scholars must similarly avoid being charmed by their mundane seeming reasonableness, and must rather be clever enough to charm mundane scholars into becoming genuine scholars of the absolute truth. To do so is a great preaching victory, but those insufficiently capable should avoid entering the fray.
Their apparent reasonableness and open mindedness is a sham masking their dogmatic and unreasonable refusal to accept any position as absolute.
Not long ago I published here in In2-MeC a review of several recent books that challenge the standard scientific Weltanschauung (worldview). In my comments I coined a term for that worldview: THEOSOPHS (The Established, Official Screed Of the Pompous Hierophants of Science).
A good friend of mine who is a regular reader of In2-MeC emailed that book review to his brother, who is an evolutionary scientist of some kind. The brother replied, among other things, that it is not helpful to lump scientists together under such a flippant, catch-all rubric as THEOSOPHS. Scientists, the brother maintained, are people like other people. They are a diverse lot with widely differing opinions.
But all scientists, whatever they may be and believe as individuals, are supposed to have at least one thing in common: that their enterprise "to know" (Latin sciere, from which we get the word "science") firmly belongs to the Western tradition of rationalism. Academics in humanistic "soft-science" fields such as Indology likewise subscribe to that tradition.
So what do all professors of Western scholarship profess? What's the thread of thought common to all of them? Certain assumptions about reality constitute the common thread of thought that weave together all the sciences, hard and soft.
An assumption at the very heart of Western rationalism is that mathematics yields self-evident and certain truth. Hence a human intellect that is schooled to operate with mathematical rigor is not to be doubted. The proper arena of doubt is the world beyond the intellect; it is by "attacking" the external world with rigorous analysis that we should conduct our search for knowledge. An intellect which does not adhere to the rigors of mathematical thought, which seeks truth by means other than analytical investigation of the external world, is irrational.
This is the philosophical centerpiece of Cartesianism, named after Rene Descartes (1596-1650), one of the principal architects of the modern scientific worldview. Writing in The Tragedy of Reason (1990, pg. 74), David Roochnik observes:
There is thus a quite literal type of schizophrenia in the world bequeathed to us by the Cartesians. It is, on the one hand, hyper-rational: it seeks to extend the perview of mathematical physics throughout the universe. On the other hand, it relegates the world in which the physicist himself dwells [i. e. the identity-realm of our personal nature] to the junkpile of the irrational. We who know so much are prohibited from knowing ourselves.
After assuming what the only valid means to knowledge is, Western rationalism then imposes other assumptions upon the the external world. On pages 8-9 of a book entitled The Fire in the Equations (1994), Kitty Ferguson lists five such assumptions. These are:
1) the universe is rational (i. e. at its bedrock are laws understandable to human reason);
2) it is accessible to the senses;
3) it is contingent (i. e. its existence depends upon certain conditions);
4) it is objective (i. e. it is really "out there");
5) it is unified.
Some of these assumptions are in deep conflict with one another. But that's for later. The point we are concerned with now is a simple one: that to be a professional scholar in the Western sciences, one must load the program of these assumptions into the logical apparatus of one's mind. What these assumptions amount to is a conviction that it is possible, if we work at it, for human beings to know everything about the universe.
Yet at the same time it would certainly be wrong to argue that every last scientist on the face of the earth expects the scientific method to one day raise humanity to cosmic omniscience. In a 1992 interview, Paul Feyerabend, an influential Austrian philosopher of science with a background in physics, said:
You think that is one-day fly, this little bit of nothing, a human being--according to today's cosmology!--can figure it all out? This to me seems so crazy! It cannot possibly be true! What they figured out is one particular response to their actions, and this response gives this universe, and the reality that is behind this is laughing: "Ha ha! They think they have found me out!"
This big thing, out of which everything comes, you don't have the means. Your language has been created by dealing with things, chairs, and a few instruments. And just on this tiny earth! God is emanations, you know? And they come down and down and become more and more material. And down, down at the last emanation, you can see a little trace of it and guess at it.
On the other hand, one of the big voices for evolutionary science, the English biologist Richard Dawkins, emphatically disagrees with colleagues like Feyerabend. "Some people enjoy wallowing in a nonthreatening squalor of incomprehension. I want to understand, and understanding means to me scientific understanding!"
All right, then. We've just seen proof that scientists have starkly different opinions about where science is taking us. Diversity ki jaya! But wait a minute: does that really mean anything? After all, there's the saying:
Philosophers can be divided into two classes: those who believe that philosophers can be divided into two classes, and those who don't.
If a scientist is a scientist, he is in the same boat with other scientists even if he disagrees with them. The boat is the scientific method, which is geared to axiomatic, metaphysical assumptions. Take these assumptions away, and there would be no science left for Feyerabend and Dawkins to differ about.
So in science we have a method that purports to figure out the whole world, practiced by persons of different opinions as to whether that purport will ever be realized. To say the least, this seems a bit fuzzy. I think Werner Heisenberg, one of the leading lights of quantum physics, made the best sense out of the fuzz:
The exact sciences start from the assumption that in the end it will always be possible to understand nature, even in every new field of experience, but that we may make no a priori assumption as to the meaning of "understand".
Now, I hate to sound like I'm making a quantum leap in logic (vanishing from one point and reappearing out of nowhere at another point), but I think this supports what my Godbrother argued at the top of his essay:
Mundane scholars may appear open minded as they are open to hearing all kinds of opinions. But actually they are close minded because they are closed to accepting any path as absolute. They are shut off from even the possibility of attaining the absolute truth, due to their conviction that such truth cannot exist.
Let's try to understand this by teasing out the logical core of the statements of Heisenberg, Dawkins and Feyerabend.
Heisenberg's point is that while science is an expedition aimed at absolute knowledge, no scientist is permitted by science to proclaim before the expedition is over what that absolute knowledge will turn out be. He couldn't be a scientist if he did that.
For all Western scholars the question of what exactly lies at the end of the search for knowledge is open. That open-endedness is retained even as they argue about science as the means to that end.
Dawkins says, "It's one thing to say it's very difficult to know how the universe began, what initiated the Big Bang, what consciousness is. But if science has difficulty explaining something, there sure as hell is no one else who is going to explain it. "
Feyerabend seemed to be in disagreement, arguing, "People should not take it for granted when a scientist says, 'Everybody has to follow this way'". Still, Feyerabend affirmed that the techniques of science have their use in gaining knowledge, since they are "tools, and tools can be used in any way you see fit"; and he was adamant he was not anti-science, since he used those tools himself.
So what's to be ultimately understood by the use of these tools?
Dawkins says whatever it is, scientists can't explain it, at least right now; he's convinced that in the future nobody else but scientists will be able to explain it. Feyerabend allowed science some exploratory room at the lowest level of emanation, but he saw no hope that science will come to understand the origin of emanation.
Employing reductionism, which is essential to science, we may simplify what Heisenberg, Feyerabend and Dawkins have told us to this sutra: "We don't know. "
Moreover, nobody knows. "It cannot possibly be true", said Feyerabend, for a human being to attain absolute knowledge. "You don't have the means. " Here he was not talking only about Western scientific means. "Your language has been created by dealing with things. " All language, then, is mundane and oriented only to material objects. In seeming contrast, Dawkins holds out more hope than Feyerabend for science attaining absolute knowledge. But he admits science hasn't attained that knowledge now. He is positive nobody else will ever do it.
Dawkins and Feyerabend may disagree on so many other points, but they agree that science has not arrived at the absolute truth. Neither of them is certain that it ever will.
Let us return to the assumptions embedded in the scientific mindset and give them a more careful appraisal. We'll see that it's these assumptions that foil any hope of certainty. One is that the world can be known through the senses. Another is that the world is objectively real. But to say the world is objectively real is to say it is independent of and indifferent to sense perception. Since the time of Hume and Kant, Western philosophers and scientists have been wrestling with the question of whether the data received by our feeble and imperfect senses at all puts us in touch with the Ding-an-sicht, the world itself. As I showed in the 3-part article on atomic theory some days ago, many prominent quantum physicists do not believe that sense data is reality.
And so Heisenberg said that even if science manages one day to lay bare all of nature to scientific inspection, it is not certain what scientists will understand. The question will remain: is any of this nature we are perceiving with our senses actually real? Even if there is no more data anywhere in the universe to be discovered, that mountain of data amassed by science will not amount to an absolute truth that all scientists will be able to agree upon. This is because the only means to knowledge that scientists--indeed, all of Western man--trusts is: the untrustworthy senses.
In Truth--A History (1997, pg. 123), Oxford historian Filipe Fernandez-Armesto makes a few good points about Western man's reliance upon the senses for knowledge:
Dependence upon evidence of our senses seems ineluctable to modern westerners. In our jurisprudence, "the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth" is the evidence of our personal witness. Hearsay is not admitted, only facts impressed directly by observation or sensation. Though other societies may have preferred to rely on messages from a truth-world, conveyed by ordeals or oracles, our courts could hardly accept, as a defense against the charge of perjury, the claim that this world is illusory. Yet, on this scale, trust in our sensory receptors is a late and peculiar condition, of which most human societies, for most of history, seem to have been free.
For many Western people, then, if there is to be anything like absolute truth, it must be established by personal witness (direct observation of the senses), not by hearsay (spoken sound vibration). It's a bias peculiar to European-American civilization, and it is quite recent. This bias is rooted in a conviction that if truth emanates from a truth-world (e. g. Vaikuntha), that would mean this world we live in is illusory. And that just goes against a basic tenet of Western knowledge: that our world is objective and real. Hence the insistence that truth be proven by sense perception is an a priori denial that a transcendental truth-world exists.
The speculative argument of philosophers, "This world is real," "No, it is not real," is based upon incomplete knowledge of the Supreme Soul and is simply aimed at understanding material dualities. Although such argument is useless, persons who have turned their attention away from Me, their own true Self, and unable to give it up.
--Srimad-Bhagavatam 11. 22. 34
Part One: Assumptions that Go Nowhere
The day before yesterday one of my sannyasi Godbrothers sent me these thoughts about "mundane scholars. "
Mundane scholars may appear open minded as they are open to hearing all kinds of opinions. But actually they are close minded because they are closed to accepting any path as absolute. They are shut off from even the possibility of attaining the absolute truth, due to their conviction that such truth cannot exist. Although they may appear to be open minded, friendly, and sympathetic toward devotees, their congeniality remains only as long as a devotee panders to their relativistic mindset. As soon as a devotee presents Krsna consciousness as it is, as the absolute truth, then the open minded friendliness of mundane scholars ceases and is replaced with rabid disapproval. Thus devotees make friends with mundane scholars at great risk of compromising their own position by being bitten by the snake of relativism. For a mundane scholar, especially a student of Indology or Vaisnavism, is by definition a snake, for he deigns to speak on Krsna and Krsna consciousness without surrendering to Him. avaisnava mukhodgirnam. . .
Some studies and perspectives of mundane scholars may be useful to devotees, who however to avoid being poisoned must be as expert as snake charmers in controlling snakes. Snakes are either controlled or they bite; a devotee who would deal with mundane scholars must similarly avoid being charmed by their mundane seeming reasonableness, and must rather be clever enough to charm mundane scholars into becoming genuine scholars of the absolute truth. To do so is a great preaching victory, but those insufficiently capable should avoid entering the fray.
Their apparent reasonableness and open mindedness is a sham masking their dogmatic and unreasonable refusal to accept any position as absolute.
Not long ago I published here in In2-MeC a review of several recent books that challenge the standard scientific Weltanschauung (worldview). In my comments I coined a term for that worldview: THEOSOPHS (The Established, Official Screed Of the Pompous Hierophants of Science).
A good friend of mine who is a regular reader of In2-MeC emailed that book review to his brother, who is an evolutionary scientist of some kind. The brother replied, among other things, that it is not helpful to lump scientists together under such a flippant, catch-all rubric as THEOSOPHS. Scientists, the brother maintained, are people like other people. They are a diverse lot with widely differing opinions.
But all scientists, whatever they may be and believe as individuals, are supposed to have at least one thing in common: that their enterprise "to know" (Latin sciere, from which we get the word "science") firmly belongs to the Western tradition of rationalism. Academics in humanistic "soft-science" fields such as Indology likewise subscribe to that tradition.
So what do all professors of Western scholarship profess? What's the thread of thought common to all of them? Certain assumptions about reality constitute the common thread of thought that weave together all the sciences, hard and soft.
An assumption at the very heart of Western rationalism is that mathematics yields self-evident and certain truth. Hence a human intellect that is schooled to operate with mathematical rigor is not to be doubted. The proper arena of doubt is the world beyond the intellect; it is by "attacking" the external world with rigorous analysis that we should conduct our search for knowledge. An intellect which does not adhere to the rigors of mathematical thought, which seeks truth by means other than analytical investigation of the external world, is irrational.
This is the philosophical centerpiece of Cartesianism, named after Rene Descartes (1596-1650), one of the principal architects of the modern scientific worldview. Writing in The Tragedy of Reason (1990, pg. 74), David Roochnik observes:
There is thus a quite literal type of schizophrenia in the world bequeathed to us by the Cartesians. It is, on the one hand, hyper-rational: it seeks to extend the perview of mathematical physics throughout the universe. On the other hand, it relegates the world in which the physicist himself dwells [i. e. the identity-realm of our personal nature] to the junkpile of the irrational. We who know so much are prohibited from knowing ourselves.
After assuming what the only valid means to knowledge is, Western rationalism then imposes other assumptions upon the the external world. On pages 8-9 of a book entitled The Fire in the Equations (1994), Kitty Ferguson lists five such assumptions. These are:
1) the universe is rational (i. e. at its bedrock are laws understandable to human reason);
2) it is accessible to the senses;
3) it is contingent (i. e. its existence depends upon certain conditions);
4) it is objective (i. e. it is really "out there");
5) it is unified.
Some of these assumptions are in deep conflict with one another. But that's for later. The point we are concerned with now is a simple one: that to be a professional scholar in the Western sciences, one must load the program of these assumptions into the logical apparatus of one's mind. What these assumptions amount to is a conviction that it is possible, if we work at it, for human beings to know everything about the universe.
Yet at the same time it would certainly be wrong to argue that every last scientist on the face of the earth expects the scientific method to one day raise humanity to cosmic omniscience. In a 1992 interview, Paul Feyerabend, an influential Austrian philosopher of science with a background in physics, said:
You think that is one-day fly, this little bit of nothing, a human being--according to today's cosmology!--can figure it all out? This to me seems so crazy! It cannot possibly be true! What they figured out is one particular response to their actions, and this response gives this universe, and the reality that is behind this is laughing: "Ha ha! They think they have found me out!"
This big thing, out of which everything comes, you don't have the means. Your language has been created by dealing with things, chairs, and a few instruments. And just on this tiny earth! God is emanations, you know? And they come down and down and become more and more material. And down, down at the last emanation, you can see a little trace of it and guess at it.
On the other hand, one of the big voices for evolutionary science, the English biologist Richard Dawkins, emphatically disagrees with colleagues like Feyerabend. "Some people enjoy wallowing in a nonthreatening squalor of incomprehension. I want to understand, and understanding means to me scientific understanding!"
All right, then. We've just seen proof that scientists have starkly different opinions about where science is taking us. Diversity ki jaya! But wait a minute: does that really mean anything? After all, there's the saying:
Philosophers can be divided into two classes: those who believe that philosophers can be divided into two classes, and those who don't.
If a scientist is a scientist, he is in the same boat with other scientists even if he disagrees with them. The boat is the scientific method, which is geared to axiomatic, metaphysical assumptions. Take these assumptions away, and there would be no science left for Feyerabend and Dawkins to differ about.
So in science we have a method that purports to figure out the whole world, practiced by persons of different opinions as to whether that purport will ever be realized. To say the least, this seems a bit fuzzy. I think Werner Heisenberg, one of the leading lights of quantum physics, made the best sense out of the fuzz:
The exact sciences start from the assumption that in the end it will always be possible to understand nature, even in every new field of experience, but that we may make no a priori assumption as to the meaning of "understand".
Now, I hate to sound like I'm making a quantum leap in logic (vanishing from one point and reappearing out of nowhere at another point), but I think this supports what my Godbrother argued at the top of his essay:
Mundane scholars may appear open minded as they are open to hearing all kinds of opinions. But actually they are close minded because they are closed to accepting any path as absolute. They are shut off from even the possibility of attaining the absolute truth, due to their conviction that such truth cannot exist.
Let's try to understand this by teasing out the logical core of the statements of Heisenberg, Dawkins and Feyerabend.
Heisenberg's point is that while science is an expedition aimed at absolute knowledge, no scientist is permitted by science to proclaim before the expedition is over what that absolute knowledge will turn out be. He couldn't be a scientist if he did that.
For all Western scholars the question of what exactly lies at the end of the search for knowledge is open. That open-endedness is retained even as they argue about science as the means to that end.
Dawkins says, "It's one thing to say it's very difficult to know how the universe began, what initiated the Big Bang, what consciousness is. But if science has difficulty explaining something, there sure as hell is no one else who is going to explain it. "
Feyerabend seemed to be in disagreement, arguing, "People should not take it for granted when a scientist says, 'Everybody has to follow this way'". Still, Feyerabend affirmed that the techniques of science have their use in gaining knowledge, since they are "tools, and tools can be used in any way you see fit"; and he was adamant he was not anti-science, since he used those tools himself.
So what's to be ultimately understood by the use of these tools?
Dawkins says whatever it is, scientists can't explain it, at least right now; he's convinced that in the future nobody else but scientists will be able to explain it. Feyerabend allowed science some exploratory room at the lowest level of emanation, but he saw no hope that science will come to understand the origin of emanation.
Employing reductionism, which is essential to science, we may simplify what Heisenberg, Feyerabend and Dawkins have told us to this sutra: "We don't know. "
Moreover, nobody knows. "It cannot possibly be true", said Feyerabend, for a human being to attain absolute knowledge. "You don't have the means. " Here he was not talking only about Western scientific means. "Your language has been created by dealing with things. " All language, then, is mundane and oriented only to material objects. In seeming contrast, Dawkins holds out more hope than Feyerabend for science attaining absolute knowledge. But he admits science hasn't attained that knowledge now. He is positive nobody else will ever do it.
Dawkins and Feyerabend may disagree on so many other points, but they agree that science has not arrived at the absolute truth. Neither of them is certain that it ever will.
Let us return to the assumptions embedded in the scientific mindset and give them a more careful appraisal. We'll see that it's these assumptions that foil any hope of certainty. One is that the world can be known through the senses. Another is that the world is objectively real. But to say the world is objectively real is to say it is independent of and indifferent to sense perception. Since the time of Hume and Kant, Western philosophers and scientists have been wrestling with the question of whether the data received by our feeble and imperfect senses at all puts us in touch with the Ding-an-sicht, the world itself. As I showed in the 3-part article on atomic theory some days ago, many prominent quantum physicists do not believe that sense data is reality.
And so Heisenberg said that even if science manages one day to lay bare all of nature to scientific inspection, it is not certain what scientists will understand. The question will remain: is any of this nature we are perceiving with our senses actually real? Even if there is no more data anywhere in the universe to be discovered, that mountain of data amassed by science will not amount to an absolute truth that all scientists will be able to agree upon. This is because the only means to knowledge that scientists--indeed, all of Western man--trusts is: the untrustworthy senses.
In Truth--A History (1997, pg. 123), Oxford historian Filipe Fernandez-Armesto makes a few good points about Western man's reliance upon the senses for knowledge:
Dependence upon evidence of our senses seems ineluctable to modern westerners. In our jurisprudence, "the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth" is the evidence of our personal witness. Hearsay is not admitted, only facts impressed directly by observation or sensation. Though other societies may have preferred to rely on messages from a truth-world, conveyed by ordeals or oracles, our courts could hardly accept, as a defense against the charge of perjury, the claim that this world is illusory. Yet, on this scale, trust in our sensory receptors is a late and peculiar condition, of which most human societies, for most of history, seem to have been free.
For many Western people, then, if there is to be anything like absolute truth, it must be established by personal witness (direct observation of the senses), not by hearsay (spoken sound vibration). It's a bias peculiar to European-American civilization, and it is quite recent. This bias is rooted in a conviction that if truth emanates from a truth-world (e. g. Vaikuntha), that would mean this world we live in is illusory. And that just goes against a basic tenet of Western knowledge: that our world is objective and real. Hence the insistence that truth be proven by sense perception is an a priori denial that a transcendental truth-world exists.
The speculative argument of philosophers, "This world is real," "No, it is not real," is based upon incomplete knowledge of the Supreme Soul and is simply aimed at understanding material dualities. Although such argument is useless, persons who have turned their attention away from Me, their own true Self, and unable to give it up.
--Srimad-Bhagavatam 11. 22. 34
November 17, 2010
Unity and Perversity: ISKCON’s loss of its monopoly on Gaudiya Vaisnavism in the West, and how to respond, a seminar by Jayadvaita Swami
Introduction
Ecclesiology
“The branch of theology that is concerned with the nature, constitution, and functions of a church”
= “mandir-ology”
Order of presentation:
Context of religious history
Context of the sociology of religion
Gaudiaya history
ISKCON history
Where we are now
Where do we go from here?
I will likely raise more questions than I’ll answer
This seminar—I apologize—is by design meant to be informative and analytical, rather than inspirational.
I was ready to give a seminar about sastra, but the organizers suggested I teach about something social and controversial. So here we are.
And I trust that the other courses, by way of balance, will provide the inspiration we most certainly need.
Global historical framework
The appearance of competitors, schisms, and heresies are features common to religious groups generally, as well as to political parties, social-welfare groups, business organizations, and other human associations.
I’m going to talk a fair amount about heresy and schisms because most of ISKCON’s Gauòéya competitors owe their existence, or at least their recent capabilities, to ISKCON itself.
What is a heresy?
Tamal Krsna Goswami quotes a good summary from a scholar, Joseph Tyson, who says:
The word heresy is derived from a Greek word meaning ‘choice.’ It had been used to designate the particular teachings of philosophical schools, and it denoted the opinions that each one had chosen. Christian writers began to use the term and soon gave it a pejorative significance. To them it indicated that a person had chosen a human opinion and rejected divine revelation. In this sense heresy has an evil significance, and the heretic is considered evil.
The medieval church defined heresy as “an opinion chosen by human perception, founded on the scriptures, contrary to the teachings of the church, publicly avowed, and obstinately defended.”
What is a schism?
The word schism comes from a Greek word meaning “to split.” A schism occurs when a group splits.
What happens here is not that a person or group rejects what the tradition or the organization stands for.
That’s apostasy—rejecting or denying the ideal, and dropping out.
On the contrary, in a schism each side claims to represent that ideal more authentically.
For example, one devotee who left ISKCON and joined another Gauòéya group condescendingly ends an article by saying he hopes for ISKCON’s “gradual and welcome return to the fold of orthodox Gaudiya Vaisnavism.”
Virtually all religious groups have dealt with schisms, heresies, and denominational competition
Jews
Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, and so on.
Muslims
Sunis, Shiites, Sufis, Druze, and so on
Buddhists
Mahayana and Hinayana (= Theravada)
Mahayana divides into Madhyamika and Vijïanavada
And later we get “Pure Land,” Zen, and so on.
Neo-Confucians
One study I went through found splits there too
Christians
Early Christianity—within the first few hundred years—was marked by intense struggles to define itself,
There were hot controversies involving what in ISKCON we call “papers”—with sharp arguments, fiery rhetoric, attacks on personal character, and so on
There was internal political intrigue
There was some fun, too
“In Antioch, the Syrian capital, a group of Arian priests disguised as laymen employed a prostitute to creep into an anti-Arian bishop’s bedchamber while he slept so that he could be accused of fornication and discredited. But they did not consider that the lady in question might have a mind of her own.
“The scheme backfired when, at the last minute, she declined to play her assigned role and exposed the plotters instead.” (Richard E. Rubenstein, When Jesus Became God)
There were committees and councils
There were prohibitions, sanctions and expulsions
There were riots
There was violence
Moving into the Middle Ages—that is, from about 500 to 1450—we again find intense controversies, with heresies, trials, excommunications, and schisms.
In the 16th century we get the Protestant Reformation, dividing the Christians of Western Europe into Protestants and Catholics
And then the Protestants divide still further
In America, from the beginning, we find profuse diversity.
And in the words of one scholar, schism “pervades the annals of American religious history.” (Numerich, Old Wisdom)
One book “tells the story of how traditional biblical feminists split off from the more progressive biblical feminists in the mid 1980s over the issue of inclusion of gays and lesbians in the Church.”
And the Episcopalians have lately been through turmoil over the ordination of gay bishops
Within Hinduism, of course, we have a multiplicity of schools
And—narrowing in on just one—among the followers of Ramanuja, for example, we find endless conflict between two sects: the Tenkalai (Southern) and Vadakalai (Northern)
In the words of Mudumby Narasimhachary (writing in ICJ)
“The heads of these two sects . . . were contemporaries who lived in the thirteenth century. Although they were on friendly terms during their lifetime, their followers in succeeding centuries became bitter critics of each other’s tradition. . . . For an impartial observer, however, the acrimonious debates and criticisms that are extending even now are out of place and unwarranted since, after all, they both represent the same sampradaya of Ramanuja. What we now have is the small Srivaisnava community raising narrow domestic walls that are, in fact, doing great injustice to the spirit of Ramanuja, who strove all his life to bring harmony (samanvaya) among several sections of society.”
As for schisms within Gaudiya Vaisnavism, we’ll come to that later.
Now let’s look more closely at the shape of heresy and schism within Christianity
Not because their history is any worse than anyone else’s but simply because its context may be somewhat familiar, because a lot has been written about it, because it’s distant enough to look at dispassionately, and because I’m sure you’ll notice some interesting parallels.
Here are some illuminating statements about Late Medieval heresies from Gordon Leff, an authority on the subject (Heresy in the Later Middle Ages)
“. . . [H]eresy, far from being alien to Christian society, had its source in the tensions between Christian precept and religious practice; it differed from orthodoxy in the means which it sought to overcome them.” p. vii
“[I]nitially at least, heresy was a deviation from accepted beliefs rather than something alien to them: it sprang from believing differently about the same things as opposed to holding a different belief. . .
[H]eresy during the middle ages was an indigenous growth; its impulse was invariably the search for a fuller spiritual life, and it drew upon the common stock of religious concepts to implement it. Whatever its forms, medieval heresy differed from orthodoxy and mere heterodoxy less in assumptions than emphasis and conclusions. It became heresy from pressing these too far.”
“What ultimately turned it into heresy was the failure to gain ecclesiastical sanction. It was usually then, in a group’s subsequent development as a proscribed sect, that its original impulse took on a directly anti-sacerdotal character. In doing so it inevitably changed. What. . . began as an accentuation of a particular aspect of belief, or life, became a rival outlook; its adherents came to regard themselves as Christ’s true apostles and their struggle against the church as part of the wider struggle between the forces of Christ and Antichrist.” p 2-3
Among the traits of the heresies was “the sense of election common to most sects. If they were social outcasts, they were also God’s chosen, the true defenders of Christ’s law.” p 7
“In the cycle from heterodoxy to dissent a sect inevitably underwent a change. Once proscribed, its members became social outcasts, at war with authority, whether waged clandestinely or openly. This in turn coloured its outlook[,] which became more extreme and directly anti-ecclesiastical.” p 12
In the words of two modern sociologists, “Mere disagreement or dissent is more likely to be transformed into an actual movement when religious authorities define such disagreement as ‘heresy.’ ” (Kniss & Chaves, restating a finding by Zald & McCarthy)
SEE “IN PURSUIT OF THE MILLENNIUM”
Heresies were various
Some of them concerned large philosophical questions: Is Jesus man or God?
Others concerned matters of practice
Some views that started as heretical were later adopted as orthodox
But heresies could be alarmingly decadent
For example, one that caught my eye was a specimen from the 13th and 14th centuries called the “Free Spirit” heresy
In the 13th century, fourteen followers of the theologian Amalric of Bena began to preach that “all things are One, because whatever is, is God.”
Since all is God, there can be no sin, and any action whatsoever can be permitted.
The Christian soul, identical with God, is beyond Good and Evil.
Such a man’s desires, whatever they might be, are absolute, and absolutely deserve to be gratified.
To restrain oneself from those desires, in fact, is a sin.
The literature therefore tells us that men and women of this persuasion—like the sahajiyas of India—would engage in systematic immortality, which they regarded as divine.
Some of the early Christian attitudes towards heresy may also seem familiar.
S.L. Greenslade (in Heresy and Schism in the Later Roman Empire) begins by quoting the Medieval Dutch theologian Erasmus: “ ‘Few Paris theologians like Beda’s bitterness. How can you win if you drive those who disagree with Luther into his camp? Hatred like this made Arius a heresiarch, drove Tertullian out of the Church. This is the way to make heretics.’
“So Erasmus, and elsewhere he reflects how he exposed himself to the charge of heresy by trying to be just to heretics. He was kinder than Tertullian, who had no mercy for them. Heresy [so said Tertullian] is the devil’s work, one of the manifold ways he attacks truth. It is evil, it is sin; it is worse than schism, it is blasphemy, a kind of adultery, . . . More properly, it is demonic. . .
“Not only the fiery Tertullian so speaks. To Irenaeus the peace-lover heretics are self-condemned since they oppose their own salvation, they are blasphemous, they are slippery snakes, they will go to eternal fire. . . . To Origen the truth-seeker they are traitors.”
It’s fairly typical, by the way, to misrepresent what the heretics actually say
“That orthodox characterizations of heresy are historically inaccurate is not a very surprising or controversial assertion. In some cases, the degree of heresiographical distortion is so great that the modern historian has trouble matching heresiographers’ accounts of a heresy with the surviving literature emanating from the refuted group. Moreover, the extent of distortion tended to increase over time.” (The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy: Neo-Confucian, Islamic, Jewish, and Early Christian Patterns, by John B. Henderson)
The Church had to deal with questions of authority
Facing factionalism, some early Christian leaders “stressed order, obedience,” and the rights of the ministers: “Hold to your bishop, whatever he approves pleases God.”
Another approach was to place trust in the consensus of important churches: “Where many churches plainly agree, they must be right.”
Another approach was to reach decisions through church synods or councils.
These approaches had their dangers. Couldn’t the bishops be wrong? Couldn’t the important churches be mistaken in their consensus? Wasn’t there the prospect that the opinions of church leaders might eventually triumph over scripture? And what about individual freedom?
But Greenslade comments “the early Church could probably not have preserved its identity and saved itself from syncretism” without this sort of confidence in the authority of its leaders.
The Church asserted itself to be the one, indivisible authority
For Cyprian (died 258), “the Church is by nature one and cannot be divided.” And so, according to Greenslade, “This apostolic Church confidently declared itself alone the divinely guaranteed instrument of salvation. . . No plurality of churches was acknowledged.”
According to Augustine, just to abandon the church was in itself heretical. “Inveterate schism amounts to heresy.”
Yet Greenslade comments, “Subsequent history brings out the threat of a conforming, mechanical Christianity lurking in this institutional confidence. Already, indeed, Clement and Origen were more interested in teachers than in bishops, in Christians of advanced spiritual understanding than in those who worked their passage obediently through the practical life to salvation — an attitude which might set ecclesiological problems.”
So again we see a tension. And Greenslade comments that in the early days, “Institutions proper to the mission had to be developed, and risks intrinsic to institutional life were taken: the danger of codification in thought and practice, of undue submission to authority, of complacency, of getting by on minimum standards for salvation. One can fairly ask how far devotion to the person Christ had been exchanged, before the third century ended, for devotion to a Christian system. . . “
Here are some other ways the Church, in the fourth century, tried to keep unity
Early on, they followed a principle: One city, one church and one bishop (even when the city was large).
So the local church was one. It was part of a larger, pan-Christian church. And it saw itself as taking part in the “greater community” of those who had already attained perfection and ascended to heaven.
Unity also lay with the martyrs, and with living ascetics.
And later they had one liturgy. And of course one scripture.
Unity also stemmed from collegiality among church leaders.
They had councils, in which they “defined the limits of belonging.” If you didn’t belong, you were out.
The Church later became identified with the Roman Empire, and that too helped define its unity.
And later papal authority asserted itself as another standard of unity.
Positive benefits of heresy
1. It tests the faithful (and separates the wheat from the chaff).
2. It testifies to the status of orthodoxy as rich, or important, and so on.
3. It contributes to the vigor of orthodoxy, thus mitigating against complacence.
4. It “stimulates the clarification and even the constitution of orthodox doctrine.” It helps the group articulate its beliefs.
5. “The threat, real or imagined, posed by [heretics] strengthens group solidarity and boundary definition, as well as provides a scapegoat to explain reversals suffered by the group without admitting weakness vis a vis an external foe.”
6. A shared disgust at the actions of deviant members provides a source of unity for the conformists.
7. For the reasons above, it helps the group retain members.
For further insight about these points, I’d like to deviate a bit from Christianity to Judaism. A scholar named Phil Zuckerman wrote a book called Strife in the Sanctuary, a study of a schism in a modern American Jewish community. He observes:
“Whenever social groups exist, be they religious, political, or otherwise, little else so stimulates group cohesion and enlivens a sense of purpose among members as when there is someone or something to be against. . . .
“As Meredith McGuire (1997:173) notes, ‘The sectarian orientation thrives on a sense of opposition. Ironically, backlash movements often inadvertently contribute to the cohesion of the very groups they attack.’
“. . . We’re back to the Jewish man stranded on the desert island who had to build himself two bamboo synagogues, one to belong to, and one to be opposed to.
“Sociologists of religious schism must always be aware of the fact that the schismatic process, while overtly one of division and apparent communal breakdown, is also one in which the personal and group identities of those involved are actually strengthened.
“We must also recognize that the two oppositional groups in a given schism are always bound to one another in a dance—a dance of division, to be sure—but a dance none the less, in which almost every move by one group is in direct relation to the moves of the other. In the process of this schismatic dance, each group’s motives and goals are directly related to the other group’s, so that the outcome of the division is one in which each group’s identity is to a large degree shaped in reaction to the other’s.”
Let’s move from schism to competition, and from the Middle Ages to post-revolutionary America in the 1800s
This is from an article by Richard Carwardine in a book called Unity and Diversity in the Church
“. . . church leaders in the early republic were operating in something close to a free market in religion, and the most ambitious of them seized their opportunities to evangelize, and to establish regional and national networks, with an appetite, enterprise, and vision matched by few of their contemporaries. They were energized by a concern to rescue souls from what they saw as a post-revolutionary spiritual decline, to stall the advances of deism and liberal religion, and to cultivate a Christian citizenry as the best defence of republicanism.
“The era also saw a new style of ministry, one more concerned with making converts and promoting revivals than with theological speculation, and one ever more sensitive to the needs of their congregations in an age of increasing lay self-confidence. . . . [T]he churches that burgeoned were not those which sought to impose from above the ideas of an intellectual elite but rather the more populist denominations, especially Methodists, Baptists, and other New Light churches, which spoke to the people in a language they wanted to hear.
“A striking feature of the spiritual market was intense competition amongst Protestant denominations, most sharply expressed in ministers’ frequent complaints of ‘proselytism’, or stealing of converts. The loudest protests emanated from the Methodists, who were the most successful of all denominations in generating revivals, targeting penitents, and harvesting members, and were consequently the most vulnerable to poaching.”
One preacher complained, “Some professed ministers of the gospel of Christ. . . would rejoice more to gain one Methodist, or Methodist convert to their party, than they would over two sinners brought home as wandering sheep from the Savior’s fold. . . . Indeed, . . . what would some other churches do if it were not for the fruit of Methodist labors?”
“The character, timing, and intensity of this interdenominational rivalry varied considerably from region to region.”
“Whatever the context, denominational rivalries were based on more than mere jealousy, though there was some truth in the observation of a renegade Episcopalian that the reason for the great hostilities of other Protestants to the Methodist Episcopal Church was its continued prosperity, sufficient to make it the largest denomination in the country by 1830. Antipathies found their most intense expression in discussions over doctrine and the conduct of evangelism, but they could take on an extra edge when reinforced by loyalties of class, ethnicity, and region. . . .
“The principal features, then, of American religion in general, and of Protestantism in particular, in the years between the founding of the Republic and the Civil War were voluntarism, aggressive denominationalism, intense competition, zealous evangelism, and barely checked institutional proliferation and diversity.”
Nonetheless, “Millennial aspiration and heightened spiritual intensity often prompted co-operation.” In one instance, a young Methodist missionary wrote, “In the missionary field we met as brethren, laborers with God in one common cause. No controversy between ourselves on non-essential doctrines, and no seeking of the supremacy one over the other [was] apparently thought of.”
In another instance, where different denominations came together, one revivalist wondered “why persons differing in theory upon doctrinal points in religion, and belonging to different denominations, will often, for a time, walk together in great harmony and affection.” It was, he said approvingly, “because they feel deeply, and feel alike. Their differences are in great measure lost or forgotten while they fall in with each other’s state of feeling.”
Sometimes when people would move geographically they would join a different church, just because it was available.
And various denominations who on doctrinal grounds had previously criticized the techniques of the Methodists now would up adopting them. Market-driven economy.
For some time the Protestants—facing a large national influx of Catholics—came together in a united front.
But denominationalism and sectarianism soon reasserted its prominence. Especially intense was the competition between the Methodists and Baptists. It was aggressive and often bitterly acrimonious, complete with language and metaphors of violent battle and blowing adversaries “sky high.” Preachers of every denomination would condemn the doctrines of the others. Carwardine presents, in some detail, the astonishingly nasty polemics—well, not so astonishing when we compare them to what we sometimes see today.
Sociological framework
Features of post-charismatic movements
Charisma is the personal magic of a leader who arouses special loyalty, inspiration and enthusiasm.
So a charismatic movement is one with such a leader at its head.
Typically, the charismatic leader is a revolutionary. He stands opposed to the established order and routine. He seeks to bring about profound changes.
The followers are intensely devoted to him. They accept his words as true. They sacrifice and dedicate themselves for his cause.
But charisma is tumultuous, unstable. For the charismatic influence to endure, it must eventually make its way to stability.
This journey towards stability is what’s known as “the routinization of charisma.”
From tumult and revolution, we have to come to order, to standards, to an everyday routine. So gradually the charismatic movement becomes an institution.
Problems of succession
This picture of charisma and its routinization derives especially from the venerable Max Weber, a German sociologist active at the juncture of the 19th and 20th centuries.
Weber writes:
“Perhaps the most critical test of a group’s routinization is the way it handles the issue of succession. When the charismatic leader dies, the group may quickly disperse. However, many people have a vested interest in the survival of the group [They care about the mission, and they’ve invested their time, energy, and money] and will seek to ensure its viability. But who will provide the group with leadership? And how will that decision be made?
“The transfer of power to the next designated leader has important implications for the subsequent evolution of the group. First, the charisma which was once identified with a personality must be associated with the religious ideology and with the religious organization. The group, the body of beliefs, and perhaps a written record (scripture) become sources of veneration. The more stable source of authority in itself changes the character of the group. Second, a decision-making process [whatever it may be] must be sacralized as the divinely appointed method of choosing a successor. . . . In any event, the followers must recognize the new leader or leaders as the legitimate heir(s) to leadership. Otherwise, the group may be torn by schisms as various splinter groups identify different persons as the rightful leader.
“The new leader or group of leaders is not likely to possess the same sort of unquestioned authority that was vested in the personhood of the original leader. Some of the awe and respect will have been transferred to the teachings and to the continuing organization itself. The rules and values of the group must be attributed with transcendent importance in and of themselves. Commitment is now to the organization and to the ideology of the movement, and the authority of the new leader(s) may be restrained by these stabilizing forces. No longer are the sayings of the leader taken as true simply because that person said them. They must be evaluated in the light of what the original leader said and did.”
Sound familiar?
Dilemmas
Ok, let’s suppose the group survives and proceeds down the road from being an upstart sect to becoming a well-established church, a stable institution.
In the words of another sociologist, Thomas O’Dea, writing in the 1960s:
“Religion both needs most and suffers most from institutionalization.”
“While institutionalization is necessary, it tends to change the character of the movement and to create certain dilemmas that all routinized religions face.”
Now let’s look at those dilemmas
The dilemma of mixed motivation
The movement starts with “single-minded and unqualified devotion to the leader and to his or her teachings. The followers are willing to make great sacrifice to further the cause, and they willingly subordinate their own needs and desire for the sake of group goals. However, with the development of a stable institutional structure, the desire to occupy the more creative, responsible, and prestigious positions can stimulate jealousies and personality conflicts. Concerns about personal security within the organization may cause members to lose sight of the group’s primary goals. Mixed motivation occurs when a secondary concern or motivation comes to overshadow the original goals and teachings of the leader. Conventions of clergy sometimes debate pension plans and insurance programs more heatedly than statements of mission.”
This is a dilemma because the institution must in fact provide for the economic security and well-being of its full-time people (and others).
The Symbolic Dilemma
The group needs a common set of symbols to express its world view and ethos. But as the members project their subjective feelings onto those symbols (or symbolic behaviors), things may come to the point where those symbols no longer carry meaning and power for them. Members may then feel apathy or even antagonism toward those symbols.
Does a danda, or tilaka, or a dhoti, still carry the same symbolic power as before?
The Dilemma of Administrative Order: Staying flexible versus elaborating policy
As the group grows into an institution, “it may develop national offices and a bureaucratic structure.” It establishes rational policies and regulations to clarify relationships between various statuses and offices. Things may become unwieldy and overcomplicated. Too much red tape. And “attempts to modify or reform the structure may run into severe resistance by those whose status and security in the hierarchy may be threatened. Resolution of the dilemma of administrative order may be impeded by the existence of mixed motivation. Many persons within the hierarchy may view reorganization as a threat to their own security or positions of power and prestige.”
Again, it’s a dilemma because you need effective administrative structures.
The Dilemma of Delimitation: Defining the point versus substituting the letter for the spirit
As we institutionalize, “the religious message is translated into specific guidelines for everyday life. The general teachings about the unity of the universe or about the love of God must be translated into concrete rules of ethical behavior.”
But again it’s a dilemma: “The abstract moods, motivations, and concepts must be made concrete so that common lay people can comprehend their meaning and implication for everyday life.” But “later generations may become literalistic and legalistic” about the rules and “miss the central message.”
The Dilemma of Power: Conversion versus coercion
To “stay together and sustain its common faith,” the group must ensure conformity to its values and norms. Occasional deviations may not be threatening, but large-scale disregard of them becomes threatening. So “most of the beliefs, values, and norms of the faith must be adhered to most of the time.”
In the early stages, most members adhere to the rules due to their personal loyalty to the charismatic leader, or due to their personal mystical experience, or for some other strongly internalized reason. “But later generations, who have grown up within the religious organization, may never have personally experienced anything that compelled them to accept the absolute authority of the faith in their own lives—or the authority of the religious hierarchy to interpret the faith. They may be inclined to challenge official interpretations.”
To “maintain the integrity of the organization and ensure consensus in their basic world view, religious organizations may resort to coercive methods of social control.” Loss of privileges. Shunning. Excommunication. And so on.
The Dilemma of Expansion: Communalism versus rational structure
In the beginning, everyone knows everyone else, and there’s a close sense of community. But as the group expands this closeness starts to wane. And the group has to “develop rational structures and procedures for decision-making.” This can undermine the sense of communalism, of belonging.
So whereas people first committed themselves out of strong feelings, now you have to appeal to their commitment to the ideals or ideology—or to what’s in it for them personally: “What do I stand to gain?”
“This would seem to play into the dilemma of mixed motivation in a very direct way. When the individual’s commitment hinges in large part on the question ‘What’s in it for me?’ the problem of mixed motivation has become a reality.”
Then again, some people get frustrated with the impersonality of highly bureaucratized religion.
Some may feel the need for closer interpersonal ties.
Some may chafe at what seems to them a lack of spontaneity and fellowship.
Developing “congregational groups” may help fulfill the need for that sense of belonging. But even your congregational structure will need a bureaucracy. So what do you do?
When all the people no longer know one another, this “in itself means a change in the group’s character.”
People start focusing on specialized tasks. The common member no longer knows what’s going on in other parts of the organization. “Some individuals or special groups gain almost autonomous control over their own area or department, and they may use that platform to influence the policies, budget allocations, and goals of the entire organization.”
Often, ordinary members don’t even know who the leaders of their church’s various divisions are or be fully aware of what policy decisions their church is making. “Nonetheless, those policies are implemented with the aid of donations by local churches. While common members provide the financial support, an elite group of people, unknown to most of the laity, decide how to spend it.” This, of course, can cause conflict, “especially if the elite supports causes that the laity oppose.”
Institutionalization as a mixed blessing
In the words of O’Dea, “The process of institutionalization is a mixed blessing (or perhaps a necessary curse).”
Though the group needs to institutionalize, as it does so it runs into the various problems we’ve talked about.
And “avoiding these problems by avoiding institutionalization is simply not an option; rather, renewal movements, revivals, and other processes of regeneration are the means by which religious groups seek to overcome these dysfunctions.”
Further: “. . . the rebellion against routinization is one reason for the development of new sects. Much of the internal conflict and many of the schisms in denominations are due to the need for regeneration and a need to restate the faith in terms that are compelling to a new generation facing different problems of social meaning.”
This does not mean, however, that every movement proclaimed for renewal is equally valuable. It’s not that Ravindra-svarupa Prabhu’s “guru reform” movement and K. Swami’s “hooded priest” thing or K.K. Desai’s “end-of-the-disciplic succession” are all on the same level. (You might remember some of the “renewal movements” declared heretical in Christianity. It’s not that they were all so great.)
Sustaining plausibility
If a charismatic movement is going to survive, it also needs to sustain the idea that its world view is plausible, or in fact uniquely realistic.
If objective events or scientific interpretations make your world view seem unrealistic, that world view is going to have a hard time.
For example, if you’ve predicted the end of the world on July 19, 1894, on July 20 you may face a credibility problem.
The sociologist Peter Berger has given a lot of attention to what he calls “plausibility structures”—but I’m going to skip that here and go on to other matters.
Mobilization of resources
Finally, the movement has to be able to mobilize resources
financial support
political influence
favorable public attitudes (legitimacy)
the time and energy of members
cultural resources (ideas, symbols, and so on)
There’s a lot more to be said about the “resource-mobilization perspective”—but again I’ll have to leave that aside, perhaps for some other seminar.
The sociology of intra-religious conflict
Conflict can occur at different levels
The local, congregational level
The national or international “denominational” level
The concerns and dynamics at these two levels are likely to differ
(Obviously, the second is more severe)
Potential fault lines
between different nationalities
between groups of different social status or class
Between racial groups
between family people and ascetics
between age groups: generations
between people on different sides of an issue
between theological liberals and conservatives
between a trained professional clergy and the laity
Conflict brings about change
It can bring about change within a religious group.
It can bring about splits and schisms.
It can bring about a change in the greater surrounding society.
What forces bring about schisms?
According to one model—this comes from K. Peter Takayama—schism takes place when “external environmental changes”—things happening outside the group, such as cultural or moral changes—“act as catalysts to internally generated and unresolved strains, producing crisis.”
According to this view, the major conditions for schism are not so much matters of doctrinal purity as these:
1. a high degree of environmental permeability (a lot of stuff can filter in from outside) and
2. ideological concern regarding the legitimacy of organizational authority and the behavior of the leadership.
According to another analysis—this one from John Wilson—the key feature for schism is structural strain, or the “disjuncture between norms and values or between roles and norms.”
Here’s an analysis from Fabio Sani and John Todman, psychologists at the University of Dundee
“When members of a subgroup believe that a new norm fundamentally changes a central aspect of group identity, they will tend to believe that the group identity as a whole has been subverted.” (“Hey, this isn’t the group I joined.”)
This affects how they think and act. First, they may come to believe they won’t be allowed to dissent. They’ll come to think, “Because our understanding of what the group stands for is totally at odds with the positions endorsed by the group as a whole, we’re going to be silenced and marginalized.” And this belief that they have no voice will make them feel still more strongly that the larger group is no longer a unified whole.
How do they react? “Clearly, their objective now is to restore their voice and to be part of a uniform group. However, they cannot comply with the mainstream position, as that would mean accepting an undesired identity. As a result, the most logical option is to consider the possibility of leaving the group.”
In fact, by forming a breakaway group, or joining an existing group whose values match their own, the dissenters may again feel part of an unified whole. And so they may express schismatic intentions.
I would add: If you want people to drop out of a group, one strategy is to promote the belief that a central aspect of the group’s identity has been compromised or subverted.
Whether that belief is warranted or not doesn’t matter. If you can persuade people that it has, your strategy may succeed.
Another possible direction (the other side of the same coin): Two groups that broadly agree in their values and objectives may seek to become part of a new, more inclusive group and in this way establish a new and broader identity.
Another writer, Bryan Hillis, places emphasis on the content of a disagreement, what it is the parties are arguing about:
“when a schism takes place, both sides in the dispute have to be able to argue that they alone are the ones remaining faithful to the religious content of the tradition. . . . Parties in the dispute can justify the schismatic action only when they can claim themselves as the true adherents to the original tradition. Remaining in fellowship with the other party then becomes an offence to the tradition or to the goals of the tradition, and the dissenting group leaves to pursue its vision of the tradition. In sociological terms, schism acts as a ‘tension-reducing agent.’ ”
For example, one devotee who left ISKCON and joined another Gauòéya group condescendingly ends an article by saying he hopes for ISKCON’s “gradual and welcome return to the fold of orthodox Gaudiya Vaisnavism.”
What comes after a schism?
More schism.
In the words of one scholar, "Organizational problems and dilemmas. . . are always with or upon organizations. It is one of the consistent emphases of the sociological literature on sects that schismatic sects are likely in time to face many of the same problems to which they originally reacted by separation, because of the development of their own organizational form—which may occasion new separations." (Louis Schneider, Sociological Approach to Religion. Wiley: 1970)
Schism gives birth to schism gives birth to schism
Contributions from “conflict theory”
Our understanding of conflict has much to gain from the writings of Lewis Coser, author of The Functions of Social Conflict, who himself drew from an earlier writer, Georg Simmel.
Let’s look at some of his point.
“Conflict within a group. . . may help to establish unity or to re-establish unity and cohesion where it has been threatened by hostile and antagonistic feelings among the members.”
But not every conflict does that. Whether it helps or not depends on what the issues are and the social structure of the group.
First, the issues:
When internal conflicts “concern goals, values or interests that do not contradict the basic assumptions upon which the relationship is founded,” they’re likely to be helpful. Such conflicts help the members readjust norms and power relations to what they feel to be their needs.
But when parties clash because they “no longer share the basic values upon which the legitimacy of the social system rests,” the conflict threatens to disrupt the structure.
Now, social structure:
Will the conflict help the members come to better terms with one another, or will it tear the group apart? This depends in large part on how well the group is equipped for tolerating conflict, allowing it to be expressed, and dealing with it.
When a group is closely knit and its people are deeply involved and they interact a lot, the group will tend to suppress conflict. Sounds good? No.
When you’re tight in a group like that, you get lots of love and lots of friction, because there’s lots of opportunity for both. But because hostile feelings seem to threaten the closeness of the group, the group tends to suppress them rather than let them be expressed or acted out. So what happens? The feelings build up, till they finally break out.
And then they’ll be really intense. Why? Two reasons:
First, the conflict won’t just aim at resolving the immediate issue; all the grievances that built up but couldn’t be expressed will emerge.
Second, because the group members are so deeply involved—because they’ve committed to the group their whole personality—they’ll throw their whole hearts into the struggle. After all, their whole identity is on the line.
And so: The closer the group, the more intense the conflict.
When the people in a group are less heavily involved, conflict is less likely to blow things apart. Lots of conflicts will arise, but lots of little ones are better than one big one. And by dealing with the smaller conflicts as they come, you’re more likely to be focusing on the problem at hand—the “facts of the case”—instead of a whole history of pent-up frustrations.
(Think of tremors and earthquakes.)
Now, let’s look not only within the group but at how it fares with what’s around it.
When a group is fighting with forces from the outside, it wants you to get involved heart and soul. It lays claims to your whole personality. So when a conflict appears within the group, everyone gets worked up. Such groups, therefore, “are unlikely to tolerate more than limited departures from group unity.”
On the contrary, they strengthen social cohesion by unifying against dissenters. Such groups tend to suppress conflict, and where it occurs it leads the group to break up through splits or through the dissenters’ withdrawal, voluntary or forced.
(This puts us on a pretty serious fault line.)
Groups that aren’t always fighting with the outside world ask less of you, and they’re more likely to be flexible, giving more space for multiple internal conflicts that blow off steam and make the group more stable.
When a group has flexibility, its internal conflicts crisscross one another.
People get somewhat involved in one, somewhat in another, holding hands sometimes with one subgroup, sometimes another, so no big split emerges.
Rather, the conflicts, given room for expression, help balance things and make for stability.
Old norms are revitalized, or new ones appear, helping the group adjust to changing conditions.
Meanwhile, the rigid groups, by suppressing conflict, smother a useful warning signal and set themselves up for a catastrophic breakdown.
Groups can defuse discontent and hostility through “safety-valve” institutions, which keep the status quo largely intact but allow the release of tension.
This is less than fully satisfying for the individual or fully useful for the institution, but it’s a lot better than earthquakes or perpetual hostility.
Conflicts with outsiders
Suggestion boxes
Istagosthis (gripe sessions)
We can identify two types of conflict: realistic (or functional) and unrealistic (or dysfunctional). Realistic conflict arises when people clash over claims that have a specific content; unrealistic, when the only content is the hostility and aggression itself.
The more rigid the group, the more you need those safety-valve institutions to deal with unrealistic conflict.
In short, conflict itself can be helpful. What threatens the cohesiveness of a group is not conflict but a rigidity that bottles it up until it breaks out and threatens to break the group apart.
A few more points about conflict
Another Coser insight:
Ideological concerns and the appeal to those concerns can have a powerful influence in a conflict.
When you feel you’re representing not merely yourself but a larger group, and you’re fighting not just for yourself but for the ideals of the group, the conflict is likely to be more radical and merciless.
You embody the purposes and power of the group, you’re loyal to the group, you sacrifice for the group, the group’s victory will be your victory, and threats to the group are threats to your very self. It’s a formula for a bitter struggle.
In the words of one scholar, “Mere personal feuds or even power struggles usually cannot evoke such a high degree of intransigence and vituperation as can religious or ideological confrontations where the individual sees himself as ‘the bearer of a group mission.’” (John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy)
And of course those feelings can be manipulated. Even with my self-serving motives, I may falsely gain public legitimacy by appealing to a higher purpose.
Conflict and particularism
Particularism—a group’s insistence that its members have exclusive possession of truth, knowledge, and goodness— “tends to encourage a militance on behalf of one’s beliefs, and this makes it easier for religious leaders to mobilize followers around the cause. Particularism thrives on opposition, for the in-group needs an out-group with which it can compare itself and against which it can define its membership. If no out-group exists, the tendency is to create one.”
“On the other hand, loyalties with other groups—friendships, family relationships, business partnerships, social and ethnic affiliations, and so on—tend to weaken hostility towards the members of competing religious groups.” (Keith A. Roberts, Religion in Sociological Perspective)
By the way: Conflicts are most likely to arise when tangible resources are involved: men, money, property, and so on.
Competition in the “religious marketplace”
Roger Finke and Rodney Stark have argued that competition spurs religious activity.
#1. To the degree that a religious economy is unregulated, it will tend to be very pluralistic.
“Because religious markets are composed of multiple segments or niches, with each sharing particular religious preferences (needs, tastes, and expectations), no single religious firm can satisfy all market niches. More specifically, pluralism arises in unregulated markets because of the inability of a single religious firm to be at once worldly and otherworldly, strict and permissive, exclusive and inclusive, expressive and reserved, or (as Adam Smith put it) austere and loose, while market niches will exist with strong preferences on each of these aspects of religion.”
#4 To the degree that religious economies are unregulated and competitive, overall levels of religious commitment will be high.
“(Conversely, lacking competition, the dominant firm(s) will be too inefficient to sustain vigorous marketing efforts and the result will be a low overall level of religious commitment. . . )
“This . . . also suggests that individual religious groups will be more energetic and generate higher levels of commitment to the degree that they have a marginal market position—lack market share. That is, other things being equal, small religious minorities will be more vigorous than will firms with a large local following. Thus, for example, Roman Catholics will be more active, the less Catholic their community.”
Historical Background before ISKCON
In the context of traditional Hinduism and Vaisnavism, Lord Caitanya’s movement is often presented as being a “reform movement”
It de-emphasized caste
It gave less importance to ritual
It emphasized kirtana
And, especially, it promoted “ecstatic love,” following in the footsteps of the gopis, as the ultimate goal of life.
Diversity during Caitanya’s time
Non-Gaudiya movements
Vallabha Acarya and his followers
South Indian Vaisnavas
Gaudiya groups
The diverse “branches of the Caitanya tree”
Different emphasis in Vrndavana and Bengal
Different “branches of the Caitanya tree”
Different “moods” (e.g., cowherd boys of Nityananda)
Murari Gupta as follower of Rama
Svakiya and parakiya followers
Manipuri Vaisnavaism
Schismatic and heretical movements after Caitanya
Sons of Advaita Acarya split off (Cc. Adi 12.8–12)
Sahajiyas
Historically, Gaudiya Vaisnavism was spread and sustained with minimal formal institutionalization
There were sampradäyas sustained through lines of guru-parampara.
There were texts, pilgrimages, and shared rituals.
There were interpretive authorities like the six Gosvamis and Krsnadasa Kaviraja
There were councils, as at Keturi
But little in the way of formal institutions
And of course there were diverse movements—especially the sahajiyäs—we would regard as seriously deviant
More formal organizations start with Srila Bhaktivinoda Thakura (Nama-hatta) and Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura (Gauòéya Math)
The movement started by Bhaktivinoda Thakura and Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura can itself be seen as a “reform movement” within Gauòéya Vaisnavism
It has been criticized—and still is—as being a “deviation” both from Hindu orthodoxy and from the standard Gaudiya Vaisnava tradition
Yet it has spread Krsna consciousness all over the world
Schism within the Gaudiya Math
As Srila Prabhupada relates, during Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura’s presence, “all the disciples worked in agreement; but just after his disappearance, they disagreed. . . . He did not instruct a particular man to become the next äcärya. But just after his passing away, his leading secretaries made plans, without authority, to occupy the post of äcärya, and they split into two factions over who the next äcärya would be.”
Srila Prabhupada therefore later started ISKCON.
He was resisted, by the way, for not acting under the authority of the Gaudiya Matha.
And his godbrothers sometimes criticized him for the adaptations he made in order to spread Krsna consciousness in the West.
ISKCON and historical developments during Srila Prabhupada’s presence
After Srila Prabhupada began ISKCON, it had a virtual monopoly on Gaudiya Vaisnavism in the West.
Over time, some competitors appeared
In the late 1960s, the leader of one Gaudiya Math reinitiated one of Srila Prabhupada’s early Western disciples in India and appeared to have designs on two others.
During Srila Prabhupada’s presence, other Gaudiya Maths seemed to make little effort to recruit Western followers.
Two or three devotees split off and joined a line of Gauranga-nagaris.
Another became a student of a local Vrindaban Vaisnava scholar.
An early split-off from within ISKCON was Siddha-svarupa Ananda’s group in Hawaii—the “Haribol” people. They kept a connection with Srila Prabhupada but distanced themselves from ISKCON and had their own standards and strategies.
They became critical of the mainstream ISKCON activities—especially aggressive book distribution—and for some devotees represented an alternative choice to affiliate with.
According to a letter I received in 1992 from Pusta Krsna Prabhu, when he was Srila Prabhupada’s secretary in the mid-1970s Srila Prabhupada became aware of a plan to assassinate Siddha-svarupa. When Srila Prabhupada heard of this he said, “That is Vaisnava aparadha.”
After Srila Prabhupada’s disappearance
Heterodox movements within ISKCON
Kirtanananda Swami introduced innovative practices and attire, disputed various GBC decisions, competed for followers and funds, and gradually split off entirely.
Other ISKCON gurus, though staying within the fold, were often perceived as having co-opted the resources of ISKCON that lay within their sometimes vast domains and having become the leaders of personality-centered movements unto themselves.
In some cases—Hamsaduta, Harikesa—these gurus spun out of ISKCON entirely and for some time became ISKCON’s competitors.
We’ve also seen the introduction of “New Age” and therapy-based orientations (Radhadesh)
Some small-scale spinoffs
Satya-narayana (JIVA)
Jagannatha Dasa (upstate NY)
Krishna-Balarama Swami (Vrindaban)
Largely in response to ISKCON’s “zonal guru” system and the falldowns of some of ISKCON’s gurus, some devotees distanced themselves from ISKCON and aligned themselves with Srila B.R. Sridhara Maharaja.
Initially they tried to bring about a change in ISKCON’s policies. When this brought no result, they formed a loosely organized alternative association of devotees.
They became energetic in publishing.
They actively recruited ISKCON devotees or those in orbit of ISKCON.
In some places, they competed with ISKCON for prospective members.
They made an issue of certain questions of doctrine (mainly the fall of the jiva).
They challenged ISKCON’s understanding and policies regarding gurus and initiation.
In this regard, they sometimes sought to engage the ISKCON GBC either in dialogue or debate.
Eventually they challenged the wisdom of the GBC’s decisions and the integrity of some of its members.
To get back on course, they said, the GBC should take guidance from Srila Sridhara Maharaja.
Eventually even some GBC members distanced themselves from the rest of the GBC and professed loyalty to Srila Sridhara Maharaja.
The GBC and its members responded competitively
They published counter-propaganda.
They challenged the group’s ideological positions
They denounced the breakaways as disloyal to ISKCON and Srila Prabhupada
They questioned, even denigrated, Srila Sridhara Maharaja’s authority, philosophical fidelity, and personal integrity
They accused Srila Sridhara Maharaja of being responsible for the “zonal äcärya system”
They ostracized the group’s leaders, banned their publications, and forbid ISKCON members from having anything to do with these now “disloyal” members
Eventually, the GBC sent a delegation to apologize personally to Srila Sridhara Maharaja
Compelled by documentary evidence, they published resolutions acknowledging that they themselves were responsible for the zonal guru system, which he had in fact advised against.
In the wake of successive falldowns of high-profile ISKCON gurus, some devotees sought guidance and eventually initiation from Srila B.P. Puri Maharaja.
In Italy, in particular, a group that formed around him grew at odds with the local ISKCON leadership and a struggle ensued concerning the group’s legitimacy within ISKCON. This later spawned a dispute over a valuable ISKCON property.
Another group formed around Srila B.V. Narayana Maharaja.
Ananta Dasa Babaji
Srila B.V. Tirtha Maharaja, a disciple of Srila Madhava Maharaja, one of Srila Prabhupada’s godbrothers, has also visited America and other foreign countries and had some influence.
And Vaisnavas from other Gaudiya Maths have also found some response in the West.
Gosvamis from ancient Vrindaban temples, especially Radha-Ramana, have journeyed to the West
Again in response to perceived anomalies in the institutional role of ISKCON’s gurus, various “rtvik movements” appeared
Yasodanandana Dasa and Kailash Candra Dasa were early exponents of one brand of rtvik philosophy.
An early group, the “New Jaipur” community, openly challenged the GBC, mainly through their journal, “The Vedic Village Review.”
In North America, the local GBC arranged a debate in San Diego between the group’s leaders and some leaders from ISKCON.
The GBC rejected the debate itself as “unauthorized.”
And finally the international GBC declared the group’s doctrines deviant and expelled its principal members.
A later group, the “ISKCON Reform Movement”—or “ISKCON Revival Movement,” as it now likes to call itself—espousing a somewhat different brand of rtvik doctrine, sprang up later.
The group has been vigorous in promoting its views through publications, especially through “papers” and a long tract called “The Final Order.”
One affiliate gained legal and administrative control of ISKCON’s center in Bangalore, India.
Another for some time exercised control over ISKCON’s center in Calcutta.
One affiliate established itself as an alternative movement in New York City.
Another has recently taken control of ISKCON’s center in Long Island, New York.
Meanwhile, Yasodananda Dasa has established a small “Hare Krishna Society” in Los Angeles, opposed to ISKCON yet at odds with the “final order” people.
International Society for Divine Love
This outfit is something of an ISKCON knockoff
They came to the US in 1981
Their goals are “to reveal the eternal knowledge of the Upanisads, the Gita, and the Bhagavatam, etc., and to impart the practical process of divine upliftment called ‘raganuga-bhakti’ or ‘divine love consciousness’ ”
They have lots of Radhe Radhe, and so on.
It’s headed by one Swami Prakashananda Saraswati
He follows the line of “Bhakti-yoga Rasavatara Jagadguru Shree Kripaluji Maharaj”
As ISKCON has New Vrindaban, in 1990 they started a “Barsana Dham” near Austin, Texas.
Their leaders, last time I looked, seemed to be mainly Western “sannyasinis.” But these days the outfit seems to be courting more of an Indian audience, so on their website, at least, no sannyasinis are to be seen.
They claim to follow the line of Caitanya Mahaprabhu.
Interestingly, ISKCON has offered them virtually no response.
Diverse groups today
Affiliated with Srila Prabhupada and Srila Sridhara Maharaja
After Srila Sridhara Maharaja’s disappearance, entered a post-charismatic phase.
Several leaders fell down
The movement went through a fair amount of fragmentation
They lost a lot of force
Several still remain active
Govinda Maharaja & Pusta Krsna
Janardana Maharaja (Former Panca-dravida Swami)
Paramadvaiti Swami
Narasimha Maharaja
Tripurari Swami
Srila Narayana Maharaja’s group
Entering the post-charismatic phase
Showing signs of schismatic tendencies and personal and organizational insecurity
But likely to persist, even if in a fragmented and diminished form
Srila Puri Maharaja’s group
Other Gaudiya groups
Siddhasvarupa’s group
Still active in Australasia
have been quite innovative in their marketing
and quite successful, from what I hear
Rtvik groups
Declining in market share
But well entrenched
And the continuing falldown of ISKCON leaders keeps reinforcing the credibility of their product, even among ISKCON’s own senior salesmen
Radha-kunda bäbäjés
Unaligned groups of householders
Perhaps burned by ISKCON or distrustful of it.
Want economic and personal independence.
They may be spiritual “consumers,” ready to buy from whoever offers what appears the best deal.
Issues of tension to observe (future schisms?)
Role of women (half the population, after all)
Attitude towards gays
Attitude towards academic qualification
Strictness / leniency regarding rules and lifestyles
Literalism v. modernism
Competing claims to authentically represent the tradition
Degree of control by congregations rather than priests and officials
Generational differences
Racial and cultural differences
Indian / Western
Black / white, North American / Hispanic, and so on
Class distinctions (upper, middle & lower)
Note that all of this takes place against the background of pressures for secularization from the environment
Features of the Environment
The market is open
There is no way to accomplish territorial hegemony—that is, to keep competitors out of the market
“It’s a free country.” Legal restrictions won’t work.
In Vrindaban, and to a lesser extent in Mayapur, and in large cities, everyone is exposed to everything
Books and other publications are freely available
The internet is everywhere
Competitors have no reason to accede to polite requests to “stay off our turf”
And salesmen can find almost anywhere a hospitable potential customer willing to provide at least a temporary base.
Householders, even ISKCON householders, are financially independent
This makes them free to choose from competing spiritual alternatives
ISKCON has only limited ability to exercise any sort of coercive authority.
The second generation is not necessarily committed to one supplier
The barriers to cross-sectarian marriages are weak
Second generation members looking for a second-generation devotee spouse will find the available pool already small, and sectarian concerns only make it smaller. Such concerns may not matter to them enough to block an otherwise suitable match.
Beyond ISKCON’s existing borders, there is a large potential market
Organizational status of ISKCON
Nearly three decades of scandals have slashed the perceived value of ISKCON’s organizational product, especially in regard to gurus and institutional leaders.
Especially in America and Europe, ISKCON is low on personnel, especially committed personnel
Its marketing efforts in the West are weak
It’s sorting through all the usual post-charismatic dilemmas
In the West again, it has largely turned toward the Indian market
On the positive side, its administrative structure seems to have become more stable and mature
ISKCON has successfully fended off several major threats to its very existence
Several of its leaders command widespread respect
That several leaders have passed away in good standing, or even gloriously, has helped its credibility
It has had good success in India, among Indians abroad, and in certain geographical markets
The Indian market has brought it good resources
It has lately shown some gains among its 2nd generation
Internal educational initiatives have made good progress
Strategies available
Neutral and combative responses
Ignore competitors altogether, thereby giving them no importance
Try to discredit their product
Issue oral criticism and warnings, in classes, meetings, and so on, about their people and their teachings
Publish responses: papers, books, e-mail exchanges, online articles
Ban their books
Ban association, restrict interactions
Deny them our resources: jobs, schools, and so on
Refuse to sell them our books
Exclude them from our properties and functions
Expel their customers (members initiated outside)
Confront competitors legally
Exclude them from territory: Try by one means or another to keep competitors out of local markets
Accommodative and assimilative responses
Offer apologies and seek to reconcile past disputes
Relax the borders
Allow members of other groups to participate in ISKCON functions
Make it easy for former members to be reassimilated
Cooperative and ecumenical responses
Pursue mergers
A curious sociological finding is that mergers, at least on the denominational level, actually increase the likelihood of schisms. Identities and relationships are redefined, resources redeployed, and this creates temporary instability from which schism can arise. (Sutton & Chaves 2004)
The Christian “ecumenical movement” has largely failed
Maintain group identity but participate in a larger overarching poly-group association
Sarasvata Vaisnava Association
Enjoys ISKCON participation and sponsorship
Has a largely ISKCON-controlled agenda
It’s only minimally active
Seems deliberately constructed so as to provide only limited, though cordial, interaction
Effectively, limited to West Bengal
Respects and maintains the status quo of the power relations between its participants
Provides no status for ISKCON breakaway groups
Though promoting cooperation, it is in some quarters distrusted by the perception that its leading proponent is a politically shrewd member of ISKCON’s power elite
World Vaisnava Association
Has the commendable goal of promoting broad-based inter-group cooperation
Seeks to establish legitimacy for breakaway ISKCON groups, who are its main sponsors
Seems to have the unstated objective of readjusting and redefining the power relations between ISKCON and other societies, essentially by moving ISKCON downward and others upward
By its name and positioning, it seems to seek for itself a worldwide catholic role that ISKCON, though so far unable to implement, has envisioned for itself
Though promoting cooperation, it is held back by the widespread perception that its main proponent, a former ISKCON member, is politically shrewd and aggressively competitive and opportunistic
Form collaborations
“Sister society” proposals
A barrier here is that to accept a “sister society” is to accept that such a society legitimately exists, and ISKCON is unwilling to admit that any breakaway society has legitimacy
ISKCON has concerns about any “authority” whose influence might dilute that of Srila Prabhupada or ISKCON’s own authority structure
Concerning the spiritual authorities they respect, “sister societies” have formerly articulated positions that ISKCON finds unacceptable and have yet to clearly present new formulations that ISKCON might accept
The prospective sister societies have used their association with senior Gaudiya authorities as a marketing tool to assert the superiority of their product, whereas ISKCON has marketed the superiority of its exclusive adherence to Srila Prabhupada.
How could ISKCON accept a sister society without compromising what it perceives to be its unique selling proposition?
A dilemma for ISKCON, however, is that by appearing to be isolated from other members of the tradition it reinforces the claims of its competitors to more broadly and authentically represent that tradition.
The dilemma for the competitors, of course, is that they are denied full access to the resources of what is now the main institution within the tradition, and their spiritual master’s institution at that.
ISKCON is naturally concerned about losing existing customers, who for the “sister societies” appear to be the main target market.
Competitive response
Improve your product, your marketing, and your customer service
Example: Leicester. Because one breakaway group was using the ISKCON name and preaching, Pradyumna felt inspired to stoke up the preaching there.
The role of the bishop (or GBC member)
See “Church Schism & Succession” by Mary Lou Steed
Additional ideas
Vigorously promote diversity within ISKCON
In particular, do it through “societies” or “orders” like those in Catholicism
Form a “Bhakti Rakshak” order. This would be open to all the ISKCON-related followers of Srila Sridhara Maharaja.
They would continue to belong to their own organizations.
They would not be under the authority of the GBC
They would be welcome to participate fully in ISKCON activities, lead kirtana, give class, and so on
Their connection to Srila Sridhara Maharaja would be respected.
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