The following appeared in Volume 98, Number 1 (Fall, 1998) of the APA Newsletters

I first encountered the teachings of Krishnamurti about twenty years ago, by reading about him in a book by Henry Miller. In The Books in My Life, Miller raves:

There is a name I have withheld which stands out in contrast to all that is secret, suspect, confusing, bookish, and enslaving: Krishnamurti. Here is one man of our time who may be said to understand that it is easy to comprehend the confusion which his clear, direct words and deeds have entailed. Men are reluctant to accept what is easy to grasp...If he has a mission, it is to strip men of their illusions and delusions, to knock away the false supports of ideals, beliefs, fetishes, every kind of crutch, and thus render back to man the full majesty, the full potency, of humanity.

This set me off on an exploration of meditation, reading, and even traveling to California several successive summers to hear Krishnamurti talk. I consider Miller’s assessment accurate, and not in the least hyperbolic. But while I believe that Krishnamurti is still underrated as a thinker and teacher, I have also harbored for many years mixed feelings (as a philosopher) about his relative applicability for academic or classroom use. Reviewing the present anthology should allow me to articulate that ambivalence, and hopefully explain how this book might have some limited though still important value for teaching philosophy.

This book would be most useful for courses such as Philosophy of the Person (or Self), or Theories of Human Nature, though portions of its content could be relevant to an Introductory course, or to the Philosophy of Emotions, Passions, or Psychology. Even though it is classified on its cover as "Eastern Religion" I don’t think this book would be very effective for Philosophy of Religion or World Religions, as I hope to make clear.

The book is an anthology, selected from Krishnamurti’s previously published work. Krishnamurti wrote very little in his lifetime, his "books" being mainly transcriptions of his public lectures and discussions. The editor explains that this volume was designed to "...be particularly interesting to academic philosophers and students of philosophy." This seems to imply that Krishnamurti’s other books would somehow be of less interest philosophically, which is questionable. The editor’s Preface and Introduction seek to show how Krishnamurti’s thought is relevant to academic and even analytic philosophy. I would add that there is also common ground between Phenomenology and Krishnamurti’s thought, for the latter is quite similar in spirit to Husserl’s project of analyzing the basic structures of conscious experience while aiming at an ideal state of "presuppositionlessness." Yet Krishnamurti is always remarkably free of jargon and of allegiance to any school of philosophy, Eastern or Western. Thus, one needs no previous exposure to his work or to Asian philosophy to grasp his teachings, though their level of abstraction and analysis would probably be better for classes beyond the freshman level.

Krishnamurti does indeed have broad philosophical appeal and importance from a Western perspective because the rationality and clarity of his investigations, and from an Eastern perspective because of his unique distillation of many of the basic teachings of Hinduism and especially Buddhism, though he remains thoroughly secular and free of scriptural or cultural "baggage." While I agree with, and will try to reinforce the editor’s contention of Krishnamurti’s importance for "philosophy", I will also consider the feasibility of his thought in general, and the present volume in particular, for undergraduate college teaching.

The format of Krishnamurti’s teachings is alway dialogical, which begs comparison to Socrates. The book under review has four main sections of uneven length. The first is called "Inquiry," and includes lectures and debates about "Dialogue" and "Authority." These pages could fruitfully be juxtaposed with some of Plato’s Socratic dialogues, especially the Apology. Also found here is a pointed exchange between Krishnamurti and noted Buddhist scholar Walpola Rahula, which shows the former’s desire to be totally disaffiliated from Buddhism.

The book’s second section, called "Emotion," contains Krishnamurti’s inquiries into the structure and function of Fear, Loneliness, Guilt, Desire, and other emotions. These pages are perhaps the most eloquent and accessible for undergraduate readers. Since his analysis of the emotions so often involves the role of the Self or Ego, this segues to the book’s third section, entitled "Self and Identity," again consisting of public talks and dialogues. The highlight here is Krishnamurti’s critical account of the deleterious effects of the Ego, and of its ultimately illusory nature, both of which show his basic affinity to Asian thought in general, and to Buddhism in particular. The short fourth section is called "Freedom," which articulates Krishnamurti’s goal of total freedom from all forms of authority and psychological dependence and adumbrates a more positive ideal of open-minded, spacious serenity.

The editor justly makes the Socratic analogy in his Introduction:

Like Socrates, who through his example and questioning encourages his audience to examine critically the assumptions on which their beliefs depend, Krishnamurti, through his example and questioning, encourages his audiences to examine critically the assumptions on which their very experience of themselves and the world depends.

While this sounds philosophically healthy and appropriate for teaching philosophy, there is an obstacle to integrating Krishnamurti into an Introductory Philosophy course. On the positive side, his central project could be called a sustained questioning of authority, which does share much in spirit with Socrates. The editor understates this connection: "Krishnamurti was anti-authority to a degree that few thinkers have ever been." In fact, his achievment was a lifelong and adamant repudiation of authority of all types, but especially of religious, spiritual, and psychological authority. He was the ultimate ideologically-non-aligned teacher. This makes him an exemplar and champion of the concepts of Autonomy and Authenticity (and thus comparable to Kant or Existentialism.) A typical quotation from Krishnamurti illustrates this:

The following of authority is the denial of intelligence. To accept authority is to submit to domination, to subjugate oneself to an individual, to a group, or to an ideology, whether religious or political, and this subjugation of oneself to authority is the denial, not only of intelligence, but also of individual freedom.

It is somewhat ironic to note two small details of the text which sit uncomfortably with this radical anti-authoritarianism, both of which presumably reflect the publisher’s prerogatives. On the back cover, the main blurb is from Deepak Chopra, the leading entrepreneur and spiritual "authority" of the fin-de-siècle "new age" industry, and on each and every page of the book, running vertically in large font, in the name KRISHNAMURTI. Both of these details I imagine would have elicited a groan from the man himself who so diligently challenged all such name-droppings. (Another typical quote: "I am questioning you, and you must question me. Don’t accept what I’m saying, inquire").

The problem in all this is that Krishnamurti’s anti-authoritarianism is so radical as to make him appear to be totally anti-religion, anti-philosophy, anti-knowledge, and anti-book-based learning. This is what would make him a hard sell, pedagogically. Perhaps one must fully understand certain traditions before one earns the right to supersede (or deconstruct) them. In simpler terms, I question how beneficial the inclusion of Krishnamurti would be in an Introductory Philosophy course such as my own, for example, in which I aim to instill in students an appreciation for philosophy, religion, reading, and book-knowledge.

Perhaps the best way to relate Krishnamurti to a course in World Religions would be to see him as a secular version of Buddhist psychology and metaphysics. Because of his refusal to discuss any authority figures or texts, Krishnamurti (disingenuosly) does not acknowledge the influence of the teachings of the Buddha, or at least the confluence of these with his own teachings. But anyone who knows even a whit about Buddhism could see the essential similarity here. For example, on the Self (which is, after all, the main theme of this volume), Krishnamurti’s "critique" is virtually identical to the most fundamental teachings of the historical Buddha:

We recognize that the self is in constant flux, yet we cling to something which we call permanent in the self, an enduring self which we fabricate out of the impermanent self. If we deeply experienced and understood that the self is ever impermanent, there would be no identification with any particular form of craving, with any particular country, nation, or any organized system of thought or religion.

But this realization perhaps comes only with sustained and serious meditation, of a distinctly un-Cartesian type. I refer to any basic practice of sitting meditation, such as zazen or vipassana, which is mind-clearing as opposed to mind-filling activity. But this is what most philosophers and students don’t practice, since it is so foreign to the typical Western modes of knowledge-acquisition. The problem with most philosophers (if I may generalize about my own kind), is that they think and talk too much, operating on external and theoretical learning, not meditative introspection of the operations of one’s psyche and especially one’s emotions. Western academics tends to value mind over body, theory over practice, language over silence, etc. To this kind of cognitive top-heaviness, Krishnamurti (and Buddhism, and sitting meditation) can be a refreshing balance or even antidote, but this is also what makes them so difficult to translate into a classroom and institutional setting, which is not primarily designed (especially now) for such essentially spiritual practice and personal critical wisdom.

I certainly don’t want to discourage anyone from reading Krishnamurti, or attempting to adapt his profound teachings into an academic course, I’m only noting what the pedagogical challenges might be. The editor admits that "Krishnamurti had little use for academic philosophy", so perhaps it’s not too surprising if academic philosophy might find it hard to make use of Krishnamurti. Perhaps it boils down to whether a teacher values more the historical tradition, or a more personal and experiential approach to philosophy. If one believes that radical critical questioning is necessary for teaching philosophy, this book could add a nice spice to a course. But if tradition, knowledge and skills are more important to one than spiritual emancipation (at least in the classroom), then this book would be of less value. This is not to denigrate the value of Krishnamurti’s teachings for life, only to voice sympathetic skepticism about his possible value in the classroom.

To anyone who has read any amount of Krishnamurti, there will be nothing new in content here. For anyone intrigued, or considering Krishnamurti for personal or professional reading, this is a perfect place to start. There is a limited bibliography, mostly of primary works with some secondary sources, and a helpful Index.