Source: Skeptical Inquirer,
July 2000 v24 i4 p20.
Title:
David Bohm and Jiddo
Krishnamurti.
Author: MARTIN GARDNER
Excerpted
Ex-Communists and fellow travelers have a habit of turning from Marxism
to another ideology, often Catholicism or some other religion. In
David Bohm's case it was a bounce toward Buddhism and Hinduism, and the
teachings of Krishnamurti. After decades of close friendship, with
unbounded admiration largely on Bohm's side, the two had a bitter
falling out. Krishnamurti always had a low opinion of physics, and
Bohm's pilot wave theory in particular. He had a cruel way of treating
Bohm as if he were a stupid child unable to fully appreciate his
(Krishnamurti's) vast wisdom.
Krishnamurti (1895-1986) was one of the most peculiar gurus ever to
come out of Mother India. In 1908, this thin, frail, shy lad, of
Brahmin birth, was discovered by Annie Besant and Charles Leadbeater,
the most famous disciples of Madame Blavatsky. They became convinced
that young Jiddo was the new messiah, or world teacher, and the
incarnation of Lord Bodhisattva Maitreya, the fifth Buddha. Leadbeater,
who claimed to be clairvoyant, saw all this when he viewed Jiddo's
aura. Besant adopted him as her son and raised him as a theosophist. In
1910, Krishnamurti's first book, At the Feet of the Master, was
published by England's Theosophical Society. It was said to have been
written by Krishnamurti who used the pseudonym of Alcyone, when he was
15.
In 1911, Besant, then the international president of the Theosophical
Society, founded the Order of the Star of the East. Krishnamurti was
the rising Star. In 1922 Annie purchased six acres in Ojai, California,
where Krishnamurti eventually settled, and which became the
headquarters of the still-flourishing Krishnamurti Foundation.
Jiddo's father lost a lawsuit trying to regain custody of his son. His
Lawsuit accused Leadbeater, who was probably gay, of having had sexual
relations with Jiddo.
In 1922 Krishnamurti had a spiritual awakening which Harper's
Encyclopedia of Mystical and Paranormal Experience, edited by Rosemary
Ellen Gulley, describes as follows:
He suffered excruciating headaches, visions, and convulsions,
shuddering and moaning, and semiconsciousness, much as a person
possessed. These seizures and spiritual manifestations lasted for
several years and formed the basis for Krishnamurti's later
orientation. He called the ordeal "an inward cleansing."
Krishnamurti tried to enter Oxford, but failed its entrance
examination. He never got a college degree. In 1929 he made a cleansing
break with his
theosophical upbringing by disbanding the Order of the Star. A year
later, to Annie Besant's sorrow, he resigned from the Theosophical
Society. Henceforth he would travel around the globe, giving talks and
conducting dialogues in which he taught a vague form of consciousness
raising unrelated to any religion, and based on his own techniques of
meditation and self-improvement.
As Bohm's friend and collaborator David Peat tells it in his biography
of Bohm, Infinite Potential (1997), young Krishnamurti actually
believed for a
time that he was indeed the incarnation of Lord Maitveya, and the true
successor to Jesus. His consciousness and that of Maitveya had merged;
the
"beloved" spoke through him. Although Krishnamurti outgrew the
theosophical nonsense Besant and Leadbeater had drummed into him, he
never stopped believing that he and he alone among living mortals knew
the truth about everything. His teaching was a mix of dull platitudes
and murky phrases such as "the observer is the observed," "thinking is
the thought," "choiceless awareness," and that to be transformed one
must "die to the moment." He was convinced that when a person was
radically changed through proper meditation there were actual mutations
in the brain!
Krishnamurti's name was on more than forty books, as well as on endless
audio and video tapes. The Ending of Time (1985) was a book coauthored
with Bohm. I have done my best to try to read some of these books
without falling asleep. It is hard to understand how the author of such
vapid ideas could have mesmerized listeners, most of them women, when
he lectured, and to have captured the admiration of a great physicist.
His lines are like those in Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky." As Alice
remarked, they seem to mean something, but it's hard to pin down just
what. There is never a hint in Krishnamurti's writings of a personal
God or the survival of personality after death. He almost never refers
to or quotes from any other thinker. His vision is a kind of
watered-down Buddhism in which the key message is that everything is
interconnected and one must live in the moment, without fear, and
accept everything that happens with resignation and tranquility. The
same infuriating vagueness permeates books written by his admirers.
To give you a glimpse into Krishnamurti's vagueness, here are a few
typical excerpts from his talks:
...
There is no such thing as doing right or wrong when there is freedom.
You are free and from that centre you act. And hence there is no fear,
and a mind that has no fear is capable of great love. And when there is
love it can do what it will.
Death is a renewal, a mutation, in
which thought does not function at all because thought is old. When
there is death there is something totally new. Freedom from the known is death, and then
you are living.
When you love, is there an observer?
There is an observer only when love is desire and pleasure. When desire
and pleasure are not associated with love, then love is intense. It is,
like beauty, something totally new every day. As I have said, it has no
yesterday and no tomorrow.
As long as there is a time interval
between the observer and the observed it creates friction and therefore
there is a waste of energy. That energy is gathered to its highest point when the
observer is the observed, in which there is no time interval at all.
Then there will be energy without motive and it will find its own channel of action
because then the "I" does not exist.
To see what you actually are without
any comparison gives you tremendous energy to look. When you can look
at yourself without comparison you are beyond comparison, which does not mean
that the mind is stagnant with contentment.
You can face a fact only in the
present and if you never allow it to be present because you are always
escaping from it, you can never face it, and because we have cultivated a whole
network of escapes we are caught in the habit of escape.
We might be able to modify ourselves
slightly, live a little more quietly with a little more affection, but
in itself it will not give total perception. But I must know how to analyse which means
that in the process of analysis my mind becomes extraordinarily sharp,
and it is that quality of sharpness, of attention, of seriousness, which will
give total perception. One hasn't the eyes to see the whole thing at a
glance; this clarity of the eye is possible only if one can see the details, then jump.
It was not just Bohm who fell under the sway of Krishnamurti's
charisma. He strongly influenced such writers as Joseph Campbell, the
poet Robinson
Jeffers, Henry Miller, Aldous Huxley, and Alan Watts who churned out
popular books about Zen Buddhism. George Bernard Shaw once called young
Krishnamurti "the most beautiful human being" he ever saw. After
visiting
Krishnamurti's castle in Holland, Campbell wrote in a letter: "I can
scarcely think of anything but the wisdom-and-beauty-of-my friend." In
another letter he
said, "Every time I talk with Krishna, something new amazes me."
There were two Krishnamurtis. One was the persona presented to the
world through lectures and books; a man without ego who led a
sanctified life of
celibacy and high moral purity. The other Krishnamurti was a shadowy,
self-centered, vain man, capable of sudden angers and enormous cruelty
to
friends. He was also a habitual liar. Krishna, as his friends called
him, freely admitted his compulsive lying. He blamed it on simple fear
of having
his deceptions detected.
Krishna's closest associate was Raja, whose full
Indian name was Desikacharya Rajagopalacharya. A native of India, Raja
was as handsome as Krishna, and for almost thirty years a devoted
disciple who served as his master's business manager, secretary,
literary agent, and editor. It was Krishna's good friend Aldous Huxley
who introduced Raja to his editor at Harper and Row, the firm that
published Krishna's many books. Krishna had little interest in writing
or publishing, but he allowed Raja to cobble books out of his talks and
notebooks, and to edit this material into volumes.
Raja's wife Rosalind was a beautiful American Caucasian who grew up in
Hollywood, a friend of movie stars, who almost became a professional
tennis
player. Toward the end of Krishna's life an astonishing revelation came
to light. For nearly thirty years, unknown to Raja, Rosalind had been
Krishna's
mistress! As such, she had undergone a miscarriage and several
abortions, all miraculously kept secret from her husband.
Raja forgave his wife and never ceased loving her, but a rift between
Raja and Krishna grew steadily wider until finally they became bitter
enemies. Twice Krishna unsuccessfully sued Raja for mishandling funds,
and Raja in turn sued Krishna for slander. All three lawsuits were
finally settled out of court. The two former friends never reconciled.
Rosalind's passion for Krishna cooled when she discovered he was having
another secret affair, this time with a shy, beautiful young woman,
Nandini
Mehta. Raja's passion for Rosalind also dimmed when he fell in love
with Annalisa Begha, a Swiss-Italian who was twenty-three years his
junior. After
he and Rosalind finally obtained a Mexican divorce, Raja and Annalisa
married.
You can learn all the sordid details about these surprising events in a
splendid biography of Krishna, Lives in the Shadow with J. Krishnamurti
(1991), by Radha Rajagopal Sloss, the daughter of Rosalind and Raja.
Now married to mathematician James Sloss, a professor at the University
of
California, Santa Barbara, Radha is also the author of India Beyond the
Mirror (1988).
A story in Mrs. Sloss's book reveals how little Krishnamurti understood
science. America's funniest and nuttiest medical quack was Dr. Albert
Abrams. You can read about him in my Fads and Fallacies. Abrams
invented a bizarre electrical machine which he claimed could diagnose
all ailments from a drop of blood, and could cure terrible diseases by
electrical rays. Like the writer and socialist Upton Sinclair, Krishna
became convinced that Abrams's machine did everything he claimed it
did. He sent Abrams a blood sample, and was told he had cancer in his
intestines and left lung, and syphilis in his spine and nose. After
being treated for a while by Abrams's machine, Krishna said he felt
much better.
Radha likens her father to the Hindu god Vishnu, the preserver, and
Krishna to Shiva, the destroyer. "The division between Krishnamurti
himself will cast a very dark shadow on all he has said or written,"
Radha concludes. "Because the first thing the readers will say, is: 'If
he cannot live it, who can?'"
After learning about Krishnamurti's secret love affair with his best
friend's wife, Bohm felt betrayed. Perhaps this plunged him into his
third and final
deep depression. Hospitalized, suffering from paranoia and thoughts of
suicide, Bohm underwent fourteen episodes of shock therapy before he
recovered sufficiently to leave the mental hospital. Earlier triple
bypass surgery on his heart had been successful, but his death in 1991,
at age 75, was from a massive heart attack. Krishnamurti had died six
years earlier, at his
home in Ojai, of pancreatic cancer. His body was cremated.